#also also also the hand on steve's elbow like it's still sort of loose he doesn't know if he's fully allowed to put it there UGH THE DETAIL

[cuips-not-cute]

YELLING SO LOUD

Part 2 of some art to @cuips-not-cute's fic Blinking Red Light. As a treat🙈

[cas-kingdom]

“Dads are overrated.” Stranger Things?

A/N: I actually wrote this before watching season 3 as I wanted to see if I could get his character right just by reading about him & catching his vibe in gifs etc. My OC (reader-Hopper’s daughter) lives with Joyce after his death, but returns to Hawkins for a while to see her friends in season 4. (I also couldn’t find anything about Eddie’s parents so made something up).

“Dads are overrated,” Eddie said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he kicked a loose stone across the road. “Parents are overrated,” he then corrected. He laced his hands at the back of his head and stuck his tongue out, tasting the first raindrops of the inevitable storm he could feel arriving.

“Hm?” Your absent frown deepened for a moment as you turned your gaze up at him from your seat on the gravel. You straightened a little when his words registered, shaking your head. “Oh, no, Ed, that’s not what I—I loved my dad.” Eddie turned to look at you, tongue still sticking out. You’d both been sat on the isolated road for an hour now, the sun beginning to dip in the horizon, and your previously incongruous conversation had somehow stumbled upon the subject of parental figures. Eddie had told you about his shitty uncle and you’d briefly mentioned your mom and Joyce, but your mood had suddenly plummeted at the reminder of your dad. You hadn’t known Eddie long, your introduction coming recently via Dustin with your return to Hawkins, but it was obvious to everyone that you’d hit it off immediately. There was a comfortability to your relationship that had you forgetting everything bad for the length you were together. Until something like this happened, anyway.

You sniffed and bit your lip. “He was underrated, if anything.”

Eddie took a moment, slowly retracting his tongue. “Huh,” he said. “Sorry. Guess I just assumed. Guess I shouldn’t just assume. My dad was a piss poor attempt so…” He trailed off, twisting his face in contemplation.

“Where is he now?” you asked, bracing your arms behind you and leaning back.

Eddie shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. You?” It was less than three seconds before something seemed to barrel into his mind, and his mouth opened slightly, eyes widening in realisation. “Oh,” he muttered just as he clocked the look on your face. “Crap. Damn...I’m sorry, I just, like, uh—” 

“No, it’s—Eddie, it’s fine.” You took a deep breath and forced a smile. You’d known that coming back to Hawkins would dig up things you’d been trying to bury. Joyce had done her best to make you stay in California longer, very aware that returning too soon would unravel everything you’d done to help yourself grieve, but you, despite not wanting to leave El, had needed some sort of familiarity, no matter the consequences. You’d needed to walk the roads of your home and sit in bed with Nancy to talk about anything and everything. You’d needed to bump into people you knew and tell them to have a nice day and toss a ball around with Steve. You’d needed to do anything other than navigate the crowded streets of California and bump into prissy girls who believed themselves higher than everyone else. 

It had worked so far.

“My dad was the Chief of Police,” you said, “and he...he died pretty fucking courageously. He saved a lotta lives.”

Eddie nodded slowly, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “He does sound pretty underrated,” he said. “I think he was in the paper once. My uncle uses them as kindling.” He walked closer and sat opposite you. His legs crossed in front of him and he leant his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his hands. “You miss him, huh?”

Understatement of your entire life. You actually laughed at it, a breath of morbid amusement coming from your nose, and Eddie rose his brows in innocent surprise, though he didn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” you said finally, your voice quiet and strained. You picked at a rock on the road, the mud gathering under your nails. Your muscles tensed and you rolled your shoulders back, your chest heaving with a deep breath. You didn’t want to talk about this right now, and in some beautiful understanding, Eddie knew. 

“Have you ever danced in a rainstorm?” he asked abruptly, turning his head up to the sky. He stuck his tongue out again and spoke around it. “‘Cuth ith’s really thucking thun.”

You laughed then for an entirely different reason, giggles sputtering from your lips unlike they had since you’d seen your dad for the last time. “You’re crazy,” you said as the rain picked up, thunder grumbling in the distance. Eddie stood to his feet and extended an arm.

“The good kind?” he asked with a grin.

You lifted your arm and Eddie grasped it tight to pull you up. “The best.”

Stranger Things Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five  

[itsallyscorner]

Teaming Up with Sam and Bucky ft Zemo

Pairing: FEM!Reader; Bucky Barnes x reader, Sam Wilson x reader; platonic(?), let’s throw in some Zemo x reader

Summary: What it would be like to team up with our favorite duo. Takes place during TFATWS.

Warnings: none, TFATWS SPOILERS. Lowkey a mess :D

A/n: Ever since TFATWS came out I’ve been reminded of how much I love Bucky and Sam. Also I have a new found love for Zemo. I’ve just been so obsessed with this series and I’ve been reading so many fics about it, so I decided to finally write my own :) Enjoy my loves❤️

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

✧───── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

You’re basically working with a bunch of children.

The children mostly being Sam and Bucky, though Zemo does have his moments once he joins you three.

You’ve known dumb and dumber for a few years now, being part of the Avengers, you’ve worked with Sam on multiple missions. The friendship blooming somewhere in between.

You were also close friends with Steve; when he first came out the ice, you were assigned to help him adjust to the modern world by Fury. He would tell you a bunch of stories of him and Bucky running into trouble or Bucky always saving his ass whenever he was getting beaten up.

Eventually, you finally got to meet Bucky, though he wasn’t Bucky, he was the Winter Soldier. Your introduction to each other was quite memorable to say the least.

He choked you with that metal arm of his and for a split second you swore you might’ve found it attractive—till he threw your body against a car.

You sided with Cap during the accords and helped him protect Bucky. When that whole mess was over, Steve asked you to stay with Bucky in Wakanda to make sure he would be safe.

You were the first person to have some kind of bond with Bucky. Before and after he was freed from Hydra’s hold on him, you were always someone he knew he could trust.

When Steve told you what he was going to do while retuning the stones he told you to watch over them.

“Promise me you’ll keep an eye on Buck and Sam?” He asked you, sitting on the edge of your bed. He had snuck into your room late at night, knowing you were wide awake.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, a lazy smile on your lips, “They don’t need me, I’m sure they’re capable of surviving on their own.” Steve breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, “You’d be surprised.”

“But seriously, (y/n), they need you. You know how they get when they’re together. You’re the only person in the world who knows how to deal with the both of them at the same time.” Steve reasons, his baby blues sparkling in the darkness of the guest room of Tony’s lake house.

“Make sure they’re not on the verge of killing each other or running into too much trouble?” You tiredly nod, sleep slowly consuming your body. “I promise, they’re gonna be alright, Steve.”

Sometimes you found yourself looking up at the sky, cursing at it—or Steve—for leaving you with two of the most childish and stubborn men you’ve ever known in your life.

You were like the mother of the group; breaking up fights, making sure they skipped no meals, patching up their boo-boos, etc.

“Will you stop staring at me?” Sam snapped, tossing his goggles onto the seat beside him to glare at Bucky.

“I’m not staring at you.” Bucky remarked from across Sam. His flesh and metal arm crossing with each other as he stared at Sam challengingly.

“Yes, you are. Your eyes are connecting with mine. You’re literally staring at me right now!” Sam pointed out, to which Bucky rolled his eyes at.

“Because I’m talking to you, genius. I wasn’t staring at you.” Bucky quipped.

“Yes you were!”

“No I wasn’t!”

This continued till they were sick of bickering with each other, finally yelling out your name for help.

The arguments were straight up petty. Bucky wouldn’t admit it, but he was the pettiest.

Exhibit 1: “LoOKiNG StrONg jOHn!”

Like seriously? Bucky’s the pettiest bitch, nobody can tell me otherwise.

You and Sam would definitely find it amusing how Bucky doesn’t trust Redwing.

Obviously, you all despise John Walker. Just the thought of him left a bad taste in your mouth.

He was like a fly that you all couldn’t get rid of. But because you were all painfully patient people—mostly you and Sam—you had to deal with his bullshit despite the way he annoyed you all.

Totally loosing your shit when Bucky helps Zemo break himself out of prison.

“Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.” You groaned, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose together.

Bucky looks at you with feign innocence; his mouth agape and puppy eyes. “I—didn’t do...anything(?).”

“You helped Zemo break out of prison didn’t you?” You crossed your arms at him, hip jutting out. As if on cue, Sokovian sugar daddy walks into the abandoned garage you were all in.

Before you can explode on him, Bucky tried to calm you down, “Wait, I technically didn’t do anything though! It was his plan!”

Zemo definitely lives up to being the ✨Sokovian Sugar Daddy✨ of your dysfunctional group.

I think you’d all be surprised at how rich he was. The amount of connections he had wasn’t that big of a shocker.

No like seriously, homie was pulling all sorts of shit out his ass; cars, private planes, houses in different countries, etc.

You all had a love hate relationship with Zemo. On days when he was actually helpful, you all got a long. On the days when things got horribly messy, Zemo couldn’t even let a word out since Sam would tell him to “shut up”.

Though that still doesn’t excuse the fact that he got the Avengers to spilt up and go against each other.

When you guys are all hiding out in one of Zemo’s apartments or homes, you would probably cook breakfast, lunch, or dinner for everyone.

They actually loved it when you cooked because it made the atmosphere feel a bit homey and calm compared to the current situation you were all in.

You were the person they can all go to. You were easy to talk to, making it easier for them to open up to you.

You always checked in on them mentally and physically. For example, you knew Sam felt guilty about giving up the shield, but Bucky never made him forget about his choice. You were there to reassure him that he thought he was doing the right thing and didn’t know the hidden agenda of the government.

You were like their on the go therapist, babysitter, and partner.

Sometimes Bucky and Sam would even argue for your attention.

“Can you stop hogging (y/n) please? Her ears might fall off from hearing you yap all day.” Bucky said as he gently took your arm and dragged you away from Sam.

“You literally spent the whole day with her yesterday, you’re the one who needs to stop hogging (y/n).” Sam argued, grabbing onto your other arm.

“I didn’t get to spend time with (y/n).” Zemo mentioned from his seat in the kitchen, a glass of whisky in his hand. Bucky simply turned to him and pointed, “NO!”

Honestly what’s a friendship with Bucky and Sam without some harmless flirting. They weren’t gonna lie, you were gorgeous, the most attractive one out of the group.

When you guys had to go undercover at Madripoor, both times with Zemo and Sharon, you had to wear dresses that were a bit revealing. Maybe your chest was a bit shown, but the dress definitely showed off your legs.

“So what do you guys think?” You stopped at the bottom of the stairs of Sharon’s apartment, doing a little spin to show off your outfit.

Both Bucky and Sam’s jaws drop, Zemo probably nodding in approval in the corner.

You can’t forget about the nicknames: maybe doll, sweetheart, or darlin’ from Bucky and the typical Louisiana Cher from Sammy.

While fighting against the Flag Smashers or anyone in general, you guys always had each other’s back.

You could directly be fighting someone, but you’ll naturally have an eye on Sam and Bucky to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them.

It’s a given that you all patch each other up after some fight.

You were all very protective of each other. If there’s one thing Sam and Bucky can agree on, it’s their instinct to protect you.

Like how you kept an eye on them, they also kept their eyes on you. Even though they knew you could hold your own.

“Could you walk?” Sam asked you as you laid on the concrete floor. You were double teamed by a couple of Flag Smashers. Two super soldiers against a normal person, you totally got your ass handed to you.

You pushed yourself up to rest on your elbows, “I’m fine, just got dropped kicked twice, but I’ll be fine.”

Sam smiled at you, “That’s my girl.”

Though the two can be a handful and argue almost every minute, you loved the both of them tremendously. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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[instasiswetrust]

Rain patters against the window panes, filling the room with the cozy kind of silence that leaves you feeling lethargic no matter what time of the day it is. A thunderstorm had enveloped Hawkins like a shroud, refusing to budge despite the sunny morning that had greeted them.

Steve is all loose limbs, and comfortable warmth, cozy under the arms that wrap around his waist. He's got his head tucked under Billy's chin, ear pressed against his chest to listen to the steady beat of that heart. A heart that he almost thought he would never hear again after-

"Let's get out of this town. Drive out of the city, away from the crowds."

The words are spoken so quietly that if Steve didn't have his head on Billy's chest he doubts he would have been able to hear them. They are enough to make him lose his grim train of thought. Maybe for the better.

Wait, what?

It takes a moment for the words to register, a frown finding its way upon Steve's face. Propping himself up on his elbows he looks down at Billy with questioning eyes.

"Where would we even go?" Because he's not going to say no to an offer like that. Hawkins is too big at times, but other times it feels so small like he's suffocating just by existing among the borders of this town.

"Does it matter?" Billy's voice interrupts his thoughts, a gentle grin curling his lips. "We could just take one of the cars and drive out, see where the road takes us. Get out of Bumfuck, Indiana for a few days. Live a little."

"We live enough just by being in Hawkins."

"Fighting eldritch creatures from another dimension doesn't count."

"I don't know man, going toe to toe with a demodog makes me feel pretty alive."

Billy rolls his eyes but the way he tenses up, iron-clad defenses raising once again, makes it clear that he's serious about this. Steve doesn't give him time to take back his words though, leaning in to press a light kiss to the hollow of his throat.

After everything that happened with Neil, Billy almost dying and then moving in with him, Steve doesn’t have the heart to deny him this either.

"I will go with you. Wherever it is you want to go, even if it's to a shitty diner in Chicago three hours from here, then I will go with you."

He hopes Billy catches onto the real meaning of his words despite their playfulness. Because it's true, Steve would follow him back to California as long as that's what he wanted. As long as Billy asked him.

But he hadn't. And there was only a week left before Billy went back to California.

By now Steve had resigned himself and accepted the truth. That this thing they were doing, this sort of relationship they had stumbled upon, was bound to end just as summer did. The only thing he wished for, the single thing he would ever ask of Billy, was to at least remember him.

“But for real, is there somewhere you want to go?” He asked, hoping to push the depressing thoughts of his love life to the back of his mind for now. If he wanted to have a crisis about how everyone he had ever loved always left him, he could do that once Billy left for UCLA.

“I know your music taste is all pop bullshit but you have heard of Summerfest, right?”

“The music festival in Milwaukee? It’s been advertised on the radio for a while now. Something about Bryan Adams being there, I think.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Did Billy sound nervous? Why? “You want to go?”

Steve blinked in confusion, sitting up a bit so he was straddling Billy’s lap and could face him. “I mean, it would be cool but the tickets sold out weeks ago.”

“Got in contact with some old friends from Cali. Managed to snatch a couple of tickets.” Billy shrugged, smirking up at Steve despite the slight hint of nervousness. “Wanna take that drive now, Princess?”

---

A day later they had everything ready.

The Camaro's trunk was packed with two duffel bags with enough spare clothes for a week, snacks, bottles of water, and a first aid kit Joyce had forced into their hands before leaving. Steve hoped they wouldn't need to use it, though.

It was Jonathan's gift that had made him tear up a little. He had fixed his old Polaroid camera and offered it to Steve with a decent amount of film already inside it. Something told him that it might've been Nancy's idea but either way he was glad.

He didn’t know he needed a physical way to remember this week but was glad to have it.

Billy doesn't comment on it once they are back in the car but he does raise his eyebrows in a silent question. Steve just shrugs, not feeling like untangling the complicated knot of emotions lodged somewhere inside his chest.

---

It's still light outside when they make their first stop.

There's no finesse in the way they scramble into the backseat of the Camaro, nothing delicate about the way Billy tugs him into his lap, just desire and barely contained desperation. Then they are kissing again, wet and messy and perfect.

They are parked in the middle of some woods somewhere on the way to Chicago. Steve's not sure exactly where anymore, having forgone the map maybe half an hour after they left Hawkins. It's not like it matters. It's not like anything matters other than the heat of Billy's skin on his. His kisses, the bruises he litters on pale skin, and the way he can't seem to stop touching Steve like he will disappear if Billy so much as blinks.

And Steve understands. He really does. Because once summer ends and Billy has to leave Hawkins for UCLA, there will be no more moments like these. No more nights of having the blond next to him in bed when he goes to sleep. No more shared meals on the couch while going through his parent's VHS collection.

There will be no more them.

So instead of focusing on the unbearable ache the thought alone creates in his chest, Steve chooses to focus his attention on pushing Billy down against the leather seat and moving back so he can work on getting those tight jeans low enough for him to bring Billy's cock to his lips.

"Fuck! Baby, that feels so-" Familiar fingers bury themselves into his hair, pulling on the strands and making him moan. He relaxes his jaw then, looking up at Billy who seems to have caught on to his intentions if the smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

"You want me to fuck your mouth, baby? Make you choke on my cock?"

"Pwhease." Talking with his mouth as full as it is isn't easy but he's rewarded by the look on Billy's face. His eyes darken, his lips part and the grip on Steve's hair tightens. It’s enough to send heat pooling low in Steve’s abdomen, a muffled whine escaping his lips.

Billy starts up with slow, barely contained thrusts, his eyes never straying away from the sight between his legs. He knows how much Steve likes

Considering how keyed up they already were, it’s no surprise when Billy only lasts a few minutes before he's coming hot and heavy down Steve’s throat. He swallows everything, choking a little on the cock still inside his mouth. He only pulls away when the grip on his hair finally grows lax.

Steve barely gets enough time to catch his breath before Billy is surging up and dragging him into a messy kiss, licking into his mouth and chasing the taste of himself on those lips. It should be gross. Hell, it is gross. But somehow it's also one of the hottest things Steve's ever experienced and he can't help but moan into the kiss.

His breath hitches turning into a whine when he feels Billy's spit-slick hand inside his briefs, wrapping around his cock. He's already so sensitive that there's not a single ounce of shame in him as he ruts into the touch, needy sounds falling like raindrops from parted lips.

"Billy, Billy, please- Fuck, I want-"

"Jesus, you look so pretty like this. So needy. Gonna come for me already, baby?"

“Uh-huh”

“Ask me pretty, baby, c’mon.”

"Let me come, please Billy." Steve whimpers softly, arms coming up to wrap themselves around tanned shoulders. He's shaking from the pleasure, muscles tense and every nerve alight. So damn close, already.

It's then that Billy starts to jack him off in earnest, thumb pressing against that sensitive spot just under the head with each upward stroke, his mouth otherwise occupied with suckling at the freckles that litter the skin of Steve’s neck and shoulder.

“Billy I-” Steve’s eyes roll back and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip in a futile attempt to muffle the loud moan that slips out from his chest. It’s only when he bats Billy’s hand away from his cock that he finally starts to feel like he can catch his breath again.

[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 17 - SPEED DIAL

———

"I'm about to do something really stupid." Steve put his hands on his hips and stared at the entrance before him, as if he was still contemplating whether or not it was worth it.

"What is it?" Pietro followed the Captain's gaze, both of them eyeing the doorway. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he connected Steve's nervous stance to his reason to standing in front of the room where Y/N was being held, he felt stupid for not knowing immediately. "Oh. That's very stupid."

"I know."

"You're really going in there?"

"Seems like it."

Pietro wondered if he should explain his own situation with Y/N to Steve, but decided against it. There was enough drama going on for the man, especially when the possible key to unlocking his best friend's whereabouts were just a few feet away. Steve could live without knowing Pietro's dilemma.

"Good luck then." He gave the Captain a brief nod, smirking a little when Steve did nothing in response. Pietro watched as he entered the passcode for the door to open, backing away as Steve began to enter.

———

Just as I thought I would be alone again — and this time more willingly — someone else stepped inside. The familiar muscular figure strode across the room, his boots clacking on the floor as if to announce his arrival.

I sighed and stayed laying down on the bed, not bothering to sit up and give him any sort of greeting. First the speedster, now him? What was he going to do, tell me the values of a great American?

"Jokes on you, I'm not even American." I mumbled to myself in response to my mental rambling.

"Huh?"

I groaned, putting an arm over my eyes to block the light. "What are you doing here, Captain?"

He cleared his throat. I could hear him shifting from one foot to the other in discomfort. Was he...nervous? That was definitely intriguing. What the hell is wrong with these Avengers? They were more complicated than I thought they would be.

"I came here to ask you for something."

I put down the arm I had over my eyes and shifted my weight onto my elbows, propping myself up so I could get a better look at my uninvited visitor. "Another deal?"

"Something like that." His lips stretched out into a thin line, his arms raising from his sides so he could cross them in front of his chest. "It's an offer. If you want it, take it. If you don't-"

"You'll kill me."

The Captain's eyebrows met together furiously, "That wasn't what I was going to say. If you don't want to take my offer, then it's up to Fury to decide what to do with you."

"So...no difference, then. He'll kill me."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." I shrugged. I swung my legs over the bed and stood up so I was exactly across him. "So, what's this life-changing opportunity you've got in store?"

His shoulders immediately sagged, telling me how much he dreaded what he was going to say. I stood in anticipation, slowly taking small steps forward.

"You knew him." Steve blinked. "You knew Bucky."

"Who?"

"James." He sighed again, like the weight of the world was sitting on his windpipe. "Or...the Winter Sold-"

"Stop right there." I put a hand up, my palm facing the son of a bitch. "If I hear that name one more time, I'll rip your organs out through your mouth and shove them back in through your ass."

I hated how he said his name, his actual name, with such fondness and nonchalance like he was anything more than a torture machine who made my life a living hell. Steve tilted his head, stretching his neck. I could see the muscles of his jaw flexing even from where I was standing. It was almost impossible how his teeth were still intact to this day, with all that tension in his jaw and the stress-grinding.

"I just need you to help me track him down."

I couldn't help but chuckle. Hell, laugh even. That finally broke the dam that I tried to hold up and all hell was breaking loose right this moment. Steve Rogers, everybody! The world's greatest comedian! Round of applause!

"Track him down? You think I have his phone number on speed dial? What do you want me to do? Call him up and say, 'Hey, bestie! What's up? Wanna go shopping for knives? Maybe kill some people on the way? Oh, how about we get some ice cream and reminisce the time when you tried to kill me but I ran away and I've been running ever since? Good times!' HA!"

"I'm not asking you to make friendship bracelets, I'm just asking for information that only you could possibly know."

"Are you crazy, Rogers?" I yelled so loudly that my breath fogged up the glass I was basically pressed up upon. "You'll never track him down. He's under Hydra's thumb 24/7. Even if we do manage to get to him, what do you think will happen? You're the face of the enemy. He'll kill you on the spot. He's not your best friend anymore, Rogers. He's a weapon bound to blow up in your face."

"Wait, what?" He uncrossed his arms and replaced them on his hips. He pointed to me, "Why do you think Hydra's still watching him?"

"I said don't make me say his name again-"

"No, no- you think he's-" he cut off abruptly. "You don't know, do you?"

The hand he had been using to point at me moved towards his face to stroke his chin. "The Winter Soldier escaped Hydra not too long ago, when S.H.I.E.L.D was compromised."

What? I felt my body go numb. It was like the world was caving in on me, trying to crush my body with it's cruel, cruel walls. How did I not know that? "What? No. You're lying."

He shook his head, "That's why I want you to help me track him down. I can't leave him alone out there."

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. Hearing Steve talk about him like he was referring to a friend, humanising him...felt so wrong and disgusting that it left a bad taste in my mouth. I wanted to throw up.

"No."

I walked away from the front of the cell and turned my back to him, wanting nothing more to do with the conversation. Everything I thought was true turned out to be a rotting corpse of a lie. There was nothing else to revive, not even the remains of hell that I blew away a lifetime ago. There was no phoenix that would suddenly rise. Just cold, painful and numbing reality, hitting me in the face.

I should be glad, right? The knowledge that he was no longer who he used to be should be enough to send me dancing for joy and painting the town or whatever it is that happy, liberated people do. But instead I was scared. He was out there, blending in with civilians as if he wasn't a total monster. I was confused too—the sole reason I'd handed myself over to S.H.I.E.L.D was because I was running from him.

Then, the gears of my brain suddenly hit the brakes.

"You're lying." I said, with my back still turned to the glass. "He's not out there. He's still with them. I heard him, the day Hydra raided this place!"

"I thought you might bring that up. I'm not lying, Y/N."

Something told me I should turn around, and so I did. He was taking something out of his pocket. A small, metallic black, oval device that resembled an earpiece, with a wire attached to it. At the end of the wire was a tiny cube. "We found this on one of the Hydra agents' bodies, it was attached to his ear and his neck. We examined it immediately."

He held the thing up for me to see, the cube dangling from the wire. "Advanced technology."

He didn't need to say the words. I already knew what was coming.

"A voice modifier."

I chewed the inside of my cheek to keep myself from doing something stupid–the range was vast–and took a deep breath. Today was a day of revelations, it seemed. This cell is a feelings brothel.

"They knew, didn't they?" I scoffed, smirking despite my own conscience. "They wanted me to be scared."

Steve shoved the horror device back into his pocket, nodding once and staying silent, a gesture for me to continue. I dared myself to meet his eyes.

"This doesn't change anything." I heard myself saying. "I'm not helping you find him either way."

He sighed, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "I thought you might say that."

I didn't know what to say. But then suddenly, I heard the sound of a click and felt a sudden rush of air behind me. I whipped my head around to see the door hanging slightly ajar.

"Advanced technology."

Life was getting stranger by the second for me. I was just starting to figure out all the ways I could escape seamlessly, but then he stopped me.

"I'm not done yet." What now? "You can get out of here, on one condition. You help me find him. Then you're free to go wherever you want to go after."

Deals after deals after deals. My life was a joke. Everything I do involves a gamble.

"That's it?"

"Listen here, Y/N." The Captain's voice dropped an octave, a threat waiting to ignite. "I'm doing this on my own accord. If you help me, I'll be more than glad to return the favour, but only if you swear not to show up on anyone's radar for at least a year or they'll find you. Do this and you can forget about everything. I'm offering you a clean slate."

It was the negotiation of the century. But I sensed there was more. "And?"

"And, if you so much as step a foot out of line, I won't be the law abiding Captain you know me to be, kid."

I smirked. "Huh. I like you more like this, Cap. Suits you."

"So, what's it gonna be?"

I let the thought of it marinate for a while, weighing all the pros and cons. Pros? I get to get out of here and forget about ever 'pledging my loyalty' to this freak show. Cons? I had to actively and consciously search for the man whom I'd been running from forever.

"Deal. But I have one condition."

He raised an eyebrow lazily, as if surprised but also not at the same time. I was becoming way too predictable for these people. "What would that be?"

I couldn't go alone, not with just the walking flag, and I still had some unanswered questions to deal with. Plus, truth be told, I had a feeling he was the only person I could truly trust, especially on a rogue mission.

"Pietro has to come along."

[bunkerbucky]

A Pirates Life *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Summary: A pirate!bucky x shy maid reader in which the readers friend is the adventurous princess that wants more outta life so she convinces reader to sneak away and they get caught up with pirates and bucky takes a liking to the reader and dubcon too please

Rating: EXPLICIT [18+]

Warnings: DUB-CON/NON-CON //M ORAL // INNOCENT READER// VIRGIN READER// PENATRIVE SEX (allusions to non-con to a background character)

A/N: Prompt for @sherrybaby14 writing challenge. Hopefully, this is good. First time writing Dub-Con, so please go easy on me. I know it need work!

Princess is named Amelia, if that’s your name then simply swap Amelia to another name. I’d appreciate if people could reblog, maybe comment? Thank you x

The ship was magnificent and huge, deep red wood and big black sails. It put all the other ships in the harbour to shame. It also brought an endless amount of fear and anxiety with it.

This wasn’t just some ship, it was a Pirates ship.

It was Captain James Barnes' ship. You’ve heard stories of him and his crew, the reckoning they bring on the wealthy and upper classes; but they weren’t bad-bad, at least, not to the less fortunate.

That doesn’t explain why you’re staring up at his ship in the dead of night. You warily glance Amelia, who is wearing a sort of mischievous smile on her face. You hated that she roped you into this, you could hardly say no- being her handmaiden that is, you had to say yes.

She’s not normally in clothes like yours, she’d never be allowed to wear anything less than her royal dresses. She’s the princess; always in fancy gowns and impressive jewels. You’ve known her for years, dressed her, bathed her and snuck out with her.

But this was possibly too far. Even for Amelia.

“C’mon, they're down at the brothel. Sneak on, stay hiding till they get to the next dock.” A perfectly normal plan it seemed. A dangerous plan.

You got onto the ship, it’s dark and there’s no one insight. You just had to find a place to lay low for, however, long till the next docking. Your hands tremble as you silently walk towards a door, walking down some creaky stairs. Amelia points towards some sacks, nodding for you to follow. You both settle behind the sacks, deep in the corner.

It feels like hours before loud, thumping footsteps crawl above you. They’re all back. You gulp and try to control your breathing. Hearing the commotion of them upstairs, the yelling and hustle.

You both feel the ship move, a slight swaying and you know now there’s no place to run. They’ll throw you off of the ship if they find you. The door opens, voices loudly talking to one another. You look at Amelia, who doesn’t even look fearful, she’s just silently sitting beside you. You hear them walk down and past you, going further down into the kitchen area than you two have.

It’s a few more hours, you're aching and cramped behind the sacks. Also hungry and incredibly thirsty. Neither of you had planned this far ahead, you glance at Amelia who mutters that they would be docking soon.

You wished. Not a few minutes later there’s boots, deep and thundering down the stairs. They stop and mutter something… then they’re walking towards the sacks. Hands lifting the heavy sacks and throwing them, as they stand you can see them. Tall, menacingly so, sandy blonde hair and facial hair. They run a hand through their hair before looking down, eyes glancing to you both and tilting.

“Stand up!” His voice is calm and demanding. You both stand up on shaky legs, his fingers make a come hither motion to him. “Coupla storroways,” he calls and two others show up as you both walk around the pile.

One grabs your upper arm and pulls you harshly up the stairs, Amelia right behind you. It’s bright outside, you squint your eyes to be able to see. Bodies of all men turn to look at you both, eyeing you both up and down, it makes your skin crawl.

“Get the Captain,” one yells.

“No need,” a deep voice calls from behind. You look over your shoulder and up, behind the ship's wheel is Captain Barnes.

He walks down the stairs, tight black pants and a loose red shirt tucked in, leather boots and blue eyes piercing at you both. He stands over you both, hands clasped behind his back as he looks at you. Head tilting down and raising a brow at Amelia.

“We’ve got royalty on our ship,” he declares loudly and you glance at Amelia. “Princess, it’s an honour,” the mocking tone has you looking down at your feet. “And you brought your handmaid?” You don’t look up, “so sweet, yet utterly fucking stupid.” He spits at Amelia. “I should throw you both overboard, no doubt your father's ships are on our tail. Thinking we stole you and we’ll be strung up like common peasants.” You look up as he yells in Amelia’s eyes.

She didn't say anything, but flinched back and looked at you. An apologetic look in her eyes, knowing that she has screwed you both.

Barnes stands up, looking at the guy who discovered you and shrugs. “Not everyday we get a princess though,” a smirk settles on their faces and your eyes widen. “Steve has a thing for the upper class girls, me? Not so much, but I can’t deny my good friend.” He looks around to his crew, a grin on his face, “can I boys?” He asked and they all roared to life, yelling at him.

He walks around Amelia, pushing the hair from her neck and then roughly pushing her to Steve. Loud hollers and calls happen through all the men, a shriek comes from Amelia as she’s pulled away. You go to follow but a hand grabs your wrist, Barnes shakes his head.

“You don’t wanna follow that crowd,” the muffled sounds coming from where you had just come from. You nervously look at him and he smiles. “Follow me.”

The hand on your wrist tightens as he pulls you in the opposite direction, opening a door and pushing you to walk down first. You get to the bottom and realise this is the Captain’s quarters, candles are lit and there’s an unmade bed to the left. A grand desk to the right, stacks of paper and (stolen) jewels littered the top.

“What’s your name?” He asked and walked around you, purposely brushing against you as he walked to a small bar. You mutter your name softly, “Y/N,” your name rolling off of his tongue. “Drink.” He passes a glass tumblr to you, brown liquor within.

To appease him you drink, coughing at the burning taste going down your throat. He chuckles as he watches you, eyes darkened as he takes a languid sip. He places the glass down, taking your glass from you and placing it beside his.

“Undress.” He sits at his desks chair, spinning it to face you, legs spread and elbow on the arm rest. You don’t move, embarrassment coursing through you. “I’ll cut the fabric from you, so undress.” He pulls a dagger from his boot and places it on the desk beside him.

Pushing the thought of never being naked in front of a man away. You begin to undress for him, your hands shaking as you get undressed. His eyes never leaving you, scanning around to every piece of newly exposed skin. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth as you stop at your underwear, he raises an eyebrow.

You swallow hard and get fully naked before him, he tilts his head and licks his lips and beckons you to him. You walk forward, a rough hand reaches out and grabs you, pulling you down onto his lap. He softly stroked your cheek, a grin coming on his face and his pearly whites on show.

“Where’s Amelia?” You ask in a shaky voice.

He brushes the hair from your face tenderly, “Having her own fun with Steve, don’t worry about her. She got you into this mess, didn’t she?” You nod once, “luckily I’ve taken a shine to you, you’d be with the princess right now. I’m possessive, don’t like sharing with my men unlike Steve.”

You don’t really understand what he’s telling you. You’ve been sheltered most of your life, never really being around men other than the male royal servants.

“Get on your knees,” You do as he says but with a frown, not understanding what he wanted her to do.

Eyes widening as he pulls himself out of his pants, an amused chuckle leaves him at your face. You’d had never seen one in person, you look up at him and he raised an eyebrow.

“Ahh, a virgin,” that only makes him smile more and his penis twitch. “I ain’t got time to teach ya, darlin’” gripping the back of your head with one hand and pulling you forward. “Open your mouth, I’ll guide you.”

Hands gripping his thighs tightly, opening your mouth and he shoves it into your mouth. You cough and choke around him, a muttered “relax” is thrown at you. Your spit dribbles down his cock, lubricating it more for your mouth. His hand pushes your head down, gurgling and slurping sounds coming from your mouth.

A deep groan comes from him, hand clutching your hair in a vice grip. Tears start filling your eyes as his hips start lifting up, cock hitting the back of your throat causing you to choke. You just wanted this to end, your throat was feeling sore and used, but the grunts coming from him was doing something to your own body.

“Fuck,” He groans and stands up, shoving his cock deeper down your throat, nose pressed to his pelvis. “You got such a nice throat on ya,” a wink being sent to you as he starts fucking your mouth in earnest. Both hands holding your head steady, feeling your hands trying to push him away via his thighs but he was stronger.

He pulls out of your mouth, you cough and splutter for air. His hand is still holding your hair, he yanks and you wince in pain. He forces you to your feet, pushing you to the desk and bending you forward. Your front pressed to the desk, you look over your shoulder and watch him.

Eyes widening at him stroking himself, “please.” You sob and he looks at you. A silent plea. “Stop.” But did you want him to?

You felt shameful, the Captain wanted you and not the princess. It made you feel special in a twisted sort of way.

Your hands are shaking, thighs quivering as you watch him. He grins and looks at you, eyes trailing down your body, he lifts a hand and swipes it through your folds, it causes you to jolt.

He tuts, “I don’t think you want me to stop.” He declares and lifts his fingers, glistening with wetness from your heat. “I think you want me to ruin this pussy, don’t you?” He steps forward and blankets your body with his. “You want me to take you, better me than my men.” He kisses your cheek softly.

A shiver goes through you as his cock brushes against your wet channel, your hands grip the desk tightly, he bites your neck and pushes himself into you. A strangled gasp escaped you at the intrusion and stretch. Your mouth has fallen open in a silent scream, you felt so stretched and full.

A hand is pressed to the back of your neck, he pulls his chest off of your back and pulls his cock out, only to slam back inside. The desk scratches against the wooden floor with each punishing thrust of his hips, tears flowing down your cheeks at rhe feeling- not knowing if you’re enjoying it or sickened by it.

A pirate is fucking you on his desk, a man that strikes fear into people. You shouldn’t be enjoying it, you’re not enjoying it.

“You’re so tight,” he groans from above, squeezing your neck. “So fucking wet and warm,” slapping his hips against yours with such furiosity. “So, good. Made for me aren’t ya?” He asked and picked up the pace.

All you could do was take it, take his hard and long cock, fucking into you with such force. The whimpers falling from you and soft cries, it seemed to only spur him on. A tightening feeling in your lower abdomen started to coil, an unfamiliar feeling starting to build up and send sparks down to your core.

“Gonna fill this pussy up with my cum,” he groans as his thrusts start to become sloppy and irregular. “I can feel you getting closer,” he groans softly. “Gonna cum on this cock, go on. Cum for me.”

His words doing something within you. A sudden jolt of pleasure rushing through you, eyes rolling back and a loud, high pitched moan leaving your mouth. Your pussy spamming around his cock as he continues to fuck you through it. He stutters and groans, hips stilling as you feel warm liquid shoot inside of you from him. A whimper leaving you as he grinds his hips into yours, milking himself of his cum in you.

Pulling out of you, you feel yours and his release slip down your thighs and coat them generously. You lay limp against his desk still, unable to move or really do anything. Arms wrap around you and you groan, he’s carrying you and then you feel soft, silk sheets underneath you.

“Get your rest,” he stands over you. “You’re gonna like it here, for once, you’ll be treated like a princess.”

You should feel dread and want to leave, but the way he strokes your cheek and looks at you, a dark but tender look… it makes you want to stay.

(First time writing Dub-Con, so if it was bad. I’m so sorry. I want to get better at it, we’ve all gotta start somewhere. Anyway, please leave a like, comment and reblog. I’m taking requests too - Lilith)

[roboticonography]

Fic Preview: Except Perhaps in Spring

Dear @formerlyir,

I’m your Secret Santa! I’ve so enjoyed getting to know you in 2020, and I look forward to many more chats and Snippets Mondays. I guess now you know why I was so cagey with you about what I was working on for the exchange! ;)

It’s been a lot of fun working on a story just for you, but December has been an eventful month for me, and in the end it got away from me a little. So here’s a taste of your story, “Except Perhaps in Spring.” I hope you have as much fun reading it as I’ve had writing it.

Happy New Year!

=======

As she would maintain for many years afterwards, Peggy hadn’t wanted to go to the pub in the first place.

It wasn’t that she disapproved of such amusements. She liked a stiff drink as much as the next field agent (though not, perhaps, as much as Colonel Phillips, who kept a bottle of bourbon at the back of his middle desk drawer for “medicinal purposes”).

And she appreciated that the boys from the 107th invited her along on their madcap outings—not out of a misguided sense of chivalry, or some crack-brained scheme to charm her out of her knickers, but because they genuinely enjoyed her company.

Along with their fearless leader, the three biggest troublemakers of the group were in London for one night to accept an award on behalf of the 107th. Dugan, Barnes, and Morita had been invited to accompany Steve to the award ceremony, but not to any of the PR opportunities that followed. While Steve spent his afternoon posing for pictures with various elected officials, his boys would spend theirs loitering around the SSR’s London headquarters, trying to convince Peggy to come out on the town with them that night.

Peggy was in no mood.

It had been raining in sheets all day, and her umbrella had already given out on the walk in. The cavernous underground war room was freezing: everyone was wearing scarves and gloves at their stations. 

Peggy’s office—little more than an alcove with a door, really—had sprung a leak during the night, which meant she’d arrived that morning to find a stack of finished paperwork completely drenched. Aside from shoving her desk against the wall and putting a rubbish bin under the steady drip, there wasn’t much to be done.

Thanks to some especially severe belt-tightening, there was no comfort to be had even in a hot drink: the coffee was dismal sludge, the tea in the communal bucket had been stewed to within an inch of its life, and there was, naturally, no milk or sugar to be found anywhere on the premises.

Peggy had spent most of her day hunched over her typewriter, re-typing a twelve-page report that Colonel Phillips would undoubtedly skim for two seconds before it would disappear into the SSR’s vast storehouse of files, never to be seen again.

So when the invitations started, Peggy’s polite-but-firm no, thank you was already locked and loaded, and her aim was true.

She hadn’t counted on the boys being either bored or bold enough to try their luck again as a trio, wedging themselves into her office three abreast, with Dugan as the filling in the sandwich.

“I said no, gentlemen.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard this song before,” said Dugan, grinning. 

“Me too,” chimed in Barnes. “‘Her lips said no, but her eyes said—’”

“On your bike,” said Peggy curtly.

“She’ll change her tune when we tell her who’s coming,” said Dugan. “Won’t she, boys?”

His companions gave solemn nods.

“Yep,” said Morita, drawing the word out. “She’ll come around pretty quick when she hears that we convinced him.”

Peggy glared at each of them in turn. 

“All right,” she said at last. “Who is it?”

“Me, of course,” said Howard, shoving his way in between Morita and Dugan. “See? I told you she’d be excited.”

“Thrilled,” Peggy deadpanned.

“I think she thought we meant someone else,” said Barnes.

“Someone taller,” Dugan agreed.

Howard feigned indignance. “Taller, maybe, but I can guarantee I’m a better dancer. Did you know there’s a leak in your ceiling?” he added helpfully.

“Right. All of you, out.”

The unholy barbershop quartet reluctantly took its leave.

It wasn’t the first time they’d implied that there was something between her and Steve. She didn’t appreciate them doing it in earshot of her office colleagues, though she was certain there must be talk already: Steve’s last visit to HQ had ended in a legendary bust-up between them, after she’d interrupted him with Private Lorraine, mid-embrace.

She wasn’t only angry that he’d kissed someone else. She was angry that he’d kissed a woman he barely knew, after he’d made himself out to be a different sort of man. She’d felt foolish for believing him, for liking him, when he’d told her he was waiting for the right partner.

She was angry that he’d had the nerve, afterwards, to try and brush it aside, pretending it hadn’t meant anything. If a kiss like that didn’t mean anything, how many others had there been? And how many more would there be while they were apart?

(And, though she’d never admit it, she was angry that Steve appeared to be a decent kisser.)

Then, to add insult to injury, he’d brought up Howard’s one-sided flirting—as though she had any control over the invitations and innuendo men chose to pitch at her day after day, as casually and aimlessly as they dropped their litter in the street.

If that was all it took to drive Steve into the arms of another woman, then perhaps it was best that they remained separated by the English Channel for the time being.

*

Peggy applied herself to her work, ignoring any further overtures. As much as she appreciated the inclusion, she didn’t want to spend her evening sitting in a smoky pub, drinking cheap beer and bellowing herself hoarse. She wanted a warm bath and a warm bed. There was only one person she was interested in inviting to join her in either, and even if she hadn’t still been a bit cross with him, the chance of her seeing him at all on this brief visit grew more remote with every hour that passed. His itinerary included supper with Senator Brandt at his hotel, and was liable to be a late night—the senator’s aide had also arranged for a room for Steve at the hotel, presumably to avoid cutting their evening short.

She was grateful Steve would have a chance to get a decent meal and a good night’s sleep while he was in London, even if it meant she wouldn’t get to see his preposterously good-looking face in person. She knew from the dispatches that he was doing gruelling work, and that he often passed up opportunities for respite so that other men could take leave.

By six, it seemed as though the boys from the 107th had all cleared off at last, along with the rest of the office. Peggy slipped into the women’s locker room to change clothes. Transit to and from home in uniform for women was allowed, but not precisely encouraged—and the uniform had a way of making a person more approachable, which was the very last thing Peggy wanted just now. 

She quickly tidied her hair, and reapplied her lipstick and a small dab of eau de toilette, before donning her trusty navy shirtwaist dress. It was slightly threadbare at the cuffs and collar, but still serviceable, and a decent fit, even if it wasn’t as stylish as one might wish for. Peggy knew that plain outfits were a small sacrifice for such a worthy cause—but she still longed for the day when she could have a new dress every season, with features and embellishments, in colours so rich her mouth watered at the thought.

Daydreams of pleated skirts and pockets carried her all the way back to her desk, where she collected her hat and gloves, and tried to revive her sad umbrella. If her office ceiling was any indication, it was still pouring outside, but she knew better than to risk bad luck opening the thing indoors.

Just as she’d started to don her Mackintosh, she heard Barnes’s customary “shave-and-a-haircut” knock on the open door behind her.

She didn’t bother turning around. “For the last time, sod off!” She didn’t often use that kind of language in a professional setting, but if they weren’t going to accept a polite refusal, then—

“Yes, ma’am,” said a familiar voice.

She spun on her heel.

Steve was leaning against the door frame, hands in his pockets. His dress uniform jacket was tucked under his arm, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His tie had come loose, his collar unbuttoned, and his hair was mussed, tumbling boyishly over his brow. 

He looked, in short, half-undone and entirely ravishing.

All of the sensible reasons she had for keeping her distance suddenly seemed small and remote in comparison.

“Steve,” she said, unnecessarily. “Hello.”

“Hi.” The warm smile he gave her suggested that he hadn’t taken her dismissal personally, at least.

Peggy had imagined this exact scenario an embarrassing number of times: the two of them, in the office after hours, all alone. The fantasies ranged from fairly chaste (teasing, light flirting, an innocent kiss or two) to positively filthy (Steve’s hands roaming her body, his mouth open and demanding against hers).

Looking at him now, her preference was decidedly for the latter option.

Oblivious to the turn her thoughts had taken, Steve asked, “Rough day?”

“Not really, not—” Not anymore, she wanted to say, but clamped her mouth shut just in time. “I didn’t know you were coming in.”

“I’m not here—not officially. I was just gonna leave this on your desk.” 

He jiggled a small brown paper packet at her. It took her a moment to recognize it as the portion of sugar from a ration box.

“How on earth did you manage to hang onto that?”

“We’re still getting it in the K-rats. And I like to save mine for a rainy day.”

“It certainly is that,” she conceded, glancing up at the ceiling. “Are you sure you won’t miss it?”

A different sort of man, a smooth operator, would have taken the opportunity to feed her a line: not as much as I’ll miss you, or, how about you just owe me something sweet? But Steve just shrugged, and tucked the packet gently under the corner of her desk blotter.

Peggy was both touched and exasperated.

She knew that in combat, even with no experience, he could be confident, creative, and quick-thinking. He was almost certainly capable of applying that approach in other situations too. But he hadn’t—at least, not with her.

She wanted one romantic overture from him. Just one. A single, unmistakable gesture, something that couldn’t possibly be attributed to kindness or friendship or sheer accident. 

She felt she deserved at least that.

Still, he’d come halfway across town, to bring her less than an ounce of sugar that he’d probably gone hungry to save. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it counted for something.

And so she smiled, and thanked him, adding, “I’m glad I was here to accept it in person.”

“Me too.”

“I thought you had supper with the senator and his cronies.”

“I told him I had an early start tomorrow. I think he got enough of my time.” His tone made it plain that he would rather have spent his day getting shot at by HYDRA. “I told the guys they ought to ask you to come out with us tonight. I’m sorry they bothered you.”

“No, it’s fine—I mean, yes, they did, but—” Being half-in and half-out of her coat meant that instead of breezily waving his apology aside, she wound up flapping her sleeve at him, ineffectually.

Obligingly, Steve stepped closer, and held her coat up by the collar.

“Oh,” said Peggy, letting him slip the coat over her shoulders. “Thank you.”

It was a simple gesture, one any kind person would make, and Steve was nothing if not kind. There was absolutely no reason for her heart to be racing, she told herself sternly.

His hand still held her collar; she turned, drawing the circle of his arm around her shoulders, as though they were about to dance.

Up close, she could see the faint dusting of freckles across his nose, the speck of a mole on his cheek. Details that the artists who depicted Captain America always seemed to miss, slight imperfections that belonged only to Steve Rogers. She was strangely tempted to brush her fingertips over them, to prove that they were real, that he was real. 

His eyes were wide, his gaze clear blue and bottomless, and she suddenly felt in danger of drowning.

A hard pellet of water hit her cheek, making her jump.

“Don’t tell me it’s raining in here, too,” said Steve, glancing up at the ceiling with his hand outstretched.

“It’s London in March,” she observed, stepping out of the line of fire. “It’s raining everywhere.” She emphasized the point by buttoning her coat and hooking her umbrella over her arm.

“Can I walk you to the train?” His look was hopeful. 

“Actually,” she said, against her better judgement, “I think I will come for a drink, after all.”

Steve beamed. “Swell.”

(TO BE CONTINUED...)

[candy-and-writing]

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they've been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you're the perfect little doll for their plan.

Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, oral sex (female and male), fingering, poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

A/N: This is loosely based off @henchry​ post about Chris Evans dating an ice skater. I read it and instantly had this idea, I’ve just never posted it. I think I unintentionally used bunny by @buckybarney​ as inspiration in making final edits. They also helped me figure out how to make this moodboard, so thank you! Please let me know if you enjoyed this, I had a lot of fun writing this!

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Before the war, before Bucky had fallen off the train and Steve crashed into the ice, before the Avengers and before and the world made Steve Rogers harder—colder—he liked to call himself a hopeless romantic. He wanted to meet eyes with someone across a diner and feel the fireworks explode in his chest. He wanted to buy a girl flowers, he wanted to walk down the streets of Brooklyn while it was snowing with her hand warming his. He wanted to buy his girl a ring, he wanted to get married, have a family.

He thought he would get that with Peggy, but he missed his chance. When he woke up in another century, he thought for sure he would never get his happily ever after. The women today were so. . . brash. A lady was supposed to be kind, polite, and dutiful. He understood that times were different, but that shouldn't excuse the ungrateful attitudes.

Then he found Bucky again, and the crazy world he had been forced into didn't seem so hopeless anymore. 

Tony had received a call from the International Olympics Committee, formally inviting the Avengers to the Winter Olympics. They were in Italy this year, Milan and Cortina. It was the first Olympic Games to be held in two cities, according to Bruce.

The committee had asked Steve to conduct the medal presentations for ice skating and hockey. They wanted Thor to carry the torch for the opening ceremony, but he was off-world and unavailable.

So here Steve was, sitting in the Mediolanum Forum venue next to Sam so he could watch the ice skating events. He figured if he was going to be giving the winners their medals, he should see why they won.

The committee had given the team access to front row seating, and that's where he was when you came out.

You were the third skater, and the first American representative, to take the ice. Your hair was pulled into a braided braid low on the side of your head with a blue flower pinned above the bun. The little dress you wore was modest—the same shade of blue that matched your flower and a sleeveless neckline that connected to a sheer fabric for sleeves and a higher neck, the little flowy skirt stopping in the middle of your thigh. Lines of little jewels dipped along your bust, beads varying in size. You had makeup on, like all the previous girls, but yours was light and glittery—save for the ruby red lipstick, but even that looked classical on you. It reminded Steve of the makeup women would wear back in the thirties.

He was so focused on you that Sam had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. He shut his jaw then, listening to the way your name rolled off the commentator's tongue, the syllables lining and matching each other perfectly.

You were twenty-one, and this was your first time competing in the Olympics. You've competed in other national and international tournaments, and you've done good in them if he was understanding correctly. It made an odd sense of pride swell in his chest. You were skating to Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

You moved to the middle of the rink as the announcer informed the stadium who conducted and performed your piece. You had four quads set in your routine, two in the first half and two in the second. It got quiet in the arena as you raised your arm over your head and arched your back like a ballerina. Steve counted five seconds before the music started and you spun around slowly. You started to move your body and—

Oh. Oh.

Steve was sure his jaw had dropped to the floor. The way you moved was bewitching, beautifully languid yet articulate. It was like the music moved through you, coursing through your veins as you made it entirely your own, bringing something so utterly delicate and ethereal out of the melody. You made it show in your body, in your movements.

The first of your quads were coming up, something called a quadruple lutz. Steve didn't know what it was, but when you threw your leg back and jumped, spinning in the air before landing and the crowd erupted into applause, he figured you did it correctly.

Your feet glided across the ice as you skated backward, your muscles tensing—you were preparing for your next quad. You kicked your leg back and used it as momentum to jump, spinning and landing what the commentator called a quadruple flip. The crowd cheered again.

Your expression—the raw focus and determination hiding behind your eyes—was gorgeous. Your crimson lips were parted slightly, eyelids hooded as you brought your head up. The delicate expression, the way your shoulders tensed as you jumped and spun in the air once, twice, three times before you landed gracefully on your toes had the breath leaving his lungs.

It was art. You were a work of art. So beautiful he wanted to lock you behind a glass cage and put you on display. You commanded the ice as if you controlled it, with such a degree of intricacy that Steve thought if you jumped high enough or spun fast enough you would grow wings and fly away.

You were in your element. You kicked your foot back before bringing it forward, using it to start your jump. You spun in the air and landed on one foot, your other leg spread out and leading the twirl you used to end the jump. The stadium cheered, Sam said something about a triple axel.

Steve wished the song lasted forever, wished he could watch you forever, but soon there was a flute trilling and you slowed, circling back to the center of the rink and just like that—your performance was over. The crowd exploded into cheers, throwing flowers, stuffed toys, anything they had in their pockets.

You broke into a smile, your plump lips parting and bringing out your dimples. Steve swooned as you waved to the crowd, bending to pick up a rose. Your gaze met his, and he swore he felt fireworks erupt in his chest. You smiled at him before skating off the ice, hugging a man sporting a red lightweight jacket with the USA logo embroidered on the sleeve, his dark hair slicked back. Steve watched as you smiled at him, not missing the way he stared at your ass as you turned away.

Then, suddenly, you were in first place. Your eyes went wide and you jumped up, hugging the man in the red jacket—Steve assumed he was your coach. He heard your squeal above the rest of the cheers.

Even from where he was sitting, your eyes were bright, brighter than your smile. Steve was proud of you, pride swelled in his chest as he watched you speak with a reporter. His eyes stayed glued to you as you shook hands with the reporter, your coach walking you to the locker rooms. He watched you until he couldn't anymore.

A strange desire pulled at his heart as he pulled his Stark Pad out, looking you in F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s database.

--

After watching your performance every other skater seemed dull, incomparable, to you. The judges must have thought so, too. You stayed in first place, winning the competition.

According to F.R.I.D.A.Y, you grew up in Chicago, but you moved to Manhattan for college. You got a new coach, Adrian Tucker, who was a gold and silver medalist back in the nineties. You're a junior at NYU, majoring in Art History. You have an Instagram, some sort of social media Peter had been trying to convince him to get, and Steve created an account immediately just to follow you. You had pictures of yourself, of friends, of the rink, even a pair of ballet shoes.

So you did ballet, good to know.

The award ceremony couldn't come soon enough. The idea of being closer to you sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Ever since he had gotten him back, Steve and Bucky have been talking about settling down—creating a life with a girl and starting a family. But they haven't found the right partner, but maybe. . . ?

When he stood in front of you, he swore he almost stopped breathing. You were gorgeous. Your hair had been taken out of the bun, cascading down your shoulders in loose waves. Your makeup was still done the same, but he noticed light freckles dotting along the bridge of your nose. Your eyes sparkled up at him—good God, you barely stood past his chest—your painted lips parted in a smile as you took him in. He placed the gold medal around your neck, congratulating you. You whispered a small, "thank you, Captain," and Steve felt a spark of electricity jolt down his groin.

Your voice was light, melodic, quiet. You were respectful, something he valued in people, in women. He could almost imagine you posed as the perfect housewife. With the perfect husband—or husbands—with the white picket fence, the kids. He could imagine your belly swollen, the little children running around calling you 'mama'. You were young, right at that age where women would start becoming wives and mothers back in his day. The thought only made his cock harder as he watched you on the platform, waving to the audience with the biggest smile on your face.

As he sat back down next to Sam, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up Bucky's contact and sent him a picture from your Instagram.

'I think I found her,' he typed.

--

Bucky remembered the first time he realized he was in love with Steve—he was sixteen. He had danced around with plenty of girls already but none of them ever really seemed to stick. He had saved up enough money to spend Steve's birthday at Coney Island, that was the day he made Steve ride the Cyclone, back when he was still skinny. He had bought Steve a hotdog, which a pelican attacked him over. Bucky was crying from laughter, face red and stomach aching, when he looked over at Steve. Something just clicked then.

The past couple of months, Steve and Bucky had been making plans to add a third partner into life. After all this time, fighting Nazis and being mind-controlled and saving the universe time and time again, they both agreed they deserved it—that they deserved a family. They had both been selfless for so long, was it so wrong to want someone to be selfless for them? To want someone soft that could share their love?

Steve and Bucky were great together—the love of each other's lives, in fact—but they shared an overwhelming need to dominate, to control. On and off the field. When they fucked they were ruthless, full of scraping nails and biting teeth. Fingertips that left bruises that lasted for days. They needed someone else, someone they could focus that control on, someone who could take them so gently and lovingly, a way they rarely took each other.

Then he got Steve's text. You were young, and it wasn't hard to find out almost everything he needed to know about you. Steve helped him use F.R.I.D.A.Y to figure out where you live—a small apartment that was close to your college campus. You could walk to class if the weather permitted it. It also wasn't too far from the ice rink you trained at. It was easy for Bucky to find a building across from your suite where they could watch you. You liked to keep your window open, let the sunlight in.

They took turns sitting on the roof of the neighboring building, looking through a pair of binoculars. They would watch you for hours—watch you do simple things like reading. That was Bucky's favorite, the way your lips moved ever so slightly as you read the words on the page. You enjoyed reading horror novels—Steven King, Mary Downing Hahn, an author named Chuck Palahnuik. A worn copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein sat on your bookshelf. At first glance, Bucky never would have pegged you as a horror kind of girl, you were too sweet and too timid. As he continued to watch you through the cameras Steve had him install, though, he saw that you very much liked psychological thrillers. You would watch a show on YouTube about true crime and haunted locations, a couple of amateurs who didn't quite know what they were doing. They were funny, though. Steve and Bucky would watch you laugh as you stared at your phone, smiling to yourself.

You trained at a ballet studio in lower Manhattan, worked out at a gym a block away from that. They were quick to memorize your routine once they started. You'd wake up at five-thirty every morning and make yourself some breakfast. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's you hit the gym and the studio; you'd go to whatever classes you had that day, grab a coffee at the campus cafe, then head to the skating rink for two hours. Two and a half hours max. You went home, studied, and then you were left to your own devices. Sometimes you read, sometimes you baked and God, Bucky almost couldn't stop drooling at the thought of tasting your cooking. You'd watch television in your small living room and be in bed no later than eleven o'clock every night to start your day again.

One Monday morning, Steve and had followed you to the gym. They'd been doing that the last few weeks. At first, Steve reasoned it was so they could watch over you, in case you got into some trouble. Some mornings they planned on running into you on the sidewalk, pretending it was an accident—there was a flower cart along your route you liked to stop and admire, sometimes buying a bouquet of daisies for your little bachelor pad—but the timing never seemed right. Steve was never wearing the right shirt, or Bucky's hair was always a mess from the wind.

You took a cab, which Steve followed a couple of cars behind on his motorcycle. The air was brisk, the first signs of spring coming into the city. Some of the trees had started growing their leaves again, vibrant greens against the grey winter sky. He parked his bike underneath a plotted tree that had just started to turn, the tips of the leaves a bright green as blossoms began to bloom, pastel pinks against vibrant greens with petals blowing in the wind. He bought a newspaper from a vendor a couple of stores down and sat on a nearby bench, catching up with the world as he counted down the minutes. You would be in there for an hour and fifteen minutes almost exactly.

Steve almost couldn't sit still. He was itching to get his hands on you, to feel you. He and Bucky have been watching you for a long time now, waiting for the right moment to get their hands on you. Steve was growing impatient.

At forty-five minutes, his eyes began to flick up at the building every few minutes. He knew it wasn't time yet, but there was always a chance you got done early.

At an hour, his gaze hovered just above the paper. Ten more minutes, he told himself.

At an hour and twelve minutes, you emerged. Steve watched as you hugged your coat to your chest and began walking. The studio you danced at was only a block away, so you wouldn't have to be out in the cold for long. Still, Steve couldn't help but chastise you for not wearing something warmer. All you had on were a pair of thin leggings—that hugged your ass beautifully, he might add—and a compression tank top under your lightweight sweater.

Steve rushed to his bike, folding the newspaper in his hand and revving up the engine. He drove down the block, parking in front of a cafe across from the ballet studio. He watched you enter the studio and sat at a table, ordering a cup of coffee. He saw you through the floor-to-ceiling windows, your let stretched up over your head. He reached for his sketchbook and pencil, laying it out on the table before him.

The night of the Olympics, the first time after Steve had seen you, he stayed up all night drawing you. He found a video of your performance on the internet, watching it on repeat as he drew you in different positions. The first sketch he did was of you with your arm over your head, just before you started skating. He found he loved drawing the shape of your lips, so the next sketch was a portrait of your face. Your long lashes were hooded, eyes downcast and your lips parted slightly as the pencil scratched against the paper, your plump lips etched in charcoal. The expression Steve caught you in was oddly ethereal, the kind of innocence that Steve found absolutely breathtaking.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve sighed, pulling the device out of his jeans. Cursing, he reread the message Sam sent, looking back up across the street. You were still in front of the window, leg propped up on a bar with your upper body reaching for your foot. He sighed, closing his sketchbook as he stomped toward his bike.

--

Steve and Bucky trudged back into the Compound, exhausted and irritated. Not only have they been unable to see you for a week and a half, forced to watch you through the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, but the mission had been a complete bust. They had been sent away to Northern Peru, where Fury had given them intel about a group of HYDRA smugglers shipping illegal weapons into the country. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky spent twelve days in a cramped, boiling building across from the target's warehouse and managed to find nothing before Fury called them back.

Steve was sweaty, Bucky hadn't taken a shower in a week, and they missed you. Bucky wanted to touch you, he wanted to kiss you until you were breathless. He watched you on his phone when he could, often opting to watch the camera feed than to sleep.

Once they were in their suite, Steve stripped his uniform off, leaving it in a heap on the floor to pick up later. Right now he just wanted to feel clean. He turned the shower on and peeled his boxers off as Bucky undressed, Steve stepping below the showerhead. The warm water felt nice against his taut muscles, his shoulders relaxing under the water pressure. He watched the dirt and grime from the mission get washed away, down the drain in muddy-grey color.

As he massaged shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered back to you, fingers itching to run against your skin. The way your lips always looked so soft, how utterly delicious you would look with them wrapped around his cock. The sweet little noises you would make as he forced himself down your throat—you were so small, it wouldn't take much to make you choke on him.

Steve groaned as his fist wrapped around his length. Almost two weeks without imagining you on your knees, imagining your mouth on him and he was oh so sensitive. He cursed, running his thumb over his slit. He pictured your tongue dragging against his girth, your wrecked expression as you struggled to take him deeper, as Bucky struggled to fit himself in behind you. He fisted himself faster, gasping out your name.

"Yeah, baby," he mumbled to himself. "Just like that. Fuck."

He could only imagine how beautiful you would look when you came. Your skin sweaty, hips bucking, your innocent little eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squealed. Oh, you were definitely a squealer. They would make you cum over and over and—

He bit back a moan as he came, hot white spurts coating his stomach as he slowed his movements, nerves on fire. He sighed, rinsing himself off before he turned the water off. He was still hard, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get himself off.

The tips of his fingers buzzed as he redressed himself and Bucky hopped in the shower. Steve didn't know if it was the stress of the mission or the adrenaline you gave him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He didn't have the patience to wait anymore.

He was watching the camera feeds in your apartment when Bucky came out of the bathroom. All it took was one look from Steve—they already had it all planned out, they just had to put it into motion.

--

You struggled to unlock your door, twisting the key in the lock a few times, cursing as you pushed your shoulder against the door, stumbling as the door swung open. You managed to catch yourself before knocking over your vase of daisies, straightening as you waited for your world to stop spinning.

You knew it had been a bad idea when you agreed to go out tonight. You're such a lightweight and after just three shots and half a glass of wine, you're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. God, and it's three a.m. But Annie had begged you to come with them. You haven't hung out with her in so long, you were desperate to see her again. You just wished she hadn't dragged you out to a bar.

You dropped your handbag on your little dining room table, opening the refrigerator to pour yourself a glass of orange juice. You drank half the glass in a couple of gulps, letting out a sigh as you set the glass down. As you moved to pull your phone out of your purse, you heard the floorboards creak, like someone was taking a step.

You froze, looking down the hall. The boards in your bedroom creak like that when you step down on a certain spot, but you've been in the apartment long enough to learn where it is exactly and step around it.

As quietly as you could, you made your way down the hall, checking the bathroom. You've seen enough horror movies in your life to know never to close the shower curtain when you weren't using it, so with a quick glance you knew the room was empty.

Your bedroom was at the end of the hall, the door cracked open. You walked in, carefully looking around. Your closet door was open, the windows were closed, you turned and looked towards your dresser mirror and—

You saw the figure behind you before you could react. Your eyes went wide, their hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could muster a scream. Your hands flew up to the hand, legs kicking out as the intruder dragged you out of your bedroom. You screamed into the hand, thrashing as you felt a sharp prick in your neck.

"It's alright," they cooed. "Shhh, it's okay, doll. You're just gonna go to sleep for a little while, okay?"

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you felt your body getting tired. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling. Your muscles felt like dead weight, you stopped kicking your feet as your grip on the man's cold hand went slack.

"That's a good girl," he crooned. "Just relax, kitten. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Your vision blurred, and then everything went black.

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

Camboy Steve Short Part 21

Part 1    Part 2 Part 3    Part 4    Part 5    Part 6    Part 7   Part 8    

Part 9    Part 10   Part 11    Part 12    Part 13    Part 14    Part 15

Part 16   Part 17   Part 18    Part 19    Part 20

Camboy Steve Short Part 21

Steve is yawning by the time he shows back up with a fuming Dustin behind him, jaw cracking, and a sliver of belly showing that Billy wants to touch as he raises his arm to cover his mouth. 

Steve smiles as he catches Billy looking, hedging over to him when Dustin is thankfully called away by his mother, Steve brushes a hand through El’s hair where she is sitting curled between Max and Billy on the loveseat before bending over the back of the couch and pecking Billy on the cheek.

Billy strokes a hand over Steve’s arms as they wrap around his shoulders and Steve’s cheek rests against his, turning his face down briefly to muffle another yawn into his elbow, before rubbing their cheeks together with a hum.

“You seem tired, pretty boy.” Billy whispers like it is a secret, moving his hand up into Steve’s soft hair and earning another tired hum and nuzzle.

“Yeah was a long night.” Steve murmurs mouth against Billy’s cheek and he is disappointed when Steve rises, arms going loose around his shoulders as Steve stands, leaving his hands resting on Billy’s shoulders.

“Robin are you ready to go home?” Steve asks as another yawn cracks through him, Billy tipping his head back to watch him.

“No it’s still early.” Robin says distractedly, in the middle of playing some sort of card game.

“It’s ten thirty.” Steve whines slumping down and chin dropping to Billy’s forehead as he pouts.

“Go take a nap in Dustin's room then you big baby.” Robin says with a distracted wave of her hand before shouting about cheating and getting fully immersed in the game again. 

“Not after last time.” Steve says with a disgusted look as Max and the rest of them start giggling and Billy is curious but also has an idea to get a little more time with Steve before they have to part ways so he ignores that curiosity.

“I can give you a ride pretty boy, I was planning to head out soon anyways, El here looks like she’s about to pass out.” Billy gives El’s foot a shake getting a kick for his troubles.

“Just waiting for my second wind.” She mumbles snuggling closer to Max.

"Sure you don't mind?"

"Of course he doesn't, anything for a little more of your time." Max teases with a snort and Billy might try and get around El to swat at her if Steve arms did not tighten around him, a smile pressed against his crown.

"Let's get out of here." Billy says to the three of them, Steve giving him another squeeze before he and the girl's are off saying their goodbyes, it takes twenty minutes for them to get to the door.

The door opens right as Steve’s hand lands on it, a disheveled couple bustling in "Hey Nancy, Johnathan, everything alright you're pretty late."

Billy curls a hand over Steve’s shoulder when the woman levels a grimace at him, El and Max yawning pushing into them not realizing they have stopped "No everything is not alright a pipe bust in the apartment and every floor is sopping wet."

"I recommend rain boots." Max pipes up, ducking behind Billy with a snicker when Nancy’s head swivels in her direction everyone else trying to hold their laughter even Johnathan but El's giggling breaks them, all of them a little punch drunk.

"You want to stay at the house, I know the pull out is lumpy but the floor is dry" Steve offers biting his lip to keep his smile in, leaning back to rest against Billy’s chest.

"Actually I was hoping you'd give up your bed, you can sleep on the one in your work room." Nancy asks all hopeful, eyes big and wide.

"That bed isn't meant for sleeping, it'll leave my back fucked it's way too hard." 

Billy can tell that Steve is going to waver and takes the chance for even more time with his pretty boy. "You could come home with me, got a nice soft bed."

"Yes see go home with, wait who are you?" Nancy asks, giving Billy her full attention.

"I’m Billy and you're Nancy the photographer stealer, right?" Billy holds out his hand but Nancy’s glaring attention back on Steve who offers her a sheepish grin.

Part 22

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

Can i get some sweet stommy with the party + Johnathan and nancy?

Also some nancy and tommy sort of getting along?

I hope you have a good day :)

oh yes, yes, you can!! and i hope you’re having a wonderful day.

...

It was the Easter of 1984 and Tommy was straightening his tie in Steve’s floor length mirror. They were both getting ready for their holiday invitation to the infamous Byers house.

Tommy craned his neck to check for collar creases, “Remind me again why we can’t just stay here and eat discounted chocolate. Alone.”

Steve’s voice echoed back from where he was in the open bathroom, “Because, my father is somewhere in Cuba and he won’t let Diana come back home until their deal is done. Apparently the business man’s wife has taken a liking to her and he wants the extra tool.”

Tommy squinted at himself, “I always forget about that little thing your mom and you do. It’s odd you know.” Steve stepped out and Tommy spotted him through the mirror. Pleased with Steve’s laid back look. Light trousers and a tucked in pastel pink button up. He was folding the cuffs up to his elbows and smiled up dashingly.

“What’s odd about it? She doesn’t like being called mom so it’s like our own inside joke.” He laughed to himself and stopped walking when he was right behind Tommy. He seemed to admire Tommy’s own getup. Light green dress shirt and smooth pants. His tie was striped like an easter egg with greens and purples and pinks. Steve had been the one to dig it out from the lost pile of presents he’d gotten from lackey aunts over the years. “You look nice,” Steve leaned his chin on Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy grinned, “Well someone’s got to be the star of the show when we get there.” Steve pouted but gave him a hug from behind and left after a smooth kiss to the shoulder.

“Meet me downstairs when you’re done, I have to go get all the eggs in the car for the egg hunt,” he called as he trotted out of the room.

Tommy groaned in response, “I still can’t believe you signed up for that!”

“I’m a dedicated man!”

===

Joyce had immediately given Tommy a tray of deviled eggs. Said something alike to ‘make yourself at home’ and dragged Steve off to hide easter eggs. Mike stared at him from the couch, Will Byers and Nancy Wheeler upon it with him.

“Why are you here?” he asked disdainfully, face pinched up.

Tommy moved the tray around so it was better secure in his arms, “I came with Steve. I was invited,” he spouted defensively.

Mike shook his head, “I don’t even know why he was invited in the first place either,” he muttered. Will frowned and Nancy and Tommy scolded him together accidentally.

“Hey!” they looked at each other and then back at Mike, “Don’t say that!” they looked back with glares.

“Stop copying each other,” Mike stood up and Will frowned at him, looking away from his and Dustin’s conversation. “It’s weird,” he walked over to the hallway and Will only stared a moment more before looking at Tommy with a small smile.

“You’re welcome here, don’t mind him.” Will put a hand up to cup his mouth as though he was sharing a secret, “He doesn’t like new people.”

Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I can tell.” When Will looked uncertain, between a smile and even more hesitation. He smiled at the kid and stepped forward with the plate, “Can I take a seat with you?” he looked between the two. Nancy rose an eyebrow but gestured to the empty spot Mike has left. He took it after Will gave an enthusiastic nod.

Dustin noticed quickly, luckily not as judgmental as the younger Wheeler, “Hey, can I have one of those eggs?” Tommy glanced down at the full tray and held it out.

“Help yourself, kid,” he encouraged. Dustin smiled and Tommy didn’t mention the odd formation of it. Just set the tray back in his lap when Dustin seemed satisfied with the amount he’d grabbed. Nancy coughed lightly to get his attention, to which he gave politely.

“So you and Steve are...” she hung off the last word.

Tommy stared blankly for a long moment until it hit him, “Would that be a problem?” he asked in the same tone she had used. Only a little mocking.

She sat up straighter, “No, no! I support you and him completely! I’m so happy he’s finally found himself,” she spoke quieter.

Will tugged on his sleeve, “So you’re actually with him?” he asked and Tommy grinned.

“Jealous?” he teased, and Will went bright pink before laughing. Lucas wandered into the room with another tray, decorated with pigs in a blanket instead. Nancy took one eagerly when he offered the plate to her. Lucas held the tray back after and eyed Tommy speculating.

“You’re cool now right?” he held the plate out to him too.

Nancy tapped at his foot with her stout heels and he nodded, “Cooler than a cucumber,” he answered cheerily. Kept back a cringe at himself.

Lucas nodded sympathetically, “I’ve heard Hopper say that one too many times. Steve say it too?”

Tommy nodded, “He won’t stop.” Lucas laughed and left the plate on the coffee table before joining Dustin.

Steve came back into the room and sat on the floor in front of Tommy’s legs. He had a few grass stains on his knees and Tommy knew they came from his determination to find the best hiding spots.

Dustin took notice of his appearance fast, “Hey, man, Lucas and I want a third player for rummy. You down?”

Tommy leaned forward before Steve could answer, “Can I play too?” he asked eagerly. Didn’t even try to hide it.

Dustin stared at him, a bit wide eyed in shock, but nodded nonetheless, “Sure. You know how to play?”

Tommy smirked proudly and puffed his chest a little, “I’m my family’s champion.” Lucas took a pack of cards out from his jeans and started shuffling them.

Will watched for a short while but then stood up, “I’m going to go talk to Mike,” he explained. Tommy expected Steve to get up and take the open seat, but he didn’t. And no one questioned why he didn’t after he leaned his head against Tommy’s knees comfortably.

Nancy knocked on the table as Lucas prepared to deal, “I’m in too. I wanna give Hagan a run for his money,” she nudged him playfully with her hand.

Tommy laughed and shook his head, “Too bad for you, I didn’t bring my wallet.”

Steve grumbled, “Awe, I was gong to make you drive home.”

Tommy pressed his lips onto the top of Steve’s head unceremoniously, “Just kidding, Honey.” Steve smiled and handed Tommy his hand from the pile on the table. When the game began, he didn’t tell Steve that he could see all his cards. And Steve either didn’t care or didn’t realize. Knowing him it really could have been either.

Nancy cackled femininely when he put a three of diamonds down. He smiled at his cards and watched over them as she took up half the discards. Steve frowned and his shoulders slumped as she put down a lengthy row of numbers.

“Nice move, Wheeler,” he complimented.

She smiled, “Thanks, Hagan. I could give you some pointers,” she offered in mock seriousness.

“I’m good,” he deflected with a laugh of his own. Dustin continued the round and put down a few points of his own. Johnathan joined them not too long after at the side of the couch beside Nancy. He pointed as though he was giving her alternative options and opinions of his own.

Tommy looked down at Steve’s mess of a hand. He felt badly for him. Steve wasn’t good with card games, with good luck strategy. And his hand really had started horrendously. He tapped on Steve’s five of hearts and then pointed at the discard pile. Something that didn’t match any of the other suits. He was met with Steve’s upside down face, beaming brightly back at him.

It was a few more turns later that Tommy picked up the whole entire discard pile. Everyone gasped, even Johnathan. Tommy felt a small thrill and smirked.

Nancy clicked her tongue at him, “So you’re one of those people.” He simply focused on his overflowing hand of cards and then put down half of them in one go. Nancy pursued her lips, “I see how it is.”

Dustin threw his hands up, almost loosing his cards, “What the hell, man!”

Steve snapped his fingers, “Language!”

Lucas shook his head at them and grinned at Tommy, “You could teach us a few things, couldn’t you?”

Tommy nodded back and started organizing his cards after discarding, “After I leave you all in the dust winning. Sure.”

It was yet again a few more turns later, and Steve’s first couple actual plays set down, when Mike was dragged back out by Will. They sat by the open side of the coffee table on the floor.

Mike watched as Tommy played and then opened his mouth slowly, “I’m sorry for being so rude to you.” Will nodded along and smiled at Tommy. Tommy looked down to see Steve grinning proudly and nodding along to Mike’s apology. Although he continued on, “Even though I think you deserved it.”

Tommy nodded and Mike rose a brow at him just as his sister had prior, “Probably,” he agreed plainly. Nancy discarded an eight of spades and he looked down at his last three cards.

She looked at her brother, “I think Hagan’s okay.” Steve turned his head and pressed his lips against the side of Tommy’s knee sneakily.

Dustin was rearranging his hand, “Yeah, Mike. Give him a chance.”

Lucas eyed Tommy’s hidden cards as though he could tell what was to about happen next, “I think Steve’s made a good choice in bringing him today.” Mike crossed his arms and Will nudged him perkily.

Everyone sighed, except Steve, when Tommy picked up Nancy’s discard and set down a small set and his final discard.

Nancy laughed with him through his victory cry of, “Rummy!”

[heli0s-writes]

Ugly Christmas Sweater Party

Summary: Bucky (sort of) agrees to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, but what he ends up wearing is much worse. This is for @holy-captain‘s 1.2k writing challenge! Congratulations, Liv and thank you for hosting! I’m so sorry it’s late!! 

Pairing:��Exasperated!Bucky x ChaoticDumbass!Reader

Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 1.8k

It’s supposed to be a fun and light-hearted thing—a season full of shiny-glowing-fantastic-twinkling excitement and ruddy red noses and misty breath in the chilled air. A season of joy and celebration, of spiked eggnog, fuzzy striped socks, and sliding down the compound hillsides on Steve’s shield.

And he’s screwed it all up.

It sinks in like the swollen marshmallows in his now cold cocoa, drooping to the bottom where the rest of the sediments lie. Outside, snowflakes gust and whip, blanketing the pine trees and skeletons of shrubbery in white flurries. Red holly berries peek out where they can and glare at him with their crimson eyes.

His phone lights up with picture messages of Steve and Sam, hurriedly trying on a cluster of sweaters in preparation. Horrid renderings of cats on ornaments. Oversized slouchy sleeves flecked with tinsel. Santa’s dreadful ass-crack peeking out of a chimney.

Bucky grumbles and turns his phone face-down, leaning back in his chair to stare at the Christmas tree in the corner. He wants to scream and put his leg through the damn thing.

Soft footsteps draw his attention to the hallway when you emerge, blinking slowly as you stifle a yawn from behind your hand until you see him. Then, you scoff and disappear back down the hall.

“Wait!” Bucky calls, leaping from his seat and nearly knocking the tepid mug from the table, “Damn it, wait!”

You’re gone. Stomped back to your room and even if he starts running now, he wouldn’t be quick enough—only getting the slamming door on his nose. He’ll try anyway.

Bucky slumps against the panel, pushing his chest against the cold metal of it and his cheek until his words come out smushed into his teeth.

“C’mon!” A pathetic whine of your name before he sticks his fingers underneath the slit of the door like a cat, wiggling the bent tip back and forth. Incredible. The Winter Soldier sprawled out all over a corridor, begging for forgiveness over this.

Only silence replies; you’re probably on the bed, thinking about scratching his eyes out. He can practically see you flicking him off with both hands. You’ve never been this upset before, and it deeply troubles him considering the dynamic of your very friendship spun on the axis of one single truth: Bucky’s the annoyed one. You’re the fuck up.

And now he has no idea what to do.

One week of it and he’s completely lost; the start of it all—December 1st when Tony announced: Ugly. Christmas. Sweater. Party.

Two days before Christmas, the team will be gathering in the common area for a white elephant gift exchange, and sweaters will be judged based on ugliness. What a stupid idea.

The winner will be awarded with “no team meetings for a month” and Tony’s personal stash of bourbon as long as no one touches his whiskey.

Upon the proclamation, you had clapped your hands together and grinned, “We’re gonna win this damn thing.”

And Bucky, being regular Bucky who ignores your half-witted ideas and short-sighted fixations, muttered, “Whatever,” and went back to thinking normal-person thoughts.

For the next several weeks, you dove into your knitting, the needles clicking together faster than he’s ever seen, weaving sparkling black and bright cherry red. The rows were tightly bound, looped and coiled expertly until he could finally make out the shape on the front of it.

He really did love your sick sense of humor—although he’d never admit it—funny, twisted, always brought him a bit of joy.

“Fuck no,” he had laughed at the image of a mutilated deer, antlers dangling silver ornaments showcasing his sigil. “I am not fuckin’ puttin’ that on. It looks like hell.”

“You agreed!” And then the needles and yarn hit him right in the nose.

On your way out, a low chuckle came from the corner of the living room where Steve sat sipping a cup of steaming chai. “You know Christmas is her favorite holiday?”

A snorting laugh bubbled the surface of Steve’s tea, “Good goin’, Buck.”

-

“Last Christmas” is on, blaring synth beats through the halls. George Michael croons sweetly, longingly, grieving an unrequited love before jingle bells ring in the scattered percussion.

Bucky hears your voice as you carol along to possibly the cheesiest song of all time—infuriated and baffled that you won’t speak more than two words to him but will sing your heart out to this crap. George Michael, Wham! and all of England can eat his whole ass.

He trudges from his room and into the den where the lights are dimmed and the table is set with snacks and a crock pot of hot chocolate. A dish of pine cones sits in the middle, flanked by a merry snowy village filled with little ceramic teddy bears and reindeer. On the edge is a deflated Santa Hat filled with paper scraps and pens for the voting process at the end of the night.

It is seven-thirty and you are standing next to Sam with bent elbows, wiggling your hips to the chorus, sliding back and forth on the polished floor in fuzzy socks. The two of you are facing the window, pointing at the flurry and a mountain of sludge that was previously a horrid misshapen lump of Snowman Steve.

Bucky squints a little, alert when he sees two matching sweaters—black on the back. Hell no, he thinks.

Sam turns around and Bucky’s worst holiday fears are confirmed. One innocuous “Oh hey, man,” and all the warmth drains from him.

On Wilson’s chest is that terrible disfigured deer you constructed, its antlers spearing out from its head to reach all the way up to his shoulders.

Bucky flies across the room and before either you or Sam can do anything about it, he’s peeling the hem of it over Sam’s head, kneeing him in the groin, and taking him down onto the floor. “What the hell!” Sam yells, struggling to get out of his grasp. “Shit—get off—Barnes!”

“A red star isn’t even your fucking symbol!” His hair is in his eyes along with Sam’s elbow, their limbs and joints knocking into each other in the wrestling bout. The sleeves and front are being stretched terribly, but neither of them seem to notice.

“Hey,” Your calm voice calls from above them—falling on four deaf ears. “Hey,” You try again, and when it doesn’t seem like two grown men can stop aggressively fondling each other over a damn pullover, you raise your hand and decisively land it across the back of Bucky’s head in a deafening crack.

A swell of multiple shocked gasps rises from behind you and when Sam and Bucky freeze, they see the rest of the compound’s inhabitants staring at the scene like a disfigured Nativity display. They also see your palm, at the end of your motion, resting next to your shoulder.

Bucky gingerly rubs his wound. “Ow,” He grumbles.

“Room… now.” You command, pointing your finger down the hall. Wilted, he shuffles away dutifully, saying nothing to the others as he passes. When he’s gone, you look scornfully at Sam and your beloved jersey, loosely hanging at the edge of his torso, pulled nearly apart.

“Voting starts in twenty, kid,” Tony mentions breezily.

“Yeah,” You reply through gritted teeth, “Don’t worry, we’ll be there.”

-

Steve coughs behind his hand awkwardly when Bucky steps back out, the once snugly-fitting sweater around Sam hanging collapsed and loose on Bucky’s right side. You’re close behind, bouncing on your heels and smiling as if nothing had gone wrong. Steve’s not sure which is worse: your wrath or glee.

“You, uh, you alright?” He calls quietly.

“Oh yeah, absolutely. Right, Buck?”

Bucky swallows, “Uh. Yeah.”

He has no fucking idea; when you shut the door behind him, the sweater in your hand was calmly unfolded and held up to his shoulders, damage assessed by a calculating mind. Bucky still has no clue what possessed you not to scratch his eyes out that very second.

Then, you looked him up and down and said, “Put it on, Barnes. Show’s about to start.”

And if he was a weaker man, he’d be shaking in his goddamn boots at how calm you are.

The team gathers around the tree, various colored pens and torn scraps in hand as they evaluate each other’s attire. Natasha is boldly displaying a patchwork kind of cardigan with what looks like the Michelin man ominously hovering behind a tree. Tony, of course, has custom-ordered a perfectly sized wreath knitted around his arc reactor heart. Steve has completely missed the Christmas memo (or is perhaps the politest Grinch on Earth) wears blue, the tiniest hint of gold tinsel woven through.

And Sam -- stupid, stupid Sam-- who didn’t plan on being robbed of a perfectly knitted sweater five minutes before the voting process, is out of the game.

Bucky is about to write your name down, because a medium part of him feels guilty for hurting your feelings while a much larger part of him feels apprehension about what exactly might happen if you lose, but you suddenly dig your hand into his pocket.

All five fingers shove deep until your fist is gripping tight and your knuckles stab his thigh.

“Hey! No hanky-panky during voting!” Tony is scandalized.

A vicious snap of his pocketknife swings open and before he knows it, your left hand is fisting the yarn on his chest and your right is ripping it straight through. The room falls silent when you do it a second time and Bucky’s at a loss for words until the breeze hits.

Chills.

A tendril of AC sneaks through the two open holes you’ve carved and goosebumps bloom all over his chest. Dread settles in his tummy.

His nipples are pebbled and exposed for everyone to see and with a quiet click of the blade retracting, you tuck it back into his pocket. 

“Let the voting begin.”

No one moves. No one makes a single sound and the whole place is quieter than a crypt until a shrill wheeze squeaks out of Sam’s nostrils. Through the choked snickering and the slowly building crescendo of everyone else’s laughter, Wilson admits, “They’re browner than I thought they’d be.”

There’d be no need for a voting process, Bucky knows. You’ve stolen the show – or rather, his nipples have stolen the show, and the once-worthy prize is now his Sisyphean burden to bear. He closes his eyes and counts to a million.

Screw exemptions from team meetings, Bucky thinks, praying desperately that when the bourbon is bestowed to him, by some miracle of sweet baby Jesus, he’d be able to get shitfaced again.

-

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes​ @crist1216​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xoxabs88xox​ @imsoft-barnes​ @momc95​ @typicalangel​ @wretchedgoddess​ @readeity​ @iwannasail​ @ya-lyublu-tebya​ @geeksareunique​ @wildefire​ @satanxklaus​ @jhangelface0523​ @wkemeup​

[jamie-leah]

War of Wolves (5)

Season 1 

Episode 5 - Kill Or Be Killed 

Bucky x Reader 

Summary: You have been on the streets for the past two years, ever since your accident that left you with the ability to tell if someone is lying. You work as an informant for the white wolf and his mob but you had never met him…until you overhear a phone call that leads you to saving his life. Now he wants you to work for him. Its an offer you couldn’t refuse…right?

Word Count: 2360

Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Death, Injury 

A/N: Here’s another one! Thank you so much for all your support and kind words, it means a lot! Tags are still open for this. Also looks like I’m putting an episode out every Saturday is that helps anyone? Enjoy Lovelies! 

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It wasn’t until two days later that you had a real problem with Adalee and couldn’t stay quiet about it. You were called into Bucky’s office to talk about what he wanted you to do as he questioned a man tomorrow. 

You walk in to see Adalee sitting on Bucky’s desk trying to talk to him. Her whiney voice assaults your ears, “but why won’t you tell me who it is?”. 

Bucky looks up at you, but answers her, “because you don’t need to know”. 

“But I’m just curious”, her voice doesn’t change, but you can see she’s lying, and you frown at her. 

It was then that you saw her playing with a necklace. At first you think nothing of it but as you get closer and watch it catch the light you stop dead.

Your eyes flick to her face to find her already watching you with a smirk. You don’t even try and be polite about it, “give it back”. 

In the corner of your eye you see Bucky frown until he follows your line of sight to Adalee and then he scowls. She doesn’t do anything, so you try again, “give me the necklace back Adalee. It was my mother’s”. 

She slides from the desk and turns to face you, “I don’t know what you mean-“.  

You voice could cut glass, “the one around your fucking neck. Give it back or-“. 

Her face becomes serious for once, “or what?”. 

That’s when Bucky stands from his chair, “give it back Adalee, before I lose every ounce of patience I have for your sickly presence”. 

Her face looks like its been slapped. She drops the necklace on the desk before walking out in what can only be described as murderous rage. 

You watch Bucky pick up the necklace and examine it. The necklace had a white crystal star with a blue crystal in the middle of the star. It was glittering in the light as he held it out to you. 

When you take it from him he says, “its beautiful”. You stare at it and he gives you a minute before you both carry on with talking about Bucky’s plan.

Throughout the week Bucky used you for various things in terms of your ability. Despite the circumstances you enjoyed spending the time with him, but then he got an extremely important business trip. 

Pretty much everyone went. Bucky and Steve and Sam went and most of the guys in the house went too. It was meant to last a few days. With so many people gone, the house felt empty, too quiet. 

It was the second night that everyone had been away when you made your way to the kitchens to cook. It was quite late at night and you were having trouble sleeping. 

On your way to the kitchen you walk passed Bucky’s office, but see the door slightly ajar. The door was never left open. From all the time you’ve been here, if he was in or out of the office the door was closed. 

You frown as curiosity beckons you closer. As you peep through the open doorway you see a lamp on at Bucky’s desk and Adalee looking through some of Bucky’s documents. You don’t even think about your reaction as you push the door open, “what are you doing?”. 

Her head snaps up as she’s halfway through rifling through a file. She couldn’t look anymore than like a deer caught in the headlights. She smiles sweetly, “Bucky just asked me to look for something and then send him a picture of it”.  

Even if you didn’t have your ability, you’d still think she was full of shit. You go with it anyway as you start walking into the room, “okay, tell me what you’re looking for and I’ll help you find it faster”. 

Her smile becomes more strained, “Bucky just asked me for a reason. He doesn’t want other people looking at it”. 

“But he’s fine with you looking at it?”, the question slips out before you can check yourself. Her smile drops away and you find her studying you. It makes you uncomfortable, so you decide to leave and try and find one of Bucky’s men somewhere to contact Bucky. You hold your hands up in a placating way, “okay, I’ll leave you to it”. 

You turn to walk out. You nearly make it to the door before everything goes black.

You don’t think much time has passed when you start to wake up. The first thing that you notice is your head is pounding. The second thing was that you were tied to a chair. As your brain starts to realise you’re still in Bucky’s office, Adalee comes into focus in front of you.  

She watches you for a moment as you get your bearings, “I can’t believe that from the few weeks you’ve been here, how much you’ve fucked up my entire work”. 

You swallow hard as you watch her. She looks more like a serial killer than a dumb girl pacing in front of you now. You feel your heart racing painfully in your chest as she speaks again, “none of this would have happened if you hadn’t told Bucky about Blake. Bucky would be dead by now and I’d be back with-“. She catches herself before she slips a name. 

Your voice comes out quiet, “so you’re the one Blake was talking to on the phone?”. 

She keeps pacing, not looking at you, “it took me ages to recruit Blake. The planning it took to plant negative seeds in Bucky’s head about him slowly and then sleeping with Blake for months. And then you come and undo it all in two days!”. 

While she talks you feel your restraints are quite loose around your hands. You keep fiddling with them as you keep her talking, “did you always have the plan to kill Bucky or were you recruited too?”. 

She laughs, “this was always the plan. I would do anything for him, anything he asked”. You knew she wasn’t talking about Bucky. 

“Well, looks like you failed whoever ‘He’ is rather spectacularly”, you brace for her reaction. She stops her pacing and comes closer to yell in your face. About halfway through her yelling you bring your legs up, which she forgot to tie down, and kick her as hard as you can in her stomach. 

She goes flying across the floor and hits her head on a cabinet. You don’t waste time as you rip your hands from your restraints. You rush over to Bucky’s desk, praying to god that he keeps a gun somewhere in his desk. You rush through a few draws before finally finding a small handgun. 

You pick it up, but before you can look up, Adalee hits you in the side with the chair. You fall to the floor and hear the gun clatter somewhere else. Your side screams in pain as your body goes to curl in on itself, but she wrenches you so that you’re on your back and straddles you. 

The pain was making it hard to think and breathe as your feel her wrap her hands around your throat, a crazed look in her eyes as she watches you. You try to struggle but to no avail. She keeps squeezing until you bring your hand up to her face and dig your nails in as hard as you can. 

She screeches as she takes one hand from your neck to touch the wound. With one arm out of the way you scream through the pain and use your arms to push her chest. She falls back enough for you to kick her further away. 

You cough and take in as much air as you can as you scramble to turn around and try and spot the gun. By the time you see it you feel her nails dig into your ankle trying to pull you down to her. 

You kick her hand away with a crunch and hear her shriek. You push yourself away from her and towards the gun as you slide across the smooth floor. You reach your hand out despite the pain in your side and wrap your fingers around the gun. 

She grabs you by your hair and pulls your head back sharply as you see her go to reach for the gun. You push it away as it slides out of reach across the floor and then elbow her in the stomach. You feel her weight leave you as air leaves her lungs. 

You move quicker to the gun this time and turn as she starts to get up. You don’t hesitate to fire the gun three times in her chest and watch as she falls face down on the floor. You drop the gun and shuffle further away from her. 

The pain starts to register again now that you’re not fighting for your life. You sit back against the wall as you hear shouts somewhere in the house. You take a few moments to try and get your breathing in control as a few of Bucky’s men rush into the room.

Of course, when Bucky’s men walked into the room it just looked like the new homeless girl Bucky hired just killed his kind of girlfriend. They didn’t really know what to do so they took you to the medical wing but cuffed you to the bed until Bucky could get back and sort it out. 

You didn’t mind all that much. The cuffs weren’t tight, and you were in bed recovering. You had a small cut in the back of your head due to Adalee knocking you out. Your side was severely bruised due to the chair and you had scratches on your left ankle. 

It was about a day later when Bucky came back. You weren’t sure how long he had been back when he came bursting into your med room. He looked you over. One glance at you cuffed to the bed and he looked at the man that was guarding you and growled, “get the cuffs off”. 

The guy was rushing so much he dropped the keys twice before darting out of the room and away from Bucky. Just as the guy left Steve came into the room too. You joke to break the tension, “is this a party? I didn’t expect so many visitors”. 

Steve gives you a small smile, but Bucky remains serious as he comes closer, “the doctor said you had a few injuries. He wanted to keep you in mainly to observe your head”. 

You nod slightly, “he said my head is doing fine and that I can go back to my room soon”. 

“What happened?”, Bucky’s voice was strained in anger, but you had a feeling it wasn’t directed at you. You tell him everything, from catching her in the office to her tying you up and everything she said and then to the fight that ended in you killing her. 

Bucky’s face darkened with every progression in the story as Steve’s face became grimmer. Steve is the first to ask you a question, “I thought that Blake said he wasn’t working with anyone else in our organisation?”.  

You nod, “yes. I told you, my ability has limits. If a person genuinely believes what they’re saying, then I probably won’t pick up on the lie. Plus, it depends on their wording. Blake didn’t think of Adalee as apart of your organisation but as apart of whoever she’s working for”. 

Steve nods as Bucky turns to him, “go talk to the men that were here, I don’t want this getting out just yet”. 

Steve leaves without a word. Bucky turns back to you with a face you can’t quite read, “I’m sorry”. 

You frown at him, “what for?”. 

He sighs, “I said I’d protect you as part of the deal and I haven’t done a very good job of that. You could have died-“. 

You cut him off gently, “but I didn’t…and you said you didn’t know how to get rid of her, so I’ve made your life easier”. 

He smiles at your comment before becoming serious again, “was that the first person you’ve ever killed?”. 

He watches you as you answer, “no…there was one before her, on the streets…it was another kill or be killed kind of situation”. 

Before Bucky can say anything, the Doctor walks in, “just done some final tests and they’ve come back fine. You’ll be bruised for a while, but you’re free to go whenever you like”. You and Bucky thank him before he leaves the room. 

You push the blanket away and sit up. You start to twist in order to get out of bed but end up clutching your side and crying out softly in pain. Before you’ve even blinked, Bucky is there. His face comes level with yours as he speaks, “I’ll carry you to your room, and I swear to god if you argue with me Doll…”. 

You laugh lightly at his jokey threat but nod your head at his offer. You wrap your arms around his neck as he puts his arms behind your back and under your knees. He looks at you and you think you see worry in his eyes, “you ready? It might hurt”. 

You nod as he lifts you gently. You let out a whimper, but it hurt less than you thought it would. He makes a point to walk slowly and smoothly to your room. A part of you can’t help but appreciate how strong he must be to carry you with such ease and softness. 

You let your head fall back on his shoulder as tiredness hits you. You take in the smell of him as it comforts you enough to make your eyes droop. Its not long before he reaches your room. You’re struggling to stay awake as he places you on your bed. 

You vaguely hear him commanding you to sleep and hear him sit down in a chair in your room, but you’re not sure if he stays as darkness swallows your tired form.

War of Wolves Taglist: @a-really-bi-girl @scuzmunkie @viperslunatic @loving-life-my-way @crazyblonde124 @summerwelsh @pequenaguaxinim @paranoid-borderline-insane @lilsonbucky @somanyfandomsblog @broco8 @inquisitor-selvala @mad-red @k-n-e @ranting-introvert @rinkashirikitateku 

[okaybutlikeimagine]

really weird hc but i think steve never cries, like it’s not that he doesn’t want to he just can’t??? he’s filled with emotions and he knows he technically should be crying but he just can’t. But billy on the other hand, if you asked him he’d deny it but he cries all. the. time. when he’s angry. when he’s sad. when he’s stressed. when he’s happy and laughing. he just can’t control it.

This is such an interesting headcanon and I DEFINITELY agree!!!! I think it makes perfect sense!!

Bc the way I think about it, Steve’s life has been a lot more performative than Billy’s has, if that makes any sense? Like, I think of Steve’s parents and I think of the kind of terrible people who had a kid just to 1. Pass down the name and 2. Say they have the “perfect family”. Like, they toted Steve out for parties just like Daisy does in Great Gatsby and then they’d hand him off to the sitter or the nanny or the maid or whatever. They didn’t actually want to raise a kid and understand that kid as a person, they wanted a trophy to say: “See this? This proves our relationship is strong and our marriage was worth it.”

And then, in the background, before Steve would be dragged off to whatever private function he was being forced and dressed to attend, his mom would grab him harshly and tightly around his little shoulders and kneel down to look him right in the eye and say: “You behave yourself, understand? There are going to be very important clients there and if you bother us while we’re working, you’re going to be grounded for a whole week. No, two. No toys, TV, nothing. You hear me?” And just imagine a little Steve, about age 5, blinking owlishly at his mom and nodding his head bc of course he can hear her, she’s right in his face, but the only thing he knows about “clients” is that they make his parents yell at each other and that they’re the reason his parents never read him bedtime stories or tuck him in at night

 And I really don’t know a whole lot about like… the lives of the rich and famous, but I just can’t help but imagine Steve’s parents going to parties with the other “elite” in the area. And I use the term “elite” loosely bc i mean… let’s face it…. They still live in Hawkins. They’re definitely rich but it’s not like they’re rubbing elbows with high society over here. They’re the kind of rich, snobby, stuck up people who think they’re better than the people they share a community with. It’s the reason they’re not home very often: they hate being reminded about the fact that they haven’t moved out of Hawkins.

So they go to lots of rich, stuck up parties. And they hold Steve up like a trophy to their friends about how they have a kid already and “where’s yours, Patricia? Oh, don’t have one yet? Are things alright with you and Greg? Oh, just wondering, because if you don’t have a kid yet, well…. Maybe something’s wrong at home…”

and so Steve, with fresh threats swimming in his mind, stands there and smiles and takes all the cheek pinches and head pats even though he’s only a child and is about to fall asleep on his feet because they’ve been walking around meeting people for hours and the other kids won’t play with him because they think he’s “boring” or “stupid” or “poor” (which doesn’t make sense to him bc he’s the richest kid in his preschool as far as he’s aware. He figures the preschools must be different here.) so he puts on a mask even for the other kids. He pretends he doesn’t like playing in the mud or collecting bugs or making jokes about boogers. He puts aside acting like a kid to act like these kids just so he can play with them. Sometimes it works.

And so I think he learned not to cry at a very young age. Honestly, i dunno if you’ve heard about it, but I’m channeling The Who’s Tommy over here. Like, the whole “kid is threatened not to speak about this thing, that he didn’t see this thing, and that he didn’t hear this thing and thus goes deaf, blind, and mute”. And obviously a little less dramatic than that, but Steve’s always been told not to cry. When he would cry he’d get punished. It’s like a weird Pavlovian effect. Ever since he was a kid he was asked to put on a show for everyone, told not to pout or whine or cry, and now he just…. Can’t. He almost fears it. He hears his parents threats, even now at the age of 18, and smiles and laughs rather than cries. And sometimes he cries… that night that Nancy called him bullshit and told him she didn’t love him he went home and ripped a blanket she had (apparently lovelessly) gifted him and broke his lamp and accidentally sliced his foot on the glass of the lightbulb…. and cried and… and it felt like failure. It was only a couple of tears, hot and angry and rolling slowly down his face and he let his throat catch fire as he held everything else back. He was angry with himself at that point, more than anything. He looked himself in the mirror and heard his father’s words of “A Harrington never cries. Are you a true Harrington?” and sucked it all back in and did whatever he could to take his mind off of it, even though everything he did always ended with him fuming about the words over and over again and caused him to end up punching pillows and angrily drinking all the beer out of the fridge.

But Billy’s different.

Billy is a volcano. A volcano of every single emotion you can think of. He experiences them all violently and viciously and they take over his system until his body physically can’t hold back from crying. We SEE him cry multiple times in the show!!! And i like to think it’s bc rather than be toted around, he’s been locked in. where Steve’s parents drag Steve around to different social functions, Neil locks Billy up so he- and no one else -has to look at him. Steve is forced to be around others and put on a mask and Billy is forced to be alone, with just himself and his thoughts. He doesn’t need to mask himself when he’s alone.

And that’s not to say that Billy doesn’t also put on a show for others- because he most definitely does. I think a lot of what he does is performative bc he feels he needs to and his thought process for it lines up with Steve’s for himself: he’s just not good enough. He wasn’t good enough for his mom to stay, he wasn’t good enough for his dad to love in his mother’s absence, he wasn’t and isn’t good enough for anything. So he puts on a show of this big tough guy and he manipulates people and he calls it entertainment.

And this isn’t to say that he didn’t get yelled at for crying, either! Bc he definitely did. He’s gotten hit a few times for tears in his eyes but it was always followed with being locked in his room and being told that he was “embarrassing to watch”... and in the four walls of his room he cried more. Bc growing up, the one thing he found relief in was being sent to his room or even having his room in the first place: it gave him a space to be alone and let his emotions out. And he never tried to, his body always just did it for him. Bc crying is often a very visceral thing, and also a very natural and very human thing. It releases chemicals in your body to help soothe you and lord KNOWS Billy needs to soothe himself bc once his mom left, no one did it for him. His body realizes the emotions that aren’t being sorted and his mind knows when it’s safe (when he’s alone, when Neil’s turned and walking away, when no one can hear) and it cries. I just imagine Billy on constant vibrate, brimming with emotions and filled to the edge with too many things with everything with all of it and he just cries because there’s so few outlets for him. His body has grown accustomed to taking care of itself in that way. And so when he’s had too much (and the threshold on some days if very small), he rushes to his room and slams the door and as soon as it’s latched he’s near drowning in tears bc he needs release.

And let me tell you- it freaks the fuck out of Steve.

Because like you said, Steve just doesn’t cry. And the first time Billy and Steve have sex, Billy cries as he orgasms and Steve freaks. out. He thinks he did something wrong and he’s fretting over Billy and his heart is racing and he’s fighting with himself about if he should hold Billy’s face or step about 5 feet away from him because holy shit what happened??

And Billy feels like an idiot but there’s no stopping his body because he’s so overwhelmed by feeling so good and it’s been a long time coming for him and Steve and after all of that anger and animosity between each other, it was just too much and he cries. And he punches Steve while he’s crying, trying his best to growl but hiccuping around the words instead as he says: “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m so sorry Billy, holy shit! What do I do?!” 

“Go get me a tissue, you dumbass!”

And he’s sniffling and blows his nose loud and Steve is in awe that Billy is still such a hardass even with tears running down his eyes.

And this happens a LOT. Every time Billy and Steve have sex, Billy tears up after he orgasms. It’s not always full on waterworks like the first time, but his eyes always water as he lays there with Steve, body lit up and hot like a fucking campfire, and he lays there and breathes and a tear rolls down his cheek and Steve has gotten so used to it that he leans over Billy and kisses the tear right at his cheekbone and whispers how beautiful he is. (and that usually makes Billy tear up even more, to which he shoves Steve with whatever strength he has left and tells him to shut his mouth)

The first time they tell each other “I love you” it’s the same thing. Billy whispers “I love you, too” and there go his tears. His chest heaves and he cries into Steve’s collarbone, gripping Steve’s shirt and Steve just kind of chuckles a bit and rubs Billy’s back and maybe cracks a joke about how he’s “such a sap” and Billy tilts his head so he can bite at Steve’s shoulder and make the boy yelp.

And the first time Billy catches Steve about to cry, he sees that the boy is about to run away. Bc he’s taken notice to the fact that Steve doesn’t cry and he hasn’t brought it up more than twice bc Steve is obviously anxious when he talks about it but Billy gets worried for him bc Steve always acts like he’s okay and Billy knows that’s not good. So when he catches Steve’s eyes watering and then Steve turning to lock himself away somewhere, he grabs the boy in the most forceful hug he can manage so that he can’t squirm away and hide himself and he says: “Don’t run away from me. Are you gonna cry?”

“Billy-”

“Then do it. You’re not a robot.”

“Billy stop I-”

“You’re human, you fucking dumbass.”

“Don’t call me-”

“It’s okay.”

And that makes Steve’s chest heave. He sucks so much air in he squeaks and his chest pushes against Billy’s own and Billy grabs tighter and nuzzles his head into Steve’s neck and whispers.

“You’re safe, Pretty Boy.”

And he stands there and he lets Steve cry. Lets himself be whatever physical and mental support Steve needs as he finally, finally let’s his body take over and just cries.

[spideeysense]

It started with a roll: A Royal!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you all enjoy the first part of this fic! This is a Royal!AU Bucky Barnes x Reader fic, with also elements of Peter Parker x Reader (Platonic!).

Word Count: 2.8k 

Warnings: None

This is a slowburn, which I’ve never written before, however I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 2

The morning air was crisp and cool as it wafted into your shop. It intermingled with the sweet smell of pastries and bread that had been baking all throughout the morning. The little bell over the door signaled that someone had entered and you rushed to the front, wiping your flour covered hands on your apron. “Yes yes, I’m coming,” You murmured while moving to the front of the store, careful to not knock over any baking trays. Once at the front, your eyes widened at who stood by the pastry case, your jaw dropped. 

“Your majesty!” You did a deep curtsy, “My apologies for not coming sooner.” You said as you raised your head back up, and gave him a soft smile. 

The man in front of you simply waved his hand, as if to say No, don’t worry. The guard stationed behind him and moved to stand in front of the door. 

“I’ll only bother you for a quick second,” He started as his eyes shifted around the room. His dark brown eyes studied the many rows of bread. “You know, this bakery makes my favorite bread, I had a slice of it every morning when I was a child,” His statement shocked you and you gave him a big smile. “My parents were very fond of your father,” He said simply, a distant look in his eyes. “I always knew his daughter would still be in the business,” He smirked at you. 

“Well, I am honored,” Placing a hand over your heart. “I’m Y/N, How can I help you today, your highness?” You questioned. 

“Y/N,” He paused as if to savor how your name rolled off his tongue. 

“I have quite a big request, my engagement ball is coming up and I’d love it if your bakery could make the side rolls for the dishes that night,” The king said he walked closer to the counter. “Preferably rye rolls if you could.” 

You whipped out a piece of paper and an ink pen from the drawer and gave the King a confident smile. Your heart thumped in your chest. This was so exciting! “Yes of course, how could I say no!” 

He gave you a small smile and clapped his gloved hands together. “Well, that will be all for today, thank you, I’ll send over a messenger later to deliver more details,” You nodded, and the guard started to open the door when you called out. “Your majesty, before you go might I offer you and your guard a bundle of apricot scones to send back with you?” Quickly, before they could answer, you heaped a bunch of small scones into a small basket and covered it with a piece of cloth, dotted with small emblems of your shop. “Freshly baked at dawn”.  For a moment the shop was quiet, and you were afraid you had done something wrong. The king turned around and smiled. “That would be lovely, many thanks,” He said as he picked up the basket of scones and handed it to his guard. “I’ll be going now,” The King did a curt nod before exiting with his guard. And the scones. 

The rest of the day all you could think about was how good it was going to be for business (and maybe how handsome the King was). All day the store was bustling with business, all sorts of people came in and out, always leaving with a smile. After all, that was the bakery’s promise. Near the end of the day, the stream of customers had mellowed out, a single customer remained. He stood in the corner, a dark red hood covering his face. “Can I help you?” You asked, a little nervous as to who he was and what his intentions were. “We’re closing soon” You stated, raising your head to try and level yourself with the stranger. After a beat of silence, he moved forward in one quick movement. “I’m Sir Parker, I am assuming you are in fact Y/N L/N, “ He paused and watched you nod with cautious eyes.

“I come with a message from the King”. Relief flooded your system as you relaxed your shoulders. “Yes, he came by this morning.” The man, more like a boy, if you were being honest, quirked an eyebrow “He did?”. 

“Uh-yes, is that not how he usually does it?” You asked. 

Sir Parker shook his head and pulled out a letter and tossed it over the counter. “The requirements for the baking,” 

“King Barnes requests your presence at the Palace, at dawn tomorrow.”

A moment of silence again passed between the both of you. “At the Palace?” Shocked, you gripped the counter with both of your hands. 

“Yes, he says he’d like you to bake different batches, so he can taste test, says his fiancee is peculiar about her bread. Besides-no offense- but your oven here is quite small.” And with that Sir Parker took his leave. 

You woke the next morning before dawn. You brushed through your hair and then pinned strands in place, leaving a few in the front to frame your face. Opening your wardrobe you stared at the few dresses you had. Mostly in dull neutral colors, it’s not like you were trying to impress the king, you were simply trying to dress nice. It is the Royal Palace after all. You settle on a simple grey blue dress, and a green wooly shawl, to protect yourself from the frosty morning before the sun rose. Quietly you sneaked out of your room, and left through the front of the shop. You had let your employees know that you had business to attend to, but not specifying where. In your satchel you carried a few utensils you use because they are “lucky”. And off you went.

The streets in town were quiet at this hour, you passed a few monks on their way to the monastery, a few shopkeepers were opening, ready to start the day as soon as the sun rose above the horizon. Approaching the Palace you grew more nervous, the letter with the King’s seal on it, suddenly felt like a huge weight. You tried to push away your anxiety but to no avail. Soon, you arrive at the palace gates. 

“Halt!” The guard standing right of the gate raised his spear and aimed it at you.   

Quickly you pulled out the envelope from your cloak pocket. “I’m here on official business.” You pushed the letter with the seal towards one of the guards. “How do we know you’re not a fraud?” One of the guards sneered. You were at a loss for words. You could barely produce a sentence as you fumbled over your phrases, you were definitely not expecting this. 

“Reid! Manstricht!” Suddenly a voice called from behind the gate. The guards spun around and straightened their posture. “Sir Parker!” 

You watched as Sir Parker bounded down the front steps of the palace, with an agility and grace you had never witnessed before. 

“She’s with me!” Sir Parker said as he opened the gate’s just enough for you to slip through. The guards, baffled, nodded quickly. “Our apologies,” they murmured to you as they headed back to their posts. 

“You’re lucky it was me and not the King” Sir Parker narrowed his eyes at the two guards and put his hand on the small of your back to push you forward. 

“Sorry about that, we usually have more hospitality than that, but those were guards from the Queen’s regiment..” He didn’t finish his sentence as you and him entered the palace. 

As soon as you entered the palace, you were in awe. Everything was beautiful. Tall ceilings with fresco paintings depicting wars, gardens, and angels framed by gold. The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling were dazzling, and you were sure that the rest of the palace was equally as beautiful. The windows reached floor to ceiling, and the lush red curtains were drawn back to let in the morning sun that had just begun to rise. “Wow..” you let out softly. 

“Well, I’m sure the King is eager to make your acquaintance once more-Shall we?” Sir Parker lent you his elbow, and you held onto it softly. 

“Thank you Sir Parker,” Your eyes were still trained on the glamour that was surrounding you. 

“Please just call me Peter, Sir makes me feel old,” He stifled a laugh as did you. 

“Alright then, Peter.” 

Soon you reached what you could only assume was the grand kitchen. The wooden doors opened and revealed the grandeur inside. Multiple dark oak counter stops, at least 4 large stovetops, and two smaller clay ovens, while a larger one rested in the middle of the room. 

“Consider this your second kitchen,” Peter said as he led you inside.

You smiled widely as you looked around, not paying attention to where you were going you felt your body make contact with another. 

“Whoa there” Two firm hands grasped your shoulders and turned you around. 

Immediately you felt your cheeks grow hot from embarrassment. “Your majesty!” You curtsied. “My apologies,” 

The king simply chuckled and moved on. “Well, I hope this place works for you, my employees here know not to bother you or ask questions today, so please feel free to use the space as much as you want.” 

Your jaw dropped at his statement, but you were quick to pick it up off the floor. “Thank you King James”  you bowed your head.

“Please,” The King placed a hand on his heart, “Call me Bucky, all my employees here and I are on a first name basis,” He explained as he circled the kitchen once more. 

“My personal guard here is Steve, a fine young lad, and you’ve already met Peter.” Bucky motioned towards the two men, as you furtively nodded your head. “Peter will be here to answer your questions, and Steve-well-he’s here in case there’s trouble.” 

And with that, Bucky left the kitchen, Steve trailing behind him.

At the door, Peter stood, his hand on the knob. “I’ll see you later,” he said and left you alone in the kitchen. 

You set out your utensils and got baking. Bread is what he wants, bread he shall receive. You worked on multiple loaves, rosemary, rye, rye and wheat, pumpernickel, a sweet poppy seed roll, and a pumpkin roll. You kneaded each into a roll-like shape and let them rise. 

While the dough was rising, you stoked the flames of the ovens, making sure it was the right temperature. The kitchen grew quite hot, and you found yourself sweating. You pulled your hair into a loose bun, and took off your blouse revealing your corset and the chemise you had underneath it. 

You carefully placed the rolls in the oven and while they baked, you waited by the window, fanning yourself with a small piece of paper you found. 

You examined the grounds of the palace, large, spacious, and very very lush as it was July. The apricot and peach trees would start bearing fruit, and you were eager. Summer was your favorite season, simply because of all the fruit cakes you got to make. You mindlessly chewed on the lunch that was brought to you by Peter a little while earlier. 

Soon, the aroma of baked bread filled the room as you pulled the rolls out of the oven and let them cool. You placed each type on a plate and lined them up at the table. You sat down by the windowsill again, staring out at the garden once more. You liked to watch the gardeners trim and tend to the garden. Multiple summer flowers were blooming, and it looked magnificent. 

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard the door creak open. Quickly to make yourself decent you pulled up your chemise sleeves to your shoulders and tossed on your blouse again, trying to make it look as tidy as possible.

“Hello?” You called out as you turned around, wiping your clammy hands on the front of your apron. 

“Y/N!” It was Bucky and you smiled at him, drinking in his appearance once more. What, the King was handsome, and here you were in his palace, you had the right to appreciate such a specimen. He was built like a greek statue, muscular, with a sharp jaw, and steady eyes. 

Your reverie was interrupted by a second presence in the room. The soon to be Queen. “You highness!” You curtsied. You could feel her eyes trained on you, and for a moment you thought she could read your mind. 

“We’re here to taste your rolls,” His fiancee said simply, as she moved towards the table covered in different types of bread. 

“Y/N, that is Astoria Ferdinand of the neighboring, Worcester Kingdom, soon to be Queen Astoria Barnes.” Bucky explained to you as you both joined Astoria at the table. 

As Astoria and Bucky eyed the many rolls picking off small pieces and placing it into their mouths you eyed the Queen. Tall, perfectly proportionate, and her eyes were the color of sapphires. However, her aura you could sense was cold and withdrawn. Not as sunshine-y as her counterpart, the King. Her neck was adorned with many jewels, rubies mostly, worth more than you and your shop most likely, and her dress was a charcoal black, with grey accents. What an odd dress to wear on such a warm day. On her slender left hand, rested many rings, but the one that stood out the most was what you could assume to be her engagement ring. It was a big sapphire, one that matched her eyes, it was encrusted with small diamonds, and the band was pure gold. You realized you were staring when a soft scoff drew your attention back to reality. “Pardon me,” you murmured. “Don’t get any ideas.” Astoria sneered. Honestly, you were shocked that she assumed you would steal. 

The King stared at his soon to be fiancee with wide eyes before clearing his throat, to rid the air of it’s tension. 

“These all look very lovely, it’s going to be so hard to choose.” Bucky bent at the waist, his face almost touching the rolls as if he wanted to study them very intensely. The thought made you chuckle, but you quickly shut up when Astoria snapped her fingers at you. 

Bucky once more, eyed his wife out of the corner of his eyes, then his eyes trailed his way up to you. You, whom he has only known for a day and half. Yet the moment he laid eyes on you, he thought you were the most beautiful person to grace this earth. You reminded him of a painting, if he was going to be honest, you were a classic beauty. He couldn’t help but compare you to his soon to be wife. And decided that in that very moment, he would rather marry you instead, if given the chance. His steely eyes met yours, and he noticed that your cheeks flushed a very light pink. 

“Which one is your favorite?” His question surprised you. You wouldn’t have thought that any royalty, let alone the King would be interested in your favorite roll. 

“My favorite?” The King nodded. 

“Well, I would say the rosemary roll, it’s very good with any meal.” You suggested as you pointed to the plate of rolls near the end of the table. 

Astoria simply eyed you with an almost, disgusted look. 

“Very well, the rosemary it shall be,” Bucky beamed at both you and his fiancee.

Astoria rolled her eyes and left the room with a huff. Leaving you and Bucky. “Sorry,” you murmured. 

“No, don’t apologize, she is quite the diva.” Bucky said, he sounded exasperated. Once again, the distant eye in look returned as he gazed out the window. 

“You’re lucky, she is very beautiful, I can tell you that all the young ladies will be jealous. I know plenty of young women who would be over the moon to marry you” You chuckled, trying to draw him back. 

“Including yourself?” Bucky cajoled, with a chuckle. Before you could respond he moved on. 

“It wasn’t my choice.” He disclosed to you. “Most things are never your choice when your king, besides the military.” 

You looked at him apologetically.

“Well, I am very glad to be a part of the festivities, albeit from afar.” You smiled at him, hoping the change of subject would ease the vibe of the room. 

Bucky chuckled. “Of course” He paused for a moment, pondering something before speaking. Bucky moved towards you, gingerly, and stopped in front of you, his body mere centimeters away from yours. You felt your heart beat rapidly in your chest, and you were certain he could hear it. This definitely was too close for a King and a lowly baker, but he didn’t move away. 

Lifting your hand gently, he sandwiched it in between both of his. 

"It would be my pleasure if you would attend the ball.” 

Eyes wide your mind started to whirl. You had never been to a royal ball, let alone an engagement one. Hell, this was your first time stepping into the palace! 

“Yes! I would love to”

[enigma-im]

He Was a Satyr Boy

 Rating: Explicit Relationship: Satyr X Female!Human Warning: Fluff, Respecting boundaries, Penetration, Satyr and human relationship, Critical Role mentioned, timid or shy characters

Word Count: 8604

A shy Satyr catches the interest of the cute comic book store girl

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Today is slower than usual. Generally, comic book stores aren't super busy on a workday but today was especially boring. I've gotten all my work done around noon leaving several more hours of my shift left to fuck about. I lean against the glass counter near the register and look over the empty store. I huff and try to entertain myself by reading the posters around the room for the hundredth time.

Reading the green lantern motto for the 6th time I'm ecstatic to hear the chime of the front door. Looking over I see a satyr walk in. I immediately notice his antlers protruding from his curly brown hair. He is a skinny man, not particularly tall. Might be the same height as me if I were to guess. An inch or two taller. He is sort of cute, not my normal type but still eye candy. Especially wearing a fitted hoodie and loose pants. He has a softness to him, a gentle aura.

I don't call out to him, welcoming him to the store. I just watch as he shoves his hands into his pouch then looks around way too much. As he walks further inside he catches my eye. He gives a curt nod then walks around with his head down. I watch as he paces through each aisle before stopping at the books. He skims through them and picks out two. He cradles them close to his side then makes his way to the register. Only briefly glancing at me he sets the items on the counter.

"This all," I ask. He glances up and nods.

"Yes, this is all. I don't have money for more, your stuff is expensive," he sort of rambles. Edge of my lips quirks at him. I scan his items and wait on him to either pull out a card or cash. He fumbles with his pockets to his loose pants and pulls out a wallet. He produces a card and swipes it to the machine.

He pays and a receipt prints. I push the books to him and hand him the paper. He doesn't say anything as I pass him his things. He takes them quietly and nods before heading to the door.

"Have a nice day," I surprise myself by calling out. It seems to have startled him too. He looks over and gives a nervous smile.

"You too." With that, he leaves. I watch till the door closes, a little captivated by his departure. When I finally look away to the now empty store I hardly notice to half-smile gracing my face.

I'm a little confused to see him the next day around the same time. The store is a little more full, normal for a Tuesday since there is a sale going on for comic books. Perhaps that's why he is back? I try not to pay him any mind as I ring up people but I can't stop glancing at him curiously. He wonders around the store, catching eyes with me a few times. This piques my interest even more.

I barely listen to the man rambling on and on about god knows what. I give him a few nods but couldn't care less. I keep glancing over his shoulder at the nervous satyr browsing the store. I'm not sure why I'm so inquisitive but he is keeping my attention. Perhaps its why he is back after saying he had no money. Or the fact he isn't even looking at the comics that are on sale. What could he possibly need?

I lose focus on him when someone comes up with a question.

"Do you guys have any captain marvel comics," a stout woman asks.

"Far-right wall, under the popular section," I point behind her. I hope this is the end of the conversation but sadly it isn't.

"Oh. Can you show me, I didn't see it over there," she gives an apologetic smile. I look over at the satyr, then back at her.

"Yea, come on," I walk from around the counter. I lead her to the right wall. She keeps asking questions even when I found the box for her. She draws on so long my coworker works the register and checks out the satyr. I see he bought another DnD book, Just the one. He leaves before I even get back to the counter.

I don't see him the next day, hardly surprised. I actually don't think about him, having no reason to. My fascination is but a product of boredom mixed with seeing someone so cute. I've never seen him before, knowing most of the people around the town. It's rare to see someone new and even more rare to see them two days in a row. Still, it seems he is gone now.

I think as such till I see him Thursday. I don't notice anyone walked in as I clean the glass countertop. It isn't until he sets his item down beside me that I acknowledge him. I give him a confused look for a second, wondering what he is doing back here.

"Hi," he curtly smiles, "I forgot the monster guide." I look from him to the book, another DnD guide.

I look back up at him," so you did." He nods as I grab the book. I scan it and prepare the machine for him to pay. I watch him pull out his wallet, I felt the need to fill the silence.

"You know we hold campaigns here every Thursday night," I cock a brow at him. He seems to startle before staring back.

"Oh," he tilts his head. His hair brushes over his forehead and the corners of my mouth quirk.

"They are run by Steven who set it all up, anyone is welcome. Starts tonight around 7, if your interested," I inform.

"Oh, thanks but I don't think that would be good for me. I'm busy around then but thank you. I appreciate you telling me. I guess you figure from all the books I've bought that id be playing this but it's just to read. I don't actually play, I've just been watching a campaign online. I wanted to follow along, you know," he rambles. I don't feel like interrupting, just resting my elbow on the counter. "It's a good show, very funny. I don't know if you have heard of it, but you might have. Its a bunch of voice actors playing DnD, so they get to use their acting skills to bring the characters to life. It's super neat," he continues.

"Critical role?" I cock a brow.

He grins widely, "yea, do you watch it?"

I tilt my head and regard him," not really." He deflates, it almost makes me wanna lie just to get him to ramble some more.

"Well, it's worth a listen. Even if it's super long," he collects his book off the counter," well ill see you around. Bye." I wave then he turns and walks out. I watch him the entire time, huffing in amusement when his antlers scratch against the door.

I stand back up with a little smile, "what an adorable man."

I stay a bit after, organizing some of the figurines in the displays. I know I'm sticking around just to see if he shows up, I'm not going to convince myself otherwise. I'm also not surprised to see he doesn't show up. Which is fine, it was a bit last minute so I can't expect him to not have plans.

It is a surprise when he shows up next week.

The week was slow and I hardly thought of the cute satyr. I noticed he hasn't been back since last Thursday but that was the extent of my thoughts. By Wednesday I've forgotten him, mostly.

Thursday night comes and I'm sorting through the comics for ones that don’t belong. I hear the gang setting up near the back. Getting the table together and their items out. I finger through the thin booklets, pulling out any that wasn’t Batman. I lose focus when I hear the bell at the front door. I look up and chuckle when I see the satyr. I stop what I'm doing and head over. Noticing immediately that he was fidgeting. He was looking around a lot and bouncing from leg to leg. He stops when he catches my eye.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I was a little confused about where the campaign takes place. I looked on the website and it said that it happens in the store, which is what you said, but I don’t know where in here it is and I didn’t want to just walk on in and wander around," he nervously laughs," it is tonight right?"

 my lips quirk," Yes." I won't elaborate, seeing if he will talk some more.

"Oh, good," he looks behind me then back at me," I've been looking through the books. Good reads, it's so elaborate. Still, it’s a lot to learn. I tried to do a crash course on them last Thursday but I was too worried id make a fool of myself. So that’s why I didn’t show up, I didn’t want to be the one asking all the questions. It would take away from the fun of everyone else. I mean I still might ask questions, there is a lot to learn. I hope that no one minds a newbie joining. I really studied, which sounds weird to study for a hobby, but I was nervous. You know, I might actually just watch, or come back later. I don’t want to take the fun from everyone else." I listen to his ramblings, cocking a brow as he tries to talk himself into leaving. Deciding to help him out I step beside him so we are both facing the room. I notice that he is just an inch or so taller than me.

"Come on," I nudge his shoulder then walk ahead. He startles but follows along, keeping his hands in his hoodie pockets. I smirk to myself as I lead him to the back. Once we turn the corner the patrons perk up. All of them looking towards us curious. I glance over at the satyr and see he is hiding in himself. Bunching his shoulders and ducking his head into his jacket. I nearly coo at the sight.

"Who's this," Steve asks with a friendly smile. I don’t answer but nudge the Satyr to speak up. He jumps, staring over at me shocked before looking back at the group.

"Uh, I'm Jensen," he nods in greeting," hello." I quirk a smile at the greeting. Jensen.

"Well, howdy there Jensen. What brings you to our little hobble," Carley asks before anyone else could. Jensen looks from her then back to me. I nod towards the group as encouragement.

"I'm here for the, uh, campaign," he nearly stutters. I find myself taking a step closer to the poor lad. Matt notices and passes me a glance, raising a brow. I pay him no mind and wait for Jensen to join the group.

"Well that’s great, we always have room for another traveler," Steven shouts jovially," please come sit." I look from the gang to Jensen, content with his wide grin. He walks forward and takes a seat between Matt and Steven. I take one more look at the lads before turning to leave.

"Would you like to join," Carley calls. I turn to face them, the words 'no' ready on my lips. I'm a bit surprised to see Jensen practically begging me with his eyes. Watching me with bated breath for my answer. I'm still ready with the 'no' but looking at him makes me want to change my mind.

I have never played with the group, having been invited nearly every night. I generally have things to do and rather get home quickly once they finish up. It's not like I have anything pressing at home, I just rather be there. I begin to doubt my choice, near caving just to get to spend time with the nervous Jensen.

"Ok," I answer shortly. I nearly smile when I see Jensen's little grin. He has a cute smile.

"Really," Matt tilts his head. I don’t answer but walk towards the table. I grab a chair from the wall and sit on the opposite end of Steve. I look at the three's suspicious faces, knowing they are probably trying to figure out any reason why I'd choose now to join. Of course, the genius bunch looks towards Jensen and piece together their own theories. I'm not above admitting it, I want to hang out with him. He is cute and I find his rambling adorable. Depending on how tonight goes I may develop a crush.

The night goes alright, everyone was boisterous and engaged. Everyone seemed to have fun, including me. Jensen was shy at the start but grew into his own as everyone kept him included. I appreciated that. I didn’t want to be the only one trying to keep him out of his shell. Id hates to look over and see him cave into himself with nerves.

Around two hours later the gang packs up and says their goodbyes. I walk away before they could start interrogating me, getting started on the work I put off. Once I hear the chime of the bell I head back over to the table, startling when I see Jensen still packing up. I grin to myself and head over, sitting across from him.

He looks up and smiles," Hey." I nod in greeting," man those guys are so nice. The woman, Carley was it, she gave me some of her dice. They look so cool, got a holo look to it. Reminds me of opals, it's so cool." he holds the 20-sided die up and rotates it back and forth. Showing off the rainbow reflection on it.

"So ill take it you had fun," I cross my arms and lean back in the chair. I smile at him, feeling his own grin to be contagious. He looks from the die back to me, his toothy grin making me feel gushy.

"Yea, it was so grand. Steven has such an imagination on him, this wasn’t what I expected at all," he leans onto the table with his elbows," I can't wait to come back and partake in whatever the next adventure will be. I might try being a sorcerer next time. That is if we are allowed to change our characters. I like mine right now but I do wanna experience the other classes. Does he do different campaigns every time?" 

"Yes," I nod.

"That’s great! I'm so glad I came, I was so nervous that I paced around my apartment before coming here. I figured since I just moved here it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends but I was nervous mostly for that reason, not knowing anyone. It helped that I know you, I was really banking on you being here. If you weren't I would have probably walked out," he nervous laughs, looking at the table," also thanks for joining, I could tell it isn't something you usually do."

"No problem, it was fun," I answer honestly.

We chat for a little longer before I have to shut down the store. He leaves shortly before, promising he will be back next week. I find myself getting a little giddy at the idea of seeing him again. Tonight went well, I think I can confidently say I have a crush on him.

He visits twice before Thursday, one of the days I heard from Matt when he was the one working. The day I got to see him was nice, we chatted a bit before it got busy and he left. Along with his two visits, I've been getting the 2nd degree from Matt.

"So you like him," he cocks a brow as he lounges against the counter. I shrug noncommittedly, knowing it's going to rowel him up. He drops his head back and groans at my non-answer," Don’t give me that. I don’t know the last time you were interested in someone, I've only heard stories of your past boyfriends. The tall hunky lads with more muscles than sense. So excuse me for wanting to boy talk with you." I pass him a glance, debating on being a prude with my thoughts. It was none of matt's business on who I liked and didn’t like. Still, I'd admit that the idea of gossiping is tempting.

"Yes, I have a thing for him," I bite my cheek to stop from smiling. I don’t need him poking fun just yet. He startles at my words, perhaps shocked I even said anything.

He twists around and leans his elbows on the table," I was just teasing before, I didn’t think you actually wanted him. He is so not part of your portfolio, he is so timid and lithe. Hard contrast to your previous interest." I pass him a cheeky grin while pretending to read the magazine in front of me.

"He is cute, and I think his ramblings are adorable," I answer. Matt deadpans at me, not really getting what I'm saying.

"You like his ramblings? What happened to the woman who dated big bulky men, hell the last dude I heard you dated was an orc. Like how would you go from something that big to someone like Jensen," he tilts his head trying to catch my eye. I glance at him but continue to look at the pages.

"I just like him, not everything has to be dissected and viewed from every angle. I think he is cute and I enjoy his company," I answer bluntly. Not everything has to be over analyzed to its basic form. I don’t have to uproot my childhood to figure out why I find Jensen so attractive. I just do, and that’s ok.

Matt doesn’t like my answers but he leaves me alone after another five minutes of arguing.

Thursday comes quickly to my joy. The gang sets up and Jensen shows up shortly after they do. I watch him walk from the door straight to the back, resting his bag on the table as he too sets up. I stay in the corner, finishing up my work. I'm content on just sitting this one out, but of course, if he asks I can't say no.

"Where is she," Jensen asks as he looks around.

Steven looks up at him," she is working. She generally doesn’t contribute to these things."

"Oh," Jensen looks dejected. I actually feel bad for having to work. I guess if I rush I could come over for a little. I bite my cheek as I try to figure out anything I could close early.

Around an hour later I make some time, skipping out on stocking for the night. I can just do it tomorrow anyway. I step around the bookshelf and watch the table from the sidelines. Listening to Steven paint the picture, then the gang reacting. I watch Jensen for a bit, smiling a little as I see the enjoyment on his face.

I startle when Carley calls outs," You just going to stand there or you going to sit down?" Everyone turns to me, only Steven turns back to the table.

"Oh hey," Jensen grins," Come, sit." he pulls out the chair next to him. I walk over and take the offered seat, not missing Matt's big smile.

I spend the next hour listening to and watching their game. Keeping quiet on the sidelines just enjoying their jovial behaviors. The mission comes to an end, leaving on a happy note. I stretch and get up before the others could begin packing. I wave to the group and go back to closing.

I count out the register as Jensen stops by the counter," Hi." I finish off the set of ones and give him a friendly smile.

"Hi," I say back.

"Watcha doing," he rests his elbows on the counter.

"Counting out the drawer, make sure I'm not missing anything," I answer as I count out the twenties.

"Are you the manager here or owner," he asks. I get what he is doing, trying to start up a conversation. I appreciate the company, so I answer.

"I'm technically a manager, but it feels like I'm the owner most of the time," I shuffled up all the money and places them back in the drawer.

"Why is that," he watches as I close out the register.

"I do everything here. I make the calls, stock the store, fix the store, advertise for the store. I think the owner just wanted to own a comic book store but not actually run one," I walk around the counter and to the backroom. Jensen follows, staying at the door when we get to the office. He keeps me company as I deal with the paperwork of the day. Dealing with return receipts and new stock.

The night feels like it goes by quickly, probably Jensen to blame for that. He is nice to talk to. Once he comes out of his shell he is funny. Still rambles but it's with fewer nerves and more just enjoyment of the topic. I finished up my work about twenty minutes ago but I didn’t want to send him away just yet. I'm content listening to him talk about his job as a Graphic Designer. He seems to be very passionate about it, grinning widely as he talks.

The conversation starts to die down as we both begin to yawn. I look over at the clock and see we are forty-minute past close. We both decide its time to leave. I walk him to the door and he waits for me as I lock up. I turn back to him and prepare for goodbye.

"Well, today was nice. Thanks for chatting with me, I didn’t mean to make you stay so late. I know I tend to talk too much, I get it can be a little annoying so don’t be scared to tell me to shut up," he tries to laugh but it’s a little self-deprecating. I watch him for a minute, probably making him feel uncomfortable.

I find myself sputtering out the first thing that came to mind," Do you wanna go out sometime?"

He startles, "What?"

"Do you," I point to him," Want to go out with me," I point to myself. He still seems lost.

"Uh," he short circuits, not really getting what I'm saying. He looks uncomfortable and I can't lie, it hurts a little.

"Hey, you don’t have to. It's ok if you don’t," I try to give him an out.

He shakes from his stupor, "No, I want to. I'm just a bit shocked."

 I regard him curious," Shocked? Why?"

"well," he rubs the back of his neck," its just-because- you know."

I smile," No I don't think I do know."

"Its cause- because," he huffs," Because you are you. The super hot comic store girl. I didn’t think you would like me." I can't stop my chuckle. I've never had a guy assume I wasn’t into them, especially when I feel I've been obvious.

"Well, I do. So would you like to see a movie this weekend," I try again since he never really answered.

"yea," he grins widely," I'd love to."

I give Jensen my number and tell him to write. We depart with dorky grins on our faces, leaving for our respective homes.

The weekend comes quick and I meet Jensen at the store. We walk together in a bit of awkward silence. I can basically feel his tension rolling off him. I can't help but try to think of ways to relax him, make him feel comfortable. So I ask him about his job and he takes the in. This seems to work until we make it to the theater. when we go to sit his tension rise again. I try to keep the conversation going but when the movie starts its harder to keep him calm.

I watch him out the corner of my eye the entire film. He fidgets his hand in his lap, not really focusing on the movie. I feel bad he cant enjoy this. I'm running out of things to try, so I go for broke and grab his hand. I interlock my fingers with his and rest them on the armrest. His grip is a bit tight so I rub my thumb to his skin in an attempt to calm him down. Surprisingly it works, he loosens his grip with a sigh. He gives me a quick squeeze then leans back in his seat. I go for broke again when I lay my head on his shoulder. He jumps but doesn’t do anything to push me away. I will take the win.

The movie ends and it wasn’t that great. Probably should have picked a better one. Still, I had fun, only because it was with Jensen. After we got up he grabs my hand again and we walked out together. It was sweet, which is something I never had with my exes. They were a bunch of dumb jocks looking for their next nut. It was fine at the time because I wasn’t expecting much but it was unfulfilling. This, with Jensen, feels good.

We walk back to the store where we chat under the awning. With a brief hug, we part ways, making plans on the phone for another date. I sit in bed that night smiling like an idiot, not wanting to put the phone down till I nearly pass out on my own.

We go on a few more dates after that, nothing getting too intimate besides a kiss on the cheek. We see movies, go out for dinner or go to one of our places to cook. Then every Thursday we talk for hours, even texting once we got home. I like him a lot.

One day while talking at the store he kisses me. I'm startled when it happens, he gets embarrassed and tries to back away. I don’t let him get far and kiss him. Since then the relationship has gotten more intimate. Spending dates snobbing anywhere private like a pair of teenagers. He shocked the gang one night when he kisses me hello. They all had their guesses but we never gave them answers. Since then they have taken to picking fun of us, trying their best to get us to blush. Of course, I was a little harder to crack than Jensen. Still, it was cute to see him get all flustered. Sometimes I joined in on the teasing and give a big kiss to his cheek.

As much touching as we have done we never have gotten around to discussing sex. It was becoming more prominent as some make out sessions left us both a bit bothered. He never initiated anything so I didn’t push, it was fine. But one night while we are sitting on my bed talking he surprises me.

We lounge on my bed looking through his phone at videos he saved. One thing leads to another and we start making out. I have my fingers buried in his soft curly hair, my other hand petting over his chest. I want to badly run it under his shirt, feel his skin on mine. I don’t try to push my luck, wanting him to take the leap.

His fingers clench at my hips making my insides burn. He hesitates in the kiss, but not stopping as his hands play with the hem of my shirt. He slides them under my shirt, gliding them over my hips up to my waist. I find myself gasping and leaning back. Our breath mingles together as I wait for his next move. I can feel his finger shake as he tries to move up but he can't bring himself to do it. I resume petting over his chest, leaning up and kissing his cheek. Telling him in actions that it's ok to go on.

He gains some of his nerves and smooths his hand over my skin. Petting and groping up to my bra. His breath stutters as his thumb timidly traces over the fabric. His breathing stops when he hooks a finger underneath, sliding over till his index touches my boob. He sucks in a gasp, pausing his hand as he catches his breath. I continue kissing his neck and petting his hair. Giving him all the time he needs.

Jensen rests his head against mine before moving to cup my chest. He sighs, tickling my head with his breath. His palms are warm against me, if not a little sweaty. He gropes softly, rubbing his thumb over my hardening nipple.

"so soft," he mumbles to himself. I peck his neck in answer. He continues to grope and squeeze, content in just this for the time being.

Soon he leans back and tugs at my shirt. Asking with his eyes if I could take it off. I don’t even hesitate, I lean back and pull the clothing off. I throw it onto the floor. When I look back at Jensen I nearly laugh, he is captivated by my nearly bare torso. I grin at him as I lead his hands back to me, hinting at him to take my bra off on his own. He catches on and fumbles to unhook the back. He manages well and helps pry the straps off my arms. He tosses the bra off the bed and doesn’t take his eyes off me. He reaches for my chest, watching as his fingers rub my nipples. I leave him to go at his own pace, sighing at the sensations of his hands. He surprises me by leaning down and taking me into his mouth. I choke on my words as his tongue swirls over my bud. I pet along his head, tugging softly on his hair when he sucks on me.

He laves attention on both sides, taking his time to both enjoy and make sure I enjoy it. I feel the all too familiar weight in my stomach, my crotch throbbing with need. I know better than to force anything but its starting to get hard too. I'm happy when he takes another step, pushing me back and crawling over me. He leans down and captures my lips, giving a rather fierce kiss. He continues to cup my chest with one hand, seeming to not be able to get enough. I press my luck and slide one of my hands down his chest, sliding under his shirt and feeling his warm stomach. He gasps into the kiss but doesn’t react. I continue moving up, pulling up his shirt as I go. He lets me, even leaning back to take the clothing off himself.

Once the article is removed he smiles down at me before kissing me again. I return the kiss but turn away so I can get a good look at his newly revealed torso. He pecks down my neck as I pet along his chest. I go up to his shoulders then going slowly down over his pecks, rubbing his nipples as I go past. He licks over my neck before sucking on my skin. I gasp with a grin then trace my nails over his stomach. I chuckle when he sucks in a breath, his stomach clenching as I near his pants.

He stops his assault on my neck, waiting patiently for my next move. I reach over his hips, sliding into his pants as I do. I feel his soft fur, raking my fingers through it as I pet his hips. He rests his head against my neck, watching my hand between us. His antlers rake against the headboard but neither of us pays it any mind. I cautiously run my hands towards his front, keeping my pace deliberately slow in case he wants me to stop. He doesn’t react, perhaps not even breathing as I reach towards his cock.

When my fingers are finally touching him we both jump. His antlers thud against the wood startling me. I pause my hands near his dick. He takes a minute to catch his breath before leaning down and pecking my shoulder. I take that as a sign to continue. I reach down and wrap my fingers around him. I hold him then wait for any signs he wants to stop. His breathing is shallow and rushed, his posture tense. Still, he kisses my shoulder, nuzzling his face to my neck.

I stroke him in a loose grip, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock. He is a well-hung satyr, staying on par with a lot of my exes. He is thick but perhaps averagely long. He is warm and I can feel something wet running down from his tip. I'm curious what he would taste like.

Getting too caught up in the feel of him I don’t notice his whimpers. For a moment I think they are good till he lifts his head away from me. I look at him from the corner of my eye, stopping my motions on him. His eyes are clenched and his breath is still shallow. It doesn’t come out even but in ragged, scared patterns. He looks more than a little nervous.

Without much thought, I retract my hands from his pants. Petting up his stomach and chest to his neck. I tilt his head towards me and give him a peck on the lips. He squints open his eyes, I finally get to see the fear in them. That decides it.

I roll him off me and lay him on his back. He follows without a fight, looking at me curiously and worried. I give him a smile before reaching for my blanket and throwing it over us. I lean over to my nightstand and grab the tv remote. I lay down beside Jensen, laying my head on his chest. I rest my hand on his stomach then turn the tv on.

He doesn’t say anything as I boot up YouTube. He is still breathing hard but he has rested his hand on my naked back. I pull up my unfinished video then fully rest against Jensen. The video plays and I can feel him perk up when he realizes what we are watching. I've been watching Critical Role so we had more to talk about, its not a bad show but its so long.

Soon Jensen relaxes and watches the show. At some point, he started petting my back and holding my hand on his stomach.

"Thank you," he mumbles. I turn my head and look up at him. He adjusts and looks down at me. He looks calmer now, if not a little content. I hum in acknowledgment and kiss his chest. He hums too with a relaxed smile on his face. We turn back and watch the show.

We never say anything about what happened, it being pretty self-explanatory. He wasn’t ready, and that’s fine. We soon fall asleep half-naked in each other's arms. It’s a peaceful rest, best night sleep I've had in a while. 

I wake up the next morning to the feeling of something repeatedly touching my face. I squint my eyes open as I feel something wet against my nose. I first see Jensen smiling at me. He leans down and places another kiss to my cheek then to my chin.

"Morning," he mumbles as he kisses my lips. I hum into the kiss, happy to return it full. I sit up and cup his face as we make out. It’s a bit sloppy for a morning kiss but ill take it. He reaches over and pets over my back, his cold hand causing chills over my spine. I gasp into the kiss making him smile.

He surprises me by sitting up and pulling me over his lap. I balance myself by holding his shoulders. The coldness of the room makes me shiver as I remember my lack of a top. Of course, Jensen doesn’t seem to mind as he slides his hands up my thighs, over my hips, on my stomach to my chest. He watches his hands as they cup me. He pinches at my nipples, smiling when I suck in a breath. He leans forward and begins kissing up my collar. Trailing licks and nibbles over to my neck then jaw. He drops his hands to my hips and grinds me down onto his hard cock. I startle at the suddenness, curious if not pleased with the turn of events. What a way to wake up.

Using whatever bravado he has gotten this morning he grabs my ass and squeezes. He huffs against my neck as he bucks up to my crotch.

"You seem excitable this morning," I gasp near his ear.

"I have a wonderful woman in my arms, what's there not to be excited about," he chuckles. I laugh with him before grinding my hips to his, relishing his groans. We go back to making out but this time he reaches between us and cups my crotch. I startle, sucking in a breath as he fingers me through my pants. He pets me a few times but decides it isn't enough. He slides his hand into my pants and touches me directly. Petting along my slit then diving his fingers inside.

"Very excitable," I gasp. He leans back against the headboard and watches me. Having a pleased grin on his face. A better look than last night. I can't help but lazily smile back, happy that he is comfortable.

His fingers pump and curl inside me, testing out every bump and crevice to see which makes me groan and gasp. I enjoy this different side of him, his smirk is all the more arousing. He adjusts his hold and gets his thumb to rest over my clit, giving timid circles. I try not to grind with him, not wanting this to end so soon. Just enjoying the soft strokes and pumping fingers. His other hand pets over my thigh, everything moving slow. He takes his time, just looking pleased to watch me.

I look down at his chest, my hands following my gaze. I feel his chest rising and falling quickly, his heart pounding at his chest. His face is calm despite his rushing blood and hard cock poking my ass. My fingers trace over his stomach and down to his pants. I feel the tufts of fur poking up, the happy trail disappearing behind his bottoms. As I play with his pants he slows his motions then removing his hand altogether. His face is focused but still calm. He rests both of his hands on my thighs, not moving or giving any indication of what he is feeling.

I hook my finger on his pants while keeping eye contact. I cock a brow in question. His lips quirk slightly, his emotions very different than last night. He nods his head while petting up my thighs a bit, fingers twitching with hidden nerves.

I sit up off him and pull his pants down to his knees, keeping his boxers on. I can't help but smirk at the tent in his underwear, feeling a little confident because of it. I reach for his bottoms but look up at him again, just making sure.

"I trust you," he mumbles while giving a nod. I grin like an idiot, feeling butterflies in my stomach. I hook my fingers to his boxers, brushing my nails against his skin. I pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out, slapping back against his stomach. I suck in a gasp, feeling a wave of arousal flow over my cunt.

"Oh," I gasp. I stare at his swollen member, appreciating its girth. His tip is red and wet, his shaft presenting a lovely prominent vein. I can barely see his balls, just seeing the curly hair flowing under his underwear. Using a finger I push his bottoms down more, brushing against his sack. He jumps at the contact, making me snap my eyes to him. He is chewing on his cheek, seeming a bit nervous. Not nervous like before but a little self-conscious.

He catches my worried look," I'm fine, just… you are staring."  he looks away still chewing his cheek, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. I want to coo but I know it will embarrass him. Instead, I lean forward, my stomach brushing against his cock, and kiss his cheek.

I whisper near his ear," you just look so good, I kind of want a taste." his shoulders drop as his head thumps against the headboard. He clenches his eyes and groans.

"God," he drops his head to his shoulders," maybe later." I lean back to look him in the eyes but he is still tilted away from me. So I grab his antlers, guiding his head back to me.

I cock a brow," later?" he stares at me a bit wide-eyed, worried he said the wrong thing. To ease his tension I lean forward a peck him on the lips," I like the sound of that." he smiles. I take his lips for mine again, introducing my tongue to his mouth. He meets mine as his hands grab my hips. As our tongues mingle I reach between us and timidly grab his cock, worried he will reject me again. Not that I'm bitter about last night, I understand. It's just going to hurt the second time.

He gasps into the kiss, his fingers holding me a bit harder, but he doesn’t stop me. I grip him a little tighter and pump. Feeling the bumps and grooves of his cock, squeezing a bit at the tip. I feel his pre coat my palm, smearing it over his head then the top of his shaft. He bucks into my grip while forcing his tongue into my mouth. His hand reaches to the hem of my pants, reaching in and fingering my clit.

We touch each other, grinding into the other's hand as our tongues intertwine. Our gasps and groans feed each other's wants and desires. I feel on the cusp, my finish nearing because of his fingers. Yet I don’t want him to do it just yet, I want to cum on his cock.

I lean back from the kiss, stopping my hands. His fingers curiously stop, he watches me for my next move. I remove his hand from my pants, nearly whimpering at the loss. I sit up and shimmy out of my pants. He catches on and helps me remove the clothing before tossing them to the side. I rest back on his lap, my cunt sitting at the bottom of his dick. He looks at me with wonder and eagerness.

Curious, I grind my pussy over him, spreading my slick over his shaft. His head drops back as he groans. I watch him with a smile as I repeat. Grinding over him, feeling his warmth partially part my folds. His back arcs as he pushes his chest out.

"Please," he whimpers," let me be inside." I look at his hooded eyes, them begging me along with his words. I nod before sitting up and hovering over him. I look between us, grabbing his cock. I stroke him once or twice then positioning his tip to my entrance. I let just his tip slip in, my insides practically burning with the need. Still, before I can give in to my greed I check to make sure he is ok. I refuse to use him, he means too much for me to do to him what I did to my exes. He isn't just a body to me.

Our eyes meet, his hooded gaze is locked onto mine. He looks like he is in divine torture, biting his lips just waiting with bated breath. He passes a quick glance to where we are about to meet then looks back up at me. He nods once, telling me what I needed to know. Without preamble I drop down on him, taking his cock quickly.

We both cry out as we meet, sitting flush on his lap. I take a second to enjoy the stuffed feeling, resting my palms on his stomach. I watch as his head drops to his shoulder, his eyes clenching as he bares his teeth. I pet over his stomach, giving him a moment to catch his breath.

"Tight," he whimpers as he looks at me. I huff with a big smile. He grins at me as well, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

We sit there for a second as he catches his breath, I wait for his cue. It doesn’t take long for him to raise his hands and cup my hips. He grabs me and grinds me into him. We both suck in a breath, then he does it again. I get the idea and circle him, listening to his sharp breaths and tiny whimpers. I introduce a few short thrusts, using my thighs to lift myself. I watch as his eyes flutter close, his lips parting in a sigh. I ride him, using my hands to balance myself as I lift higher.

I set a fair pace, bouncing on him while gyrating my hips. I stroke over his stomach to his chest, feeling his racing heart. Watching his face contort in pleasure, each fall causing his mouth to part just a little more. I soon lean forward and kiss his cheek. Giving soft kisses under his eye then near his nose. He startles me when he wraps his arms around me. He sits up and begins to give shallow thrust upwards.

My breathing starts to get harder, panting near his ear as our bodies meet. I grind myself into his stomach, my clit stroking over his fur. I groan at the image of his fur flattening from my slick. I start to whimper against him as I feel my pleasure begin to peak. I rest my cheek against him, petting up his chest to his neck. I card my fingers through his hair, just barely touching his antlers. I squeeze my eyes shut as his cries increase my own. His noises spurring me on more.

"God, you feel too good," he pants. I can’t speak now, I just nod. I focus on the feel of his cock sliding in and out of me. Stroking my walls and reaching deep inside. I cry out louder on his next thrust, tugging his hair as I follow my peak.

I don’t have time to warn him before I'm clenching around him. I stop my falls as my legs give out. He chokes on a gasp, grunting into my neck. I feel some drool drip onto my shoulder as he bucks into my convulsing cunt. I slide my fingers up and grasp at his antlers, clenching them in a white grip. I cry with each thrust, falling apart over him. I barely notice when he stills suddenly, feeling something warm and hot inside myself. He lets out a long groan, bucking once or twice more.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, as do I. he holds me close, adjusting to relax his head to my chest. I still grip his horn tightly but I pet his back as I try to even out my breathing.

"Thank you," he still huffs.

"Don’t thank me for that," I laugh," I had fun too." he kisses my sternum as he too chuckles.

"Not that, but thank you for that too," he sits up, not before nuzzling one more time to my boob. He rests his head against the backboard and looks up at me with a fulfilled smile. "Thank you for giving me time," he clarifies. His hands slide down to my waist and keep me close. I stare down at him feeling happy. There is no other way to say it, I'm just happy.

"of course," I pet some hair out of his face," I wanted our first time to be comfortable."

"Most people wouldn’t have stopped," he nuzzles against my hand. Pressing a kiss to my palm.

"Then most people are awful," I joke," I couldn’t use you like that."

"And that why you are so wonderful. Even when it looked like my body wanted it you knew me well enough to see I wasn’t ready and for that I thank you," he leans up and kisses me. It's slow and wet, if not a little lazy. It's nice.

"I love you, Jensen," I find myself mumbling to his lips. He sits back abruptly with eyes wide. I watch him cautiously, feeling the heavyweight of panic in my stomach. Before I could say anything he buries his face to my neck, grinning widely against my skin.

"Aw," he coos," you don’t understand how terrific it is to hear you say that." the panic evaporates quickly and is replaced with a gushy feeling. I rub my cheek to his head, my forehead hitting his antlers. I can't stop smiling or blushing as he rubs his nose and continues to coo. "You beautiful woman, I love you so much," he kisses my cheek," Love you when you joined me in my first campaign. Love you when you held my hand at the movies, relaxing me when I was a nervous wreck. And I love you most when you didn’t force me last night, I will love you forever because you are just too wonderful." I hide my face to his shoulder as he peppers my face with kisses.

"stop," I laugh," my face is going to catch on fire at this rate."

"How can I stop? The cute girl from the comic book store loves me! I never thought id even get the guts to talk to you let alone have sex with you," he rubs his nose near my eye. His grin is wide and his heart still beats wild. I try to fight my smile but it comes out anyway. My teeth showing as my lips curl from ear to ear.

"I thought you were cute when I first saw you too, I wanted you then and now," I kiss his cheek. He shutters and slumps on me.

"You are going to make my heart burst," he mumbles near my ear," first you are kind to me last night, then you are watching Critical Role for me. Next you get me to trust you so much that we make love. And you tell me that you like my stupid awkwardness! God, you are too much." I nearly get teary-eyed at his words, making me feel like a saint when all I did was care about him. I definitely love this timid satyr.

"Do you work today," I wrap my arms around his shoulder. He slides his hands around my waist and hugs me close.

"No. Do you?"

"No," I kiss his neck," would you like to spend the day in bed?"

"I'd love nothing more," he quickly flips us over. I laugh as he settles above me with a big smile. He looks down between us and kicks off his bottoms. Quickly he catches my eye again and cocks a brow in question. I can't help but laugh before grabbing his face and kissing him again.

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PSA: you can withdraw consent at anytime. This is for both genders. just because a girl is wet, doesnt mean she is ready or willing. Just because a boy is hard, doesnt mean he is ready or willing. communication is important and No means No.

On that note, I really wanted to write a story where the guy wasnt ready. its always the girl not ready to take the leap but it happens to guys too. they arent always the cumbrains we mistake them for. sometimes they need time to trust and open up to a person.

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[damn-stark]

Crossed Stars Ch.6

A/N- I’m very proud of this chapter, so leave your thoughts?!

Warning- violence, swearing, ANGST, soft Poe and a clueless Steve, Slow burn, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader, Steve Rogers x Reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

———

Poe was leaving.

To a space station called Brooksidon Space Station, with his squadron. You didn’t know how long or if you were going to see each other again, he swore on every damn star in space that you would though. That yourself weren’t so sure of.

Poe had also asked you multiple times to join his squadron, told you to leave your own to join his, that way he said that there would be no need for you stay behind. But you were a new commander for your own squadron, something you had worked for, something that you couldn’t just leave behind to be someone’s second. He understood, but that still didn’t stop him from asking again and again.

You didn’t really know why he had been so persistent on wanting you to leave with him, yeah you two grew to be best friends after meeting one another, but beside that you were utterly clueless...

Well that was until he kissed you.

After that happened you were more than clueless. What even surpassed being clueless? Whatever it was you responded by leaving, with nothing said to him about anything, just leaving him to wonder what the hell had happened. Something you weren’t sure of.

Well it wasn’t that you didn’t want to kiss him back, or that you didn’t like him, because you did want to kiss him and you did like him, but you just didn’t know how to express it or how to respond. And that wasn’t completely your fault, of course you’ve liked people before, kissed someONE, but it’s not like you had experience on anything related to that. You were from Tatooine! A moisture farmer! That didn’t leave you to do much experiencing.

All you did know was that you liked him, hell that man meant everything to you, he was your best friend and the closest thing to family you ever had in your life. And of course you didn’t want to lose him or let him leave, but you also couldn’t lose something you’ve dreamed of, something you’ve been working hard for...but you did need to tell him that you felt the same way, that you were sort of certain that you would see each other again, not only because you wanted to, but because—well you just knew.

Without more overthinking you quickly made your way to go find him before he left, speeding down the halls and accidentally bumping into people as you did so— “sorry!” You waved. Turning a couple more halls and feeling more anxious than before when you finally walked in the last hall and turned the final corner. But thankfully without needing to search more, Poe came to view, he was talking to some girl, but you didn’t care at all and smiled, beginning to walk towards him until you stopped, your smile instantly falling and turning into a deep frown.

Your lips parted and your eyes went wide, you wanted to say something, to let your presence be known. But one, you were utterly speechless and two, well why would you need to say something. Poe was busy letting some low life girl let her tongue go down his throat, for him to even notice you standing there, he didn’t need you to say goodbye or want you to express anything. It was all lie.

How could you be so stupid? Why would he even like you? You were nothing but some poor moisture farmer. So just how you had appeared, you disappeared, with no need for an explanation.

Like you needed one! It was clear, he didn’t like you, he only kissed you because—well because he mostly likely thought you were going to be easy to get into bed with.

Like hell you were! And like hell were you his friend, he didn’t need you and you didn’t—you didn’t need him. He could leave for all you cared, just leave and never come back. You didn’t....

You didn’t need him.

—

Your eyes fluttered open, their was a sharp pain on your shoulder, feeling as if you were being shot again. “What the hell happened?” You groaned, trying to move your hand to touch your forehead to try and soothe your now aching headache, but when you tried something held your wrists down. You blinked down and saw the restraints, causing you to curse under your breath and not even attempt to let your hands go loose, it would be impossible with your shot wound.

How the hell did you even get here?

Oh right...those protesters with the weird masks.

You turned your head from side to side, trying to find something to let you free, and without thinking, like second nature you called out for help, “artoo, I...oh right.” Noticing that you were on a wooden chair, you began to throw your body back, putting all of your strength into your attempt.

When the chair finally began to lift a couple inches off the floor, a smile grew on your lips and right before the chair could fully hit the ground, the doors knob began to twist. And in that moment, for a single second you thought of Dameron, hoping, wishing it was him, but when it was just a tall figure with the same green mask as before, your hope fell along with your smile.

More of them followed behind him, all of them pointing their weapons at you, while the one with the green mask began to untie you, pulling you off the chair harshly.

“I’m going, I’m going!” You hissed, whilst trying to pull your arms away, making said captor grip on tighter. “Ow!” Upon exiting the room, you were taken to a hallway with two doors, one that specially had a glowing exit sign pointing at it. Weird. Earth people are weird. Who has an exit sign pointing to the exact thing you need? Especially in this lair thing? Weird.

However that was, in tries to be swift you swing your elbow to the side, an action that was quickly stopped and retaliated by a slap in the face, by the one with the Captain America mask. You growled softly as you felt the once familiar burning sting on your cheek, it was a feeling and an action that should’ve stopped you from trying to escape, but it didn’t. So you kept trying to shift your body, fidgeting under their grasp. Unfortunately they were stronger and before you knew it they had thrown you on a medical bed, securing your hands and feet with metal restraints.

“You don’t scare me!” You seethed, “trust me I’ve been kidnapped by a psycho with a much scarier mask.”

“Shut up!” One of them exclaimed before directing their comment to another masked figure, “hack into every damn thing you can, it’s time for her boyfriend to see her.”

—

(Back in the Compound)

“Even if whatever has happened with us in the past, I—well Pepper says it would be great if you all came. It’s going to be a small reception, nothing big.” Tony explained to Natasha, Nebula and Steve.

Words that Steve had tuned out. Not on purpose, but of the new problem he was facing. He really wanted to focus on what Tony had to say, he really did, but it’s as General Dameron said, “y/n had been gone for too long.” What was she even doing out in the city alone? It was far to big for someone who’s been out once. And yet she went, without saying anything to anyone. Which that the General said was just her being her, all except the not coming back part.

“What’s a small reception to you Tony?” Natasha remarked amusingly.

Tony went along with Natasha’s amusement, a small smug smile on his face, “oh well you know a couple—” before he could continue Tony noticed Steve’s lost gaze, causing Tony to immediately change the subject and turn to Steve, “hey, you doing okay there?” Steve didn’t respond at first, his eyes fixated on the cup in front of him. “Steve. Are you doing okay there?”

Finally Steve tunes into the conversation, quickly standing up and simply nodding with a blunt, “yeah.” Before leaving the room with no explanation, leaving the people he was with utterly confused. But he didn’t really care, he had a new mission in mind. Find y/n.

With that on his mind, he knew that her friend would want to go. So on his way to find him, Steve was lucky enough to actually run into Poe and the two robots. And just like y/n had done, Poe was getting ready to leave into a city he didn’t know, just like her. Now Steve knew why they got along so well.

“Where are you going?” At Steve’s question Poe turned to face him, hesitating for a moment until he answered.

“Y/N has been gone for too long, I’m going to find her.”

“Alone?” Steve pointed out.

Poe shook his head and looked down to the two droids before meeting Steve’s gaze and answering bluntly, “no.”

“Right. Well I don’t think you’d make it far on foot, I was just going too, so if you guys want you can join me.” Steve kindly suggested, which Poe didn’t hesitate to accept, even given the fact that he didn’t like Steve all that much. Not because he saw him kiss y/n, but because......well it was exactly that.

Color him jealous.

—

They had been to all the locations—well almost all the locations Steve had taken y/n when he gave her a tour, but she wasn’t at any of them. Coney Island was a big place, and even if their weren’t a lot of people around, there was still some out trying to forget or get their lives back to normal. Which meant that finding her here was going to take hours.

“Let’s head in.” Steve urged as he began to walk forward, seconds later coming to a stop as he noticed Poe staying in place, shaking his head in disapproval.

“No.” Poe began, “she wouldn’t go in. Not alone. Pass by yes, but go in? No. She says that going into places like these are only fun if people are with her.”

Steve expressed a soft ‘oh’ before nodding and continuing down the board walk. Trying to ignore the awkward silence that covered the two men, while also not trying to think of the worst possible scenarios about what had happened to y/n. Steve hoped that she was close and just sitting alone with her thoughts, or maybe already back in the compound. But Natasha would have called if that were the case.

All he could do to ease the tension was cover it with a conversation that involved the girl they both knew. “How long have you known y/n? It seems that you two have known each other for a while.”

Poe nodded, whilst his eyes scanned the area for y/n, and also having no choice but answer. “For a couple years now, we both joined our Navy at the same time.”

“Hmm, you really seem to care for her and she seems to really admire you, she talks about the stories you two have shared a lot.”

Poe briefly blinked to Steve, as if almost shocked by his revelation. He didn’t know that she even talked about him, let alone anything good or any stories from the past. It gladdened him, hearing such a thing, but hearing that now, when he was scared shitless about her whereabouts made him upset. But nonetheless he continued to share his thoughts with Steve. Surprisingly.

“Y/N....well she—I.” Poe was going to reveal his true feelings about her, but when he looked at Steve and thought of y/n, especially the moment he had caught the two sharing, Poe decided to keep his mouth shut instead, and went to say something else.

“She’s my best friend. After years of sharing such a hard life with someone it’s hard for them not to become special to you,” Poe paused to try and collect his thoughts, tried to keep the tears forming from falling down his cheeks, “a lot of my friends from before the war or those I met during the war have died, that or you know vanished. My dad among them, and y/n,” he licked his lips, the tears pooling his eyes and blurring his eyesight; “she’s all I have left. Without her I...well I have nothing.”

Poe cleared his throat and wiped the single tear that rolled down one cheek, his attention getting stolen luckily by BB8. “Yes you’re right I would have you, I didn’t forget.” Steve then stopped, making Poe stop and turn to face him, hoping that he wouldn’t try and pity him or try and hug him or something.

“We’re going to find y/n, I’m positive she’s around.”

Poe nodded hesitantly, shoving his hands in his jacket and turning to face the way they were heading, only they didn’t walk further, instead Steve took out his “phone?” At the same time everyone else did, shocked gasps seconds later shared amongst the crowd.

Yes, Poe was curious on what was going on and why everyone seemed to be disturbed by what was on their small devices, but he also wasn’t going to ask Steve or butt in, not unless Steve asked to join him. All he did though, was just listen in, hearing deep muffled voices.

“WE ARE THE SOCIETY. HERE TO HELP THOSE THAT THE PROTECTORS PROMISED TO SAVE, TO KEEP SAFE AT ALL COST. WE ARE HERE TO DEMAND THE SOLUTION FOR WHAT HAPPENED! BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT NOW THEY ARE DOING NOTHING BUT LAUGHING AT OUR LOSS, SITTING ON OUR SOLUTION TO BRING BACK THOSE AFFECTED BY THE VANISHING! WE ARE HERE, WE LISTEN, WE HELP! TO MOTIVATE THEM TO WORK QUICKER AND RELEASE THAT SOLUTION, WE HAVE SOMEONE HERE THAT CAPTAIN AMERICA CARES FOR.”

The voices paused, the commotion in the crowd getting louder and louder, until it all suddenly got eerily silent again, the voice returning and Steve looking to Poe with a worried expression. “Come watch this.” Poe was quick to listen to Steve and stand by his side, his eyes widening in horror at who he saw on the screen.

“WHILE WE SUFFERED, AMERICAS GREATEST CREATION WAS OUT HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE WITH HER.” The camera zoomed into y/n strapped to a medical bed, her head forcefully turned to face the camera. A gesture that made Poe furious, made it hard for him to watch, but continued to do so only because of her. “HE AND THE REST OF THE AVENGERS HAVE FIVE HOURS! FIVE HOURS TO BRING EVERYONE BACK, OR WE CUT THE GIRL OPEN LIVE FOR EVERYONE TO SEE.”

The feed was abruptly shut off, leaving Poe speechless and furious. Before he could say anything to Steve or said man could say anything to Poe, Steve turned away to answer a call, leaving Poe to sit on a nearby bench, a hand running through his curls and a heavy sigh let out through his nose. All he could think about was what he had seen a few seconds ago, his mind coming up with every worse scenario. Feeling more terrified than he thought he could ever feel, feeling anxious to already find her even if he didn’t know where she could possibly be.

Steve hung up his call, turning to Poe with a narrowed gaze, “let’s go. Natasha was able to find something.”

—

Natasha mentioned that the masked group was smart, but not that smart. They had stayed live long enough for their friend Tony to hack and find coordinates of their location. A whole bunch of talk that Poe didn’t understand or even seem to be concentrated on, not when y/n was still in danger.

“You two are going to have to rope down, landing this ship will alert anyone inside that building. It’s cloaked, hidden from any sensors as long as it’s up in the sky. I’ll stay for when you need to escape. Good luck you two.” Natasha gave both men a quick nod, BB8 expressing a low and sad chirp for Poe and Artoo leaving him behind.

“We’ll back buddy don’t worry,” Poe tried to assure his droid, “and y/n will be back with us, okay?” BB8 rolled back inside the ship, letting Poe get down to the ground carefully, blaster up and ready. Sneaking with Steve inside the abandoned looking building in awkward silence and letting Artoo make a small explosion outside the building as a diversion while they tried to rescue y/n without, like Steve said “having less causalities as possible.”

As careful as they could possibly be, both Steve and Poe peeked through doors, trying to find the one y/n would be in, hiding in the shadows as the masked people ran past them to figure out what was happening—but when the searched continued and the more they came out unsuccessful, the more Poe’s anxiety rose for the situation. All he wanted was to get y/n back alive and take her back home, even if she kicked and screamed, even if she hated him more than she already did. Being here was a mistake.

“We know you’re here Captain. And since you intruded, their will be consequences to your actions. Now you have five minutes, find us with the solution or your girl pays your mistakes.” The Intercom shut off immediately, setting within both Poe and Steve a new adrenaline. Their was no solution, they both knew that, but like hell were either of them going to let y/n get hurt.

So in a new fast pace, they began to run down the halls, immediately running into some trouble. “Six. You take three, I take three?” Poe suggested.

Steve nodded without question, lunging forward and kicking down one, before spinning around to elbow one in the jaw, following by punching his face and knocking him out. Using his body to throw it to the straggler to the side. When he looked over his shoulder, the pilot had already taken down the three he was assigned to. A bit more violent then Steve would’ve liked but he did so either way.

Poe then crouched down, pointing his blaster at a half conscious man on the ground, “where’s the girl?” He demanded. The man didn’t respond, his head falling back to the ground, causing Steve to help by grabbing him by the collar and demanding the same answer.

“Where is she?!”

“E-east hall.” The man groaned before his eyes shut and his head hung.

“Let’s go.” Poe muttered, already heading down the hall without an answer, running the fastest he has ever run in his life. The sound of distant screams making him stop and turn to Steve with a troubled and pained look. “It said we had—”

More masked people came around, blocking the hall they needed to get to. More people that Poe didn’t think was possible to fight.

“Go get her, I’ll keep them distracted.” Steve instructed. Poe stammered before Steve urged him again, “I’ll stay with your robot, he’s proved to be useful.”

Poe nodded, not saying anything before Artoo sprayed thick smoke into the corridor, letting that be Poe’s distraction to get out of the crowded place. Letting him finally reach the hall, only it was quiet, no screaming of any kind or commotion from any of those creepy people. However it was though, he slowly opened the only door in the hall, first showing his blaster through the crack before peeking his head. Once the ghost was clear he fully snuck into find it ominously empty, drapes covering something in the middle.

Poe hesitated, creeping further inside slowly, letting his blasters head open the drape, and seeing no masked figure from the feed, just a bed with y/n laying on it unconscious, part of her tank top cut open and a fresh wound on her stomach. Quickly Poe holstered his blaster, his breaths heavy and his hands shaking as he unlocked the restraints holding her down, feeling as terrified as the moment he found out she was here. After what seemed to be an eternity, Poe went to the beds side silently muttering to an unconscious y/n as he picked her up from the bed.

“I got you baby, I got you. We’re getting out, I’m getting you out.”

—

(Y/N’s P.O.V)

A series of groans escaped your lips, pain once again registering all over your body, more intense than the last. The light shinning above you burning your eyes, bringing back memories of where you were, what happened before you passed out. That giving you enough energy to sit up quickly, the fact that you had been restrained slipping your mind completely.

The fact that you weren’t back in the abandoned room from before took a while to register in your mind, heavy and scared breaths leaving your nose until you saw two familiar droids roll over to you. Expressing a loud and excited series of beeps and chirps that you had finally woken up, the sleeping curly headed pilot jolting awake at the sound. Letting you realize this wasn’t a dream (or so you hoped) but in fact real and no longer that ugly place.

Poe’s eyes landed on the droids first, wondering exactly why they were so loud until he noticed you sitting up.

“You came for me?” You muttered, words that you didn’t really think of, but rather just coming unwillingly in a soft whisper.

Poe’s smile faltered only because that by now, him going to rescue you was not a question, but a given answer. Yes, always. Yet you still doubted that for some reason. “Yes, obviously. I always will.”

You responded with a small nod and sad smile, Poe’s own smile dropping as he caught sight of Steve walking your way.

“Y/N, you’re awake. How are you doing?”

You slipped your legs off Poe’s lap and sat up straight, that sudden move hurting you more than you thought but also letting you finally notice the new bandage wrapped around your stomach.

“It’s all stitched up and wrapped, just try not to move a lot or your wound will open again.” Poe instructed.

“Okay,” You responded, turning your attention to Steve now sitting next to you, “I’m okay.” You forced a smile, reaching your hands to grab his own before you continued, “thank you for coming to help me. I really appreciate it.” You reached up to cup one cheek before pressing a light kiss on the other, something that made him smile and Poe turn the other way with a hard gaze and a deep frown.

Steve was going to question you about the masked individuals called “the society” but it was all too soon, and you weren’t even back at the compound yet, so instead he left that for later and tried to talk about something else, until Natasha interrupted him before he could. He was hesitant but Natasha was urgent, almost seeming to have a hidden motive, one Steve was too clueless to actually notice.

Once Steve was out of view you turned to Poe, who was now looking down at his hands, waiting for nothing in particular, but rather letting the silence around the both of you sit for a while. Well until he grew impatient and asked what he’s been meaning to ask.

“So are you and Steve a thing now, or what?”

You sighed, clasping your hands together and ignoring his question. Mainly because you had no idea how to answer it.

“Can I say something first.”

Poe hummed as a response, his eyes shifting to look at you before you continued.

“This...thing we’ve had. The hate thing—”

Poe cut you off to share his thought, “That’s all you, I never—” but once he saw your side glare he kept quiet and motioned you to continue.

“I know I wasn’t gone for long, but it still got me thinking, or more come to realize, that I want us to be friends again.” You swallowed thickly and showed a nervous look with Poe. “Just please don’t ask why it all started, I’ll say it when I can, okay?” You gnawed on your bottom lip, fidgeting with your hands before asking one last thing, “so what do you say, Friends?”

Poe smiled even though being friends was far from what he wanted, but he also knew he had to comfort himself with just being friends. Knowing that if that was all you were going to be, then so be it, just as long he didn’t lose you completely; “friends.” He beamed, seconds later being surprised by the hug you pulled him into, one he didn’t hesitate to return.

In fact he eased into the hug, resting one hand on the back of your head, while with his other one he gently rubbed comforting circles on your back. A gesture that made your eyes watery, something that made you think about your failure to save the family you had made, the failure to bring them back. You wanted to move on, you really did. But you couldn’t. You never could.

Failing was just hard to accept. After years of trying to do everything right because of your past, and the hard work you did to get where you were, failing now was something you couldn’t accept. It made you question a lot of things. All accept for two. And even if for one you had been stubborn to admit, you could say it now.

“I’m happy you’re here...with me.”

Poe chuckled lightly, tightening the embrace before he expressed the same thing. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” When you parted away, your smile was more genuine then the one before and stayed that way as he continued speaking, “so can I ask now. What was with Finn and you? Were you two dating? Or just friends?”

You rolled your eyes in a half-hearted way, but before you could answer, the ship shook violently, the loud beeping at the front of the ship followed, making both Poe and you jump up to rush to where Steve and Natasha were. Immediately noticing said women take out her guns, while Steve tried to avoid the three indicators that beeped on the ships radar.

Neither of you questioned who it could be. It was obvious. It was the same people that had taken you. Knowing that triggered something within you, made you panic and scared— “I told them that their was nothing we could do, I kept telling them. Why are they still after us?”

“They’re desperate.” Natasha answered while she walked to the ships ramp with you not failing to walk behind. When she noticed, she turned back with a apologetic look, “you’re too injured to come fight. Stay behind with Dameron and fly this ship. Steve and I are getting onto one of theirs and attacking them from the inside.”

You shook your head, stubborn to what she suggested—to her instructions. Why have two pilots when this ship was just a one seater? You were useful with them!

“But—”

“No, Natasha’s right. Stay.” Steve urged as he walked up behind you.

With hesitation and more of an attitude than you had intended you accepted, knowing that if you continued to argue, Poe would get involved and you would all die because you would get nowhere.

“Fine.” You deadpanned before you stomped back beside Poe. Having nothing to do but watch the ramp open and watch Natasha and Steve free fall on top of the enemy ship. Watching as Poe avoided getting struck by the second ship on your side. “Are you sure you can fly this ship, Poe? Or do you need me to do it?” You sassed.

Poe scoffed, looking back at you with a cocky grin, “I can fly anything sweetheart.”

The ship shook again, making you smirk and whisper a remark to yourself, “whatever you say, Ace pilot.”

The smirk decorating your features quickly died down as the ship shook again, more violent then the last, several loud beeps coming from the control panel that made Poe curse repeatedly under his breath; “I got this. I got this.” The ship got hit again before Poe was able to avoid the sudden blast, causing the ramp to blow open. “Shit.”

In a quick pace you ran to grab your blaster off the table, pushing the droids back to avoid them from flying off. You knew that a blaster wasn’t going to do anything to a ship, but you were just trying anything to help. Noticing the first ship where Steve and Natasha had jumped into wasn’t anywhere in sight, and neither was the third one.

“Quick Poe do something!” You exclaimed over your shoulder.

“I’m trying!”

Another blast was shot, this one directed to you. And as it was going to hit, Poe managed to swerve to the side, dodging the blast completely. But that action made you lose your balance and slide to the side of the ship, crashing hard into the wall.

“You okay over there?!” Poe shouted over his shoulder.

You nodded, even if your whole body felt like it was basked in hot flames because of the pain—“yes!” While you tried to stand back up another blast hit the ship, this one causing you to slip down towards the broken ramp. Before you could fly off you managed to grab onto the broken edge, your feet dangling over the sky, and the wound on your stomach burning, feeling like it was really in flames or like someone was cutting you again.

You tried to pull yourself up but you could feel the stitch’s slowly tear, making the pain intolerable and not letting you do much effort. All you could do was call out for help, “Poe?!”

Said man looked behind, his eyes widening as he saw you hang over the edge. He wanted to help, hell he was about to leave the seat to help, but if he didn’t get rid of the ship still following behind then you both would go down— “just hang on! I’ll be right there.”

The droids tried to help, but the wind was too strong so high in the sky, it made their efforts fail. You really appreciated that you really did, it also kept you distracted from looking down, from wandering what the explosions in the distance were, hoping that it wasn’t Steve and Natasha.

Again you tried to pull yourself up, straining in the effort, but as you did the ship shook again (how was it even flying?) you looked back at the exact time to see the ship begin to be engulfed in flames, letting Poe leave the droids to help and manage the ship the best the best they could to let him run and grab you.

“I got you.” Poe assured, his hand wrapping around your wrist to begin to pull you up. In doing so and almost managing to have you safely on a semi stable ground, the burning ship managed to shoot one last blast, causing Poe to lose balance and slide down, his hand barely managing grip on the edge, while with his other hand having you dangle in mid-air.

“I got you.” Poe strained, trying his best not to let you go while he tried to pull himself up with one hand.

Trying the impossible that much you now knew. Their was no way he was going to lift you both up with one hand—“Poe, you have to let go!” You cried, “let go of me!”

He looked back at you hurt, like if the comment had offended him in every way, “No, I got you! I just have to, shit—” his hand began slipper, his fingertips turning white as he used every muscle he could.

Feeling like their was no other option you looked down, seeing no end in sight, and letting tears slip down your cheeks. “Poe their is no need for us to both fall. Let. Go.”

“N-No.”

The hold you had on his wrist lost contact as you tried to let go even against his wishes. But before you could fall he gripped your wrists, his own hold slipping. “Don’t you dare do that shit again!” He exclaimed, looking down at you with furrowed brows and tears pooling his eyes.

You sighed, managing to show him a assuring smile, “go home Poe. Live your life. Let go.”

“No, no. You are my home Y/n.” He stammered, a crack in his voice heard even through the loud wind in your ears. “I-I can’t let go.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, “you were my best friend Poe. You were my family when I had none. You mean everything to me, that’s why I want you to live. Let go.”

His hand began to slip, his fingertips holding your own with every damn effort he could, his pleads heard soft and broken. “Please, please I cant let go. I can’t lose you too.”

You smiled again before whispering, “it’s okay Poe, let go.”

The hold you had on his hand completely slipped, the hand he held you with reaching out for your own as he watched you fall down expressing a pained cry.

“NO!”

.

.

.

.

A/N- Sorry?

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