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quietmyfearswith · 4 years

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the mission ; syverson x stucky x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 4,350 words

warnings — SMUT, double penetration, triple penetration??? oral sex (giving and receiving), foursome, unprotected sex(dont do this), swear words, competition(ish)

pairing — syverson x stucky x fem!reader

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18,, pretty self-indulgent so what about it,, wanted to post this as my first fic for 2021 so we can start the year with a bang but hey the year is still new so hope this counts,, feedback is appreciated

masterlist

“Tell me again, why are we meeting up with this person?” If you told people that there were times that Steve — Captain America as most of them are most familiar with — was egotistical enough to the point that he believed that intel from outsiders weren’t needed, they wouldn’t believe you unless they saw how he was currently. When the military told them that some of their men have discovered remnants of HYDRA, Steve was fine with that vague lead since he thought that they could take it from there. However, his pride took a hit when the military insisted that one of their men be sent over to the compound to assist them.

Y/N then scheduled for Captain Syverson to meet with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes so they could discuss what the special operations captain saw. Sighing irritatedly, the assistant of the Avengers paused in the middle of the hallway so she could look the super soldier in the eye, “Look Captain, I know you think you can do this alone — you’ve proven to me and your fellow Avengers that you can — but the military and government believes that you need more hands on deck, okay?”

Crossing his arms, Steve opened his mouth to argue but opted not to, “Good, now behave okay? Bucky’s almost done training the recruits; so he’ll be joining us shortly.” As she walked away from where they stood, the captain bit his lip as he watched her ass and legs strut away in the green and white plaid dress that she was donning. Hearing her fingers snap together brought him back to reality and made him follow her steps.

“Captain Rogers, meet Captain Syverson from the military’s special operations,” Y/N introduced the two men to each other, who were visibly appalled at the thought of having to shake hands, but a stern look from the girl standing between them prompted the Texan captain to hold out his hand to which the Brooklyn captain shook briefly but with a tight grip before letting go. “We appreciate you coming here, Captain Syverson.”

His response surprised Y/N, but in a good way, and she smiled brightly at the simple interaction the two had. “You can call me Sy; only prefer being called Captain by those who are under me.” The wink he sent the only girl present in the room gave her the implication that there was a double entendre in his statement; whereas the enhanced super soldier caught on and was displeased with how he was hitting on Y/N.

Puffing out his chest and rested his hands on his belt buckle, “Well Sy, why don’t you share with us what it is you saw.” Nodding, Sy grabbed the folder he brought with him and handed it over to the Captain; Y/N was setting up the laptop and projector that was in the conference room. Steve skimmed through the files as Y/N displayed some of the satellite images that were taken. “Have you or any of your team members been inside the facility?”

Shaking his head no Sy explained, “We didn’t dare to. Though I had some soldiers stake out and in their week of monitoring they didn’t notice anyone come in or out.” Placing the folder on the desk, Steve instructed Y/N to show more of the pictures and she complied, “How come you didn’t get in and check it out? Isn’t that what a captain does?”

“Steve,” Y/N scolded him as she looked at him with a warning look but despite her piercing gaze he remained unfazed as he gave a challenging stare to the other captain — one which Sy wasn’t afraid of. “A captain’s duty is to lead his soldiers and make the right calls; it wasn’t our mission to look for the abandoned facility but we found it anyway. We just ensured that there wouldn’t be any criminals that we could possibly encounter that would interfere with our mission.”

The tension was thick in the air when Steve gulped down — not wanting to admit that Sy made a valid point. Striving to cut the tension in the room, Y/N stood up as she spoke, “Okay, great points. Should you plan to check the place out,” She was talking to Steve who was intently looking at her with a look he’s never given her before; she struggled to continue with her point with how intense his stare was, “Secretary Ross decided that it might be better for you to tag along,” Sy nodded as he was being talked to.

“Just me? Or would my men be included?” Sitting back down on her chair she browsed through some of the files she had prepared for their meeting as the two men watched her like a hawk, “They want you out on the field along with Steve and Bucky; but your other men can help behind the scenes.”

Displeased with the new information, Steve crossed his arms from where he was seated, “No, he is not joining us on the field,” He was now standing up, as if he was trying to assert his dominance and authority over the other captain who seemed undaunted as he stood tall. “Why the hell not?”

“Jesus Christ, stop it, the two of you!” Y/N held out her hands to create space between the two charging bodies, her hands landed on their pecs and she had to stop herself from enjoying the feel of their skin against her fingertips, “You both need to calm your asses down! I don't know what it is about each other that ticked you off but you guys are gonna have to work together. Now, why don’t we calm down and try to get along?”

Running a hand through his buzz cut hair, Sy was the first one to speak since he wanted to charm Y/N, “I’m really sorry about my behavior, love,” His larger hand reached for hers and placed a kiss on the back of her palm; Steve sharply looked at how affectionately the other captain gazed at the assistant who had been responsible for his orgams without her even knowing it, “I’m gonna be on my best from now on; especially when I work with the former soldiers.”

Having enough of what he said Steve made his way to the two of them, breaking off their clasped hands so he could hold Y/N’s, planting himself between the two he gruffly said, “You know what bothers me? Is the way you’re hitting on Y/N.” Sy could not hold back the smirk as he somewhat felt a sick pride rush over him seeing the infamous hero getting riled up because of him, “Don’t recall you being her boyfriend; so really I can flirt with her as much as I want.”

She doesn’t know why, but Y/N was extremely aroused with the way they discussed her as if she weren’t there. Ultimately it was the way they both battled for her really made her panties dampen. “Who would you rather fuck?” The blunt question had her jaw dropping in shock and disbelief; she always knew how Steve was direct to the point, but never expected him to be straightforward in a sexual context.

“I don’t know,” Her eyes darted back and forth from the two captains, “You’re both very attractive; but I never imagined both of you being attracted to me.” It was difficult for her to hide the faint traces of her insecurities which the two men were quick to pick up. Steve caressed her hand that he held as he sincerely cooed at her, “How can I not want you? And I’m not just talking about your divine body. Your patience in handling us is unlike any other. You’re extremely compassionate and kind. When I look at you I see a woman whose beauty on the outside matches the beauty within.”

The other hand that Sy held was being placed with a kiss that despite being gentle was contradicted with the rough sensations of his beard, “I’ve only known you for a while but I have to second the motion; you are a force to be reckoned with. While there are parts of you that clearly cannot be tamed and that your fire was meant to remained ablaze,” He hoped that she got his reference of her dangerous line of work and with the small nod she gave him affirmed so, “But you also have the tranquility that a mother possesses.”

A small smile broke out of Y/N’s face after their speeches; but the serene moment quickly faded when the super soldier brought her hand to his crotch, letting the wide-eyed girl feel the hard on that he frequently spotted around her. “This is just one of the other pieces of evidence I have about how great you are.” Walking up to stand beside Steve, Sy grabbed her other hand and pressed against his own staring erection as he smugly boasted, “But this is a bigger evidence of how much I appreciate you, sunshine.”

“I’m flattered,” Y/N nervously began as her eyes darted back and forth from the two large men, pulling away her hands from their hardened cock as she felt incredibly shy about the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t an answer that pleased either of them or answered Steve’s earlier question. “But the question is still left unanswered Y/N,” The blonde man to her right reminded her, “Who would you rather fuck?”

Gulping down her nervousness before answering, “Honestly? I want you both.” Even though she shyly confessed that, it was all the fuel both captains needed for their ego as they silently just had established a competition between themselves — get her to feel confident about herself as they both intend on making her so cum hard the only thing she’ll remember is their name. Steve brought a finger underneath her chin, lifting her gaze up to match his hooded eyes, “You’re beautiful, Y/N,” He affirmed to her before bringing their lips to touch gently. Eyes closing as the super soldier savored the feeling of her lips that he's been dreaming for so long; and his dreams couldn’t even compare to the feel and taste of her lips.

As their lips pulled away from the steamy kiss, Sy tore away her lips and planted his own lips against hers, “Absolutely stunning, one of a kind,” Were the words he spoke as their lips locked and tongues danced. Feeling his beard tickle her neck as his lips trailed down her jaw and neck, she giggled lightly and opened her eyes to view Steve whose eyes darkened — though she didn’t know that it was due to his lust and longing for her, as well as the jealousy due to the scene unfolding in front of him. Pulling away from the kiss, Sy then lifted her up to the table and sat her down. Without even speaking, he made his move to undress her — grabbing the cloth by her cleavage, ripping the dress in two to expose how she chose to forego a bra and was only wearing a poor excuse of panties; the Texas raised captain could only smirk as he went down on his knees while he slid her lace undergarment down her legs.

“What a devious little thing you are,” Her attention was shifted to the Brooklyn-raised captain as he spoke; she instinctively spread her legs which didn’t go unnoticed by Sy who smirked in appreciation before lunging forward to lick her through her panties — causing her to gasp out loud, rolling her eyes at the pleasure. Annoyed with how he was being undermined, Steve grabbed for Y/N’s cheeks and kissed her fervently, making him moan in bliss as the kiss exceeded his dreams and expectations. “This what you want? Want two men proving to you how goddamn beautiful you are?”

The question was rhetorical, but somehow she found herself whining as she nodded against his lips where their lips met for a heated kiss. Grinning at her state, Steve ended their kiss as his lips trailed down her chin and to her neck, searching for her sweet spot. Just as he sucked on the skin below her jaw, she tried to squeeze her legs together to alleviate the arousal she was feeling — but it only made Sy smirk and encourage him to push aside her panty and directly get a taste of her.

“I’m gonna taste this pretty pussy okay? Why don’t you show Steve over here what that pretty mouth can do besides ending tension okay?” With a shaky sigh, she nodded as her eyes watched as Steve got on the table, kneeling beside her, all while he undid his belt and pulled the zipper down to free his cock. “I’ve been fantasizing about what that mouth would feel like ever since you joined,” His filthy confession made her bring her thighs together again to relieve her of the ache she felt; but all it did was make her feel again the trimmed hair of Sy who was placing gentle kitten licks on her pussy, “And now I’ll find out if you’re as any good like I thought you would be,” Served as his final warning before kneeling on the table by her head and feeding his cock to her waiting mouth.

Groans were heard from the two captains but for similarly different reasons; Steve loved how his cock slid down her throat easily without gagging, and her hollowed cheeks and expert tongue providing him pleasure but it was also the way her one hand was sliding from his balls to the base of his cock that almost made him cum. Whereas Sy couldn’t get enough of how sweet her juices were; he was sliding two fingers in and out of her, and everytime he pushed them right back it became harder for him to do so with how her walls were resisting them — it made him think about how her walls would resist his cock. “You like this don’t you? Like being used for our pleasure?”

A pathetic whine was all that she could let out seeing as her mouth was preoccupied with Steve’s cock was prohibiting her from speaking clearly. “You’re too invested that you can’t even remove my cock from your mouth to answer properly,” Feeling her nod against his cock just added to the bliss he felt. Shaking his head as he licked her cunt and fingered her pussy, Sy loved it when her thighs were rubbing hard against his beard and some of her juices were sticking to his facial hair.

Y/N was surprised when Steve pulled his cock of her mouth, “Not yet baby, I’m not cumming in your mouth just yet.” With his lips still pressed tightly against her pussy lips, Sy smirked at him, “Or maybe you just can’t cum at all.” That statement reminded both men that even though they intended to make her feel how beautiful she was, they were still competing for her. Sitting up with the support of her elbows, Y/N watched closely as Steve grabbed Sy by the shirt, dragging him away from her pussy, resulting in him sitting up on the floor on his bum. He planted himself on one of the conference chairs and once settled, grabbed Y/N’s hips so she was straddling hovering his cock, “It’s because I’d rather cum inside her pussy.”

With one hand on her hip, the other one guided his cock in her tight canal easily. “Oh fuck, you’re so big,” She moaned as she rested her hands on his shoulders as she rode him slowly, getting used to his size. Calloused hands were on her ass as Steve guided the pace in which they were fucking. His lips were pressing firmly against her breasts, leaving his traes of desire on them. As her eyes were closed in pleasure, she didn’t see how Sy was freeing himself from the restrains of his pants; after doing so he stood up from the floor and sat down on the conference table.

“You’re gonna suck my cock while you ride his dick; so turn around,” It took a while before she did so, but Y/N had to push Steve’s face gently from where his mouth had been enveloping her nipple. She turned around to face Sy who was stroking his cock with hunger on his eyes; moving her hair from her face, she rested her hands on the knees of the man in front of her before lowering her lips to wrap it around the tip of his cock. “That’s a good girl,” He sighed out in pleasure, one hand finding purchase on her hair.

Jealous at the thought of having to share her or her attention, Steve kicked off the chair he was sitting on and stood on his feet and helped Y/N to do the same. With her bent over, the super soldier grabbed for her hips and rammed in and out of her pussy with short and rapid thrusts. Sy allowed her to take control of how she wanted to suck him, but he couldn’t help himself as he thrusted his cock in her mouth a few times, relishing in the moans she let out when he did so. “See what you do to us?” Steve asked as he felt his tip graze her sensitive spot, feeling her thighs shiver leaving him to hold both thighs in his hands.

“You make us feral,” Sy continued his train of thought as his hand added pressure on the nape of your neck, making you take him deeper, “You’re so goddamn beautiful that you make us lose all logic.” It was amazing to him how her tiny throat could accommodate all of him, and the way her nails dug into his thighs only added to his pleasure.

Bucky had just finished his training session with the recruits and was dying to get to his room to shower off the filth and sweat. Before getting to do that he first had to meet with a captain that was said to have intel about HYDRA; so imagine his surprise when he enters the conference room and sees three people fucking and not discussing mission details.

A man with a buzz cut — he inferred that was Sy — was sitting on the desk with his head thrown back in bliss as he was being given a blowjob by Y/N — the Avengers’ secretary whom he had been fantasizing about — while she in turn was being fucked in the pussy by Steve. “Well if I knew the meeting would look like this I would’ve ended the training session.”

Steve just smirked at his best friend who was leaning against the wall, “This is Sy,” He nodded to the man sitting at the desk who waved with his free hand from Y/N’s hair. Approaching the three of them Bucky inquired, “She any good at sucking cock?”

“The best; gag reflex is practically non-existent,” Steve recalled as he was now rubbing her clit, loving the way she was squirming against his body. Her hands were settled on Sy’s thighs, anchoring herself and leaving nail marks on his skin. “Her throat is tight but I doubt it’s tighter than her pussy.”

Bucky grabbed her hair to stop her from sucking on Sy’s cock, “Never pegged you to be a willing cumdump; you just needed a lot of cocks to fulfill you huh?” Despite her face having a mixture of saliva and the precum of both captains, she bashfully smiled at the sergeant. Stroking her cheek gently, the Texan captain demanded a verbal answer, “If he asks you a question you are expected to answer, beautiful.” Feeling the force of Steve’s harsh thrust, she managed to let out a choked out response, “Yes! I need a lot of cocks to satisfy me.”

Halting his assault on her pussy, Steve slid his cock out of her, “I’m gonna fuck her ass, Sy you get her pussy, Buck you start with her mouth first.” When Sy pulled her off his cock, Y/N was able to gulp nervously at the thought of taking all them at once; however she wasn’t given enough time to react to it as Sy was dragging her to ride him as he sat at a chair. Carefully, he helped her descent on his cock as the man groaned against her neck when he felt how her warm and wet she was, “Did the captain really fuck you, beautiful? You’re still so fucking tight.”

“I did, and I fucked her good,” Steve asserted as he lined his cock up behind her other hole, “That’s just another reason why you’re beautiful, doll. You’re just so fucking tight no matter how fucked you are,” And to emphasize his point, he slide his tip inside her ass and stilled upon feeling her walls constricting around him. “Goddamn, doll,” Steve breathed out as he shoved more of his cock inside her, his whole cock now shoved deep in her ass.

Her mouth hung agape as she felt two cocks having a go in her — loving the way she was never fully empty since when one thrust out, another slammed right back in. Taking advantage of her opened mouth, Bucky stood by the side of the chair and presented his cock to her, “Take it all in princess.” Like an obedient girl, she did wrap her lips around the ridge of his cock and began sucking on it as best she could.

“See what you do, doll? You make us go ravenous for you,” Steve emphasized his point as he mercilessly thrusts in and out of her ass despite her walls clinging to him, begging him to ease down. Agreeing with the captain, Sy sucked on her nipple harder as he thrusted sharply on her pussy, “Make us want to shower you with cum to prove how divine you are.”

Stroking her face gently contradicted how ruthless Bucky treated her mouth as his balls were slapping her chin repeatedly — allowing some of her drool and his precum to fall graceless from her mouth — before adding, “Only a pretty girl like you can make three soldiers fall apart.”

And fall apart was exactly what was bound to happen as Steve planted his hands on her hips so he could gain enough leverage to fuck her ass relentlessly, until his balls slammed against the rim of her opening, until he felt himself come undone with one final thrust all the way inside her. “Fucking hell,” He panted out against her back as he felt himself unload almost a year of desire inside her.

With much reluctance, Steve pulled out of her ass and rested against the conference table to catch his breath and recover. This then allowed Sy to knead his hands into the skin of her ass so he could move her up and down his cock, chasing his own impending orgasm. “Cum with me, beautiful,” He harshly demanded against her skin as moved her in time with his thrusts, “Let me feel you fall apart and come on my cock.” And to prove how badly he wanted — no, needed — to feel her hug his cock even tighter as she spasmed in pleasure — her to cum, he slid in and out of her at a rapid pace until she was clawing at his chest and he felt her body tense up then relax as she coated his cock with cum.

Moaning out at the relief of her release, Bucky enjoyed the added vibrations on his cock — adding to the pleasure as her tongue licked and swirled around the underside of his cock — while watching her ride out her orgasm. It wasn’t long before Sy too stilled his movements so he could release his seed in her. “Fuck so good!” He yelled out as he stayed inside her, relishing the feel of their combined juices. Seeing how her mouth went slack and her lips weren’t sucking on his cock anymore, the sergeant pulled out and stroked his cock as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her nipple. Shivering at the sensation, she stared at him with doe eyes as her dainty hands wrapped around the base of his cock and his balls, “Cum for me, Bucky.” It was the way she sultrily whispered it that made him throw his head back and moan as he covered her gorgeous tits with his cum.

Loving the way her breasts were marked with his cum, she tried to milk more out of the super soldier by rubbing the tip of his cock with her thumb as the other hand fondled his balls gently. “You’re one special girl,” Steve spoke as he watched intently the scene in front of him. Smiling at the praise, Y/N stopped stroking Bucky’s cock when she milked him already. After leaning down to press a chaste, sweet kiss on Sy’s lips, she removed his cock from where it was deeply planted on her — with a moan falling from her lips — before standing up and heading to where Steve was in order to do the same.

“Thank you for proving how beautiful I am,” She sweetly thanked them once she pulled away from the kiss. “Now hold on,” Bucky spoke as he made his way to stand beside Y/N, “I think you’re gonna need more proof of how beautiful you are.”

Catching his drift, Sy sat up straighter in the chair before agreeing, “Exactly, and we might need to give you individually are our own reasons.” She held her breath once more as she felt Steve pepper kisses on her shoulder, “Think you can handle us individually, doll?”

Desperately, she nodded as she enjoyed the feel of his lips kissing her skin. With two fingers grabbing onto her chin, Bucky made her face him, “Good, ‘cause I haven’t been inside that lovely pussy and ass of yours. Oh, and I got a long list of what makes you fucking beautiful.”

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 3 years

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Worthy (pt6)

A/N: once again - just keep poking me until I start tagging you if you want tagged. @rampant-salamander, @bolontiku

...

I looked from Tony to Thor and back to Tony.

“I don’t understand your question,” I responded, and threw back the drink. To hell with being moderate. I was pretty sure I was about to lose my dream job on my second day, I may as well go out with a bang.

“Ella, there has to be something special about you to allow you to lift that hammer,” Tony spoke slowly. That was probably a bad thing. I suspected slow speech meant a really active brain. I was now a mystery that needed to be solved.

“There is nothing special about me at all,” I argued.

“You can lift Mjolnir. That is special.” Thor was like a sage who spoke in riddles.

“But being able to lift Mjolnir isn’t what makes me special enough to lift it. That’s a redundancy.” I, like Tony, was slipping into scientific method in order to try to sort things out.

“Do you have Aesir blood, Ella?” Thor asked.

“My family is from Washington. By way of Wisconsin,” I replied. Tony snorted and Thor shot him a dirty look.

“Before this Wisconsin?” He pressed. The way he said Wisconsin made it sound unfamiliar and strange.

“Norway and England.”

“Norway. That is where the Northmen resided.” Thor looked thoughtful. “In the time of the Vikings, the Aesir traveled on Midgard much more frequently than they do now.”

“Are you suggesting that some ancestor of mine got knocked up by a god?” I could feel my eyebrow rising. Tony smothered a smirk behind his hand. My tone was lost on Thor.

“We are not gods, Ella,” Thor corrected. “And I am unfamiliar with knocked up. What I suggest is that your ancestor was impregnated by an Aesir.”

“But in order to lift your hammer, wouldn’t it have to be you that got this mystery ancestor pregnant? I’d have to be your descendent?” I could feel the blood draining from my face. It would be just my luck that the hottest guy I’d ever seen would be related to me. Thor’s smile was mischievous.

“Not necessarily. I would have discovered offspring of mine on Midgard by now, and I know left none. But I think it reasonable to consider you may have Aesir blood in your veins,” he explained. “Which makes you very special indeed.”

“Can everyone in Asgard lift your hammer?” I asked. Thor shook his head.

“None but I.”

“Then I don’t buy it. I keep telling people, I’m nothing special.” I was getting frustrated with the scrutiny. I never thought I would be desperate for a cute guy to stop paying attention to me, but in that moment, I would have given anything to be able to just go hide in obscurity in the lab, building my washing machine.

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Ella,” Tony interrupted. I’d nearly forgotten he was there, Thor had such powerful bearing. I didn’t think it was possible to lose track of Tony Stark, but I guess in the presence of not-actually-gods… “You are something special. That’s why Pepper and I lept on your application like we did. How did you make it through university with such a bad self image?”

“I don’t have a bad self image. I know I’m a fucking amazing engineer. I just fail to see a correlation between my ability to understand math and build things and my purported mystical ability to lift a magic hammer,” I snapped. I turned back to Thor. “You’re sure no one else can lift it?” Thor glanced at Tony, almost as though he was looking for approval. Tony gave a slight nod.

“I believe that Captain Rogers would be able to lift it, should he have the opportunity. But that remains untested,” Thor admitted. I sighed.

“Of course. He’s a legit hero. Full of righteousness and honour and nobility.” My tone was more sarcastic than I’d intended.

“Yes, intangible and arbitrary measures of worthiness. Who is to say you don’t meet the parameters in some way?” Thor shot back. I looked into my empty glass, wishing it were still full.

“Did you not see me level that d-bag in the elevator?”

“Tis nothing I would not have done myself, and yet I am still worthy,” Thor shrugged. Pepper had walked in at some point during the conversation, and Tony turned to her expectantly. She sighed and blinked slowly.

“We’ve had a discussion about appropriate professional behaviour. He is aware that if there are any further incidents he will lose his internship.” Pepper reached out for the glass of wine Tony was offering her.

“It’s a bit of a PR nightmare if we lose a second intern in as many days, Pep,” Tony commented.

“It’s a worse nightmare if, right as we’re rolling out a gender equality program and girl’s STEM mentorship program, the media gets ahold of information about how we’re allowing someone guilty of sexual harassment to remain in a prestigious and competitive internship,” she retorted. He pursed his lips and paused. After a moment he nodded in agreement.

“What do I know? You’re the boss.” His acquiescence was met with laughter from Pepper.

“What do you know, Tony? How many times did you attend the SHIELD seminar again?” She choked on her wine. “Trust me. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s a smart guy, and I’d like to think he’ll be respectful from now on.” Tony responded with some other comment and I slumped back into my seat, watching the show. If you didn’t know they were stupidly in love with one another, you might assume they were on the verge of war. But I think Tony liked to goad Pepper, and she rose to the bait. Not because she was gullible though. At least, I didn’t think it was because she was easily duped. I think she rose to the bait because it was how they clicked together. I looked away from them and over to Thor, who was sitting back on the couch, completely relaxed. The hammer was propped up beside him, handle leaning against the bolster. It was uncanny how powerful he looked, even in jeans and a t-shirt. I relaxed a little and just enjoyed looking at him, taking in the contours of his biceps, and the definition of the veins in his hands. There was a lot of him to look at, and it was all very pleasing to the eye. At least, everything I’d seen thus far.

I didn’t realize how overt I was being until he smirked. He turned to look at me, and nodded.

“Is it not considered poor manners on Midgard to stare at others?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, but I blinked and looked away, feeling my cheeks colour.

There was really no way for me to deny that I was staring at him. The only blank wall in the entire place was right behind him. I couldn’t even beg being distracted by some of the weird art that seemed to be all over the building.

“I, uh, well,” I stammered. “I was looking at the hammer?” It sounded like bullshit, even to me. I heard a stifled laugh from Tony and shot him a filthy look. I pushed myself to my feet and glanced at Pepper. “If you don’t need me, Pepper, I’m going to try to catch up with Angela. I have some things I need to pick up for my suite.”

“You can order anything you need from distribution,” Tony offered.

“Except, apparently, towels bigger than a postage stamp,” I retorted. My ears were burning and I was having a really hard time not looking over to see if Thor was following the conversation. He probably was as there was no one else for him to pay attention to.

“You are aware there’s varying sizes of towel?” Tony’s tone was sarcastic. I rolled my eyes.

“Not that this is really a conversation I feel I want to have with my boss, but I grabbed the biggest one. It still barely covered me.” I was ready to pray for a hole to open in the floor and swallow me.

“Well, you’re not exactly supposed to be lounging around in your tow –“

“I wasn’t!” I interrupted. “I was just getting out of the shower when Thor showed up and I didn’t have time to be getting fully dressed before I answered the door, and then the towel slipped and oh my god I cannot believe I’m telling you all this.” I took a deep breath and looked back to Pepper. “Can I go? Please?”

“Let me walk you to the elevator,” she offered and led the way. As we walked away, I heard Tony clear his throat.

“You’ve seen her naked already, you sly dog?”

“That is enough, Stark. How you have lived so many years on this realm and not noticed how modest some of your women are, I have no idea. But you embarrassed her. Like many Midgardians, she lacks comfort with the physical form.” Thor’s words were a chastisement, and I somehow felt even more embarrassed about him having seen me naked. Because now, not only was I naked in front of the freaking Norse god of thunder, but also he took more notice of what a prude I am than that I was naked. I leaned against the wall and banged my head against it.

“That’s not how you call the elevator,” Pepper teased. “I know we all collectively keep telling you to relax, but, yeah. Relax. If Tony is already giving you a hard time, he’s assimilating you into his world as a permanent fixture. This will be something you laugh about in future years.” Her eyes were warm with empathy and it was so reassuring.

“You seriously need to do something about the towel situation, Pepper.” I stepped onto the elevator and pushed the button for my floor. Once the doors shut, I texted Angela to see how far she’d got without me. I didn’t have to wait long. I was swiping my passcard to get into my room when she stepped off the elevator.

“So, towels? Maybe a beer?” She followed me into my apartment.

“Yes. To both.”

XXX

For whatever reason, I expected getting beer with Angela would be more Sex-in-the-City than it was. She pulled me into a quiet bar after we’d found appropriate towels, and we ordered wings from the kitchen and beer.

“So I did some research today while you were meeting with Markus,” she volunteered over a heap of wing bones. I made a noise that was easily interpretable as curiosity and she continued. “I might have hacked some of Tony’s files about that hammer. Thor wasn’t kidding around when he said you shouldn’t be able to lift it. It was apparently forged in the heart of a dying star, of some crazy space-metal. And the Odin enchanted it so only Thor could lift it. Which is clearly a broken enchantment because apparently you can lift it too.”

“It says right on it that if you’re worthy, you can lift it,” I corrected her with my mouth full.

“Obviously it doesn’t take table manners into consideration!” She laughed. I hung my head in mock-shame, but made sure my mouth was clear before I spoke again.

“I don’t know how it determines worthiness. Honestly, isn’t that a little creepy? Is the hammer sentient? Does it consider the merits of each individual that touches it in that split second between grabbing it and trying to lift it? Or does Odin have some sort of approval system for worthiness, and he gets interrupted from whatever it is he’s doing to approve people in that same fraction of an instant?” I pondered.

“Way to ruin magic with science,” she groaned.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. That’s Clarke’s Third Law. The other two are pretty good too,” I shrugged.

“Oh, that was a kill shot! Come on, let me have some sort of fantasy about the mystical powers of the damn hammer, Ella!” Angela threw her hands up in frustration. I smiled and nodded.

“Of course. The hammer is mystical and powerful and absolutely should not be questioned,” I acceded. Angela swatted at me and flagged the waitress over for another round. I felt myself relaxing and forgetting about the overwhelming stress of the past couple of days as we decompressed over a second beer. When Angela dropped me back at the tower, I realized she may very well live on-site as well, but I was tired and had a bit of a beer buzz and forgot to ask before stumbling through my door and crashing on the sofa.

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.12

A Special Delivery

10/26/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,520

Warnings: talk of sex, angst, jealousy, violent images, language

A/N: I will come back and add tags after I eat. I’m hungry. And tags take forever. This one will answer a few of the questions I’ve been getting. The next one will answer more. I hope you like it. Let me know what you all think! I read EACH and EVERY comment. There have been a lot lately and I haven’t been able to respond to all of them but be aware that I see them. I read them. I love them. They mean so much. Thank you! If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work.

Tags are CLOSED for this story!

Steve watches you lay there, face lacking its usual color, eyes shut to the world, mouth slightly open. His nerves frayed and his mind swirling with all of the possible things that might go wrong.

As Natasha fusses to get your dress open, she turns to him and your rescuer where he hovers also watching you with concern.

“Some privacy, your Majesties, if you please?” She gives Steve a stern look and he nods, eyes moving past her frown to your unconscious face.

“The doctor is on his way, Nat. Can you-?” Steve begins.

“As soon as he’s seen her, I will come find you.” She promises, a little exasperated. “Go, Steve. I’ll take care of her.”

“And her legs, and her…when you undress her, check her all over Nat, make sure she’s doesn’t have a single scratch.” Steve’s voice rises in pitch a little, frantic energy seeping through the calm he’s been trying to maintain.

“Steve,” Nat’s eyes soften as she pauses untying your dress. “I’ve got her. Alright? I’ll be thorough. Go.”

With a nod Steve turns, eyeing the King of Asgard up before he clears his throat to get his attention.

“Your Majesty?” Steve coaxes, voice back to normal, his calm façade a little better in place.

The King of Asgard sighs heavily, turning away from you without meeting Steve’s eyes and heads out into the dark empty hallway.

Steve follows. When he reaches the hallway, he pauses for a moment, just long enough to meet the thunder god’s eyes.

“Can we speak in my office?” Steve asks.

Thor gestures down the hall with one massive hand. “Lead the way, your Majesty.”

As the God smirks, Steve narrows his eyes a bit, trying to understand the sharp edge to his tone.

His office is not far. Just at the other end of the hall, connected to his separate quarters. He hasn’t been sleeping in it since you left him and has elected to sleep by your empty bed, sitting in that chair you like to sit in when you sew.

Of course, only Natasha and Peter have caught him in there. Bucky knows because he knows everything that Steve does, even while he’s been out helping Sam look for you.

The office is not tidy. His papers are scattered across his desk, but he has no idea what is on them or which ones are important. He’s had no time to pay them any mind.

Sure, he tried to get some work done, but every time he did your sobbing face popped back up in his mind and he found himself unable to get any work done.

He waits for Thor to follow him in, then shuts the door behind him. He moves to the fire and grabs a long iron rod to stoke the fire and bring back the warmth, his hands visibly shaking despite the composure he seems to have.

“I think I should thank you.” Steve begins. “Where did you find her? How long has she been with you?”

Thor scoffs.

Steve blinks, considering the reaction to his words then puts the poker back before turning to look at Thor. Brow furrowed, he stares at him, watching as the God’s hands tighten around the back of the chair in front of his desk.

He’s looking down at the seat but not really seeing it. He’s preoccupied, remembering something that’s clearly upset him while shaking his head, a bitter laugh on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I know that you don’t wish to speak of it, little bird, but I must ask. Did Steve force you?” You’re walking ahead of him, swinging your arms—so carefree, he almost hates to bring this up.

You stop, reaching down to feel the edge of his red cape which he’s ashamed to admit he’s grown fond of seeing you wrapped up in.

Your head tilts down to the ground and you kick a stone that flitters off towards another larger rock where it hits without moving it.

“No.” You sigh. “He didn’t force me but…I don’t know it all felt very—not like what happened the other night.”

He’s not ashamed for touching you…well, maybe a bit. You are his friend’s wife after all, but the idea of you not knowing the bliss that can come from sharing your body with someone. Especially someone you love?

Maybe he’s just a romantic—he misses Jane—but to him, there is nothing more sacred than the shared pleasure, that ethereal connection with someone you care deeply about.

“I’m sorry if I-” He begins, worried that he might have done something you had not wanted.

You hadn’t asked it of him though he could sense your curiosity, the wonder.

And you’re so perfect. So beautiful. How could he resist? His Jane so very far away unsure of her desire to commit. You already so invested in your marriage while Steve pushes you away.

If it had been him, he’d have loved you fiercely after quickly realizing just how wonderful you were. It only took him hours to see it. How can Steve not see it?

“You didn’t.” You assure him, turning to look at him but you don’t smile. You’re ashamed. Sad that you enjoyed yourself though you shouldn’t be. “But I shouldn’t have let you.”

You think for a moment, then smile at him and his heart skips a beat.

“It was only really hard the first two times. The first because it hurt. I’d never been with a man before and his Majesty wanted to get it over with, I think.” Your smile falters. “I’m not his M-”

You don’t seem to be able to say her name.

“I’m not her, so it must have been nauseating for him to be with me in that way. I thought maybe he did like me a little. He was so receptive.

“I was in a lot of pain that first time. That whole week. A part of the second but his Majesty was gentler. Kinder. At least in bed. He never stayed. I slept alone.”

The loneliness in your voice is shattering. It breaks his insides apart, guts him and spills his squiggly red innards.

“I’m grateful.” You tell him to his astonishment.

Your wind whips in the breeze, his red cape drawn more tightly around your body as you snuggle into it, relishing in the warmth it gives. It’s colder in these forests but soon the warmth of Broklin will return.

“When it stopped hurting, I stopped crying. His Majesty was always more bothered when I cried.

“I know that Steve may not be showing you his good qualities at the moment. He’s much more than the man you know. I know you don’t want to hear about her anymore but…Margaret and Steve shared a love like I have never seen.

“They knew each other in and out. My love for Jane can only compare so far. They were born in the same year. They shared the same friends. Same passions. They grew together, shaped each other, they were the closest that I have seen any pair to being one soul split between two bodies. Steve thought he would have her until the day he died.

“He never expected her to go first.” Thor licks his lips, watching as his words crush your heart.

He hates to do it to you, but for the sake of your marriage, you must hear it.

“I know that he loves her very much, Thor.” You nearly sob, looking away from him but he crosses the distance between you and takes your shoulders in hand.

“No, little bird. You don’t. There are many varieties of love and the love that Steve and Margaret shared is the rarest of all. She became a part of him and he of her. If she was troubled, he knew it without needing to ask. If he was injured, she felt it in her bones.” Thor explains. “I saw it for myself.”

You don’t want to hear but picturing them together now feels different. It doesn’t hurt as much. Not in the way it’s been hurting. Not like jealousy.

“Imagine someone ripping out a piece of what makes you the person you are, and you will know what Steve has been suffering. He is not himself little bird. That’s all I mean by this. He will come to his senses and he will bitterly regret the mistakes he’s made with you.

“He will be eager to make amends and right his wrongs. Steven Rogers is not a bad man.” Thor promises. “Only a broken one. I cannot say whether he will ever be whole again, perhaps you will be able to help him-”

“I don’t want to replace her.” You frown. “I’ve never wanted to do that. All I wanted was a chance to know him. I love him…I’ve seen him be himself before. I’ve seen him open up. But never with me. I want it to be with me, Thor.”

Thor squeezes your shoulders. “He will. I guarantee it.”

“He doesn’t even care that I’m gone.” You look down at his chest and he draws you in for a reassuring embrace.

“Trust me, little bird, anyone who has known you would miss you.”

“It’s not his fault, Thor.” You say, not hearing him. “I’m just…not enough. I’m not who I said I am. I’m no one. He deserves more.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Did I say something amusing?” Steve wonders confused by the King of Asgard’s rudeness.

He’s never done anything but be civil with him and his Kingdom. They’ve forged peace treaties and partnership in trade. Had he forgotten to renew one?

“You think you should thank me? For bringing her back?” Thor looks up at him, seeing through him, back from whatever memory he’d been lost in.

Steve doesn’t like it. He shifts uncomfortably then moves towards his desk.

“Yes. Thank you for keeping her safe.” Steve tells him.

“I did not do it for you.” Thor assures him. “Let me ask you something, Steven—”

For a moment, Steve’s heart feels lighter. Thor hasn’t called him that since they were boys together planning how they would each rule their kingdoms. Dreaming big and ready for the challenge. Steve had been more reluctant, but he’d grown to love the idea with Thor to understand the responsibilities that came with such a job.

“—do you suppose your new wife is happy?” Thor moves to sit down in the seat he’s been standing behind, leaning back with his legs spread open.

It’s an undignified pose but normal for him. Steve takes no offense. In fact, he sits down himself and leans back, relaxing for the first time in weeks.

“I…” Steve thinks fast. Your pretty face, tears streaking across the swell of your cheeks, lip trembling, sobs ripping through your throat all fill his mind again. “No. I don’t suppose she is.”

“She was a virgin when you took her.”

“Yes. I think so.” Steve nods.

“That wasn’t a question. I am telling you because she told me.” Thor lets that sink in.

Steve stares at his old friend, considering the hard set of his eyes, the tick of his jaw. Thor’s angry. This sets Steve on edge. It makes him defensive.

“She told me many things.” Thor continues. “And I gave her comfort. I think I should own up to that now. You see, your wife had no idea that laying with a man might be pleasurable. She assumed that it was always to be painful or unrewarding.

“In all the time I have known you, old friend, I have never suspected you to be as ungenerous as she made you seem.”

“I…” Steve begins, but Thor doesn’t let him finish.

“I will say my piece and then you may respond.” Thor orders and this makes Steve bristle.

Him? Being ordered in his own castle? In his own office?

“Thor-”

“I had her.” He states, a small shrug thrown Steve’s way. “Not completely. Just enough to show her what love might feel like.”

“You what?” Anger like he’s never known sets his blood to boil and Steve must remind himself that Thor is his friend. That laying a hand on him in this moment would bring about war. Seeing past the red haze is difficult.

“I couldn’t believe my ears when she laughed in my face and told me that sex hadn’t and shouldn’t feel good. She said she’d wait until you’re finished and then do as the doctors ordered to ensure she became pregnant. She told me that the pain finally stopped. That finally it didn’t hurt, and she was very happy, because it meant that you could bed her, and she would no longer cry.

“Did her crying upset you?” Steve watches him drag his plump lower lip through his teeth, glaring at the long-haired blonde, wishing he could rid himself of the urge to sink his dagger into his chest. “I’m surprised it took her so long to leave you.”

“Where do you get off-?”

“I said I would say my piece.” Thor says calmly, but his eyes flash bright blue and outside thunder crackles overhead as lightning flashes through the window.

Steve isn’t afraid of the thunder God, his glare seethes.

“She tried to speak up for you. She’s in love with you. I don’t know why. I haven’t seen it for myself, haven’t been here, but I can see the loneliness in her eyes. And for a night at least, I was able to relieve her of it.”

“How dare you touch-!” Steve cuts off his wild guttural threat, the black pit in his stomach seems to be expanding upwards into his chest. It drags him down to the deepest depths of hell and he hates that he made you suffer.

You tear him to shreds with your tears and all the pain he’s given you. He can never make it up to you. He can’t make it right. Now he hears that you’ve been…touched by someone else? A God? By Thor?!

Painful images of you caressing Thor’s cheeks and hair, running your hands over his muscles as he thrusts into you fill Steve’s mind.

Fury! He feels the most potent fury at the sight in his head.

“Does that make you angry? That I’ve tasted your Queen?” Thor asks, keeping his voice even and quiet. “She’s very sweet, Steve. Like peaches dipped in honey. She trembled with ecstasy and cried because she didn’t know it could feel so good.”

Steve is on his feet, fists clenched at his sides as he glares daggers at this traitor. This so-called friend.

The image in his mind changes, Thor's head between your legs as you throw your own back, hands fisting his hair as he grips your thighs.

No!

“I should have you taken to the dungeon and beheaded.” Steve growls, spitting angry, with eyes like the devil when his souls are due.

Thor doesn’t seem to take the threat seriously. He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he gets a good look into Steve’s eyes. He looks a little happy too. Like he’s enjoying Steve’s reaction.

“Why do you treat her so?” He asks, curious. “Is it because of Maggie?”

“Don’t.” Steve growls harder, voice cutting out as a surprised sob slips through. The anger fades from his face, replaced by shocked heartache at the mention of Maggie. “Don’t.”

“It has been nearly three years since you lost her. I know what you lost. I know that no one can replace what the two of you shared but it’s no longer just you. Someone else is living and breathing in this castle and she’s placed all of her hopes on you.” Thor gripes, real concern for his friend turning his voice soft.

“I know.” Steve whispers, fighting the sorrow in his chest as he sits back down.

“Do you?” Thor checks, eyebrows shooting up into his forehead.

Steve looks up at him and seems to have gotten some of his composure back.

“You have been so wrapped up in your grief that you’ve ignored the woman you’ve married. It is not her fault that you loved someone else first. It’s not her fault that you lost Maggie. But you’re punishing her as if it were.”

“I know it’s not…” Steve argues.

“Then why do you only see your own grievances? Why can you only see your own sorrow? Your wife is reaching out to you, to know you, and you will not let her.” Thor seems to get angrier as he speaks. Exasperation making him breathless as he moves to the edge of his seat.

He gestures at the doorway they’d just walked through, to you down the hall in your bedroom.

Steve knows that he means that you’re trying to touch his heart. He’s going to try and let you. He won’t run away from it anymore.

“She was uprooted from her life and brought here. She was given into your care and you’ve done nothing but show her that her life is not only valued at less than the memory of someone long gone, but that you don’t care whether she is happy in her new home. Your subjects can see that.

“Do you not hear the gossip that snakes its way through your kingdom? The Crazy Queen. Poor King Rogers. He had to marry King Stark’s mad daughter. He clearly doesn’t love her. Look at how he shuns her. Why can’t she just stay in her room where none of us must see her?

“Nobody wants her.” Thor finishes, slapping the harsh words without remorse. “Not even the King.”

“I do want her.” Steve argues, angry again, voice gruff. “I do. I just…”

“Do you hate her?”

“No.” Steve glares. “Of course, I don’t hate her. Would I have married her if I hated her?”

Yes. He would have. He hates to admit it. But he doesn’t hate you. You fill his thoughts now.

“Then what will you do if you lose this one too?” Thor asks, punching Steve in the gut with his words.

Steve slams his fist on the desk, hating the ache that strangles his heart. “No!”

Thor simply watches.

“I won’t lose her, Thor. I-I can’t.” Steve gets up and begins to pace, reaching up to wipe his face in frustration. “Where is that damn doctor? Why hasn’t Nat come?”

“You almost did lose her.” Thor nods, ignoring Steve’s sudden panic at his reminder that you’re lying in your bed unconscious. “And I don’t mean her injuries. You pushed her away so harshly that she ran away from you. Imagine what she must have felt to leave you, forgoing all care for her reputation and safety. If I hadn’t found her wandering in the woods, she might very well be dead right now. She wasn’t in the greatest condition when I found her. Sick. Hungry. Parched.”

Steve sits again and buries his face in his hands, gasping hard as the strife of worry finally catches up with him. He’s been holding it in since you went away, refusing to really feel it. To let others see it.

Pierce and Rumlow had come the closest.

“A little bit longer and you would have lost her just as you lost Margaret.” Thor says gently.

“I can’t.” Steve groans, hands sliding up into his hair to pull harshly. “I can’t lose her.”

“Then fix this.” Thor tells him, urging his old friend to do what’s right. “Fix this before she stops loving you. And if you think you can love her, even if it is only a little bit, don’t leave her in any doubt of it. I will not be the last man to show interest.”

Steve’s face contorts into a grimace, upset and angry but it almost seems like it’s directed at himself. He meets Thor’s eyes with that same agonized look on his face.

“Did you really…did you and she…?”

Thor is silent. It’s answer enough but Steve stares, wanting more details. Even though his eyes are pools of anguish because he knows that Thor didn’t lie about having tasted you, he wants to know how and for how long.

“Tell me.” Steve begs, almost afraid of what he might say.

How will he compare to a God? He’s already done such a horrible job at being your husband. He’s left your bed how many nights with you sobbing into your pillow? How many more where you just laid there without complaint?

“I don’t want to be indiscreet.” Thor hesitates.

“I think we’re well past that, Thor. Just…tell me.” Steve sighs. “Did you sleep with her?”

“No.” Thor assures him. “I thought about it.”

Steve glares at him but takes a shaky breath and nods. “Did you-”

“I touched her with my hands until she neared release. I attempted cunnilingus but, she stopped me when she came close. I don’t think it’s me she wanted touching her in such ways.” Thor says.

Steve has that urge to stab his friend again. He pushes through it, reminding himself that if he hadn’t been terrible to you then you would have never run out on him and you would have never met Thor and been placed in such an awkward position.

“Steve…” Thor begins, pulling Steve’s storm blue gaze back up to his.

When Thor is sure that he has his friend’s undivided attention, he speaks.

“I can see that you care about her. It isn’t just that she’s your wife that makes you want to stab me with your dagger.”

“How do you know that I-?” Steve asks, astonished that Thor knows Steve’s violent thoughts.

“Because it is what I would want to do if I learned that someone other than myself had touched the Lady Jane. I felt bad for her pain and I’d be lying if I said that your sweet wife is not tempting. She has a fighter’s spirit but the gentility of a true Queen. She has compassion which is difficult to find in the ruling class. If I did not love Jane as much as I do, and if she were not already your wife, I would take her as my own.” Thor confesses and it scares Steve.

Is Thor right? Will there be other suitors? Other men that will think it’s possible to steal you from him?

“Perhaps I still might?” Thor threatens.

Steve renews his glare, hating him if only because he’s done something that he hasn’t done himself.

He’s tasted you. Seen you happy beneath him. Given you pleasure when Steve has only given you pain.

“As I said before,” Thor insists. “If you love her, even just a small amount, you must tell her and tell her soon. Her patience is wearing thin with you Steve. She cannot wait for you forever. She might be your Queen until the day she dies but she doesn’t have to love you.”

Steve considers the possibility. You by his side until you’re both old and gray and you, with a string of lovers over a lifetime in a loveless marriage. He doesn’t like the idea of someone else touching you. He hates it even more to think that you might not love him. That you won’t want him around you.

“Fix it.” Thor orders, and Steve feels obliged to obey.

“There’s something else.” Thor states, leaning back in his chair again, but he nods at the red leather-bound book that Steve had caught you reading the title of. “Two things actually.”

“What is it?” Steve asks, reaching to place his hand on the book only after glancing towards the doorway full of worry. Has the doctor come yet?

“First, the reason that Y/N is in her current state is because we were attacked. More specifically, she was.” Thor hold out his hand as Steve makes to get up, body tense with fear. “Don’t worry, she wasn’t injured by anyone but a few rocks as she fell.”

“What happened?” Steve demands.

“We were on our way back here. She’d decided to come back home to you, and we were very nearly here when someone came out of the trees and swung their sword at her.” Suddenly, Thor smiles. “She’s very spry, your sweet wife. She ducked as easily as if she were breathing and avoided the blow. Had it not rained the night before I think she might have been able to get back to me, but the rocks were wet, and she slipped.”

“Slipped?” Steve asks with a light gasp, as if he can’t believe it. “She just slipped?”

“She hit her side and her head. It’s why she’s asleep.” Thor explains.

It all feels too familiar and it’s burning Steve up from the inside, charring his nerves into familiar broken numbness.

Just an accident. Maggie’s fall was also just an accident.

“She’ll pull out of this, Steve. Your queen is strong. She wouldn’t let something this simple keep her down. Not when she’s got you here waiting for her.” Thor assures him.

“Who was it?” Steve asks, so very tired all of a sudden as he runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face.

“I can’t be sure, but it looked like Hydra.” Thor nods.

“They’re back.” Steve realizes.

“And with a vengeance. For some reason, they want your new queen dead.” Thor shakes his head, and Steve can see that Thor really does care for you. Too much in his opinion.

Steve’s mind is already racing, connecting dots. “I think I know who’s behind it, but I’ll never be able to prove it.”

Thor nods. “We’ll have to be vigilant then, until we can.”

They lapse into silence, both thinking about Hydra until Steve remembers that there was something else Thor wanted to say.

“What was the second thing?” He asks.

“What?” Thor seems confused for a moment.

Steve raises both eyebrows, waiting.

“Oh!” Thor shakes his head, “Right. The other thing.”

Steve waits, heart pounding.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re groggy.

It feels like you’ve been sleeping for hours and hours. Days. Weeks even.

You struggle to push past the fog and when you manage to open your eyes, you feel the resistance of your own body as you attempt to speak.

Quickly, as your mind wakes up, it reminds you of the last things you saw.

A flash of silver, black mass, the slip of your foot, pain against your side and against your head.

Dread fills you. A slow frenzy begins to build in your chest as your heart picks up pace. Hands trembling you reach to press your hands against the side that you hit yourself on.

Movement to your right draws your eye and you see Nat, dressed in an emerald green dress with dark gray damask embroidery from head to toe, stoking your fire to make your room warm.

You have no time to appreciate the comforts you’re surrounded in—the soft white fabric of your luxurious nightdress, the plush mattress you lay on, the puffy pillows and the much welcome smell of peony, jasmine, and lilac with the residual smell of juniper blossoms that fills your head with the memory of beautiful long and golden hair.

Reaching out, you wheeze as you attempt to speak. You can’t breathe in. Why?

Nat turns, her eyes flare as she spots you awake and she’s by your side in seconds.

“Oh, Y/N! I could kill you.” She picks up your hand and kisses the back of it then presses it to her cheek before she looks at you again. “Oh, no…don’t panic, you’re safe. Shhh.”

Panic? Is that why you can’t breathe.

“Breathe, your Majesty. Breathe.” Nat urges.

She breathes in and then out.

“Like this.” She does it again and this time you follow.

Your eyes spill tears, torrid fat drops that fill your pillow by your ear making it cold and wet.

“There you go. Are you in pain?” She worries, her hands dropping yours so that she can run them up and down your arms and legs.

“Nat!” You nearly shout, reaching for her sleeve to pull her back up. “Please…”

Your left hand is pressed against your stomach carefully, protectively. Nat’s eyes follow it and then she stares at you with shock for all of a second before she’s moving to get on her feet.

“We need the doctor!” She shouts towards the door.

“No.” You almost growl, pulling on her arm and back down onto the edge of the bed.

At the other end of the room, your doors open and Peter and Bucky both come in to stand by the door looking concerned and terrified.

Nat moves in closer as you pull her down.

“Not the doctor.” You swallow hard, pushing past the emotional lump in your throat. You’re still crying those fat heavy tears, but you’re not sobbing. “In my old village…”

Speaking slowly so that you get it out all in one go, Nat watches your lips and then meets your eyes, flitting between the two as you speak to her with what must be vital importance.

“…there is an old woman. In Charmlee Forest, twenty minutes to the East of my village you will find her hut. When she was younger, she used to be a midwife. I need her, Nat. Bring her here. Please. No one else. Just her.”

Nat is on her feet, racing towards the doorway. As she passes Bucky and Peter, Bucky grabs her elbow and stops her.

“Where are you going? What did she say?” Bucky asks.

“I need to send a rider to Malibia, Charmlee Forest. There’s an old woman that she needs. A doctor.” Nat lies, knowing you well enough now to know you don’t want this out there yet.

“I’ll go.” Bucky tells her and without another word he’s gone.

Nat looks to Peter and moves to shut the door to keep the heat in the room, but Peter moves inside before she can close it.

Knowing that help is coming, you relax a little but continue to cry. Your eyes find Peter’s and your sorrow is renewed when you see the red rim around his eyes. They sparkle with unshed tears and you bite your bottom lip.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.” You gasp, reaching out for him.

He takes our hand and gives it a squeeze before kneeling down beside your bed to simply hold your hand.

“I would have taken you anywhere you wanted to go.” He explains, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” You admit, then look at Nat who’s hovering by the bottom right post at the end of your bed. “I was just so…I stopped thinking and my feet led me away from here. I was days gone when I realized the worry that I would put you through. I cannot ask for your forgiveness, but please accept my apology.”

“Life for you hasn’t been easy here, your Majesty.” Peter says, drawing your eyes away from Nat. “We understand that.”

He looks at Nat, then sighs before meeting your eyes again. “We aren’t angry that you ran. Anyone would have left much sooner. I only wish I had known so that I could go with you. To protect you.”

“I know.” You sigh. “I missed you both so much. For a long time you were my only incentive to return and I started the journey several times until I found…”

Quickly your eyes scan the room. “Where’s Thor?”

“He’s with Steve in his office. They’ve been in there for hours.” Nat tells you.

Steve. The prospect of seeing him again is both exciting and painful. Flames of anger lick at your bones and you can’t pretend that you don’t feel it.

“I don’t want to see him.” You suddenly say.

“Thor?” Peter asks, giving your hand a squeeze.

“His Majesty,” You say flatly. “I don’t want to see him.”

Nat moves closer to you, sitting to your right by your knees. “Y/N…”

“I don’t want to see him, Nat. I can’t. Not after what he said.” You’ll never forgive him for wishing he wasn’t married to you. For saying that he shouldn’t have.

You’re his wife. Whether he likes it or not…but maybe you’ll all of this go. All the feelings you never asked for. The love you never wanted.

“Y/N…with the way you fell, Steve will want to see you.” Nat begins again, trying to sound calm as she places her hand on your thigh. “It’s very similar to the way Margaret-”

“I’m done listening about Margaret, Nat. Please don’t say her name to me again.” You’re harsh with her, but you don’t feel bad. “I can’t hear it anymore.”

She sighs. “It’ll be hard to keep him out of here.”

“Lock my door.” You whisper. “Until I see the old woman, I will not see him, Nat.”

Peter squeezes your hand. “I’ll make sure he stays away.”

As you meet his eyes, you see his determination. Thank the Gods for Peter Benjamin Parker.

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captnbarnesrogers · 5 years

Text

Fall: The Bridges we Begin to Cross

Pairing/Characters: CollegeAU!Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers Warnings: Nothin too major, sexual tension, v v slow burn

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes Y/N to all is favourite places in Brooklyn; his favourite restaurant, his favourite park where he usually writes his poetry, his favourite café, the alleyway where he once kicked someone’s for trying to kick Steve’s… She finds out things that she never knew about him. It was only the fifth day in Brooklyn and they knew they were crossing a dangerous bridge. WC: 2.4k+ A/N: It’s finally here! Better chapters to come, I just wanna leave y’all hanging for a bit heheeh

PREVIOUSLY

FALL MASTERLIST

You don’t really know how you got here, not the fact that you’re laying next to a shirtless Bucky, but the way you feel. Of course, when you first met him you thought he was attractive but never did you think that you’d end up here, getting butterflies over the thought that this could be real. You couldn’t really separate what was real and what was fake dating with Bucky due to him being overly affectionate during the past couple of days.

You stared at the ceiling and back at Bucky. Your heart did a leap and you knew you were crossing a dangerous path. Bucky began to turn in his sleep indicating that he was about to wake. His arm reaches over and lazily rests his arm across your waist. He pulls you in closer.

“Stop staring at me when I’m sleeping.” He says groggily. You could feel the warmth of his body on yours and the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy.

“I’m, uh, not, just wondering if you were awake, I don’t want to go down by myself.” You lied.

“You know you have a tell, right?”

“A tell?” You questioned, moving onto your side and resting your head in your hand. He nodded, “Can you tell me what it is?” He shook his head, “But why not?”

“Because then I wouldn’t know when you’re lying to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Alright, Y/N,” he smirked, “if you say so.” You tapped him on the shoulder and he turned back to face you, “What’s the tell!?” You buggered. He chuckled and hopped out of bed, “Bucky!”. He grabbed a towel and heads out of the room but not before turning once again to you.

“Wanna have a shower?” You blushed and shrugged it off with a laugh, throwing a pillow at him. You planted yourself back into the bed, letting out a shuddering breath. You clutched your chest and caught your breath.

In that moment you thought about every little white lie you’ve told Bucky and what was something you did every time you lied. To be fair, you weren’t a very good liar. You couldn’t lie to save your life. Then your mind wondered. Wondered about Bucky’s little touches and comments. What if they meant something to him but most of all, what if they only meant something to you. You shook yourself out of your imagination and sighed.

“What are you sighing about there?” You pushed yourself up by your elbows, finding a wet, shirtless Bucky standing in the door way.

“Just figuring out what my tell is.” He laughed at you and nodded, his lips pursed as he did so. You pushed your thighs together to relieve some tension. Just seeing water run down his abs made you subtly suck in a breath.

“Well, I’ll never tell you what it is.” You groaned, mostly out of arousal but Bucky thought it was out of frustration.

“So,” you began, sipping your coffee, “what are we doing today?”

“Mmm, I think I wanna show you some of my favourite spots in the neighbourhood.”

“Okay, should I pack some food for us or?” He smiled at your thoughtfulness. He thought it was sweet and at that point, he had the urge to kiss you – looking down at your lips whilst licking his own.

“No, uh, I’ll take you out to lunch, if you don’t mind the walk?” You nodded, hopping off of the kitchen bench and eating the last bite of your toast, “Alright!” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together, “You wanna get dressed, princess?” You bit away a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll go up now.” You went for a warm simple look – white turtleneck, blue jeans, and some boots. As you walked out the door, Bucky had grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips, waving goodbye to his mother and letting her know that you both would be back before dinner.

“This alleyway right here?” He pointed at the wet and dark alleyway, “This is the first place that I kicked someone’s ass because they were trying to beat up Steve.”

“Must’ve hurt, huh?” You giggled.

“You should’a seen the sight on the other guy.” You both kept walking. Sharing quiet conversations and enjoying each other’s company until you both reached a small corner café. The smell of coffee beans clouded the air. Sounds of chitter chatter surrounded the atmosphere, “You want something?” You nodded.

“Hot chocolate please.” He waited behind two other customers before being faced with a the female cashier.

“Bucky?” She questions. He looks at her for a moment before he lets go of your hand and runs to the corner of the counter, engulfing the brunette into a hug.

“Dottie! How are you!?” You felt something heavy in your chest but you didn’t want to admit it. It’d be too early to say and you didn’t want to say it. At all. You stayed where you stood whilst Bucky conversated with the girl. You weren’t going to lie, you felt extremely awkward in this situation; not knowing what to do with yourself. You could hear them quietly talk, only making your exhales heat in- Well, it’s better not to say.

“We should catch up.” She says with excitement and he nods. You couldn’t help yourself – you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll be in town for a while, just ring up.” She gives him one last embrace before taking his order. He walks back towards you with a smile plastered on his face, “Sorry about that, just someone I knew from high school.”

“You seemed to be more than just ‘knowing’ each other.” You laughed awkwardly. You both sat down near the window at the corner of the café.

“Laced with green poison, are we Y/N?”

“Huh?” Of course, you knew exactly what he was going to say, “No green poison here, just I know you.”

“I know you too, Y/N,” he inched closer to you, “so I know when you talk with an attitude.” He pulled away as Dottie placed his coffee and your hot chocolate in front of you. You smiled up at her but she barely acknowledged your presence. Before Bucky could take a sip out of his cup, you tapped on the side of it. He pulled the cup away from his lips and saw Dottie had written down her number.

“Just someone you knew?”

“Oh c’mon, Y/N/N!” He said with a chuckle.

“I’m not judging you, James! I’m just saying that she cannot be just someone you knew and have a reaction like that when you both meet again.”

“Maybe she’s just excited to see me!” He laughs.

“I don’t give out my number to every guy I get excited about.”

“Well I’d hope not.” He mumbles, taking a sip of his coffee. You give him a playful slap on the arm and chuckle.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Is it roast Bucky day or what?” He gives out a chuckle.

“Every day is roast Bucky day.”

“Anyway, the reason why we’re here is because this is my favourite café.” He points to the spot you were sitting in, “And in that very spot is where I first got my heart broken.”

“Jesus, why would you still come here?”

“The memory of the pain gives me things to write about.” He explains.

“So, who was the girl?” You giggle, drinking your hot chocolate.

“Dottie.” He points over.

---

After the café, you head was swirling. You couldn’t get the image of Bucky and Dot out of your head. Of course, you’d seen Bucky with girls before but it seemed that Dot was a serious part of Bucky’s life. He grabbed your hand and held it in his.

“Okay we’re here.” You couldn’t even remember how long you’d both had walked because your head was focused on something else.

“Where?” He pulled at your hand and sat you down on a bench, fronting a beautiful pond full of ducks and the sound of the fountain not too fair ringing in your ear.

“This is where the magic comes to life.”

“Ew, James, why did you-?” You scrunched your nose in disgust.

“Not like that, you idiot” He chuckled, “I mean, this is where I come to write, to think… This is where I came up with some of my best work.”

“Why here?”

“I actually don’t know, Steve and I just used to come here as kids and I would look around and suddenly I had all these great ideas that I put down on paper.” He smiles softly at you and pulls out his notebook. It’s folded in half and blue with white creases, probably from just stuffing it in his bag all the time. You flicked through it and gave him a questioning look, “You can take a look if you’d like.” You shook your head.

“I think poems are a bit personal, well, until you publish them of course.” Bucky admired this about you. You were very respectful even when he asked you to invade his thoughts. You liked to let him keep them to himself.

“But wouldn’t you like to know what I was thinking and if I’m thinking about you?”

“Are you thinking about me, James?” You smirked as he blushed.

“N-No?”

“Unsure?”

“I mean, of course I’m thinking of you, you’re here, aren’t you?” You nodded, smirk still plastered upon your face.

He walked you both over to the bench just across from the fountain. Sitting down, you pondered over the water that came out of the top of the fountain, the sculpture of a mermaid brushing its hair.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you. You didn’t even notice him staring at you.

“Have you ever loved someone, Y/N?” You also didn’t notice before but his arm had made its away around your shoulder. You were confused about his question, “Well, have you?”

“Um, I don’t know.” You might be in love right now. Your inner monologue disrupts. You shook the thought out of your head.

“Aren’t you supposed to be writing screenplay with a romantic theme for your semester project?”

“God, don’t remind me.” You huffed, “How am I supposed to write something genuine on a thing I know nothing about?”

“Well, why don’t you experience it?” You felt him leaning towards you. His hot breath on your lips and his soft hand on your cheek, caressing lightly. You closed your eyes, preparing for the touch of his lips on yours.

“Well, isn’t it my favourite fake couple.” Bucky pulled away quickly and cleared his throat. You blushed and moved away from Bucky as Steve approached the both of you, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought that you guys were about to kiss.” Bucky smiled with annoyance towards his best friend, “Practising?”

“Bucky was just telling me about how you guys would come here all the time.” You nodded awkwardly. Steve hummed in response whilst smirking in your direction.

“What are you doing here, Steve?”

“What? A guy can’t ponder in his childhood park?” Steve says sarcastically. He laughs before explaining, “I’m meeting Peggy here, we’re going to this food festival thing.” Bucky nodded, acknowledging his plans.

“Well, I think I might take Y/N home now, mom’s making dinner.” He stood up and intertwined his hands with yours, making your cold hands warmer than they were before.

“See you guys later.” Steve bids. You and Bucky wave in response.

When you arrived back at Bucky’s house, you were a little bit confused. Was he really going to kiss you? What would’ve the kiss meant to him? Did he like you? You had all these questions running around your head that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. His hands were intertwined with yours the whole ride home, the only warm part of your body and the only part you could feel. He walked you into the house and took your jacket, hanging it up.

“Ma, we’re home.” He called out. It was getting dark outside, Bucky closes the door before anymore cold could get into the warm house.

“Bucky?” He hummed as he lead you through the house, “I’m uh, not feeling so well, I think it’d be better if I laid down for a bit.” His tone immediately changed; nurturing, caring, worry – you could hear it all in one sentence, added with the hand on your cheek.

“Yeah, baby, go for it, need help getting up?” You shook your head and pulled at the sleeves of your jumper. He kisses your forehead, “I’ll tell mom, check up on you in a bit?” You nodded and made your way up.

You laid down on the bed, still in your clothes from before. Reminiscing back to the almost kiss. You cover your face with your hands.

“This cannot be happening, not now, God, please, not now.” You whisper yell at yourself, “This is a fake relationship, he asked you to be here because he needs a fake date, stop it.” You wanted to scream into the pillow. You wanted to kick and punch and just take out all of these feelings out on something, “This is fake, this is fake, this is fake…” You chanted. You gasp when you hear a knock on the door.

“Hey.”

“Hi Bucky.” You gave him a soft smile.

“How are you feeling?” You shrugged because that’s how you really felt, you had no idea, not a clue, “Well, I bought water, hot chocolate, and there’s pain killers in my pocket.” He walked over and sat down beside you. He moved a piece of stranded hair away from your face and tried to feel any heat against your neck, “Hi.” He chuckles, giving you a soft smile.

“Hi.”

“Are you hungry?” He leans forward and kisses your temple, stroking your reddening cheeks. You shook your head.

“Not right now.”

“I told my mom that there was a chance that you wouldn’t be coming down.” You jolted up as he laid beside you.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, I completely forgot that your mom made dinner, we have to go down.” He grabs your waist and brings you back down the mattress.

“She’s saving a plate for us, don’t panic.” You suddenly sink into his arms as he coddles you into him, “She’d rather you feel better than not feel 100% at the table.”

“Are you sure this is okay?” He kisses your cheek.

“Give it an hour or two before she gets offended.” He jokes. You slapped his arm playfully and before you knew it, you’d both fallen asleep.

TAGLIST:

@captianlibby

#Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes #Sebastian stan smut #Sebastian stan fluff #Sebastian stan fic #Sebastian stan x reader #Sebastian stan x reader smut #Sebastian stan x reader fluff #Sebastian stan x reader fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader fic

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fic-for-fic-sake · 4 years

Text

First Date?

A/N: Okay so I wrote this in March during the beginning part of quarantine so keep that in mind while you read. I hope you enjoy it and as always; likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

“Natasha you cannot be serious.” You deadpanned, making a face at her over facetime.

“I am! I read it in a Buzzfeed article, tinder is letting you swipe all over the globe to find a quarantine buddy. It’s a thing.” She pouted from her end of the line, cutting up vegetables for her lunch.

“I mean that’s ridiculous, are people really dating over facetime? Is this what the world has come to?” You asked, flopping down on your bed.

“I mean, life goes on, even if you can’t go outside. Besides, I think it would be good for you, you’ve been in quarantine for more than a week now and you can’t keep facetiming me. Find yourself a new buddy, it could be fun.” She retorted, popping a piece of chopped zucchini into her mouth before throwing the rest in the pan on the stove.

“What are you making anyway? It sounds loud.” You responded, ignoring her observation.

“Stir fry, want some?” She teased, letting you see the pan with everything in it that made your mouth water. Red pepper and zucchini along with broccoli, chicken, and beautiful white rice.

“I wish we were together so you could cook for me.” You moped, feeling your stomach growl with the thought of food. When was the last time you ate again? It was hard to keep track when you couldn’t leave your apartment.

“It’s not my fault you moved to Spain.”

“It’s only for a year! And how was I supposed to know this would happen!” You yelled at her through the phone, you doubted it had the same impact because you were staring at her kitchen ceiling as she tended to her lunch.

“Just think about what I said, I gotta go! I’ll call you back later.” She said, as she blew you a kiss and then hung up, leaving you to look at your own tattered reflection in your black phone screen.

You sighed as you padded to your kitchen in sweatpants to grab a pint of ice cream you had been working on. You popped a spoon in your mouth and scrolled through your phone, looking for the article Natasha was talking about. Sure enough after opening the Buzzfeed app, you saw that people were indeed doing first dates over facetime. It didn’t sound like a terrible idea, you only really had to look presentable from the waist up and you did kind of miss dressing in normal people clothes.

Spooning ice cream into your mouth you redownloaded the tinder app and started swiping through. People from all over the globe popped up on your phone. New York, London, San Francisco, Berlin, Seoul, and New Delhi. You swiped for longer than anticipated and got a few matches but none of them really panned out until you found one profile in particular.

Steve Rogers, an artist from Brooklyn who worked at a law firm, interesting combination. His very first picture drew you in, dark blond almost brunet locks swept to the side, a full beard, and a killer smile. Okay, you were interested. You scrolled through his pictures to find one of him in a suit, presumably at work, another of him in a cream colored cable knit sweater looking out into the middle distance, and the last one was him standing shirtless on a beach, hair slightly shaggier and coffee mug in hand. Holy shit. He was gorgeous. You swiped right and nearly dropped your phone out of shock when it said that it was a match.

No way. No way would this literal Adonis of a human being swipe right on you, but who were you to argue with the tinder algorithm. You got up to put your ice cream back in the freezer when your phone made a pinging sound. A message from Mr. Handsome himself.

Steve: Hey

You: Hi

Steve: Madrid huh? What time is it there?

You: A little after 9pm

Steve: What are you up to?

You: Oh you know, the usual, staring at a wall because I can’t leave the apartment

Steve: Wow, it’s like I’m there with you.

You chucked at his dry humor. You and Steve talked for pretty much the rest of the night before you told him you were going to fall asleep on him if you stayed up any longer. Before he let you log out for the night, he asked you on a date, over facetime. You smiled so hard you swore you tore a muscle in your face. You accepted his proposal and agreed to facetime tomorrow evening for you and tomorrow afternoon for him, so you could cook together.

The next day you were freaking out, deciding what to wear. What does one wear to a facetime first date? This was uncharted territory for all parties involved and the internet, where you would usually go for advice, was no help either. Natasha advised just wearing casual clothing, and she was right. You didn’t want to look formal just sitting around your apartment, that would be weird. You decided on a pair of light wash jeans and a baby pink sweatshirt hoodie from Calvin Klein. You kept your hair down, a simple style. You decided against makeup because after the call ended you were just going to take it off anyway. Perfect, you looked good and casual, not like you hadn’t left your house in four days.

You made sure you had all the ingredients in front of you for a simple dijon sauce and chicken. You were debating whether or not you should wear an apron when your phone rang, it was Steve. You propped your phone up against the wall before you answered.

“Hi!” You exclaimed, adjusting the phone before you stepped back into the frame.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice rang out through your empty kitchen. You took a minute to admire what he was wearing. A plain gray long sleeve shirt hugged his arm muscles and black jeans were on his legs. His hair was swept to the side and his beard was neatly trimmed, truly the picture of perfection.

“Are you ready to cook?” You questioned, pointing your wisk at the camera which garnered a chuckle from him.

“What are you making?” He questioned, as he opened the door to his fridge and began to root around for ingredients, giving you a perfect view of his lower half. You tried not to stare at the image of his perfect ass on the frame, instead focusing on lighting the stove and beginning to chop up some garlic.

“Chicken with a dijon sauce.” You replied, brows knitted in concentration. “What about you?”

“Funny, I’m making chicken noodle soup.” He replied, laying out his celery on the cutting board and also beginning to chop.

“God this is strange.” You commented as you turned on your stove and put some olive oil in the pan.

“Strange good, or strange bad?” Steve implored, putting the chopped celery aside and now moving on to the carrots.

“Yeah, I haven’t decided yet.” You chuckled a bit as you threw your chicken breasts into the pan. “How many times have you made chicken noodle soup?” You wondered.

“I’ve been making it for years, it’s my mom’s recipe.” He explained, a smile on his face as the memory. “It’s kind of a comfort thing and these days I’ll take comfort wherever I can get it.”

“You and me both Steve.” You replied automatically, flipping the chicken in the pan. He laughed and the two of you made polite conversation as you continued cooking your respective meals.

“Okay, you ready to eat?” He asked, ladling his soup into a cream colored deep ceramic bowl.

“My mouth is already watering.” You jested as you plated up your chicken and broccoli and drizzled a healthy amount of sauce over the top of everything. You both went to each of your fridges and grabbed the same bottle of chilled white wine. You had both decided on Verdejo white wine on your suggestion that it was amazing. He said he trusted your recommendation.

You sat at your plain kitchen table in your small apartment, looking into the phone and seeing he lived in less humble dwellings. You could see a beautiful large window with what you assumed showed a spectacular view of the city. He poured his wine into an intricate stemmed glass while you poured yours into a glass cup. You laughed.

“What is it?” He questioned, a small smile playing on his lips. Oh how that smile took your breath away.

“I just think it’s funny that I have a washing machine in my kitchen, my walls are yellowing, and I’m drinking wine out of a cup.” You said, gesturing to your surroundings. “While you are living in a beautiful apartment and have the perfect drinking vessel for your wine.”

“Yeah but you’re only in Spain for a year right? Work with whatcha got.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I went to Romania with a friend of mine and we stayed in this little rundown shack with newspapers on the window and we didn’t have electricity.”

“Wow Romania, what brought you there?”

“I was commissioned to do a painting of the Romanian Athenaeum in Bucharest.”

“Steve that’s amazing!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “you must be a really talented artist, why’d you switch jobs?

“I didn’t so much as switch but take a backseat in art. I loved it but it didn’t pay the bills. When I first got to New York I was living on my friend Bucky’s couch, and months later he was kind enough to offer me a position at his law firm.” Steve explained, stopping intermittently to take spoonfuls of soup.

“That’s incredible. I wish I could paint.” You added, putting a forkful of dijon chicken into your mouth. “But art was never my strong suit.”

Before he could provide a response, he brought the wine glass up to his lips and your movements halted as he swallowed a few sips of wine. You wondered what he would think of your recommendation. After a beat he wore the biggest smile on his face.

“Doll, this wine is amazing! How did you know about this?” He asked incredulously.

You could feel yourself blush at the pet name but recovered quickly, “When I studied abroad in Barcelona I went to a few wine tastings and they always had Verdejo and it was always my favorite, hands down.”

You and Steve seemed to have no problem coming up with things to talk about. Your dinner time had long since passed and now you were yawning every few sentences and you could feel your eyes drooping.

“Looks like someone’s tired.” Steve teased, a soft smile playing on those petal pink lips of his. No matter how tired you were you could still feel the need to press your lips against his. After a few more yawns Steve insisted that you hang up and go to sleep which you did begrudgingly. Ten minutes later you sent him a picture of you in your pajamas and tucked under the covers of your small bed. To which he responded with a picture of his own, thumbs up and face beaming.

You had to remind yourself to thank Natasha for forcing you to do this tinder business in the first place.

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfic #mcu fanfic #reader insert #avengers fanfic

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: Tryst {Headcanon}***

Warning: NSFW. SMUTTY.

Words: 2.5K

Note: Back to my bread and butter T’Challa. There are Xhosa and translations within text (according to google.com). Also there is one interactive image link. Hope you guys enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another long day. Another long day of meetings and citizen appearances. He sat there in the throne room to listen to complaint after complaint and concern after concern and dispute after dispute. It was tedious, and he was tired.

You were able to escape this because you weren’t in Wakanda. You were still on your trip to America to handle some of the diplomatic affairs oversees. He’d opted out and exchanged the trip with you to remain here because sometimes America was too much. The rules, the small-mindedness, the Totalitarian thinking, it was very backward when it was compared to the way Wakanda did things.

When you’d told him that your trip was extended for four more days on top of the four you were already gone, he found his grumpiness increasing. He wanted you home already, wanted you close enough he could smell and touch and kiss.

Then when he found out you were spending time with the Avengers on a few of those days, uneasiness settled in his heart. You were around not just one man who wanted you but two—your ex Steve Rogers himself and the other one who had tried to capture your heart, Sam. His grumpiness quickly turned to jealousy.

Last night you were video calling him and telling him of your day, and you’d gotten the invitation to go out with them. You were supposed to be flying in the next morning. He watched as you accepted the invitation and watched as you dressed in something, he would never have chosen for you. It was too tight, and he knew their eyes would be glued to your frame.

He wasn’t a jealous man, but when it came to you, he was downright possessive. Now here it was close to supper time, and you still weren’t here. So, now he was grumpy, annoyed, missing you fiercely, and feeling overwhelmingly jealous. It was the worst time for these feelings.

After another hour and a half, your scent filled him. You were home. The giddiness he felt could barely be contained. He’d expected you to come to him right away, but after forty minutes, you still hadn’t. He knew you were in the palace; he could feel it, and that fact made every emotion he’d felt hours ago increase.

When the doors of the throne room opened, and you walked in half of him wanted to jump out his seat and run to you, but the other half—the stubborn half, the animal half remained seated. He watched you slink closer and watched all who were there salute you as they would him. Every step you took, you demanded respect and showed your power but grace and kindness. You smiled at them all and waved. He’d missed the air around you, and he noticed those around him did as well.

“Okoye, do I have any more citizens?”

“No, Kumkani, you have seen them all.”

Before you got to the steps to climb them and sit on your throne beside him, he locked eyes with yours.

“Stop there.” You paused and gave him a cautionary look. It wasn’t one that said “what’s wrong” it was one that asked, “excuse me, who the hell are you talking to?”

“Everyone is dismissed.”

All in the room began gathering their things. They all collectively saluted him and walked out the doors. Okoye did the same, but as she passed you, she smiled. You pulled her into a hug that she returned. Okoye did not hug, you’d turned her.

When everyone was out of the room, you smiled.

“Is this how my husband greets me, his wife, after such a long time away from me?”

“Perhaps,” he responded, his voice was low and deep. He was ready to pounce, but he wanted to see you squirm first. “Come here, wife.”

Slowly you ascended the stairs leading to him. His eyes roamed your figure. You wore an authentic green Wakandan dress that hid your shape

“Now you choose modesty when you are here with your husband.”

You smiled because you knew he was salty over the outfit you wore on your night out. You knew he would never tell you to change or restrict you from wearing something. You purposely wore it knowing he wouldn’t speak on it. Leaving a foot or two, you shrugged as you stood before him. His eyes roamed your body. You recognized the look. After two years of marriage, you’d become very good at cataloging his looks and deciphering what they meant.

“Take it off.”

“Is this how you treat your wife, ordering her around like she is in your service?”

“Is this how you treat your king? Backtalk?” You smiled and turned around so your back faced him.

“I can’t reach the clasp my—king.” It was a sweet innocent voice; he knew better than to believe it. He reached up and unfastened the clasp then pulled down the zipper slowly until it was to your mid-back. You stood, turned to him, and pushed the silken material off your shoulders. The billowy dress fell from you to the floor with a soft brush of air, and you stood before him as bare as the day you were born.

“Bast!”

You smiled wider than you intended. He hadn’t expected you to be naked underneath, especially with supper, and after supper entertainment was still on the agenda. You’d anticipated your husband being in a pissy mood and set the trap perfectly.

“Who knew you were such a temptress.”

“It seems marriage has unlocked this master-level—husband.” Your eyes dropped to his crotch, and you could see just how tempted he was. You stepped out of the dress that pooled around your feet and softly kicked it to the side then walked to him, closing the gap.

“Did you miss me, husband?” Your breasts were right in front of his face. You knew he knew what you were doing. You also knew after nearly two weeks, he would easily crumble. T’Challa trailed his hand up the side of your thigh to the back and up your backside. His hand felt incredible on your skin, you had missed him.

“Did you miss your king?” Your eyes locked with his, and you nodded while biting your bottom lip. T’Challa tipped his tongue out and ran it across a nipple once then twice, and your body was on fire. As if the taste wasn’t enough, he cupped your breasts then latched onto them and sucked, licked and teased them until you were moaning and whimpering with every touch.

After a few minutes, T’Challa pulled your head down to his and claimed your lips in a searing kiss that opened the flood gates of your desire for him. The two of you moaned in unison. T’Challa pulled you forward to straddle him. There was not enough room for your thighs to comfortably rest, so T’challa pulled your legs to rest over the armrests of the throne. You were comfortably seated on top of his still hardening shaft. You moaned and began bucking your hips.

T’Challa then quickly began undoing his pants with one hand as he held you suspended in the air just above him. It didn’t take him long, and the anticipation of him sliding into you was killing you. T’Challa slowly lowered you onto his need taking his time giving you every inch so you could feel yourself fill to capacity with him. Your eyes never left his, and it only intensified the moment.

Once he was fully sheathed between your soaking tight folds, he grunted.

“Show your king how much you missed him.” Not needing to be told twice, you rocked your hips on him first back and forth then in wide circles. T’Challa’s head dropped back to the throne and closed his eyes. He looked as if he were finally at peace, finally able to settle. Not for long you thought. You picked up your pace and began a steady beat in your head to one of your favorite songs and rocked your hips to it. You made sure to never keep to one motion long enough for him to get used to it. This was the way to drive him crazy.

After a few minutes, your arousal was so high you dropped your hands to the armrest of the throne and used it so you could bounce atop him. T’Challa’s grunts and moans became louder, and soon his hands gripped you around your waist to hold you still as he flicked his hips up into you. Each thrust was powerful and reminded you just who you were dealing with—The Black Panther.

T’Challa took control and angled your back so you laid back dropping your head between his legs so your eyes were pointed to the doors of the room, giving you an upside-down view.

“Yes, yes, yes. Show your queen how much you missed her!”

That was all he needed to hear before he was plowing into you, making your body shake with each bruising thrust of his hips. T’Challa’s grip on you was a tight one, one that said he would never let you fall, and he would always be your support, but his strokes said he was in control, he was king, he is the only one that could ever have you like this. Your moans turned to screeches as you felt your first orgasm escape.

“Ah, T’Challa!”

You didn’t know what was happening, but you felt T’Challa stand. He turned you to the throne then lowered you to the floor before he pushed you onto the seat with your back to him. You moaned still feeling the tingles of your orgasm. Assuming the position, you knew he loved you poked your ass out for him.

T’Challa dropped a heavy slap across your ass, and another moan fell from your lips. He did this again and again before you felt the heavy thwack of his long, thick member across one side of your ass.

“Mmm.”

“Do you want it, Y/N?” You vigorously nodded your head. You didn’t care if you were a little too anxious, there was no such thing as desperation between husband and wife. T’Challa slapped your buttock with his meat again, and you held on to the back of the throne tighter. “I cannot hear you, my queen.”

“Yes, I want it. Give it to me, Sthandwa {My love}!” T’Challa rubbed the tip of his need across your dripping slit and stroked the fire to the inferno that was quickly becoming too much to contain. “Ndiyacela. {Please}”, it was a whimpered plea. T’Challa didn’t have you wait too long. Without caution, he slammed into you, making you scream out and hug the throne as if it were him.

T’Challa’s strokes were not gentle, and they were not slow. He was now a man on a mission, you could feel it. Every slam into you made your skin tingle even more, you knew you were dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, it was only a matter of time.

“Eyam {Mine}!” It wasn’t a question; it was a confident declaration. You had no objections. He repeated it and rocked your core with the force of his thrust. Your body lurched forward away from his dick.

“Fuck!” T’Challa gripped your hips and pulled you back to him.

“Do not run from me, Y/N.” Again, his hips delivered a down for the count thrust, and you screeched having nowhere to run from the intense pressure you felt, it was a mix of pleasure and delicious pain. You didn’t realize it, but you were screaming with every connection his hips made.

“Eyam! Yitsho {Say it}!”

“Yeyakho {Yours}!” T’Challa released a low predatorial growl and sped up his thrusts. You couldn’t control what came out your mouth from that point on, it was all incoherent nonsense you were sure. T’Challa seemed lost in his pleasure. He grunted once, then twice and a third. On the fourth grunt and drill into you, his body shook, and you felt his release just as your final orgasm claimed you. You could feel the tight clench around him and the pulsating of his still hardened need.

T’Challa whimpered and fell against your back as if he’d lost all strength. As your canal milked him for everything, he had his whimpers escaped to the rhythm of which you clenched around him.

“So, you remember who it is that owns and controls your body, my love.” His voice was breathy and soft against your ear. You smiled and turned your head to the side, giving him a small view of you before you clenched around him again, this time holding the clench. T’Challa yelped out and shook again, the look on his face was one of shock, pleasure, and lust.

“Mmm, so you remember who it is that owns and controls this, hence you my—love.” You released him, and he growled again and slowly began to pull from you before he pushed into you again. On the third slow, tantalizing thrust, there was loud pounding at the doors.

“What!”

“A message from the queen mother kumkani. Eh-em, we are all hungry and waiting, please control yourself your hunger for after we have eaten.”

You snorted and laughed doing your best to stifle it. T’Challa smiled and softly bit your shoulder before he kissed it.

“Thank you, general, we shall we there shortly.” He smiled and slowly pulled from your well-coated heat, as he did, he saw a few small drops of him seep out of you, decorating your nether lips beautifully. Just like that, he was filled with a renewed desire for you, not that it had ever left him. You flipped over and sat on his throne then spread your legs, giving him an unobscured view of his favorite canvas to mark.

Slowly your hand trailed across your stomach to the apex between your thighs. Using the mixture of your juices and his seed, you began circling your clit moaning while looking at him.

“Y/N.” It was a warning. He knew what you were doing, but he also was but a man first and foremost.

“You cannot go to supper that way, my king. Let me help.”

“Help? Don’t you mean ensnare and sabotage me further?” Your smile was a mischievous one.

“Ensnare? I object.” He smiled again and shook his head, not seeing right through you. “I know how hungry you are my love, come get your sustenance.” You brought your fingers to your lips and sucked them clean. His lust took over as he tapped his kimoyo beads.

“Mother, the queen, and I regret to inform you that we will not be joining you all at supper tonight. You may eat without us.” Without waiting for a response, he ended the communication and went to you. You were right; he was hungry. As he slid inside you again, his lips quirked into a mischievous smirk.

“You’re right, my queen, I am ravenous!”

#tryst headcanon #T'Challa #t'challa fanfiction #t'challa smut

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mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea · 4 years

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First lines meme thingie

I was tagged by @mcfiddlestan, and I rarely ever get tagged for things. So here goes.

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics read or written and then tag others to do the same.

10. WIP: From Chapter 5 of Mission (Part 2, of Hemispheres):

"Oh. You're back, Stark."

Tony stepped up to the cell just as Loki's honeyed voice greeted him from the darkness. Behind him, Fandral continued to use what Frigga had given him – more daylily, it seemed – to keep the guards befuddled and forgetful about their presence.

"I am, Bambi. And I see...well, hear...you're still awake. Which is good. I'd hate to think I was disturbing your sleep," Tony retorted, the corner of his mouth quirking into that smile that let anyone know he was amused, especially with himself.

Tony had actually fallen asleep after navigating his way back to his room and crawling into the orgy-bed. It was Fandral's voice hovering right over him, followed by a hand shaking him that had jolted him from sleep. He couldn't be mad, though. After all, here he was again, in Loki's presence.

Even if he couldn't see him yet.

As that thought entered Tony's mind, a candle silently illuminated the cell, and Loki sat on the edge of the narrow bed, dressed for sleep, his hair down around his face but not tousled yet to indicate any sleep. Those stunning green eyes pierced through the glass to stare into Tony's.

9. From Chapter 1 of Mission; “A spirit with a vision (Is a dream with a mission)”; (Part 2 of Hemispheres):

"Tony, this is madness."

Tony finished his third cup of coffee and poured another for himself. He turned to offer Thor a refill, but the God of Thunder covered the top of his ginormous mug with his hand to politely refuse. Buzzing from the caffeine and distracted for length of a cicada's wing-flutter, Tony tried to remember which one of them had taught Thor to be polite about coffee.

"It's not madness, Thor. I've just...had time to think about it, and...Loki should be here. Not...wherever you put him," he hedged and tried to meet Thor's eyes.

"He threw you through the window of your own home. He wrecked your city. He killed..."

Setting the carafe back on its hot plate a little rougher than he'd intended, Tony took the three wide steps it took to land him right in Thor's space, and he glared up at him.

"And how many have you killed, Hammer Time? You're the actual warrior, so how much blood do you have on your hands? How much innocent blood, at that?"

Thor was taken aback by the acrimony in Tony's tone, the way those dark eyes flashed with a red-hot forge fire that burned the breath between them. He lifted his cup between them, took a drink of what remained in it then set it down again. He never took a step back or tried to push Tony away.

"That is not a discussion we're going to have, Tony. You're upset with me, and I cannot fathom why," he told his friend, a hint of warning to his voice. "The last I knew, you were glad to see my brother returned to Asgard for punishment. You have nightmares..."

Tony stepped back of his own volition and waved a hand to dismiss the last thing Thor mentioned.

"You don't know anything about my nightmares. They have nothing to do with your brother." When Thor gave him a questioning eyebrow raise, Tony poked a finger into his chest. "They don't. Compared to what I saw in that wormhole, Loki was just a pissed off kitten."

8. From Part 1 of Hemispheres; Far away you were made in a sea just like me:

It was the gray light that gently tugged him from sleep.

Tony squinted, and at first, he wanted to grouse and tell the cloudy morning to go fuck itself; he wasn't ready to wake up. Especially when a warm body spooned against his, a creamy-skinned arm draped over his side, and the hand that belonged to it cupped his belly. That was enough to make him smile and close his eyes again, his own hand slipping away from where it rested between his cheek and pillow to settle on that other hand.

This must not be one of his many flings that he picked up at a bar or conference because he felt no need to get out of bed and begin the Ritual of Escape. He didn't have the urge to run and leave Pepper to 'take out the trash', as she so often explained it.

Wait. Is that Pepper behind me?

Tony caressed the knuckles of the hand on his stomach, and while the hand was fine-boned and nimble, it was certainly not the hand of a woman.

Definitely not Pepper's.

Still, that body felt so good against his back; not bed-warm the way he would've expected. It was cooler than most bodies, though not uncomfortably so, and Tony snuggled back against it all the same, feeling this lover's arm tighten against him.

He said fuck it to the outside world and responsibilities again, ready to drift off. Ready to ignore the meetings lined up for him, the half a dozen projects in his lab, and the business luncheon he no doubtedly was supposed to attend that was Incredibly Important to Stark Industries.

"Mmm, if you keep squirming against me like that, ástin mín, you're not going to make that breakfast meeting you're supposed to be at in..." Loki lifted his head to squint at the projected clock on Tony's nightstand. "...an hour," he finished and took that moment to snuggle back down against Tony's back, rubbing his smooth cheek along that naked shoulder.

7. From Ghost of a Chance, a Steve/Bucky/Peggy prompt drabble.

December 1943; London, England

Scratchy tunes faded in and out from the radio in the training facility. Bucky's eyes focused on the two men in the makeshift boxing ring, working in some training while the remains of the 107th continued to enjoy their break from combat.

Eventually, they'd have to get back in the fight.

Eventually, they'd follow the golden blond leader who barely matched the image Bucky went into combat with seared into his mind.

Eventually, he'd be chasing after Steve like he always did, but this time, they'd be equals against the mutual enemy.

Steve didn't even need him anymore, did he?

So, what the hell was Bucky supposed to do with himself anymore if Steve didn't need him?

"He's pretty amazing to watch, isn't he, Sargent Barnes?"

Bucky glanced over to see the pretty brunette whose heart Steve had managed to snag. All on his own, too. Bucky hadn't needed to set up a blind date or anything with this one. He huffed and shrugged a shoulder.

6. From Behind Blue Eyes, Emma Frost/Loki. With several twists.

Emma hissed as the cup burned her bottom lip, and she set it down with a scowl. Yes, she’d wanted hot tea, but she hadn’t needed it to come out boiling or to bring back the moral condemnation that still echoed in her memories. If Robert were here, she’d ask him to cool it down for her, but he wasn’t. She knew what was in his thoughts, and she sincerely doubted that he would join her at a café for an afternoon drink.

Would any of them?

She almost laughed out loud to herself when she realized that one person who might was the one person who offered her some of the only comfort throughout the whole debacle. Logan. However, she was as aware as one of his claws punched through her chest that he was like the others, too busy wrapped up in a woman who could have prevented everything that had happened, if only she’d been thinking with her head and not jealous little heart of hers.

And everyone thought Emma was the ice queen.

5. From Supernaut; Eventual Loki/Tony but Loki + Nebula; Infinity War/Endgame Divergent.

Whatever pieces of Loki were left in the wreckage of The Statesman were intact enough that healing from death...again...took only as long as Thanos' snap that ended half of all life across the known universe.

Ironically, Loki didn't die in the snap.

He'd been cold after Thor's body floated to...wherever it had once his unconsciousness pried him from the Trickster's corpse. Loki distinctly remembered that from his place at the gates of Valhalla; that alone told him that his death had come as an honorable sacrifice, and only after kissing his mother and father goodbye – for now – because he'd left unfinished business behind, did he wake up without Thor as his blanket.

Through whatever grace of the Norns that still existed, Loki stood on that piece of the ship that had held his dead body. He studied the stars, charted the constellations, found himself staring at Lokabrenna with a smile as it guided him. It was difficult to breathe as if Thanos' hand was still around his throat, and it was good he didn't need to speak words right away to summon the pieces of the ship around him, soldering it together with what magic he could bring immediately to his fingertips. His windpipe and voice box had been crushed, and it would take days to heal them unless he dug deep into the secret supply of golden apples he'd stored away ages ago in a dimensional pocket. Or unless Eir could come to his rescue, but he didn't know where she was. She and several chests of those apples had been on the escape ship with Brunnhilde, Korg, and half of the Asgardians.

Loki hoped they'd found a safe course and stayed out of Thanos' reach.

4. From We Were Never Boy Scouts; Loki/Steve Rogers.

A frost giant and a once-frozen centenarian walk into a bar...

That's where the joke ends. That bar isn't really a bar. It's the middle of nowhere in the North Siberian Lowland, and there isn't a structure or building or person in sight.

"Golly, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Loki's eyes twinkle with mischief as he turns to see if his companion is as impressed by his Midgardian cultural reference as he is.

"I don't think we're anywhere near Yatutsk," Steve says. He's braced his hands on his hips. His breath forms ghosts. The air bites his cheeks, nose, and ear-tips until they're red. Loki's reference hasn't been missed by Steve, but he's not in the mood for a joke. "I thought you could teleport us anywhere."

He closes his eyes. Takes Thor's advice regarding a Midgardian calming trick by counting to ten. Several deep breaths keep him from yelling at the good Captain.

"I can teleport us anywhere. I did teleport us 'anywhere'. But I'm not from Russia nor am I from your planet, so I can't get you to exact locations when I haven't been to them, especially not when they seem to be in the middle of Frost-Etin wastelands."

3. From A Warrior’s Wounds, a Kurt/Logan (Nightcrawler/Wolverine) ficlet part of a 130 prompt list, and the only one I actually managed to write.

In the near-two centuries since he’d been alive, Logan had been stabbed, sliced, gutted, burned, shot, survived grenades, canons, arrows, magic, inter-dimensional weaponry, Dracula’s bite, Sabertooth’s claws, Hulk’s smash, Black Widow’s knives, Cyclops’ eye-blast, Jean’s mind-punches, Hank eating his leg, Remy’s flying sparky cards, Rogue’s touch, Emma’s diamond slaps, Reed’s rubbery choke-holds, S.H.I.E.L.D removing his head, Mystique’s...everything, and sometimes, his own clumsiness.

He’d endured just about every painful thing a body could endure.

And survived.

2. From Hey Jealousy, a Thor: Ragnarok ‘deleted scene’ short-fic; Loki and Bruce have a ‘conversation’ about Tony’s pants.

(skipping ahead from the first lines, which are replaying the canon lines from Ragnarok)

Before they split up to take care of their escape plans, Bruce tugs at the crotch of the pants again.

“How the hell does Tony wear these so tight?”

None of them notice the narrowed glare from Loki that could shoot magic daggers.

Instead, Loki changes his expression and speaks quietly, gently to the man who could rage-shift at any moment.

“Banner.”

The chains are off at last, and Thor’s busy staring at how much liquor Valkyrie keeps consuming. Loki corners Bruce but in a not-as-threatening-as-it-could-be way.

“Just what are you doing in Anthony Stark’s trousers?”

Bruce stares up...and up...at Loki, his mouth quirks. Eyes squint.

“What?” he asks, watching as Loki sheds the chains as easily as a snake sheds its skin. “What does that even have to do with...”

Loki stares down into Bruce’s face, and there’s something in the Trickster’s eyes that gives away his disappointment. His jealousy.

“What are you doing in Stark’s trousers, Banner? Are you two...together now? A...couple?”

1. From Sunset, an Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. ficlet during the Framework season of the series when the Framework is being shut down.

Radcliffe breathes a sigh of relief when Mack and Yoyo disappear from the Framework to return to the Other Side.

“Right then,” he says to no one. “Time tae go.”

But first, he returns to the Triskelion. There’s something he wants from Madame Hydra’s office. Something he knows from Hydra-Fitz she keeps in there.

Tagging: @scottxlogan, @majorenglishesquire, @kleenexwoman, @mistressofmuses, @elvenferretots, @iamanartichoke, @gaslightgallows, @mypaopu, @jcrewguy, @mayphoenix

#First lines meme thingie #I never get asks #I never get tagged

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floosies · 4 years

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bury a friend: The Story of Noctua

pairing: steve rogers x possessed!oc x mcu!au

summary: there have been sightings of a dark creature who vanishes with night and in the mornings only remains of once living people are found scattered in open fields or forests nearby.

warnings: mentions of abuse, mentions of attempted suicide, violence, gore, cursing, mentions/scenes of sexual nature.

Please read with discretion. 18+ content.

A/N: This is my first attempt at something more dark. It’s been in my brain since hearing some of biilie’s works and quiet frankly I want to venture into new territory. However, I understand the severity of some topics that I will write about. If you or someone you know is in need please look at these resources.

tags: @indecisivedolly

Part 4: The Seven Wonders (2 of 2)

She wanted to lash out, to drag him into the nearest body of water and drown him. Disrespect was something she had no experienced in so long, it made her burn brightly. Tenebrae wanted to intervene on the matter, but higher powers were unraveling truths to the old being. There were rules that came along with the new found information, one of most importance, it could not kill the boy. There was a greater purpose for his soul.

Dreams are often either ones forgotten by morning light or drag one’s soul through hell. This was the latter, she was witnessing a horrible moment of her childhood. Her rabbit was being killed by her cruel step father, who found the poor creature in her small room. Each time she tried to stop it, the scene would become farther from her grasp. She could hear the cries and screams of agony from her younger self. The dream shifted and distorted to a different scene, her first witnessing. The birth of a lamia, who had recently given up her virtue. An older warlock possessed by Tenebrae was the sacrifice. It was a beautiful scene, but the face of the warlock became the face of the boy who’d tried to take her virtue from her when she was a girl. He was burning in the fire pit as she and other lamia’s chanted old latin spells. They danced and laughed as he charred, a true haunting justice.

Cold sweat covered her face as she awoke, it was still dark out. She couldn’t go back to bed however. The adrenaline from what she had to relive was terrifying her. Taking her robe, she went in search for a library or entertaining room hoping to distract herself from the resurgence of images from the harrowing dream. She was due to preform the seven wonders in a matter of hours. How could she preform if there was any sort of fear in her being, “daughter those were dreams. They cannot hurt you, unless you let them become real for a moment.” She found a room filled with spirits and fine wines from different years. Taking a red wine dated from 1893, she filled a glass to the mid part. There were comfortable seats with crushed velvet upholstery.

Taking a shaky drink, she narrowed her eyes at the ceiling knowing it was present. “I have to present my gifts on command and you choose this time to remind me that I can make my horrors a reality? How unforgiving,” The being then took the form of an elderly man, “I apologize my daughter. I only remind you as you will need me there for certain things, or am I wrong?” Of course it was correct, to teleport through time required a certain stamina only Tenebrae possessed. “You’re right, but you don’t have to egotistical.” She laughed softly, the elderly man smiled. They were interrupted abruptly though, “this is Stark’s private bar.” It was James.

Bucky saw her sat next to some old man. The old man’s stare made him feel uneasy, “relax. It’s simply Tenebrae morphed into an elderly man for some reason.” He was still unsure of this girl demon or whatever she was. “You should go back to your room,” the elderly man sighed. “I will let you talk to this boy, I have other matters to see to. Call for me when I am need Noctua,” she nodded and it disappeared into a small gust of air. “James, I do hope I don’t frighten you.” She said almost mockingly. “Don’t ever call me that name again. Bucky will do, and i’m not scared of some little girl possessed by some demon.” She finished her wine and stood up, “little girl? I have lived life times in decades. I have seen far greater reaches of life and the afterlife. I am not possessed I was blessed with my gifts because I earned them. Tenebrae is not some demon, Tenebrae saw the creation of all you know that exists today. It even molded the ground you step on. You will respect me, or I will not hesitate to truly show you fear. Bucky.” She snarled his name, walking off to her quarters once more.

He wasn’t just angered, he felt embarrassed. Who did she think she was? She killed people for sport, she lived like a savage before they retrieved her. A little girl with an attitude and some words that rhymed, that was all she was to him. Fear her? He could destroy her if he wanted to.

A shining sun filled the training room created for, it was quite large and empty. Steve had taken her to it, “do you think this will be good enough for you to display your powers?” She smiled, “of course it will be. Thank you,” he nodded and then those who wanted to view began entering. Tony of course had to see it, “hope I made it in time. Did we start yet?” She looked at Steve, “this is Tony Stark, he-” “I’m the billionaire who created the Avengers-” “He did not create the Avengers, he just complained his way in.” A third person said, “I’m Nick Fury, I formed this group, years ago.” She nodded, “is there anyone else who is coming today?” The men shrugged.

With that, they began. First was telekinesis which was easy to show. The video camera that was recording her suddenly was dragged to her grasp without anyone moving it. Concilium or mind control was also fairly easy, she made Steve do a fox trot with Tony. It was quite amusing. Vitalum Vitalis or the balancing scales of one life with another, was difficult to master, but she had and she proved it by bringing a dead hummingbird back to life. Divination was interesting, “in a room somewhere on the compound is Steve’s compass, in it a picture of his old love. Which room is it in?” A glance at her palm was all it took, “he usually keeps it in his office. You’ve chose to throw me off, it is in the bar room on the third floor.” Tony took his computer pad and showed the compass placed on the table of the bar room. It was impressive.

They had gone through almost all without realizing that Bucky was watching. Pyrokensis was interesting, he watched as she set half the room on fire in the shape of a swan. He listened as they reached the final wonder, “transmutation?” She nodded, “it’s teleportation really. Watch,” she suddenly disappeared. “Hi Bucky,” he screamed punching the wall behind him, but she was gone. Now she was in front of Steve laughing. Fury rolled his eyes, “okay you had your fun, but now show us the teleportation between realms, time, and alternate universes.” She became serious again.

The air grew cold for a moment, the entity was now in the room. “This is Tenebrae, it gave me the ability to travel through all those different dimensions. It must help me-” “you mean possess you?” Bucky scoffed, “yes actually. It is the only way I’ll remain conscious through the travel.” Fury nodded, “can you take someone with you?” She never had, “I- i’m not sure.” The being spoke then, “she can. My strength allows me to take many-” “just one, to assure this is true.” Reading Steve’s mind, she found him actually afraid to do it. “Stark?” He shook his head, “sorry it’s a risk I’m not willing to take. My will is still being rewritten.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “i’ll do it. To prove it’s a hoax.” A thunderous laugh echoed through the room.

It was simple really, one artifact from the past, as well as alternate pasts/futures., and something to prove she went to a different realm. Tenebrae waited for it’s daughter to signal for it to begin the take over. She warned them first, “it isn’t pretty. You may want to look away.” Bucky thought she was lying, but then she began to contort. Her eyes were pitch black for a moment, he had never seen the human body twist and turn in such horrifying ways. He couldn’t look away, she was in mid-air, bones cracking, and eyes still filled with black. Then she wasn’t, her pupils went from gold to olive green. “Let’s go, you can all look now.” She grabbed his hand in hers, “we’ll be back!” That was the last thing she said before they traveled to a different time.

A home, a small house with vintage- these were not vintage. He looked down, the floor was checkerboard and he was wearing a suit. She had on a mini dress, this was the sixties, something felt off though. “Who’s home is this?” She didn’t answer, instead she led him to the front door where a newspaper was waiting to picked up. it read 1967 and John F. Kennedy was on his second term, civil rights movements were dying down as he’d made good work of ending the segregation era of the nation. Charles Manson had been arrested for his cult, this was the alternate future. The one where the good guys lived. Before he could get a second to enjoy it, they were gone.

It all looked like the present except for the way some words were written. She lead him to a magazine, the date read 2058, they were two decades into the future. This future had no mention of the avengers or heroes. “What’s going on?” She looked at him, “in this universe heroes never existed. There was never a need for them. Everything was resolved without the creation or need for them. They hide their powers or are allowed to exist as is and use their powers as a way of earning wage.” Again as she said that, they were else where.

He was wearing a leather coat with fringe and denim jeans. She was dressed in a long white dress and sandals. “This is our 1970s, ya know with the super heroes and all that.” He followed her through someone’s garden, “Stephanie!” He heard her call out, and then a blonde woman appeared from the house, “little owl, you’ve come back.” The two met in a hug, “this is my friend Bucky, he’s a vet.” The blonde woman nodded leading them inside the home. They drank tea and she sang to them, her husband playing the guitar. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d disappeared for a moment. She apologized for them having to leave so soon, but thanked her friend for the kind welcome.

Their own future. He knew it was theirs because Tony was on a billboard and people recognized him. She bought coffee’s for them and kept the receipt knowing it had the date and with that they left. He couldn’t believe it was real, that he was experiencing this. The last stop was this odd planet with odd fruit, she grabbed one quickly and sent them to present.

Once in their present she dropped all the proof on the ground and ran to the back of the room. He went after her, “please stay back.” Her voice sounded pained. Soon the contortions and black pools of nothingness came back. It was leaving her, he felt awful for her pain. When it was gone, her eyes were gold again, her body fell to the floor. “Noctua!” Steve ran to her side, she looked feeble.

Tenebrae felt awful for causing her pain. It never aimed to do so, but it was a long trip through space and time. She knew it would not be a fair toll on her body. It had to be done though, the boy was showing care for her. It’s work so far was going well. Quickly and smoothly it spoke to her, “rest my child. I must go, you will awaken in the morning.” As the medics came and took her to the hospital bay of the compound, Fury and Stark examined the artifacts.

Bucky was kept as he was the witness, Steve promised him with updates on her. The men listened as he explained everything, including the vinyl he didn’t know she stole off her friend, apparently it was a rough cut of some popular album. It was terrifying, that she could do such things. He was wrong, she was capable of more than he thought.

#sorceress #witch #oc!female #Steve Rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #nick fury #stevie nicks #1960s #1970s #chris evans #sebastian stan #robert downey jr.#mcuedit #mcu #time travel #seven wonders #ahs coven #bury a friend

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queenismyprimejive · 5 years

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Happy Birthday Old Friend (Present! Roger Taylor x Fem! Reader)

Synopsis: Today is Freddie’s Birthday. He would’ve been 73 today. Roger acts different that day and at first reader isn’t sure why. Then Roger explains to her what it feels like to lose a friend. Reader helps Roger to share the good memories and how to cope with the loss of a loved one.

W/C: 1,890

Warnings: None really. Just some slight angst. Mentions of death. Some fluff thrown into the mix. There is an age gap though.

A/N: Up till now I have only written slightly fluffy/smutty pieces but in honour of Freddie I decided to do things a little differently. It feels weird missing a person you’ve never met; someone you were never even born early enough to appreciate the man and the music for. This is my own piece of literature to honour the man, the music and the legacy that still lives on 28 years after his passing.

As soon as you woke up you knew something was different about this day. You stretched out lazily before patting the space next to you. You frowned when you found that space already empty. This was strange. Roger wasn’t usually a morning person, to the contrary even, he liked staying in bed as long as humanly possible, only if you stayed in bed with him that is. Now that you found his side of the bed empty you didn’t know where he could be at this hour of the day.

You sighed, knowing that it would be useless staying in bed any longer and you swung your legs over the side of the bed. You dove into your closet to find something comfortable and warm to wear. The month of September had only just started but there was a chill in the air already. A sign that the summer had definitely come to a close. You opted on a pair of jeans and a light, woolen sweater before making your way downstairs.

You were hoping to find Roger in the kitchen, in the spot where he would usually drink his coffee, but when you saw he wasn’t there, you were getting more and more worried by the minute. If he wasn’t here, where the hell could he be?

You began making your cup of coffee while listing all the places he could possibly be in, in your head. You gazed through the window above the sink into the garden. Although it was in a secluded part of the garden, the giant statue of Freddie Mercury stood high and proud above anything else in the garden. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the unmistakable figure of Roger standing in front of it.

You decided to leave your coffee for what it was, you could always make some more later, you now wanted to know what Roger was up to in the garden.

You approached him slowly, but he didn’t hear you coming. Years of intense drumming had caused his hearing to deteriorate, yet he could still feel when someone was approaching him. However, this time he didn’t. You wondered if he actually didn’t feel you coming up to him or if he didn’t want to.

“Rog?”, you questioned softly as you came to stand beside him. He glanced down briefly, momentarily acknowledging your present, a soft smile playing at his lips that didn’t quite meet his eyes, before turning his attention back to the statue.

He continued to stay silent. He enlaced his fingers with yours and held on to them tightly, as if he was afraid you were going to slip away.

“He would’ve been 73 today”, Roger whispered.

It took you a while before you knew what he was talking about, but as soon as you had figured it out you could hit yourself in the head for not knowing.

Freddie. Today was his day or could have been if he were still alive. You suddenly understood why Roger had gotten up so early, why he needed to take some time alone, why he acted so different than how you were used to seeing him.

“Oh Rog…”, you said softly, but you didn’t know how to continue. You had never been in a position in which you had lost your best friend, and you hoped you’d never have to, so telling him you understood how he felt right now would be a lie.

“I’m sorry Rog…. I should’ve…do you want me to…”, you started, but he lightly squeezed your hand.

“No don’t worry about it love, I don’t nearly talk about him enough as I should be, and I guess on days like this..”, he trailed off. His voice sounded strained, and as you looked up at him you saw his eyes filled with unshed tears.

You wanted to say something, anything that could possibly comfort him, but you didn’t know what to say. Turned out you didn’t need to say anything as Roger pulled you flush against him, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

As you wrapped your arms around him you felt his entire body tremble, almost as if he were cold. You knew it had a different cause. Not long after you felt something wet soaking into the fabric of your shirt and you knew he was crying.

Roger rarely cried in front of you, he was good at masking his emotions; sure, he got emotional sometimes but never actually cried. He never let himself open up that easily, definitely not about Freddie. You had asked him about Freddie a number of times, but it would turn into a rather intense argument, so you knew not to push him any further. You rubbed soft circles on his back, in an attempt to comfort him, because you knew the spoken word would not be of any use this time.

After what felt like minutes he slowly unwound his arms from your frame. As soon as your gaze fell upon his face you noticed how his eyes shone bright with both shed and unshed tears, his blotchy red cheeks, and his trembling bottom lip and you wanted nothing more to wipe those tears away. You brought your hand to his cheek and wiped away the tears that still clung to his bottom lashes. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.

“I miss him”, he croaked out. His voice was hoarse, and full of emotion.

You felt a lump form in your throat and your heart clench at the sight of seeing him so distraught, so lost.

You nodded slowly. “I know. I cannot imagine losing one of my best friends, and I hope I never have to, so I can only imagine how you are feeling. I hope that one day you let me help you, help you get through days like this”.

You locked eyes with him, and he gave you a silent nod of approval.

“I’ll go and prepare something for us to eat, you can stay here as long as you want ok?”, you said as you stood on your toes and pecked him softly on his lips.

“I love you”, you murmured against his lips.

As you two parted he grabbed your hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “I love you too”.

“Oh, dear lord what are you wearing here, you look positively ridiculous”, you chuckled as you browsed through some old pictures. After quite an emotionally draining morning you decided to take it easy the rest of the day. That’s how later on the day you found yourself huddled up on the couch next to Roger, browsing through pictures, old memories from the early days of Queen.

Roger chuckled and peered over your shoulder to look at the picture you were holding. It was a picture of the guys in their 80’s get up all sporting a different crazy hat. “That was one of Freddie’s birthday parties I think. He loved having these crazy dress-up parties. And why do you think it looks ridiculous? I think I looked positively dashing there”, Roger boasted.

“You still look dashing Rog, except now you are my sexy Santa”, you smirked as you put down the picture to reach for the next one.

“Don’t tease love”, Roger murmured as he placed a kiss on your cheek.

“Not teasing Rog”, you replied as you pressed yourself closer to him.

You picked up another picture, this time one of just Freddie and Roger, both wearing their crazy hat and smiling cheekily at the camera. You traced the image of Roger with your fingers. It definitely looked like simpler times. And how you wished you had been around to see it.

“Sure, looked like you were having a good time Rog”, you said quietly.

“Yeah we did. Fred sure knew how to throw a good party. He loved to live. Such a shame it was taken from him way to soon”. Roger voice sounded strained again. When you looked up from your position you noticed the tears in his eyes again.

“He would’ve loved you, you know”, Roger whispered as he softly stroke up and down your down your arm.

You looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”.

He nodded. “Quite positive love. First of all, he would spend hours with you behind the piano, just coming up with new melodies. I think he would be the only one who would understand your crazy obsession with cats. Not to mention your crazy taste in fashion, your wicked sense of humor, your loyalty to your friends and family, but most of all your love for life”.

You felt a lump form in your throat and you mustered every bit of self-control not to burst into tears. “Oh Rog…”, you croaked out. “That is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. You really think Freddie would approve of me for you?”.

“He would”, Roger whispered. “Because I have. He then cupped your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours in a sweet, short kiss.

After that small bout of intimacy Roger reached for the two glasses of champagne waiting for you two on the coffee table and handed you yours.

“To Freddie”, Roger spoke quietly as he softly tapped his glass against yours.

“To Freddie”, you agreed.

You took a small sip before raising your glass towards the ceiling or, in better words, towards the sky.

“Happy Birthday Freddie”.

“Happy Birthday old friend”.

End Notes: So, this is basically my contribution to Freddie’s birthday. I’m not good at expressing my emotions so when I feel emotional I start writing. That is where this short story came from. Like I said earlier, it’s weird missing someone you’ve never met, and I cannot even imagine how Brian, Roger, and John must be feeling on a day like this. This is me paying my respects to Freddie, to the man, the singer, the performer, the musician and the legend, who sadly left this world way too early. It’s such a shame that I have never been around when Queen was in their prime, and Freddie was still alive. What a blast that would have been. Happy Birthday, Freddie. You are sorely missed. Hope you, Jim and the cats are having a good party up there. Bless you. <3

#Roger Meddows Taylor #freddie mercury #happy birthday freddie #present day roger #roger taylor x reader #my drabbles #femke writes things #this makes me emotional #roger taylor #I cannot describe how much I love this band #Queen #fanfiction

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firefly-in-darkness · 5 years

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As You Wish [4/5]

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Brock Rumlow x Reader.

Prompt: The Princess Bride AU for @suz-123‘s writing challenge!

Summary: Y/N and Steve are True Love embodied. Steve left her.

Warnings: Kidnapping, Fear, Injuries

Word Count: 1032.

A/N: Well this the longest part I have written so far… hope you enjoy this update! Feedback is always welcome.

As You wish Series List

Firefly’s Masterlist

Tag List: @animegirlgeeky

Plus a few that might be interested from the notes I’ve received on the previous parts! If you want to be tagged in the future, please let me know: @buckybabybaby @justareader @reading--mermaid @cant-decide-at-this-moment @dumblani @notyourtypicalrose

Previously: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

After hearing the fumbling of keys and a click of a pin pad, Y/N felt a gun pressing into her back as they entered the building.

Y/N could no longer feel the gun against her spine. She considered trying to free herself but with no sight or hearing, who knew what building or room she had walked into.

As Y/N shuffled around the room, she smelt chemicals, and tried to come across an object of some kind. She failed and collapsed to the floor, the cool tiles unwelcoming to her aching limbs. Her fingers flittered across the grooves in the floor as she tried not to think of every scenario as to what could happen next.

The whiny sound of Jasper Sitwell, floated through the walls from her right, “You’re just stalling now.”

Y/N huffed and tried to stand up. Her ankle twisted in the restraints and fell back to the floor. Landing on her knee, she cursed as she massaged her ankle and knee simultaneously, nothing seemed fractured or broken. Maybe that was her luck for the day.

Y/N could hear the muffled sounds of a crash and then Jasper’s voice again, “You are trying to trick me, it won’t work!”

She heared someone else chuckle. Who was there? It didn’t sound like Bucky, but maybe it was him? Or did the Man in Black catch up to them?

Y/N’s thoughts were going to quickly that she thought she misheard Jasper. “Hail Hydra!”

Her stomach lurched at the devotion in Jasper’s voice.

The familiar hum of Falcon’s wings hovered nearby, then the sound of the wings disappeared and the hope for freedom slipped away with them.

Y/N’s confusion took over and she sobbed into the cloth that covered her eyes.

Dread swelled in her chest as footsteps neared her and the blindfold was ripped down her face. She looked around, she was in an empty room with floor to ceiling windows that looked out into the woodland.

She was not alone; the Man in Black was leant against the doorway with a smirk across the exposed part of his face.

Y/N grimaced at the masked man, “There is no commander greater than Brock Rumlow, he will find you.”

The masked man laughed, “You think your dearest love will save you?”

He moved closer to her and Y/N felt the anger surge, “I never said he was my love, but yes he will.”

The man questioned her further, “You do not love him? Or do you mean you do not know how to love?”

“I have loved more deeply than anyone like yourself could ever dream.” She snapped before her tone shifted to a soft whisper, “but he left years ago…”

Y/N watched as the Man in Black and untied the ropes at her ankles then snapped away the handcuffs. Her wrists finally free from the metal that had dug into the flesh for hours. She rubbed the tender parts before she stood up slowly as the pain in her knee and ankles made it more difficult.

The Man in Black muttered, “At least he doesn’t know what you really are?”

“You do not know me!” Y/N’s eyes flickered with fire,

The masked man paused, uncertain how to question her loyalty of the love she openly spoke of.

Y/N glared at him as he paced the room, “so, what am I?”

“Tell me truly, did you date Brock in the same hour or did you at least wait a week?”

“Do not mock me, I died that day!” Y/N yelled in his face and shoved him towards the windows. “And you can die for all I care!”

The Man in Black crashed through the glass, “As you wish!”

“Steve!” Y/N yelled and jumped into the bushes below.

She clambered to Steve’s side, pulled the mask away and checked him over for injuries before their lips met. Y/N broke away from the kiss and lifted herself from his embrace.

Y/N was lost in Steve’s eyes as he spoke, “I told you I would always come for you, why didn’t you wait for me, Buttercup?”

��I thought you were dead!” Y/N’s frustrations burst out. “it has been 5 years, and no one has seen or heard from you…”

Steve whispered, “Death cannot stop true love, all it can do is delay it for a while.”

Y/N kissed him on the cheek, “I will never doubt you again.”

Steve pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, the warmth radiated their bodies and it was as if they had never been apart.

Steve carried Y/N back into the building, he explained that it was a SHIELD safe house. He took her into one of the bedrooms and laid her on the bed.

Y/N watched Steve as he collected clothes from the drawers and wardrobes. She was enraptured by him, as if the last five years had not existed. That he was once again hers but that shattered as an image of Brock came into her thoughts.

Y/N took the clothes from Steve’s outstretched arms, without looking at him she fumbled with the bundle.

“Steve,” Her voice was strained, “please can you turn around?”

He blushed, “I won’t look but let’s sort those wounds out first.”

Steve placed the clothes on the bed and took her hands in his. Y/N’s heart stuttered at Steve’s touched and his eyes widened as she recoiled. He sighed as his heart shattered, he knew that his declaration of love was not going to heal the pain he had caused when he left.

Y/N looked away from the worry in Steve’s eyes, “Sorry, I-”.

“It’s okay Buttercup.” Steve replied and waited for her to undress.

Steve tended to the cuts on her wrists and checked over her ankles. Once a support bandage was around Y/N’s knee and her sore wrists and ankles had been soaked in warm water they both got dressed in silence.

“Fingers crossed there’s a car or motorbike in here,” Steve said as Y/N followed him into the garage. Luck was finally on Y/N’s side.

They pulled off the dust covered tarp and Steve checked over the car. The engine splutter then rumbled to life.

“Let’s get out of here.” He grinned at Y/N and opened the passenger door for her.

An explosion rippled through the building.

Part 5

#suz hit 1.5K #suz's eighties extravaganza #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america #Steve Rogers #brock rumlow x reader #avengers fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers au #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #Marvel AU #The Princess Bride

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starfrckled-a · 5 years

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𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽𝚈 𝙱𝙾𝙻𝚃𝙾𝙽 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙱𝙰𝙽𝙳

when she thinks about killing a man the act is quiet, no terror filled screams echoing in her ears, only the wet, pitiful sounds of someone choking on their own blood. a dagger is the perfect weapon for her, easy to conceal and so much lighter than a sword. her brother taught her how to use it : how to steadily grip the handle, how to angle the blade just right. aim for the throat, Beth. Roger had said these very same words to her years ago, handing her a dagger as a parting gift before her marriage to Roose Bolton, just in case.

the first time she thinks about using the weapon is on their wedding night, all traditions about no blood being spilled during the event be damned, and her father along with them. she doesn’t cry or scream, she lets her husband turn her over on their bed, lets him raise her dress above her stomach. he doesn’t manage to tear out a single sound from her throat, the pain soothed by an image, warm as blood, and so very sweet : she sees herself turning over, facing him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders as the movements of her hips keep him distracted. for he is still a man, no matter how cold he looks. Bethany sees herself drawing closer, pliant and welcoming, every man’s wedding night dream, her lips against his ear right before she slips the dagger between them and presses the sharp edge on his throat, slicing it open, blood staining her naked skin, the sheets, turning white linen into a crimson nightmare. it would be so easy, she could do it in her sleep, yet when she closes her hand in a fist her palm is empty —— only a fool would hide the blade under the bed, where it could be found too easily, and she is no fool. Roose Bolton lives through the night.

the second time is not nearly as dramatic. the knife in her hand is real, this time, and it is doing a fine job of cutting up the meat in her plate, one uneventful evening at supper. the chatter around the dinner table is anything but loud, composed, it makes her miss the laughter filled nights back at home, Rickard’s deep voice booming over everyone else, yet she is handling it fairly well —— until she is asked about children. about the evident absence of them, despite the lord of the Dreadfort and his lady having been married for years. Bethany grinds her teeth, pulling her lips up in a tight smile, yet before she can say anything Roose precedes her. “ I only hope she can give me an heir before I am on my deathbed. “ it makes her burn —— not with shame, but with white hot anger coursing through her body. she doesn’t rise from her seat, however, doesn’t let any of them see her tears, she only grips the knife so hard her knuckles turn white and she allows her mind to wander yet again. she’d stab him this time, leaping across the table before the guards can stop her. not once, not twice, but over and over. she would not stop until someone strikes her down.

the third time she almost gives in. her breaths come out erratic, panting, her hair slipping out of the braid in places, fury carved into every line of her face. it’s not about infidelity, she couldn’t care less about it, what hurts the most is the fact that she finally gave him an heir, a boy who didn’t die in his crib like the others and it still wasn’t enough for him. the name of his bastard burns on her tongue as she tries to slap him again —— he catches her hand, this once, so she goes for a punch against his chest that turns out to be completely ineffectual, yet it seems to finally make a dent in his demeanor. surprise, more than pain, makes her breath catch in her throat when her back hits the wall and Roose is much too close now for her to attempt hitting him again. she is trapped between the wall and her husband’s body, one of his legs between her thighs, his mouth on her neck. this is the first time he breaks a gasp out of her, the first time she sees him capable of letting out actual human heat —— even want, maybe. she would laugh, if she wasn’t still thinking about maiming his face with her nails. she has done nothing but spit venom at him for the past half hour and this is when he decides to come alive a little. gods, she hates him, Bethany muses as she wraps her legs tight around his waist, hooking her nails on the back of his neck so harshly she will likely draw blood, biting on his bottom lip rather than kissing him. the answer is exactly what she wants : her hair yanked back after they somehow reach floor level, her legs straddling his waist and a hand around his throat.

« I hate you. » she can’t seem to catch her breath, yet her words ring true. she thinks about squeezing, pressing down with both hands on his windpipe, wonders if she could actually do it, yet she won’t and he knows it too. it would mean not only her doom, but also her son’s and she cannot bear it.

she is left with day dreams that get her nowhere, yes. but sometimes they are the only things that get her through the day, as sick and hateful as it is, as her whole married life is. the thought never really abandons her, it’s always there, in the back of her mind, a taunting what if and a hundred of fantasies to take her pick from. her favourite will always be slitting his throat on their bed, a mocking goodbye kiss on blood stained lips. she won’t mind the taste, she is quite sure of it.

#› bethany bolton ╱ ic #› bethany bolton ╱ they say she never smiles ( headcanons & info )#death tw #well well a nice vday drabble #I don't usually use read mores but this is 1k #1k about bethany wanting to straight up murder her husband yep #I guess I just snapped #I love one knife girl #ask to tag #also don't reblog this please

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jeidafei · 6 years

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D.Gray-Man Vol.26: Komui’s Lounge (Extended) 3/5

>> Part 1 <<

>> Part 2 <<

Question 13: How is the cover image for the tankobon (comic book) and Jump SQ. RISE (the magazine) decided?

Lavi: The author has full liberty for the comic book’s cover, but in the magazine’s case, the exclusive designer will ask the author to draw it according to their image of the cover.

Allen: You know so much, Lavi. I’d expect no less from the author’s bosom friend!

Lavi: Are you dissing me, Allen-san?

Marie: So the designer is the one who decides the character and their pose?

Lavi: Yep. I heard sometimes they even request color tones as well. Because the cover is the face of the whole magazine, Hoshino’s nervous when drawing the magazine’s covers, unlike the comic book’s.

Link: On a side note, on the cover of this latest Volume 26, General Cross is holding a toothpick in his mouth.

Allen: Do we have to go into such detail?

Link: I thought there might be those who are wondering.

Lavi: That’s because back in Volume 14, she drew General Cross holding a cigarette and got scolded.

Bak: What’s wrong with that? Couldn’t she draw whatever she wants to?

Lavi: Well, after all, this is still a shounen manga

(T/N: comic written for teenage boys).

Wisely: Grown-up issues, indeed.

Question 14: Link, between English and French tea, which do you prefer?

Link: We’ve received a number of beverage-related questions. For example, How many sugar cubes does the Millennium Earl consume during teatime? and Exactly how delicious is Lenalee Lee’s coffee? As for my preference, I’d probably say English tea. Inspector Lvellie prefers French tea, though, so I’ve had a great deal of that as well. The Earl prefers English, doesn’t he?

Wisely: Correct you are. The Earl has an awfully sweet tooth. He puts in 20 sugar cubes and lots of milk for a cup of tea. He’s such a dear. He’s moping lately after Desires told him to cut back on his sugar intake. What a dear.

Allen: I wonder why he would consider that adorable.

Lavi: There’s more sugar than tea in your tea, too, right Allen?

Allen: SUPER SWEET TEA WITH SALTY THINGS IS A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN!!!

Lavi: Do you really have to yell it?

Link: Make sure you brush your teeth well, Walker. You’re always sleeping right after your meals.

Allen: Roger roger roger.

Link: Only once is enough!

(T/N: In Japan, saying “yes” (hai) more than once is considered rude, as it shows annoyance. I get that a lot from my coworkers.)

Marie: You had tea parties with Lenalee and Miranda sometimes, right Allen?

Bak: WHAT!? Walker! You!

Allen: Eh? Wait! It’s just because they said they’ll give me sweets. There’s no ulterior motive on my part! Besides, it’s more like Link and Lenalee’s tea discussion with me tagging along than a tea party, actually.

Link: What are you talking about? I was the one accompanying you!

Allen: Well, aren’t you the one who did the most talking?

Link: That’s because you were busy eating the whole time, isn’t it? Lenalee Lee seems to make a hobby out of serving the Science Division coffee and tea, so we simply exchanged ideas on tea leaves and brewing. She’s more of an expert than even me on tea, after all.

Marie: Looks like she’s been studying up for the Science guys’ sake. She learned coffee brewing straight from Head Chef Jeryy himself too, and her coffee’s simply awesome.

Lavi: Plus, you also get to behold that adorable face as she hands you your cup with a smile, and it enhances the experience. Hey, Allen, Lenalee’s been taking really good care of her hands, ya know? Said she wanna serve us tea with beautiful hands. Ah, she really is a lady...

Allen: I’m getting all choked up right now.

Bak: Lenalee-san...you’re wonderful. (in love♡)

Question 15: Does Lavi wash his face with his eyepatch on? Or wash his face in secret?

Allen: He leaves it on.

Lavi: I TAKE IT OFF! OF COURSE I TAKE IT OFF! But yeah, I do wash my face in secret!

Allen: You always leave it on when we use the Order’s communal bath together, don’t you? Why do you have to be so secretive about it? Stop being so stuck-up and let us see it already!

Lavi: Argh! Stop, Allen! Stop yanking! Aaaaaargh!

Marie: Oi, Allen! Lavi told you to stop, didn’t he?

Link: Walker, stop wasting our precious paper bullying Bookman Jr.

Wisely: There, there. It’s fine, isn’t it? Our readers will get stressed out if we keep it all stiff and heavy. Besides, the boy hasn’t seen Bookman Jr. in ages and he’s just thrilled.

Allen: That’s not it!

Bak: That aside, why do you need to hide it? Is there some secret behind it?

Lavi: Well, about that...I really can’t say anything.

Question 16: Since when did Supervisor Komui and Head Chef Jeryy become close friends?

Marie: When...? They already seem close by the time Head Chef Jeryy transferred to Headquarters, though.

Bak: That’s because Komui was the one who recommended Jeryy for the transfer. Jeryy was a cook in the Asian Branch at first, and he went to all sorts of trouble taking care of Komui back when he just joined the Order. Komui was a completely different person back then, you see. He had this slightly dangerous streak about him, so Jeryy probably couldn’t find it in him to just leave him be.

Komui seemed prejudiced against Jeryy for a while there, but then he might’ve lost the battle of wills, and before I knew it, they’ve already become close. After that, when Komui was promoted to Supervisor, Jeryy was the first he called over to Headquarters. It might’ve been to help Lenalee-san who was mentally ill back then, I reckon.

Link: I don’t mind them being close, but calling each other by the likes of “Komie-sweetie” and “Jerry-deary” in the vicinity of Order members is quite out of line in my opinion.

Wisely: That Jeryy-summat lad’s food seems real delicious to me. I’d love to try some.

Allen: Negative. Jeryy-san is mine.

Lavi: He’s not yours...

Question 17: Are Noah Memories comprised of only original memories of the past? Though the Noah Memories are passed on from person to person, can we conclude that the human memories of previous Noah hosts are not passed on to the next Noah host as well?

Lavi: Now this is an interesting question.

Wisely: Hmmm. Yes, the memories are passed on. When we are awakened as Noah, an enormous amount of memories and data would come rushing into our heads, and among them are also the memories and emotions of those who were previous reincarnations of Noah.

Allen: I had the memories of Suman, who became a Fallen One, flow into my head once. Back then, I felt like I’m going to lose my very self. My head felt like it was breaking apart, and I was really scared. Though you’re all Noah anyway, you guys really are something, living carefree even with memories and feelings of countless other people within you.

Wisely: We’re not carefree, boy. In the past there were also Noah whose selves were devoured by the memories and were destroyed. In order to keep that from happening, usually most Noah unconsciously suppress those memories. By doing so, we can shut out the memories of the previous incarnations. However, if Noahs are injured by Innocence, they might not be able to suppress it anymore, and those memories would come flooding back. We Noah also have it tough as well.

Allen: Now that you mention it, the Noah really do seem to become more violent the more we attack them.

Wisely: The profound hatred towards Innocence within the memories is what makes us so. That’s why we’d like you to be gentle with us ♡.

Allen: That tendency to joke about is just what drives me up the wall.

Lavi: Is it true that even among Noahs, the Millennium Earl is the only one who lives for several thousands of years?

Wisely: Correct.

Bak: Do all humans have the possibility of awakening as a Noah?

Wisely: They do.

Marie: And that awakening cannot be prevented?

Wisely: No. Furthermore, once they learn of Noah’s mission, they would accept it with their own free will.

Link: And what is Noah’s mission?

Wisely: Oh dear. That’s a secret~♫

Link: Tch.

Question 18: Looks like Allen’s hobby is saving up money. Was he doing other part-time jobs apart from helping out at the cafeteria as well?

Lavi: Nah, mostly it was just the cafeteria right? ‘Coz you got to sneak some bites.

Allen: It was the best part-time job on earth. At the Order, looks like it’s just the stint at the cafeteria and helping out the Science Division. Actually I’d wanted to earn a bit more, but what with rewriting reports, studying and trainingーeven on holidays I’m still quite busy.

Link: What’s with that disgruntled look? Fulfilling your duties as an Exorcist is just natural. Besides, you’re being paid to be one anyway, aren’t you?

Allen: But that’s totally not enough at all!

Wisely: Can’t be helped, with that much debt on your tab.

Bak: Such hardship at such a young age, Walker. Unimaginable to me, though, well-bred as I am.

Allen: If your heart pains for me, then please donate. (whips out donation box).

Marie: “At the Order”, you said. You mean you’ve worked elsewhere before?

Allen: Back when I was still training, I worked with Master as guards for caravans. Functions as battle training, too. It was a rough job, but the pay really was wonderful. To top that, we also got free meals, and debt collectors didn’t pursue us into deserts, too.

Lavi: You really seem to be able to survive anywhere, huh.

Link: Caravans...? So that’s how you’ve been mingling in and lying low. No wonder we hadn’t been able to track down General Cross.

Question 19: What became of Kanda’s underpants that Lavi hid back in the Weekend Schedule?

(T/N: From Gray Log. Argh dammit haven’t got round to translating Lavi’s)

Marie: Oi! Lavi! You really are such a pain!

Lavi: Ack! Sorry! But Yu’s always so calm and cool, you see. Makes me wanna see him freaking out for once.

Bak: You must really have balls to try that out.

Link: So uncivilized... (T/N: I feel like I’m quoting Obi-Wan a lot...)

Allen: So? Did Kanda freak out?

Wisely: You seem to be enjoying this, boy.

Lavi: Naaaaah～Actually, he just got dressed like nothing happened then went out to the forest for night practice.

Allen: ーwith NO UNDERPANTS ON!?

Marie: Well, it’s not totally unexpected...or rather...Kanda probably won’t get worked up over such things?

Wisely: I see...It’s the same with Tikky too. Is it just that gorgeous men do not need underpants to be gorgeous men?

Allen: I have completely no idea what you’re talking about here.

Lavi: To top that, looks like Yu just slept in the forest like that with no underpants on, too. It really wasn’t worth the trouble hiding his pants. Ah, bummer.

Marie: It's not just ah bummer, is it!? Give Kanda back his pants!

Lavi: Whaaaaat!? Even if I did return it to him, the way things are Yu wouldn’t remember it anyway. He’d probably just say something like “Huh? What’s this about?” then just stalk off! And I’d be left looking like a dork who bombed a pant-stealing prank! It’s embarrassing!

Marie: You got it backwards. What’s embarrassing here is the fact that you hid someone’s underpants, good grief (weary face).

Allen: Marie, you have to be more seriously angry, otherwise you’ll never get through to Lavi. Gotta look more strict.

Lavi: Youーyou traitor! You were all grins back there when you heard how I hid Yu’s pants, weren’t you, Allen!?

Allen: Was I? Of course not. Unlike you, I’m not a little kid.

Lavi: Ha! You’re one to talk! Whenever you do part-time at the cafeteria, you’re always stealing bites out of Yu’s food before you serve it to him. Think I didn’t know!?

Allen: That’s because Kanda’s always mocking my hospitality skills. Befitting punishment, I say! It’s not like you’re any better, Lavi. I know you’re always stuffing Kanda’s bag full of porn whenever he goes on a mission. And then there’s the time you tampered with Kanda’s toothpasteー

Lavi: You were with me that time, weren’t you!?

Bak: There’s more?

Wisely: A-ho-ho-ho (laughing). Somehow I feel like we can be good friends, boys.

Marie: Would you guys stop it already? Look, I’m grateful that you boys care about Kanda, since you guys are around the same age, but tone down the pranks! He’s still not used to these things.

Allen, Lavi: Aw, come on~!

Link: We shall not let our precious word count be depleted further by such a nonsensical topic. This conversation ends here!!

>> Part 4 <<

#dgm #d gray man #dgm vol 26

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

Text

New York Minute PT. 2

anonymous said: I saw you say your requests are open (but your bio doesn’t say they are so I totally understand if I misunderstood and I apologize). I was wondering if you could do a ben hardy imagine where the reader and he aren’t together but he gets jealous about one of the other boys (and realizes his feelings) and the rest is up to you ;) thank you! and anonymous said: Ooh could you do an age gap thing with either roger or ben of like roger being in the early 1980s and reader/oc being in their early 20s and Ben being the age he is now with someone in their early 20s??

(a/n: she is here, and she is BIG!!! LORGE!!!1 she’s 13k+ im so sorry anyways theres some more pining in here, boundaries questioned, and mcdonalds. dont say i didnt warn you. also funny joe moments because we love neighbor joe)

"I mean, it's not the first thing I'd want to sit and watch with you guys. It's kinda sad, isn't it?" You were fiddling with the buckle on some strappy high heels as you sat in a chair adjacent to where they were lounging on two folding chairs. They were dressed down, ready for an impromptu night of binge-watching Chernobyl that they'd just planned maybe a couple hours ago, accompanied by a homemade recipe you'd been wanting to try out for a while. You, on the other hand, had planned a Tinder date tonight, but you agreed to help cook and stick around for a while until you went to grab drinks with Jameson, who was lanky, had a small man-bun, and apparently quite an interest in American Pale Ales. You knew that Joe (and probably Ben, once Joe told him) would clown you off the face of God's Green Earth for your choices - but, Jameson was cute, and drinks on him, so why not? You'd asked Joe that exact question as you prepared the food. "What a catch," Joe had teased as you'd worked around him in the kitchen, having directed him to start making the cream sauce for the chicken you were currently baking.

"Don't act like you aren't any less of a white boy than him, Joe," you snarked right back, sending him a quick scowl before checking on the chicken, frowning when it didn't appear to be cooking very fast. "Did you turn the oven down?" "No- Oh shit, I must have bumped it," he mumbled, turning the oven back up to cooking temp and grinning sheepishly. "My bad." Sitting his spoon to the side, he went to the fridge and grabbed two beers while you started chopping mushrooms, mumbling to yourself about terrible sous chefs. "Dummy. When's Ben going to be here?" you asked offhandedly, remembering that he'd mentioned a specific time in the group chat you were all in. Joe had started it to send a shitty meme to the both of you, after which he'd been properly roasted, and the three of you hadn't shut up since. Neither you nor Ben had taken it to the next step - texting one on one. There was still an unspoken barrier there, and neither of you were brave enough to cross it. "Dunno. Why? Is he secretly your Tinder date?" Joe teased, popping the top off of the bottle before holding it out to you with a devilish grin. It was eye-roll inducing, and you took the bottle with a small thanks before leaning back against the counter, taking a sip. "I told you I saw him on Bumble, not Tinder. And I haven't been on there since." "Did you swipe right?" Joe pried, popping the top off of his bottle as well before tossing the two lids in his trash. As he came back to lean his butt against the counter across from you, he wiggled his eyebrows. "He's single, you know. And he doesn't obsess over local brews." "Joe, shut up, Jameson's nice! And no," you admitted, hiding behind the bottle a bit as you took another sip. "I kind of.... exited the app and haven't been back on it since. It spooked me. Don't want to get caught up in that." "Why?" he laughed, a bit of beer trickling over the lip of the bottle before running down to rest between the crook of his thumb and index finger. "What would you have done if you swiped right and you matched? Is he not attractive to you? Is he really that bad?" "No, no, shut up," you groaned, letting your head fall back for a moment before laughing and shaking your head. "It's not that, it's just.... awkward after hearing about all those stories about London and the pubs. I don't want to mess around with someone like that, I'm fragile. And he's your friend!" Translation: Your hot womanizer friend could ruin my life in about two texts and I'd probably still thank him. "Our friend," Joe corrected, taking another sip of his beer and raising an eyebrow. "Do you really think it's been long enough for us to be considered friends like that?" you wondered aloud, frowning a bit as you pondered the idea. "I mean, I don't want to overstep boundaries, but I guess we do have each other added on Facebook now. And we did have a good talk while you slept on my reclining chair - again." "Boom. Friends," Joe simply replied, gesturing vaguely with his hand to imitate an explosion. "And what about the London stories are so bad that you just cannot consider him at all? I think you guys would be good for each other." "Joe, have you been paying attention to my dating life the last few years?" Raising an eyebrow, you watched as he nodded, still seeming like he didn't see what made Ben the same as the rest of them. "You told me stories about a young, smooth-talking guy who was gifted at the pump and dump and not gifted at the 'get their name and call them the next day to go out for dinner' part. That sounds like.... literally over 80% of the guys who have destroyed my life recently." "Ew... don't call it the pump and dump." He wrinkled his nose in disgusted, then grinned a little bit and shook his head. "To be fair to the man, he had just gotten out of a pretty serious relationship. They were just rebounds." "You're destroying your argument even more. Who's to say I wouldn't be a rebound too if I matched him?" You had him there. Pursing his lips, he looked quizzical, as if he was questioning his own argument, and it took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts before he shrugged reluctantly. He had many things he could say to you, but he was running out of ways to say them. "Exactly. I cannot be another rebound. And imagine how awkward that would make things between all of us if I was!" "It would only be awkward if you let it be awkward." When you rolled your eyes, Joe frowned, clearly frustrated with how you weren't budging an inch - he really thought you two would be a fun match, and he didn't understand why you were failing to see that. Sighing, he took another drink of his beer before sitting it on the counter and crossing his arms. "What do you think of him? Honest opinion, no bias from what I've said before. Just your impression of him these last few weeks." "Honestly?" you echoed, taking another drink of your beer as you thought back to all the exchanges you'd had with him since he'd moved here. "I thought he wasn't really like the guy you told me about at all." Joe's frown slowly morphed into a smug grin, and you gave him a warning look as you tried to shut it down quickly. "That doesn't mean anything! Guys like Ben are really good at seeming harmless! I'm not convinced-" "I can already hear the wedding bells." When you sent him an unconvinced look, he just laughed and reached out to gently push your shoulder. "I'm just joshing ya! He's really not that bad. Like I said, all those stories I told you about going out with them in London are only partially fact. I was pretty drunk." "He seemed nice the other night, so I really don't want to know which parts are true. I'd like to keep a somewhat pristine, at-arm-length image of the dude," you dismissed, grimacing a bit. "He is cute, though, I will give you that. All of you damn actors are lookers and it pisses me off." "Was that a compliment?" Joe asked after a brief silence, raising an eyebrow. "You sounded so mad, I couldn't tell." When you rolled your eyes in response, he just rolled his eyes too before crossing his arms again. "If Ben's cute, why didn't you swipe right? You don't have to keep him at distance, what's the harm in being closer than that?" "Dude, you don't understand!" Huffing softly, you looked up at the ceiling for a moment and attempted to collect your thoughts - and more importantly, your half-assed excuses. Closing your eyes, you tried to be as level as you could, speaking almost in monotone. "I know that Ben is out of my league, and he probably just sees me as your weird neighbor girl. He's like, a solid 9.9 and on a good day I'm pushing 7. I also know that he's got too much game and he'd easily ruin my life. And he probably swiped left!" Opening an eye, you peeked over at Joe, who was watching in amusement, and pointed your finger. "Don't make a joke about Jameson." "I didn't say anything!" he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender, and you sighed before opening both eyes and turning to burying your face in your hands as you propped your elbows on the counter. "Oh, come on, stop being such a drama queen. It's not that deep. You're both young - well, you're a little younger-" "Wow, no shit, Sherlock," you grumbled, not even moving an inch. "As I was saying," he snipped, narrowing his eyes a bit at the rude interruption before continuing. "You're both young, single-" The sound of the door opening stopped him in his tracks, and you shot up from where you'd been wallowing in your own self pity, turning to the stove quickly to see the cream sauce turning an odd consistency. "Joe, seriously, who taught you to cook?" you lamented quietly, grabbing the pan and making a frustrated noise before pouring out the sauce that he'd managed to scald already. "I let down my guard for two seconds and you do this? Now we gotta start over, dummy!" "No one! No one taught me to cook!" Joe answered in mock frustration as he gave you a knowing look, snickering a bit when he shuffled past you to get to the fridge again, his hand just ghosting over the small of your back to scoot you out of the way. You reacted like it was instinct, moving over and letting him into the cramped area as you turned the other way, headed to rinse out the sauce pan in the sink when you suddenly saw Ben in the doorway, looking a bit sheepish that he'd walked in on such an oddly domestic scene. Offering him a rushed smile, you turned on the warm water before turning to give Joe a gentle but firm kick in the butt, making him cry out in confusion and whirl around to give you a really pissed-off look. But the look only lasted for a moment as he pretended to just notice Ben, and a delighted smile quickly replaced the insulted scowl as he sat the cream down on the counter, shutting the fridge behind him. "Hey, bud, you hungry?" he asked, once again skirting around you to greet his friend with a quick handshake and a one-armed hug. Turning to face them, you placed a hand on your apron-clad hip and smiled a bit at the bromance. The apron on you read 'EAT MY MEAT' in bold white lettering atop the black fabric, and Ben couldn't help but chuckle at the juxtaposition between the aggressive statement and the homely kitchen it currently resided in. "We're making enough for four," you chimed in, giving Ben a pointed look and smiling pleasantly. "One for me, one for you, and two for Mr. Black Hole over here." "Oh my God, I can't help that I'm hungry sometimes! Why do you always have to roast me for everything?" "Yes, yes, yes!" you cheered excitedly, clapping and jumping a few times as Joe returned to making the cream sauce. "You said roast!" Joe's face scrunched up for a moment, then he huffed softly and shook his head, bowing it a bit. "I fuckin' did, didn't I? I hate that. We're not allowed to hang out any more." Snickering at his upset tone, you greeted Ben with a quick hug before grabbing the other apron on the counter and holding it up, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Ben looked down at himself, gesturing at the stained gym clothes, and you shrugged as Joe started talking again, unawares of the silent conversation. "So I was thinking we can eat and watch Chernobyl, maybe get a little crazy on some American Pale Ales before Y/N leaves," he hummed, laughing when you sent him a withering look and smacked him with the apron. "I'm not letting it go, dude! You were the one who fucked up and told me about the pale ales!" "Joe, I'm literally trying so hard just to find someone decent, so what if he's a white boy that's snobby about beers? I'm running out of options," you lamented, sitting the apron down on the counter and pouting a bit as you went to check the chicken again, huffing when the inside temp only read around 140 degrees. "So close." "Tinder date tonight, huh?" Ben asked, taking over on the mushrooms that you'd neglected as he looked over at you. There was a somewhat hesitant look in his eyes, and you nearly choked on air when he took a deep breath and added, "Or is it Bumble?" An awkward silence quickly fell over the three of you - both you and Ben had talked to Joe about it, but neither of you had any idea about the other reaching out. So many words left unsaid hung in the air as you straightened up again, shutting the oven and forcing on a smile despite your embarrassment. What a fucking cheeky bastard, just blatantly throwing that out there like that. Maybe he was more alike to London Ben than you'd thought. "Um, no. Tinder, actually." And that was that, Ben looking back down to the mushrooms with a mildly amused expression as he finished slicing them, the three of you lapsing into another momentary silence. "Well," Joe finally sighed, giving the both of you an awkward smile as he turned back to the cream sauce, putting the seasonings in again. "I'm really banking on the slim chance that I have some Lactaid in the medicine cabinet." To punctuate his sentence, he dipped his finger into the cream sauce to taste test, humming in appreciation as you looked on in mild disgust, however thankful you were for his diversion. "Are you for real? I'm not taking care of you if you don't have any," you chastised gently, Joe pouting a bit at your harshness and crossing his arms. "I'll take care of you, mate," Ben offered up, holding out the bowl of sliced mushrooms for Joe and grinning when Joe gave him exaggerated eyes, taking the bowl and blowing a kiss at him before starting to saute the mushrooms in the extra skillet you'd been heating on the back-burner. "I'll go check and see if you've got a few left." With that, he was wiping his hands on his shirt, nodding at you before leaving you both alone. As soon as you heard his footsteps retreat down the hallway, you turned to Joe and let your jaw drop, Joe doing all he could to not burst out in laughter as his knees buckled a bit, a hand flying out to steady himself on the counter. Throwing his head back, he let out a quiet gurgling noise akin to an animal dying as a smile practically cracked his face in half, his amusement with this whole situation having grown tenfold in the last minute or so. "That was so...." you trailed off, genuinely shocked that Ben had felt cheeky enough to hint at something so personal for the both of you, and you furrowed your eyebrows at Joe's continued silent laughter, crossing your arms. "Why are you laughing? Did he talk to you about it too?!" "It might have come up," Joe admitted between inhuman noises, his face red from the effort of silencing his peals of laughter. He conveniently left out the part where Ben had been pestering Joe about what you'd said about him all week - Ben had swiped right, after all, and the longer he didn't know if the feeling was mutual, the more antsy he'd gotten. "Joe! Are you fucking serious?!" you whined, trying to keep your voice down as you peeked down the hallway quickly before throwing your hands up in a questioning manner. "What did he say?" "I will not disclose any discussions between me and my client-" "Oh shut up shut up shut up!" you whisper yelled, quickly trying to rush Joe and smack at him but getting caught at arms-length when he reached out and pressed a hand against your forehead, effectively stopping you in your tracks. "Joe, this is so unfair," you almost whimpered, dropping your hands to your side as you leaned into his hand, huffing. "That was so awkward! Did you hear how smooth that was? I'm going to be so mad when I get on Bumble and find out he swiped left." "I think you're underestimating yourself waayyyyy too much," Joe laughed, resting both of his hands on your shoulders like an encouraging coach as he grinned down at you. "And what about the arm's-length thing? I'm not going to tell you what Ben said about the Bumble thing. Whatever it is, it's between you two. You're both adults." "Joe, please," you whined, pouting so exaggeratedly you probably looked like a five year old asking for one more Girl Scout Cookie as you gazed up at him sadly, trying to guilt it out of him. "I need validation." "Stick that lip out any further and birds will shit on it, kid," he teased, snickering when you just gave him a wilting look and stopped pouting, instead crossing your arms. "Aw, come on. Cheer up, stupid. He told me he liked your bio on Bumble! Is that enough?" After considering it for a moment, you shrugged and tried not to look as grumpy. "I guess." Pursing his lips, Joe deadpan stared at you for a moment before smiling cheerily and reaching up to pat your cheek in a friendly manner. "It's not a no!" At that moment, Ben popped back around the corner, holding a slightly used box of Lactaid and raising an eyebrow when he saw Joe's hand quickly retracting from your face, dropping to his side, but not before his fingers brushed against your cheek. It was glaringly intimate from an outsider's perspective, but all you felt was Joe's grimy hand leaving shit behind on your face. As much as you wanted to continue throwing a fit, especially with the added awkwardness from what Ben had just 'witnessed,' you stepped away from Joe and picked up the spoon next to the stove, forcing anything but a pout onto your lips as you wiped your cheek off on your forearm. "Looks like your boyfriend's got your anti-diarrhea pills." "Stop calling them that!" Joe sighed, exasperated as he turned back to the mushrooms. "I can't help it that my taste buds love dairy just as much as my body hates it." Ben sat the box down on the counter, watching as you gave the cream sauce a quick, indifferent stir. You were really just trying to find something to do to avoid facing the blonde anyways, but he didn't seem to mind as he leaned against the counter across from the two of you, crossing his arms. "Anything I can do to help, MasterChef and MasterChef Junior?" You smiled at the names, Joe furrowing his eyebrows for a moment before looking over his shoulder at Ben. "I'm not Junior, right?" Ben shrugged, feigning apathy, and Joe made an appalled noise before huffing a bit, turning back to focus on the mushrooms. Giggling quietly, you looked over your shoulder and nodded to the fridge. "There's bacon in there. Do you want to slice it up into little pieces so Joe can add it to the mushrooms in a bit?" Uncrossing his arms, Ben pushed himself up off the counter and nodded with a smile, which you reciprocated before turning back to the cream sauce and chewing on your lower lip. You could hear the sound of him shuffling past, his proximity so dangerously close that you could have sworn you felt the heat radiating off of him even when he retrieved the bacon from the fridge, tossing it on the counter where he'd been chopping mushrooms. You heard the sound of him cutting into the package of bacon with the knife. What you didn't expect was a clearly disgusted noise from him, followed by a slightly rancid smell that immediately made you wrinkle your nose and look at Joe, who was making the same face. "I think the bacon's expired," Ben finally said, and you both turned to find him standing there with a pallid, overly-greasy piece of bacon pinched between his fingers, dangling down in front of Ben's mildly horrified face. "Jesus, Joe, I thought you said you had bacon," you groaned playfully, wiping your hands off on your apron before peeking around Ben to see the whole package was expired. "That smells awful!" Joe was silent for a moment, mouth open as if he was trying to find the words to say before he began to stutter. "Well - I did, it just looks kind of....." "Disgusting," Ben finished for him, dropping the piece of bacon back in the package. "Do you have more anywhere?" When Joe shook his head, you grumbled and sat the spoon down, heading for your apartment. "I think I still have some. Ben, can you keep an eye on the sauce so Joe doesn't cause any other disasters?" "Yes, ma'am," he replied cheerily, Joe whining in indignation as you grinned, grabbing your phone and heading back over to your place for a second. As you walked across the balcony, you unlocked your phone to check a message from your friend when the app icon caught your eye. The yellow square, with a white, honeycomb-ish icon in the middle, taunted you as you slowed to a stop, your free hand resting on the door handle. Glancing back over to Joe's side of the balcony, you made sure they weren't on your tail before looking back to your phone and biting your lip. Should you do it? Maybe Joe was right. "No, no, no, don't be stupid," you muttered. Pulling open your door, you retrieved the bacon without so much as looking at the Bumble app again. And you managed to avoid it for the next hour while you helped Ben get rid of the spoiled bacon, eventually getting the creamy bacon mushroom thyme chicken finished and in your stomachs, after which you started to get ready for your date while they took a quick break on the folding chairs just outside Joe's balcony door. Whatever they were expecting, it clearly wasn't what they saw as you slid open your balcony door, stepping out in a little black dress-type number that definitely cut the conversation off immediately. They both stared shamelessly, making you suddenly regret getting all dolled up when you still had an hour to go before Jameson even planned on dropping by to pick you up. In fact, it made you regret getting dolled up at all as you tugged at your hoop earring, smiling sheepishly. "That bad?" you joked, but from the look in your eye, Joe could tell you weren't exactly completely cocksure at this exact moment, so he flashed you an encouraging grin and shook his head. You read like a book, and no one was more in tune with you than Joe. "Far from it. You'll knock him dead, kid." Taking another sip of his beer, you spotted the mischievous glint in his eye too late, his mouth already dropping open to continue before you could redirect the conversation. "Don't you agree, Ben?" "Huh? Oh yeah, mate, for sure," Ben stammered, feeling like a deer in the headlights as he nervously kept his eyes above your neckline. "You'll be the prettiest bird in the place. Jaden will have to keep an eye on you." "Jameson," you corrected, grinning a bit at the compliment and trying not to laugh at his failed attempt of remembering your date's name. Chalking it up to forgetfulness, you fell down in the chair on your side of the tape line, leaning down to adjust the buckle on your heel. "But thank you. Both of you." "Ready to watch Chernobyl?" Joe asked, kicking a cigarette butt that Ben had just stomped out and watching as it tumbled over the edge of the concrete, falling to the sidewalk below. "I mean, it's not the first thing I'd want to sit and watch with you guys. It's kinda sad, isn't it?" Frowning, you finished adjusting the buckle and bent down to check the other one, Ben checking you out for just a second before turning to Joe to send him a distressed look. Joe only pressed his lips together, fighting back a snicker and stifling his words completely with another drink of his beer. "Let's watch something else. Let's watch BoRhap." Groaning, Joe dropped the hand that held his beer to the armrest on his chair again, letting his head fall back in annoyance. "Not again!" "Why do you want to watch that?" Ben asked curiously, crossing his fingers that you wouldn't say it was your favorite movie, but you only shrugged and grinned before sitting up again, running a hand back over your hair. Joe answered for you. "She likes watching so she can.... roast me. Started as payback when I printed out a bunch of pictures of her in middle school and posted them all over the building. Which was payback for God knows what. Which was probably also payback." "Oh," Ben said quietly, a slow grin appearing on his face as he looked between the two of you. "I'm all for it, then." "That's the spirit!" you cheered, standing up and holding out your hands for the both of them. Joe grumbled as he took your hand, pulling himself to his feet and shooting both of you dirty looks before stomping inside. Ben took your hand next, and you helped him to his feet with an excited grin before pulling him inside, dropping his hand just past the door under the watchful eyes of your neighbor, who couldn't suppress a knowing smile before he grabbed the remote, flopping down on the couch. You had an interesting concept of what arm's-length meant. And so you sandwiched yourself between the two of them on the couch while the movie started, Joe's arms propped up on one arm of the couch while Ben spread his arms out over the back of the couch. You were hugging your waist, legs tucked to the side and your knee just barely brushing up against Ben's thigh whenever he'd shift to get more comfortable. He was manspreading, which came as no surprise to you - every Ben Type you'd known before was especially gifted at taking up an abnormal amount of space. But Joe was curled up and slightly turned away from you, his arms crossed as if an instinctive need to defend himself was setting in. Soon, Ben knew why. "That perm..... iconic," you laughed, Ben snickering along with you as Joe pressed his face into his hands, groaning quietly. "Somehow, the wig manages to add a staggering half a foot to your height and you're still almost the shortest one in the group." "Why is no one making fun of Ben's wig? Why am I being targeted here?" he asked exasperatedly, Ben gasping in mock hurt that Joe would try to redirect. "Ben was probably wearing heels anyways!" "Wow, mate, way to try and change the subject. Why do you want me to be bullied too?" "Why do you want me to be bullied too?" Joe repeated mockingly, shooting a withering look at the both of you as you giggled incessantly, reaching over to elbow Joe teasingly. "70's suburban mom wig. It's a 70's suburban mom look! You look like you nail rail cocaine on the reg but also think rock and roll is the devil's music." Raising an eyebrow at Joe, Ben stared with narrowed eyes for a moment before tilting his head indicatively at the screen, where Joe was in his full glory with his perm. "Joe, is that your hair, or did someone throw a toaster oven to you while you were in the bath?" Your eyes widening, you laughed once and pressed a hand to your mouth, impressed with Ben's saltiness. "Who am I kidding, why would you be in a bath?" "Cleaning you out of the drain," Joe fired back almost immediately, casually turning his attention back to the screen despite his bitter smile. "Bold of you to assume I don’t bathe anyways, you still currently smell like the Bay of Pigs with that rotten bacon shit." "Joe, holy shit!" you yelled, looking at Joe in shock before bursting out laughing and turning to Ben. He was almost shocked, jaw slightly slack as he stared over at Joe in what seemed to be a mix of surprise and mild offense. "Ben, you're done for! Joe literally just insulted the way you smell and also called you one of the biggest failures of the last century. Roasted!" "It was a military failure.... fuck you both," Ben weakly shot back, running out of ammo as you and Joe both turned on him. "Why do you always say roasted? You Gen Z shit." "Wow! Okay?! I was born like maybe 6 years after you. You're like... not even a decade older. And I'm not Gen Z. Stop acting like I was in the womb while you fought in the Bay of Pigs. Even if you do smell like it." Joe burst into a fit of giggles, burying his face in the armrest next to him as he kicked his feet a bit, beyond amused at how quickly this had turned on Ben, who was now staring at you in shock. After another few seconds of silence, he shut his mouth and pushed himself up from the couch, smoothing a hand over his hair and letting out an exaggerated sigh. "I'm sensing hostility and I think this is my opportunity to leave for a smoke break so I can cry about how all of my friends like bullying me." "No, no, we're just joking!" you laughed, leaning over on Joe and covering your mouth to stifle the giggles as Joe nodded weakly, trying to contain his as well. "Yeah, come on, Ben, we're just fucking with you!" "Why should I sit back down if I smell like the Bay of Pigs?" Ben pointed out, and you rolled your eyes playfully before reaching out and wrapping your hands around his wrist, tugging him back towards the couch. "We like you even though you're stinky. Come back and finish the movie with us!" Even though it passed over your head like a bad joke, your pull on Ben was magnetic. Joe watched, amazed as the usually hard-headed blond just rolled his eyes and sat back down next to you without another protest. Joe couldn't have pulled him from a smoke break even if he'd gotten on his knees and begged, but one teasing, pleading moment from you and Ben was seated right back next to you, his arm around the back of the couch and resting near your shoulder as you made a content noise and settled back into the couch again, redirecting your attention to the TV. That's when Joe caught Ben's eye, trying to send him a subtle 'You're fucking whipped and she's not even at full power' look, but the blond just furrowed his eyebrows, failing to decipher Joe's cryptic gaze. "Aw, shit," you mumbled, distracting the both of them just as Joe was about to make a kissy face. Both men shifted their attention down to your phone, where a text chat was pulled up with none other than Jameson. "I gotta bounce, I'll see you guys later." Rising from your seat, you smoothed down your dress over your curves before heading for the door, the heels clicking against Joe's wooden floorboards. "Pray for me, 'kay?" "Pre-marital sex is a sin!" Joe called after you, grinning as he heard your laugh resounding down the hallway just before the door was opened. And then, you were gone, leaving the both of them to spread out a bit on the couch in silence before Joe finally broke it again. "I'm turning this off." "Yeah, might as well," Ben cringed, settling into the couch more and watching as Joe switched his Roku back to the main menu. "Might actually have that smoke break now." "Oh no, Ben, don't leave. We want you here even though you smell like rotten bacon," Joe schmoozed, fluttering his eyelashes for dramatic effect as Ben laughed, flipping him off and sitting up a bit. "Man, the power of the p-" "Stop, I was just being nice! It has nothing to do with... what she has downstairs." Grimacing, he afforded Joe one quick look before he was focusing on the screen again, nervous for whatever reason about the conversation at hand. Huffing softly, he decided to turn it on Joe before he got the upper hand. "Besides, you're the one that let her convince you to turn on this movie and get roasted for a full hour! And you guys looked pretty cozy when I came back with your anti-diarrhea pills." "Lactaid. Just.... call it Lactaid," Joe grumbled, pulling up Netflix and scrolling through the choices slowly. "And we were not cozy. I was just comforting her, is all." "About what?" Ben pried, raising an eyebrow and looking dreadfully curious about it all, a sly grin just showing on his lips. "Looks like you two were just about to snog to me." There's certain types of people who like to be blatant matchmakers. Mrs. Bennett from Pride and Prejudice comes to mind - a person who very clearly is sizing up every eligible bachelor just to place them with a daughter, or a friend, etc. They take pride in very obviously urging a pair of people together, and then like to take credit for it afterwards. Joe was not one of those people. As much as he wanted to match-make with you two, he was not the type who was going to lay it all out on the table for either of you. It wasn't his place, and it certainly wasn't his battle, so he told a little white lie, one that piqued interest but also completely concealed what was really happening. "Dude, she's a little bit too young for me, don't you think? And she was nervous about the date tonight. Doesn't want it to go wrong. Completely innocent." "Sure." Ben remained unconvinced but painfully curious, quiet as Joe finally settled on That 70's Show, snuggling back into the couch and wrapping his arms around a pillow that laid in between him and Ben. "Does she go on a lot of bad dates, then?" "Oh, tons," Joe replied, fighting back a smug smile as Ben went down the exact path Joe had so graciously opened for him. "She's really good at picking the douchebags, you know? A talent that a multitude of women seem to possess for God knows what reason. The one tonight is a real doozy - hear me out." Turning so he was facing Ben, he lifted his hands and formed a picture frame in the air for a second, then grinned. "Jameson. 33 years old. Scrawny looking guy. Man bun! And here's the best part - he's passionate about American Pale Ales." "Oh, Christ," Ben laughed, rolling his head back to let it rest on the couch while he shook his head. "I feel bad for her!" "I don't!" Joe countered, waving the thought of dismissively with a flick of his hand as he went back to watching the show. "She's capable of making her own shitty decisions. We just get to hear about it afterwards." "I still feel bad, though," Ben hummed, raising his head again to stare at the TV for a few moments before clearing his throat, glancing at Joe quickly. "Did she say anything about Bumble, by chance?" Joe smirked. Not a good sign, Ben thought, but he tried not to panic as he watched his friend take another drink of his beer, keeping his eyes glue to the TV and nonchalantly tapping his fingers on the armrest. "Not really. She's only been on this Jameson guy for the last few days and I think he was Tinder." "Oh." Silence followed, then Ben shifted his legs and scratched at his knee nervously, wetting his lips before continuing. "Probably hasn't been on Bumble lately, then, yeah?" "Probably not." Nodding to himself, Ben decided that would have to satiate him for now, and he relaxed back into the couch as much as he could while the sound of Hyde roasting someone went in one ear and out the other. "Jameson going to last long?" "With the way she acts?" Joe tore his eyes away from the screen slowly, meeting his friend's gaze. "No way." Hope flooded Ben's heart once again, and he tried not to smile too wide as he nodded again, trying to play off his excitement with an offhand joke. "If she's so mean to us, imagine how she is to rubbish dates." The two of them considered the thought, then burst into laughter and looked back up to the screen, slowly quieting down and just watching the show with almost imperceptible grins on their faces. --- you: guys you: i'm swearing off of men forever joe-brainer: Finally! joe-brainer: How was Jameson? you: I'M STILL HERE you: i've heard about the difference between hops and malt THREE TIMES you: and he's really serial killer material he's creeping me out you: and he's got an accent?? big ben: Ouch, that's rough. Why are you texting in the middle of a date? you: why are you texting in the middle of ur date you: with joe joe-brainer: Yeah Ben wtf. I thought we had something. big ben: I want to see other people. big ben: Back me up please Y/N You giggled, quickly quieting yourself as Jameson returned with your drinks again. It was about your fourth or fifth round, and you were starting to get a buzz that made this date slightly less miserable than it had already been. But that wasn't saying much at all - as you looked across the table at your date, you almost had to fight back the urge to cry at how lost you felt. How in the hell were you going to talk your way out of this one? "Thank you." Smiling softly, you took a sip of the new lager that he'd brought over, fighting back a disgusted expression as the acrid aftertaste rocked you to the core. Jameson just nodded, offering a small smile before taking a disgustingly large drink of his own, apparently unfazed by the bitter taste. Must have been an acquired one. As you pretended to listen, he launched right back into his tangent about English beers - you'd found out he was from Northern England when you'd asked about his accent, and somehow he'd managed to come back around to that fact every 10 minutes or so. His voice was like a drone as you stole glances around the pub, feeling the spinning feeling in your head grow subtly with each word he uttered. God, why were you here? Yet another disastrous date with a egocentric male who found personality traits in mugs of shitty beer made by shitty local breweries with shitty hops. Or malt. Who fucking knows? "My ex and I actually went to this one village, just outside of my hometown-" Oh Jesus, now he was bringing up his ex. Rubbing your fingers up and down your thigh, you continued to feign interest with a strained smile, but every muscle in your body itched to bolt out of this booth and out onto the street before you were too drunk to walk in heels. God, why did he have to be good looking? That 'no sleep/scrawny/scruffy guy' look always did you in. Ben's name flashed across your screen, followed by Joe, and you sighed softly as you locked the phone again, wishing you could reply. Instead, you flipped the phone over and propped your chin up on your hand, staring blearily at the slight, long-haired man who was genuinely convinced you gave a shit about the 500-year old liquor he got to try with his ex that was probably skinnier and prettier than you - and he'd probably bring that up by the end of the night too. As your stomach rumbled, you slid your free hand to rest on it, regretting that you'd ate so early with Joe and Ben. The chicken had done nothing to tide you over, and the beer was making you crave disgusting things. Images of greasy fries and shitty frozen-patty burgers tantalized you from the back of your mind, and it was all you could do not to sprint down the block to the McDonald's you'd seen on your walk there with Jameson. "I'm going to head to the loo really quick, do you mind? It's all that beer, I swear," he asked, already sliding out of booth by the time you shook your head, sending him off with a warm smile that lasted just a second longer than it took for him to turn around and make his way to the back of the pub. Unlocking your phone, you leaned down to hit your head against the table a few times before pulling up the group chat again, catching up on what you'd missed. The screen was beginning to get a bit blurry, your fingers fumbling as you finally jumped back in. big ben: I don't appreciate being hung out to dry like this Y/N joe-brainer: Ben, come back inside. We can talk through this you: you are both MORONS you: god i fuckin love you guys joe-brainer: Do I spy drunk Y/N? That text was too nice you: idk what's in these beers but it tastes bad and also has fuggggged me up big ben: Uhhhh that's not reassuring. You're buying the drinks for yourself, right? you: asbolutely not you: asbolutey** you: ABSOLUTELY you: not. Joe sent a gif of Jim Lahey from Trailer Park Boys stumbling down the trailer steps, and you replied with a few laughing emojis before locking your phone, putting your head down on the table while a few patrons of the pub looked on in pity. They'd seen your horrid date play out for the last few hours, yet no one seemed to want to step in for the drunk girl who was minutes away from kicking off her heels and taking the subway barefoot if it meant getting away from this self-obsessed, stuffy Brit. Jameson had been throwing you off all night. When you'd found out he was from Northern England, you were excited because you'd picked up a few things about Ben's home country from him over the weeks. But Jameson was different. He wasn't as friendly, for starters. Also, his accent was more aggressive, harsher on the vowels and generally less friendly on the ears than Ben's was. Ben. You missed him. Your mind was all over the place, but those green eyes taunted you from the recesses of your brain, warm and inviting and so clearly not here right now that you felt like crying. Ben would be so nice to see right now - memories of his lush accent lured you even further away from the date at hand, and you couldn't even see a single reason to stay here and be miserable any longer when you had an even better Englishman at your disposal. So much for arm's-length. "I can't do this anymore," you finally groaned, pulling up the group chat again and hurriedly clicking Joe's name, texting him 'SOS send help' in a sloppy manner before locking the phone again, climbing up out of the booth and throwing a twenty on the table. Maybe you'd text Jameson later, apologize for ghosting, but you doubted you would as you stumbled out of the bar, texting your location with another quick 'S O S send englishman i need back up' as you slumped down on a bench around the corner, unbuckling your heels with trembling hands. If this date were any different from the last few that you'd had, you might have been upset. But the alcohol in your system coupled with the constant disappointment of this city's dating scene numbed you to the horrifying disaster that you'd just went through for the last few hours. Your phone buzzed, but you were so worried that it was Jameson that you silenced the ringer, instead heading for (see: drunkenly stumbling towards) the McDonald's sign that blazed just down the block. Meanwhile, Ben was in a panic. He'd been in the bathroom when he received two texts from you that he assumed were meant for Joe, a drunken mistake out of context that set off a very loud, persistent alarm in the blond's head. Though, it had to be noted, he did get a chuckle out of 'send englishman.' At least you were talking to Joe about him. "Fuck, pick up, Y/N!" he muttered quietly, calling you again to no avail. He'd been trying to contact you since you'd sent your location - however, you had all but dropped off the face of the Earth, currently enjoying a Big Mac and a large fry in the window seats of the dingy McDonald's somewhere in Manhattan. "God damn it," Ben muttered, your phone going to voicemail once again as a million possibilities whirled through the blond's head. You could be drugged out, kidnapped, killed, anything terrible - all kinds of scenarios spooked the hell out of him as he exited the bathroom, Joe still lounging on the couch. "Has Y/N texted you?" Ben asked, Joe laughing at something Hyde said on the TV before glancing at Ben, raising an eyebrow. From the current look on his face, Ben suspected that he hadn't a single clue, nor was he really worried about whether you were alive or dead right now. "In the group chat, yeah," he replied noncommittally, taking another drink of his beer as he looked back to the TV. "She's probably just listening to him drone on about local beers still. Wonder if he's trying to explain how American Pale Ales are superior." "Uh-huh," Ben replied vaguely, staring off at the opposite wall as he tried to figure out what in the hell his game plan was here. If you hadn't texted Joe, would it have been for a reason? Did he really need to bring Joe into his panic too, or should he handle this by himself? "I'm gonna head out, I think. It's getting late. Let me know if Y/N texts you." "Okay, Mr. Worrywart," Joe teased, giving a smug grin to the TV that only made Ben roll his eyes before he grabbed his keys, heading for the door. "Bye! Don't forget, same time next week! You better not come back a changed man from Fashion Week!" "See ya," Ben replied, but his head was already out the door and in game mode as he let the door swing shut behind him, heading for his car in the parking garage. As he walked there, he called you again, but no dice. Sighing, he resigned to texting you. big ben: Are you okay? I'm on my way The Big Mac was delicious. You smiled happily as you munched away, completely forgetting you'd just spent the last few hours wanting to gouge your eyes or eardrums out, either or. In fact, you forgot so much that you flipped your phone back over, your fear of confrontation with Jameson filtered out of your mind for the time being. Instead, a few missed calls and a text from Ben greeted you. Furrowing your eyebrows, you put down the Big Mac to reply, fingers still typing clumsily with the weight of the alcohol in your system, grease from the burger smearing on the screen a bit. you: why are you on yourway you: oh fuck HAHAHA i meant to text joe. im sorry you: welp awkward but this works anyways you: but what if i cant finish my bif mac in time you: then what :( At your response, a huge weight lifted off Ben's shoulders as he sighed in relief. You were alive, and getting some food in your system, which was already a good sign. Your spelling and execution? Still a bit concerning, so he climbed into his car and requested your location again, which you obliged to almost immediately. In the traffic on the way, he got anxious. What if you were still with the guy? What if he had to step in? Worse, what if things escalated? He didn't want to have to fight someone tonight, especially someone half his size horizontally, but probably double his size vertically. big ben: Where is Jameson? Is he with you? you: nope you: no idea you: are you on your way im tryinf to eat fast big ben: Don't hurt yourself, traffic is crazy lol. Slow down big ben: For fucks sake, please don't scare me like this again either big ben: When you text SOS from a date, I assume you’re getting kidnapped or drugged or something big ben: Since Joe says you really know how to pick em you: ew wtf you: stop acting like my dad you: do you ever text like a reg person?? you: send a gif once in a while its goodfor ur soul Scoffing, Ben just locked his phone and shoved it in the center console, only digging it out again when he'd reached the location you'd provided. Texting you he'd made it, he watched as you nearly fell off your stool trying to dismount. A worried sigh escaped his lips as he glanced behind him to make sure he was clear before getting out of his car, rushing to meet you as you exited the sketchy McDonald's and cheered, reaching out for him and almost falling in the process. He met you just outside the doorway, your arms flinging around his neck in a messy hug, which he gently reciprocated while mouthing 'sorry' to an annoyed passerby who'd nearly met the wrath of your flailing arms. "Oh, Ben, I'm so glad you're here! I finished my Big Mac!" you informed him, smiling widely and pulling back to watch him with hazy eyes. Trying to ignore how painfully close you were to brushing noses with him, he chuckled to himself nervously and pulled out of the hug, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist to help you to the car. "This is the most excited I think anyone's ever been to see me," Ben joked lamely, but you laughed anyways and sent a light tinge of pink seeping onto his cheeks while he smiled. As you began to walk, you leaned against his side more, rubbing your stomach. "Tummy hurts a little bit from eating so fast." You were almost dead weight against his side, his broad hand gripping your waist tightly and digging into the black fabric that clung to all of your curves. If you weren't deliriously drunk at the moment, he figured he might have enjoyed that brief contact more - but right now, he was just focused on getting you home. Opening the passenger door, he looked on cautiously as you slid your way into the car clumsily, hitting your head in the process and making him flinch. "You okay?" he asked as he walked around the door to reach out for your head, but you just slid down in the seat, giggling and closing your eyes. "How much have you drank? He's got you silly, love." "Ohhhhh, that's a cute nickname. I love that. Love love," you laughed, letting your head loll to the side before opening your eyes again slowly, smiling widely up at him. "Can you call me that more often?" "What, you mean love?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow as you raised your hand to your head to rub the sore spot where you'd just smashed it against the car. When you nodded and giggled once more, nursing your head, it was all Ben could do not to grin ear to ear. Instead, he forced himself to give you a small smile, then he nodded once. "Of course. D'you mean, like, all the time?" "Yes, yes, all the time," you confirmed happily, letting your eyes close again as the sound of the hazard lights steadily distracted you, the rhythmic clicking drawing your attention away from Ben for a moment. But you couldn't push the sound of him saying 'love' out of your mind, a deep, velvety baritone in that posh accent that made your skin tingle. Although you couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol making you so susceptible or just the fact that he was so damn good all-around, you had your suspicions that it was the latter sneaking up on you. "God, I'm so fucked. Say it again?" Taking a deep breath, Ben tried not to sound too eager as he crouched down on the sidewalk next to you, steadying himself on the car door and clearing his throat. "I hope you aren't gonna make me carry you all the way home, love." Laughing at his mild teasing, you opened your eyes again and had to look around for a moment to find his eyes, your gaze going from the traffic lights down the street, to some strangers passing by, to the McDonald's sign. Finally, you turned your head to meet his gaze, making Ben's heart skip a beat as that same look you'd given him a while ago made a reappearance. It was tender, a soft look in your eyes almost making it look like you were about to cry. Oh. You were crying. "Oh fucking hell, what's wrong?" Ben cursed, fumbling for some napkins in his glovebox as a tear ran down your face despite the peaceful smile that still barely graced your lips. Finally locating the napkins, he began to wipe at your under-eyes, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of your head gently, offering him better leverage. It pained him to see you so upset, and he wondered why in the hell you were crying so hard until you leaned into his hand and gave a little laugh, then spoke. "I forgot to get a McChicken for Joe. He gets so mad when I go to McDonald's without him! Do you think he'll yell at me?" The smile slowly disappeared, replaced by a worried look that coupled well with more tears. Ben's eyes widened as he tried to keep up with the waterworks, but his attempts at dabbing away your tears were pointless as they kept coming, overwhelming him. "Joe's going to hate me, Ben! What if he takes my reclining chair?" "No, shhh, he's not going to hate you. Hey, hey, I'll go in and get one for him. How does that sound?" You sniffled at his words, nodding slowly as you gazed at him, teary-eyed and messy from the sudden crying. He used his thumb to brush some stray hairs out of your face, then offered you the napkins. "You stay here and listen to whatever station you want and I'll go get the McChicken, okay?" "Okay," you mumbled, your voice pathetically plaintive as you took the napkins from him, trying and failing to wipe at your tears as well. "You're so nice, Ben. You're seriously the best, I owe you. Joe was wrong." "Stay here, okay, love?" Ben repeated, trying not to think about your words too much, and he shut the door with a small wave goodbye, locking the doors on you for extra measure. As he bought a McChicken for Joe, he stole regular glances back towards his car on the side of the road where it was clearly not supposed to be, considering he hadn't paid for the meter, but he managed to get the sandwich and go before the meter maid caught him. As he climbed back in, you greeted him cheerily, a slap in the face after the gloomy mood he'd just left you in. "Ben, you're back! Look!" Showing her phone to you, he was greeted with Joe's smug grin, a smile that told Ben he was caught in the lie - well, not really the lie, but the absence of information. "Hey, bud. Did you get my McChicken?" Pressing his lips into a thin line, Ben held the sandwich up to the camera and Joe made a satisfied noise before shifting a little bit, getting comfortable on his couch. "Perfect. I told Y/N I'd hate her forever if she forgot." "Jesus!" Ben cursed, a bit horrified that Joe would be so mean to you when you were this drunk, but you didn't seem to register that you were being played as you looked between the two men, a dopey grin on your face. It was placating enough for the moment, and Ben gave the phone a clear look of dismay before turning his car on, shutting the hazards off. "Joe, we'll be back in 20. Y/N, you can hang up." "Okay," you replied happily, hanging up the phone as you both heard Joe yell something unintelligible about his sandwich. Looking over at you, you grinned despite having bloodshot eyes from the crying, and Ben gave you a reassuring smile as he stole glances at you, trying desperately to watch the road but not doing very well. "I'm assuming your date went swimmingly?" he asked, one hand resting on the steering wheel while the other laid on the center console. Driving in America was odd, so he found it weird to be looking to his right to see you instead of his left, but you were none the wiser as you giggled at his words, shaking your head. "You would not fucking believe," you started, your head lolling to the left a bit as you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus enough to get your story out. "I walk in and I'm like 'Jameson's so cute, but can I call you Jamie?' and this is what he did!" Turning to face Ben, you tried to make your face as neutral as you can before you deadpanned a quick "No." "What a lovely personality," Ben observed, laughing a bit as you pressed a hand to your forehead, amazed at how heated your skin was. "And then I tried to order a drink of my own but he was paying, so he made me get some drink that seriously tasted like straight ass! And then he wouldn't even let me get anything else but beer, and I don't even like beer! And then he talked about his ex!" "Ouch." Ben grimaced a bit at that, sympathizing with you while you rambled on and on about how awful the date was, ending with some complaint about how the beer wasn't even that cold. "Well, at least it's over now, right?" Nodding, you slumped down in your seat, not really caring that your dress was ridden halfway up your thigh at this point. Out of respect, Ben glued his eyes to the road, but there was a creeping redness to his face that was pretty much indiscernible to your drunk goggles. Higher powers seemed to be testing him the more and more he hung out with you. Why hadn't you matched him on Bumble? What did you mean 'Joe was wrong'? The worries plagued him, making his finger tap nervously on the center console as he drove. "God, men are just garbage sometimes," you sighed out of nowhere, Ben lifting an eyebrow at your sudden woes before turning on his blinker, staring ahead at the red light. "Surely you don't mean that. Joe and I are men." "Joe is hardly a man! He screen peeks during Mario Kart." Snickering, Ben couldn't help but smile at that, fascinated by your measurement of Manliness. "I don't know if you screen peek, though. Do you screen peek? I'll never forgive you if you do." "Thank God I don't screen peek, then," Ben reassured you, chuckling once more as you sighed in relief and turned to look at him fully. This would certainly not be the first or last time, but you once again found yourself drowning in his good looks, the world around him spinning but everything about him clear as day. The way the NYC traffic lights reflected in his eyes, his messy hair that had been shaved at the sides - how hadn't you noticed that earlier, before the alcohol? It made him look broader, more statuesque than he already was, which seemed impossible. But most of all, the amused smile playing at the corner of his plump lips, lips that made you chew on the inside of your cheek as you fought back the desperate need to lean across the center console and- "I like your haircut," you blurted out, distracting yourself from your own thoughts, and Ben smiled even wider, looking in the rear-view mirror before looking over at you. The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkled adorably as he watched you for a brief moment, his smile toothy and endearing and making him look even more attractive than before. Well, that didn't help. "Thank you. I'm still not sure if I like it, but I wanted to get it cut before Paris Fashion Week, since I fly out the day after tomorrow." "Oh," you replied quietly, images of skinny models and beautiful outfits blurring through your mind. Again, a blatant reminder that Ben was on a completely different level than you - while you had to sit and listen to scrawny men lament about getting paid more than you, Ben could easily take a model back to his hotel room in Paris of all places. A pained look crossed your face, and Ben furrowed his eyebrows in question before looking back to the road, chewing on the inside of his cheek in thought. "That's dope." God, why were you being so lame? "Yeah," he replied just as quietly, baffled as to why you'd clammed up all of a sudden. A minute ago, you were a chaotic ball of energy, crying and cheering and laughing all over the place, and now here you were sinking back into the leather of Ben's passenger seat, tugging at the bottom of your dress self-consciously and forcing yourself to stare straight ahead. You looked hurt, and he wondered if he'd said something wrong again. A minute or two passed in painful silence before Ben cleared his throat, deciding to end the awkward moment and offering you a smile as he spoke eagerly. "I like your dress. It's a shame you had to waste it on such a dickhead. Where was he from, anyways?" "Sheffield. Or some place nearby, I don't know," you sighed noncommittally, resting your head back against the seat and closing your eyes as his attempts to banter with you went unnoticed. The world was beginning to tilt a bit, and being upset about someone who wasn't even in the same ballfield as you was not helping to fix it. "Northern England, for sure." "Oh, fuck those Northern bastards," Ben groaned playfully, smiling wider when he saw the faintest of grins playing at your lips. "I swear we're not all self-important pricks. Don't let him paint a bad image of all of us." "I could never," you murmured, reaching up to rub the side of your face as Ben strained to hear your mumblings over the sound of the radio. Before he had a chance to react, you moved on, desperate to keep the conversation going before you felt like curling up into a self-loathing ball of shame. "Going to Fashion Week to see anyone?" "Nah. Just got invited, is all," Ben replied slowly, still clueless to the jealous heat that was rising from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, making your whole body feel like it was alight. Flames licked at your heart, vaguely stinging, and you tried to push away the pain as you focused on his words, trying to choose your own carefully. "Fun, fun," you mused, opening your eyes slowly and glancing over to see he was casting curious looks at you when he was stopped at another red light, about halfway to Joe's at this point. Suddenly, you remembered that you'd forgotten your shoes at the McDonald's, and you burst into laughter as you pressed your hand to your forehead, a couple more tears springing to your eyes. "I'm such a fucking dumbass! Oh, God, why do you and Joe even hang around me?" "Because it's hard to ignore someone who shares a balcony?" Ben answered tentatively, realizing you were crying again a moment too late and cursing before fumbling for the glove box again, trying to get you more napkins. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that! It was just a joke, love, I didn't mean to make you cry. I swear, I'm not as mean as Joe-" "Ben, shut up!" you laughed, snatching another napkin from the glove box before turning towards your door and dabbing at the tears, in between laughing and bawling at your current situation. "God, you're too nice, stop it! You're supposed to be that Ben that Joe told me about, not apologizing every time I go baby!" Pulling down the overhead mirror, you tried in vain to fix your makeup, sniffling between your slurring words. "I forgot my shoes back there." "Oh. What did Joe tell you about me?" Ben asked curiously, pulling up at yet another red light that was just a few blocks from your apartment building. This one seemed to take forever, though, realization weighing on your shoulders as you wished desperately that alcohol didn't make you vocalize every single thought you had. "I hope it was all good?" "I shouldn't have said that," you hiccuped, reaching up to smack your forehead a few times before laughing and burying your face in your hands, your seat belt struggling to hold you back as you leaned forward and went a bit limp, angry with yourself and upset with Ben for being so curious. "Of course it was all good. God, I'm too drunk for this. Drop me off at the curb and I'll make it back upstairs." It was a green light again. Ben pressed on the gas, side-eyeing you a bit and staying quiet for another block before he took a deep breath, shaking his head. "You said it yourself, you're drunk, so there's no way you are going back up there alone. Friends don't let drunk friends go home alone." Your phone began buzzing, sidetracking any response you could have had to Ben officially calling you his 'friend,' and you lifted it to find that Joe was Facetiming once again. Swiping right, you answered, and Joe's face lit up the screen, prompting a genuine smile from you that didn't go unnoticed by Ben, who was now pulling in to the parking garage he'd just left less than an hour ago. "Hi, Joey!" you answered softly, the sentimental look back in your eyes as you rested your head on Ben's window, watching your phone screen blearily. Ben glanced over at you, trying to keep a neutral expression despite the fact that he was once again convinced that you and Joe were even closer than you appeared. These dates - what did they mean? Were they distractions? As much as he wanted to convince himself that it was just that you guys had been living in blindingly close proximity for over two years, he just couldn't shake the feeling that the touchy-feely nature of your relationship was something beyond that. "Ugh, I told you not to call me that! But hi. Are you guys about here? I snuck over to your place and got your hangover cure ready." Joe's phone shifted, then turned to reveal he was in your kitchen next to two glasses of water and four ibuprofen. "Oh my god," you whined softly, slumping in your seat a bit and fighting back more tears as you smiled at the phone, pressing your hand to your forehead again. "You're too nice to me. I could cry right now." "Please don't," Ben begged, making you laugh a bit in embarrassment and close your eyes, hitting your head against the window a few times. "We're in the garage right now. We'll be there in 5 minutes." "Joe, can you pleaseeeee please please go to my closet and get out my fuzzy white bathrobe?" you pleaded, giving your best puppy dog eyes/pout combo that you could in your hazy state. "I'll do anything." Ben finally found a parking spot, and your eyes lit up when you realized you could climb out, completely forgetting all about your shoes that you'd left behind as you managed to unbuckle yourself and stumble out of the car before Ben could make his way over to help you. Cursing under his breath, he locked the door and shoved his keys into his sweatpants as he hurried over to your side, where you were leaned against the back passenger door of the car and rambling on to Joe about how you really needed your bathrobe to be put in the dryer so it was 'like a warm hug' when you got back. "Why can't Ben or I just give you a hug?" Joe groaned, shuffling through your closet before locating the big white piece of fabric and heading for your dryer. Ben reached around you to shut your door for you, putting the McChicken in his other pocket before raising an eyebrow at you and silently questioning whether you were ready to walk alone again. Confidently, you began your trek back to the elevator, but a few steps and you were already swaying again, steadying yourself on the trunk of his car. Damn, this thing looks expensive. These fucking actors. Sighing, Ben quickly caught up and wrapped an arm around your waist, his keys digging into your side as he supported your dead weight once again and led you towards the elevator. "Because I'm upset with the male species right now," you replied, your actions completely betraying your words as you draped an arm across Ben's shoulder and leaned your head on it, sighing melodramatically. "He wouldn't even let me call him Jamie." Ben could see the amusement even in Joe's horribly pixelated face, the WiFi connection understandably horrid out in the garage, but he chalked the amusement up to Joe thoroughly enjoying drunk you. His free hand went out to press the elevator button as a night security guard eyed you both warily from afar, Ben nodding curtly, and you pressed the button again for what you thought was good measure before closing your eyes, humming tiredly. Ben was warm, and the body heat radiating off of him was dangerously comfortable. "That sounds awful," Joe replied faux-sympathetically, though he seemed more like he was having the time of his life witnessing your dependency on Ben despite the fact that you were basically saying all men were trash. Ben's lips pressed into a thin line, silencing any nagging thoughts as he listened to you continue. "I know! And he made me drink beer all night, and kept talking about his ex, and then he made a fat joke!" You continued rambling about everything that had gone wrong that night, disparaging men in your drunken state while simultaneously leaning against Ben's side, your arm draped around his shoulder and fingertips occasionally brushing against his chest. The elevator rose to your floor steadily, a happy noise escaping the back of your throat when the doors finally opened, and you gripped Ben's shoulder tightly to steady yourself as he led you into the hallway, ignoring the sharp dig of your fingernails in his skin. Right now, he just wanted to get you back home before his arm fell off, his hand almost asleep from how hard he had to grip your waist to keep you steady. When your door opened and Joe appeared, you couldn't contain your excitement, nor could Ben's grip contain you as you propelled forward into Joe's arms, wrapping him up in the tightest hug you'd ever given him. Laughing, he returned the hug as he slid his foot out to hold the door open for Ben, who made his way in with a mildly exhausted look on his face that Joe just barely witnessed. A knowing smile snuck its way onto his lips, and he shut the door as you let go of him, stumbling down the hallway after Ben and making your way to the kitchen. "Joe, you're seriously the best," you practically moaned from the kitchen as you took the ibuprofen and chugged one of the glasses of water, Ben raising an eyebrow as he turned to look at Joe, who shrugged and grinned. "It's like I'm chopped liver or something," Ben remarked, just loud enough for Joe to hear but quiet enough for it to pass under your radar as you started on the second glass of water, drinking it down like a ravenous beast. Reaching into his pocket, Ben pulled out the sandwich and tossed it to Joe, who cheered in excitement and unwrapped it quickly, biting into the partially-cold chicken and not caring one bit. As he tossed his keys on the counter, Ben took a look around your place, realizing he'd never been there before. It was just a flipped carbon copy of Joe's, all the cozy dimensions the same. The two men made their way into the living room where you were fully out of earshot, and both settled into the couch as they listened to you rummaging around the kitchen. "Well, you kind of still smell like it," Joe offered, talking through his sandwich and not bothering to chew at all before he spoke. "I swear to God, if either of you makes another joke about me smelling bad, I'm going mental," Ben hissed, running his hands back through his hair and wincing at the sharpness of the freshly shaved hairs on the side that pricked at his fingertips. "I'm not your girlfriend's Uber, you know? Why would she text me to come pick her up?" Joe grinned and shrugged, very clearly enjoying how irritated Ben was becoming as he took another bite of the McChicken, vaguely gesturing with the hand it was in as he spoke again. "Not my girlfriend, but whatever. Two, ask her. I'm not your couples therapist, Mr. Fashion Week. I can't ask your girlfriend for you. God, the power of the pussy." "She's- you're one to talk!" Ben sputtered out, reaching over to give Joe's shoulder a mild-mannered smack. "Let yourself in to a bird's apartment and get her hangover cure - which you know by heart - ready, and throw her clothes in the laundry for her, and you want to talk to me about the power? Get out. Just stop dicking around already, mate, it's clear you two have a thing and you're just fucking with me at this point." "Ummmm, I believe I'm just a friendly neighbor. You're the one that risked losing a parking spot in the middle of the city just so you could go pick up a drunk girl and carry her home." Ben was gearing up to fire back that he'd never seen two neighbors so close, but at that moment he heard you walking out into the living room, and both of them turned to see you snuggled up in the bathrobe you'd retrieved from the dryer, your dress laying in a heap by the washing machine. "Mmmm, perfect," you hummed to yourself, your eyes just barely visible over the oversized bathrobe that disguised most of your figure. Padding over to the chair adjacent from them, you flopped down it in rather ungracefully and curled up against the armrest, staring at the both of them with a silly grin. "Whatcha talkin' about out here?" "Nothing," Joe calmly lied, taking another bite of his sandwich as he sat back, offering an unassuming smile. "You missed That 70's Show." "I should have stayed and skipped my date," you huffed quietly, pouting as your eyelids fluttered closed and you nuzzled the pillow you currently had tucked underneath you. You were getting sleepy, and Ben could tell that you weren't going to last much longer at this rate. "Jameson was a big, stupid bitch. Why do guys suck?" "Damn, Benny-boy over here drives to pick you up and I get your stuff ready for bed and all guys suck?" Joe questioned, raising an eyebrow and watching as you whined and furrowed your own eyebrows, peeking open your eyes. There it was, the tender look that managed to send Ben's mind into a frenzy once again - he wasn't sure now if it was because he knew crying might come with it, or if you just had that much of an affect on him. "That's not what I meant, Joe, I'm sorry!" Your eyes were starting to look watery, and Ben sent Joe a panicked look that just prompted a heavy sigh from his friend. Taking the last bite of his sandwich, Joe rose to his feet and brushed the crumbs off of his shorts before ambling over to the chair. His hand wrapped around your wrist and he carefully pulled you to stand as you sniffled and whined quietly, tears threatening to spill over - Ben observed stiffly as you fully wrapped your arms around Joe's torso, leaning into his grasp as he started to lead you to your bedroom. "Okay, crybaby, you've trashed males enough and made Ben lose his parking spot, I think it's bedtime, yeah?" Joe asked, wrapping an arm lazily around you and maneuvering you around the maze of your living room before glancing over his shoulder to nod at Ben. "I can take it from here. Night, dude. Have fun in Paris!" "Ben, I'm sorry I made you lose your parking spot! I'm such a bitch," you wailed as Joe made futile attempts to shush you, his hand only partially muffling your cries as he led you down the hallway just like a doting boyfriend caring for his drunk girlfriend. "Bye, guys." Raising his hand, Ben waved once, but neither of you saw it as you whined into Joe's hand, gripping onto his shirt tightly while Joe tried to distract you to no avail. Ben was already no longer in the picture, reduced to a background character while Joe took center stage once again. When you disappeared out of sight, Ben took a long, deep breath before rising to his feet as well, stretching and slowly making his way to where he'd sat his keys before exiting. The sound of you wailing from your bedroom accompanied his exit, and he could faintly hear you in the hallway as he pressed the elevator button, shuffling into the cramped space when the doors slid open with a dinging sound. As the doors closed behind him, Ben turned and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as exhaustion slowly set in. "Fucking hell," he muttered, his voice the only sound in his ears besides the creaking of the elevator shaft, an odd shift from having someone around him almost constantly all night. Though he hated to say it, he almost would have rather been trying to stop you from crying right now - he missed your voice, and Joe's too. The virtual silence was deafening, and a dull ringing sound started to assault his eardrums. The elevator doors slid open, and Ben reemerged to find that the same night security guard from before was watching him curiously, the window to his little shack slid open partially. "She get home okay? Seems like she was quite a handful," the guard remarked, the wrinkles around his face deepening as he punctuated his sentence with a little chuckle. Ben laughed once, nodding as he sifted through his key ring and strolled past the guard's stand, shaking his head. "She's alright. Just had a few too many and needed a babysitter for a little bit." The guard's eyes never left the blond as he passed, his arms folding in front of him as he watched Ben fiddle with his key ring, failing to find the remote to unlock his car. "Must have been hell getting her to settle in. She's lucky she's cute, huh?" That slowed Ben's pace down considerably, and not just because the night guard was out of pocket. He paused in picking his car key out of the key ring, looking up for a moment before nodding and heading to get in his car, his smile faltering just a bit - again, he was reminded that it was Joe up there with you right now, not him. "Yeah. Very lucky." --- sorry i was such a mess last night, i'm 100% paying for it now! thanks for coming to get me even though i'm a straight up moron. and i didn't forget, i definitely owe you... joe says have fun in paris :) Ben reread the text one more time, unable to smile despite the cutesy emoticon at the end. Even though you'd taken the time to message him personally and thank him with an open-ended IOU, there was Joe's name, popping up at the end like an annoying little fly that just kept reappearing despite his best efforts to swat it away. "It's not his fault," he mumbled, locking his phone as he went on to his 16th hour of ignoring your text. What would he say anyways? Hey, no sweat, I basically would drop everything to come pick you up from a shitty date. Actually, why don't I just take you on a shitty date and we can skip- "Blanket?" The flight attendant's voice jolted him out of his wallowing, and he gave the clean-cut man an embarrassed smile before nodding his head, accepting the packaged blanket gratefully. Dealing with his problems was going to be a lot easier when he could sleep them away for the next 7 hours, and then promptly drown them in fancy outfits, rich foods, and outlandish cocktails. "Thanks, mate. Definitely going to need it."

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