#and he's so happy to have gotten it right

[reignpage]

His Loss, Their Gain

Synopsis: in which you get stood up and the jjk men are more than ready to step up for you (pre-relationship) Warnings: a little cursing, vaguely sexual language or allusions, a little angsty, but mostly fluff, crack and comfort, one-sided pining perchance, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 3.6k

Gojo

He heard all about your date from Shoko when he took a student to her dark, miserable corner to get all fixed up that morning. To say he was peeved was a massive understatement. In fact, the man had been muttering ‘ooh y/n’s got a date with some non-sorcerer ooh good for her’ under his breath pretty much the entire day. 

The students are both amused and irritated by his constant yammering. 

“I go on loads of date!” He grumbled, flicking a leaf as he leans against a tree, watching the kids spar. “What’s the big deal?”

At lunch, he strolled into the teacher’s lounge and whistled some tune. As always, you were sat by the window enjoying a bento box that made his mouth water — man, what would it be like to enjoy a meal made by you.

Casually, he mused, “I heard through the grapevine, you’ve got a hot date tonight.”

You threw him an unimpressed glower. 

“Who the hell told you about that?”

Satoru shrugged. “Oh, y’know, just the grapevine. So, what’s he like?”

Nonchalant as he may have seemed, he had enough self-awareness to know that he was pretty bothered by how spruced up you’ve gotten for this guy, whoever he is. God, did you have to make your hair all pretty like that? And oh hell, is that a new perfume? 

You didn’t entertain his game, choosing to ignore his thinly veiled attempt to pry, and chose simply to poke his side, tickling him away from the path to the exit he was blocking. The white-haired man rolled his eyes, desperate to quell the smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

That one interaction, that fleeting touch he never blocked out and that momentary glimpse at your shy smile, smothered the complaints that had been festering inside since he visited Shoko. You looked anxious, embarrassed, but more than anything, excited. Happy.

He was quiet the rest of the day. 

The students didn’t know what to make of his sudden shift in mood; he was contemplative, focused and serious. None of them complained, after all they were finally learning a thing or two but it was an odd sight, him without a smile on his face.

When the sun was lowering, and the students had all headed home, Satoru leisurely exited the school feeling, for reasons he wasn’t ready to acknowledge, more tired than usual. But then he saw you, standing at the gates staring at your phone. Checking his own, he frowned.

You were supposed to be long gone by now. 

When he appeared right beside you, you weren’t the least bit taken aback by his sudden voice. 

“Ugly loser not coming?”

Muttering, you weakly replied, “You’ve never met him. How can you possibly know he’s ugly?”

Satoru threw back a retort that you didn’t respond to. He sighed. With his hands tucked into this pockets, he nudged you. “Alright, stop pouting, let’s go get dinner. I’m starving. God, being a teacher really takes its toll on the body.”

“You barely do anything.” 

Despite yourself, you smiled. 

So did he. 

“Yeah, well, I’m still hungry anyways. So, let’s get going. Your treat.”

And despite his incredibly annoying, pretentious tone, you found yourself walking away from the school, the dwindling warmth of the sun setting behind you, with Satoru. He tried to hide his self-satisfied grin and the slight pep in his steps, and especially the peak under his blindfold at the two shadows you cast. 

For as long as other men sucked, he knew he still had a chance.

Geto

“Got plans?” 

You gave him a side glance, pulling your panties back up your legs. That arrangement of yours was complicated, to say the least. An on and off thing, neither of you could really keep your hands off each other, and all while staying as friends. Of course, the being friends part was easy — he’s fun and you’re sweet. But the staying as friends, and just as friends, was oh so difficult. 

Clearing your throat, you took the bra he was dangling from his finger with a brow raised. And you said, “Yeah. Kinda. Some guy asked me out so we’re gonna get some dinner or something.”

“Sounds exhilarating,” he mused. 

He was always like that — judgemental, mocking, and irresistible. Desperate to not be that weak, pathetic girl, you’d force yourself to move on, to see what else was out there because that thing you had with him?

It was unsustainable. 

With a sigh, you shrugged on your shirt. “Suguru, don’t.”

He chuckled and raised his arms up in surrender. And then you turned to leave but you didn’t get every far, how could you when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to his chest? You were breathless when he brushed your hair back, skimming his lips down the curve of your neck to plant a soft, barely there kiss on your shoulder. 

“Have fun.”

And then you were off. 

Leaving a long-haired man alone and frowning. Truthfully, he was itching to keep you there, to distract you with some more pleasure or a movie, but he knew that wasn’t fair. The unspoken part about the type of arrangement you two was that no one could get jealous or lay some moronic wolfy-claim on the other. 

He focused his attention instead on showering, washing away the remnants of you and even tried to wash away the idea of someone else taking you away. If this date of yours worked out, then that would effectively end your special relationship, devolving back to just ‘friends’. 

How pathetic.

No, that wasn’t the most pathetic thing about the entire ordeal. What was truly more pathetic was that he was sat, in his car, outside your place, waiting for that light in your bedroom to go and for you to leave. 

You didn’t. 

Geto groaned and threw his head back. Relieved as he was that you weren’t with some other prick, he couldn’t shake off that discomfort in his chest at the thought of you being disappointed, embarrassed or anywhere close to sad. He sent a quick text to you. Come out, he said. 

Your reply was, I’m not in the mood for sex.

Good. Neither am I.

'...' danced on the screen for a solid minute or two and he thought you were coming up with colourful ways of telling him to disappear, like 'walk off a cliff' or the classic 'fuck off', but you didn’t. Instead, he got a thumbs up and he sighed. 

Guess neither of you were willing to give up the game after all. 

Choso

He heard it from his brother. 

Who heard it from Megumi and he in turn heard it from Nobara. And the details might have differed somewhat as the information got passed along, like the time and place and with whom, but one thing remained consistent. 

You have a date. 

And man, was Choso distraught. At first, he was speechless, eyes blinking and jaw hanging. Then, he was making odd noises like steam was coming out of his ears. No one knew what to do, no one had ever taught them what the procedure was when a half-curse, half-man suffered from a nervous breakdown.

Eventually, he regained enough life to splutter, “WHAT?”

He fainted.

When he awoke, laid down on a bench, he was very surprised to find you looming over him. You looked beautiful. Positively stunning, and he was certainly stunned. He had a terrible dream, one that left him trembling, but your laughter stilled his shaking hands. 

“Choso, did you actually pass out? That’s so crazy.” 

The man couldn’t even blush. He was just so happy you were there, with him, talking and laughing, and he could pretend nothing was wrong in the world. Because, if you could smile at him with so much warmth and light and familiarity, there didn’t seem a plausible way for things to be wrong.

Pushing himself upright, he said, sheepishly, “Yeah, I think so. Um, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, y’know, just stopping by to check up on you –”

“That’s really nice of—”

“Before I head off to meet my date!”

"...what.”

You blinked at him. “I have a date. Surprised you didn’t know since the kids have been bothering me about it all day. Well, anyways, happy to see you figuratively back on your feet. Gotta get going now. Bye!”

And then you were gone, completely oblivious to the twitching of Choso’s eye and the way his pigtails quite literally deflated. 

There was a pout on his face the rest of the day. 

Only on his way back home did that pout disappear because, there, at the end of the street, was you. Only you could look that pretty when miserable. Oh, he was so happy to see you! 

Sure, you looked upset, and you were kicking a streetlamp, but he wasn’t the least bit discouraged from skipping over to you, pigtails swinging and a big, wide grin on his face. He shouted your name. You looked up, still mad, but brows relaxing ever so slightly. 

“Oh, hey, Cho. What’s up?”

“Nothing! Just heading home. What about you?”

You shrugged. “Well, I was supposed to be on a date, but he never showed up. Didn’t even text me so I guess I’m gonna head home too.”

“Oh, no. That’s terrible.”

The amused look on your face clearly conveyed your disbelief. Choso was many things, a great man, loving brother, fun friend. But a convincing liar? He was not. 

“Well,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “do you wanna just be with me? I mean! Do you want to spend some time with me? Hang out?”

You shrugged again, this time with a smile. And the both of you began walking side by side with no particular destination. He didn’t talk much, just wandered the streets with you. The sun, or at least what remained of it, was warm and the roads were empty. Neither of you could think of a better thing to do than just exist. 

Together.

Toji

“Whatd’ya just say?”

He was staring at his kid, the little boy peering back at him with a look of pure innocence. The father, holding a spoon up to his lips, was pissed the hell off. Immediately, he was calling you, still feeding the baby. Your nonchalant voice on the phone made him even more irritated. 

“Ya going on a date? Whatd’ya mean ‘none of y’r business? ‘Course it’s my business. Mother of my son prancing around with some other guy ain’t a good look on me, is it? Oh, yeah yeah, the divorce didn’t look good on you either, whatever. So? Is it true? Oh, hell. Can I use my veto? Whatd’ya mean I don't get a veto? What kinda bullshit is that?”

The little boy blabbered, rubbing salt in the man’s wound, as he reminded him his diaper needed changing, immediately, and he had blueberry compote all over his face and clothes. How the hell did the kid manage to get food on the window?

You didn't sound impressed at all, but that was always how you talked to him. And the conversation wasn't going anywhere, much to Toji's frustration. Why did he have to find out from a toddler?

Call ending soon after that, the two boys decided to make the most of their day together. 

Sat on his lap, they watched a football game on the TV. Of course, his son wasn’t really paying attention, he was far more interested in the rattling toy in his hand, and in all honesty, neither was Toji. He just kept thinking about the fact that you should be there, with them, cuddled up to his side. Not with some fucking loser. You should be home, comfortable, looking pretty for him and with a ring still on your finger, the way his ring remained on his. 

But who was he to say shit?

It was his damn fault to begin with that you were living apart. If only he had cut back on the bad habits and the dangerous jobs. Regret was a damned thing, like a coin dropped in a well and never hearing it drop. 

And then searching for another coin so you could wish to get back the fucking coin you should have never dropped to begin with ‘cause you weren’t a fucking pussy. 

Ah fuck it. 

“Wanna go piss off y’r mum?”

The kid grinned. 

And so there the two were, showing up at the door, both with shit-eating grins contrasting your stern glower. You were in a dress, a very sexy dress and Toji wasn’t shy about letting his eyes wander, and you weren’t shy about the finger you showed him. 

“Are you kidding, Fushiguro?”

“Kid couldn’t stop asking for ya, so just wanted to let him get a peek before you go off on y’r fancy date,” he replied. 

You let them in and with embarrassment lacing your words, you admitted, “Well, date’s cancelled. So, good timing.”

Grin widening, he assured you, “Ah the bastard doesn’t know what he missed out on.”

And soon, you two fell into old routines. You cooked dinner whilst Toji set the table, kid on his back. The conversation shifted from anything and everything and nothing. And after, he cleaned up as you put the baby to sleep. He followed soon after, looping an arm over your shoulder.

“We did good with him, didn’t we?”

When life was that easy, that simple, and good, one was left wondering where did it all go wrong? When did you, or him, or both start wanting more? Or was it the case that things just didn’t work out? Was there still a chance? Should there be? And for whose sake?

Guess none of that mattered. Whether that piece of paper was still there or not, the core of your relationship would never change. Not really.

“Yeah. We did.”

Nanami

There you were, a vision in your suit, sitting at your desk, the way you did every day. He loved his seat; he had the best view of the entire office. Kento especially loved that, for you to get to the water cooler, you had to walk past him, and every single time you did, you’d always stop by, asking how his day was going and whether he’d like his water bottle filling up. 

Of course, he declined your very kind offer, but only so he could walk to the water cooler with you, and for the five minutes you two had, you’d chat about all sorts of things – he was more of a listener than a talker, but you never seemed to mind. 

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that you were the one good thing about this office, and he certainly looked forward to every little interaction with you. 

Until one such interaction became his worst nightmare: you had a date. Oh, and how casually you brought that up to him, as if the fluttery atmosphere between you was a figment of his imagination and the way you gushed about this other man certainly left no doubt in his mind. 

You did not like him the way he liked you. 

That was all he could think about the rest of the day. Even as he wrote up a progress report, attended a client meeting, ate his lunch with the interns he was in charge of, and even when he went to the bathroom to splash cold water on, what he was only then realising to be, a very pale face. Kento must be coming down with something. 

For the first time ever, when you got up from your desk and strolled over to his, heels clacking, and asked if he’d like his bottle filling up, he declined. It came out faster than he could process and the shock evident in both of your faces was like a crack in his glasses. 

Oh, dear. 

You were silent until the end of the day. He didn’t walk out with you, didn’t even get to say goodbye and ‘see you tomorrow’, and he had never been more miserable in his entire life. 

With a heavy sigh, he walked out of the office an hour or so later than everyone else and pulled on his tie. A nice warm bath was all he could think about, at least until he spotted you, waiting on the side of the road. You were restless, shuffling on your feet and checking your watch every couple seconds. Being of above average intelligence might not have meant he was a genius but it sure did mean he was smart enough to figure out what had happened. 

That bastard. 

“Would you like to have a drink or two with me? There are some things I’d like to talk to you about,” he said. Perhaps he shouldn’t have walked up so quietly but it was a habit of his. In that moment, as his pulse was beginning to speed up, all he could think about was how creepy he sounded – he certainly wouldn’t blame you if you ran to HR. 

“What things?” You asked. 

He smiled, a desperately casual smile to show he was sorry for his cold display. “Well, for one, I’d like to make my case clear; I’d never leave you waiting for me on a date.”

And he never did.

Sukuna

“Repeat that for me. Slow.”

You bit your lip, not at all surprised by his reaction. The King of Curses wasn’t known for his calm disposition, in fact, he was known for exactly the opposite. Still, he was nice to you, an ordinary servant in his grand estate doing this and that. One could not put a finger to exactly when this...friendship, should we say... developed but it was one you so terribly cherished. 

Working at the estate of a mass murdering, sadistic monster – your family’s words, not yours – meant you didn’t maintain many friendships. So, to have one with him felt like standing in the eye of the storm, even if that storm was always so fickle and the eye kept moving. 

“I’m. Going. On. A. Date,” you recited, enunciating every syllable loud and clear. When he gave an instruction, you’d found it was always best to be quite literal, lest he tired of your mortal limitations. 

“No.”

Blink. 

Blink. 

Adjusting your robes, you clarified, “No? Sorry, my Lord, but whatever do you mean by ‘no?’”

The tall, hulking man, or rather curse, walked on, his long legs taking him so far within seconds you had to run to catch up. He loved doing that. He thought it funny, you supposed. “Just that. No.”

“But, my Lord, I don’t think you can really interfere with my personal life.”

He stopped. 

You bumped into his back, the smell of sweet death and gentle fire filling your senses. And when he turned, looking down at you with all those eyes, one of his hands gripped your jaw, pulling you upwards and much closer to his face than ever before. 

“Can’t I?”

Then he was gone. 

You didn’t see him the rest of the day. Neither did any of the servants. Perhaps he was mad at you, after all you had no business, and no authority at that, to tell him what he could or couldn’t do. You got complacent, too confident and cocky. You overestimated the depth of your friendship and the limits of his patience. It would be a surprise to no one if you were found dead before dusk. 

There were no texts from your date. Not a single one. Not even after you texted to ask if you were still on for night. And when every call when to voicemail, you were so sure you had been ghosted before you could even meet the guy. Sukuna was right. 

Men were no good.

Living at the estate had its perks: no commute, easy access to your necessities lest you forgot something essential, and the walk over to your quarters was magnificent. The well-kept garden was beautiful and that was really as far as your feeble mind could go in terms of putting into words the glorious sight you saw every morning and night. 

But that evening had been different. 

Your master was there, in his robes, bottom set of arms tucked into the sleeves whilst the top set were crossed. He looked just as regal as he always did, and the sight made your heart clench. One secret you’d take the grave would be that the friendship you so sincerely cherished was one you also sincerely resented; to be a teased with all that you could have but would never get was a torturous pain you wouldn't wish on your worst enemies.

“My Lord, may I help you?”

He beckoned you over. When his hand reached for your head, you were sure it was to slice it clean off, but instead he picked at a fluff and flicked it away with so much disgust, revulsion, and abhorrence you couldn’t help but laugh. 

Something flashed in his eyes. And then his features softened. 

“You did not go on your date?”

You couldn’t even pretend to be sad. “No, he never replied so I guess he lost interest.”

He hummed.

The two of you began strolling again, just as you did most days, sometimes even multiple times a day when he was feeling especially irritable. The tone of his voice held a certain sharpness you couldn’t quite place and when he met your gaze, the soft glow of the lanterns making him look gentler, much more human, more...attainable, you finally spotted a speckle of what you knew to be blood, having cleaned it off the floors and walls yourself too many times. 

And your imagination ran wild, a frenzy of butterflies appearing in your stomach. 

Sukuna really was too sweet for your own good.

[fearcvlt]

❝end of the water(feel)❞

pairing. caleb x fem!reader note. i only downloaded this game for the caleb debut and... yeah, he got me locked in. very new to lads, might be some slight timeline inaccuracies for which i apologise. needed to write virgin caleb so bad though so... forgive me. reblogs/feedback forever appreciated. mwah <3 tags. nsfw, mdni. loss of virginity. p in v. creampies. pre-mature ejaculation. kind of obsessive caleb. psuedocest. panty sniffing. fingering. yearning. jealousy but it's not a focus. pipsqueak is here... not sorry. no use of y/n. 2.9k words.

Caleb finds it easy to remember the moment he realised he was madly in love with you.

He’s sure it had always been the case — he’d spent the majority of his childhood following you around like a lost puppy, doing anything he could just so you could smile at him. Feeling things and knowing what you’re feeling are two different situations entirely, however.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but you weren’t the only girl he would look at and think that (it just so happened he ended up looking at you more than any other girl he knew). It wasn’t until you got your first ever confession that he realised how much he disliked the fact that other boys could find you pretty, too.

The note was from a classmate of yours. It shouldn’t have even been a blip on Caleb’s radar — nothing more than an innocent, heartfelt little confession from someone who liked you. It made an unfamiliar feeling twist in his gut as he watched you giggle as you read over the letter. His blood felt like it was burning in his veins. He was unable to keep the scowl off of his face, unable to prevent the burn of his eyes when he realised he’d never gotten you to smile at him that way.

Caleb had to flee so you didn’t see his reaction, brewing in a mix of jealousy and self pity as he curled up on his bed, tears stinging his eyes.

The following day, Caleb played the protective big brother card for the very first time, practically snarling at the boy until his face was splotchy and red and he looked like he might cry. He should have felt bad. He didn’t. He’s sure he’d never been prouder.

You were upset, of course. The very first person to ever confess to you had suddenly started avoiding you at all costs — you thought you had done something wrong.

Caleb was more than happy to offer you a shoulder to cry on. He held you close to his side, his heart thumping at the close proximity, eyes wide with wonder as you only snuggled up closer. He remembers thinking that you were still the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on, even as you were crying. He even remembers the promise he had made.

“I’ll protect you, pipsqueak. Forever.”

Maybe he thought he’d grow out of the crush one day. Maybe he just didn’t care. All he knew was that every boy that came after the first was never good enough for you. No one was good enough for you. Caleb kept them all away, but it was for your own good. You’d understand that eventually.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Caleb’s feelings only worsened with time.

What started off as an innocent crush devolved into something more akin to obsession as he grew. He was climbing closer and closer to his mid-twenties, and yet he still felt like a small child carefully guarding his favourite toy when he was in your presence.

His thoughts began steering into dangerously non-brotherly territory when he came home from the Aerospace Academy for one summer to find you had already returned. You had… changed. There was a newfound confidence surrounding you since you began your hunter training, like you’d grown into yourself in the time he was gone. It felt almost bittersweet — he had called you pipsqueak out of habit, but the nickname didn’t feel quite right anymore. You laughed and pushed his hand away as he ruffled your hair. He didn’t like it, yet somehow your touch made his face heat up now.

Caleb liked feeling needed. He wanted to feel proud of you for coming out of your shell and gaining independence from him, but he couldn’t. He hated the idea that he needed you so badly, but you might not need your big brother as much anymore.

The first time it had happened was an accident. He had insisted he would do your laundry for you when you came home tired one day. He’d tucked you into bed all tight, pressing a kiss to your temple to silence your complaints.

You were all comfy and half-way to dozing off, and Grandma had already turned in for the night, so he was alone as he carried your things to the laundry room.

He wanted to make sure he did a good enough job that you would realise you could still rely on him. He carefully separated each article of clothing before placing them into the machine, making sure none of the colours would bleed, that anything delicate wouldn’t shrink or tear.

His fingers brushed lace, and he swallowed thickly. The offending material belonged to a pretty pink pair of panties. His chest started heaving as he stared down at them, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

When the fuck did you start wearing things like this?

He didn’t like it. He absolutely fucking hated the idea of you getting these to impress some other guy. He hated himself for the way all the blood in his brain seemed to immediately rush south and impede any reasonable thoughts from entering his brain.

He brushes his thumb over the fabric once. Twice. A third time when he notices the gusset of the panties feels different against his skin.

His gaze flicks quickly to the laundry room door. He waits, perking up like a dog waiting to be scolded as he listened for any sounds in the home. When he found none, he shuffled closer to the door, shutting it before bracing himself against it with an arm. Slowly, cautiously, he raises the fabric to his nose.

He inhales once, and immediately realises he’s doomed. His eyes flutter shut as he lets out a shaky inhale, burying his face deeper into the fabric. He presses his forehead to the door, his free hand sliding down his body so he can palm at his steadily hardening cock through his shorts.

He gasps instantly at the contact, panting into the fabric. His tongue darts out to taste them, and all it takes is two more shaky touches before he’s coming in his pants.

Caleb’s eyes widen and he jerks back like he’s been burned, the panties quickly being flung back into the washing basket. He switches on the half full machine, quickly skittering out of the room to have a cold shower.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“I thought you would grow out of being so fussy,” Caleb scolds lightly, brows furrowing as he watches you wrinkle your nose at the sight of some of the vegetables on your plate. “That’s why you’re so short, pipsqueak. You haven’t been eating your greens.”

“I’m not even short,” is your immediate response, tongue coming out childishly. Caleb can feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “And I do eat vegetables. Just not… these ones.”

“Riiiiight. Are you sure that’s the case? You’re terrible at lying to me, you know.” He pauses, tilting his head with a small smile. He places a hand on the back of your chair, leaning in closer as he picks up your fork, stabbing it through some of the remaining food on your plate.

“Open wide, pipsqueak. Colonel Caleb has a very important flight to land.” He teases, doing the whole here-comes-the-aeroplane act with far too much enjoyment.

“I’m not seven anymore, Caleb. That stopped being cute over a decade ago—“

“Ah-ah. I don’t remember asking for you to argue with me. What stopped being cute a decade ago was that bratty attitude of yours.”

He pokes the tip of your nose with the hand that was previously resting on the back of your chair, grinning as his hand slips lower. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip without thinking, trying to pry your mouth open.

Bad idea, bad idea, bad-fucking-idea.

Your breathing hitches, and your lips part instinctively. There is no way the heat he feels rushing to his cheeks haven’t made it abundantly clear how helpless he is when it comes to you. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to focus on your wide eyes rather than how hot your breath feels against his thumb (and how easy it would be to feel just how warm and wet the inside of your mouth is).

Absolutely fucking terrible idea.

His pants are feeling particularly strained right now, and he’s praying to ever deity he’s ever heard the name of that you haven’t noticed. Caleb isn’t good at handling how his body chooses to react about you, but he’s always been great at deflecting and teasing you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, praying you don’t notice how breathless he is. He can see every imperfection on your face right now, every single lash as you look up at him. God, was he always this close? It’s taking all of his restraint not to lean in closer.

“You don’t need to be shy around me, you know. It’s only me. You trust me, don’t you?” You nod, and he gives you a lazy smile. “You’re so pretty. Sometimes I worry about leaving you all alone.”

Of course, by sometimes, he means he sometimes gets so nauseous when he lets his mind wander to what you might get up to without him around that it makes him dizzy. Not that he would ever vocalise that fact.

“Pretty?” You repeat in a voice that’s so soft and sweet and hopeful that it’s dizzying.

“Pretty.” He confirms, dropping his forehead against yours.

Caleb doesn’t remember leaning in to kiss you, but suddenly his lips are on yours, and you melt. He smiles against your lips, his fingers trailing along your jawline before they’re moving up to cup your cheek. It’s clumsy and sweet — he can tell you’ve never done this before, and that makes something warm blossom in his chest.

He wants to ruin you, but he’s not entirely sure you haven’t ruined him, first.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip until it parts to let him inside. He brushes his tongue against yours until you’re practically a puddle in his arms, only pulling back when he needs to breathe.

“Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, eyes solely focused on your spit-slick lips. “Can I take you to your room?”

You nod.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Is this okay?” Caleb whispers, brows furrowed in concern at the way you hiss as he slips two fingers inside of you. He withdraws them slightly, leaning down to spit on your cunt before slowly pushing them back in. They move easier now, and he finds himself letting out a relieved sigh as the crease between your brows melts away.

“Good. It’s… it’s good.”

“Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he starts to thrust his fingers into you, gently scissoring you open. “Or if I do anything you don’t like.”

You nod again, and he rewards you by brushing his thumb over your clit experimentally. Your walls clench around his digits as you moan, so he does it again. “Good girl.”

His touch is more exploratory than anything. He watches your face closely the entire time, repeating the actions that make your nose scrunch up all cutely. He doesn’t stop until your cunt is practically drooling all over him, leaving him very at risk of coming in his pants.

“I’m going to be gentle, okay? Are you ready?” He asks softly, hands trembling as he slides his fingers out of you. His hands move to shed off his own clothes, his body draping over yours. He doesn’t make any move to do more until you agree.

“Yeah. Please, Caleb.”

Caleb has dreamed of this moment. He’s almost tempted to pinch himself, just to be sure this is really happening. His lips part with a strangled groan as he pushes the tip of his cock past your entrance, his head tipping forwards.

“Oh… you’re so tight.” He gasps, practically shaking as he continues to slowly press forwards. His hips meet the back of your thighs, and he can’t help but stare down at where the two of you are connected in awe.

He rolls his hips experimentally, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he feels the way you try to greedily suck him back in. It’s too much and not enough, all at the same time. You whine, squirming underneath him, trying to get him to move again.

“So good… feels so good,” he practically whimpers, repeating the movement a few times so that his eyes can take in the way he disappears within you. “Fuck. I love you, y’know that?”

Of course you do. Caleb has never been shy when it comes to showing how deeply he cared about you, but the words feel different now. More charged.

You say you love him, too, and Caleb grunts. His hips stutter, then he pauses. Blinks. His eyes flick downwards, a flush overtaking his face as he watches his cum start to seep out of you, pushing past the barrier his cock provides as the droplets slide down your ass to stain the sheets. You’re still panting, whining, begging him for more.

He swallows. Hard. His throat bobs as he pushes past the sensitivity to start rocking into you with more confidence this time, his now half-hard cock slowly stirring back to life. He knows you must have felt it, the sudden warmth flooding you. Fuck, that’s so embarrassing. He’s been waiting for this moment for years, saved himself just for you, and that was all it took?

He leans over you a little more, pressing deeper in an attempt to make up for it. Your back arches and you let out the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, lips parting in a way that makes him feel light-headed. Suddenly, he’s not so worried anymore. He smiles, letting out a soft little laugh as he presses a kiss to your temple, fucking into you slow and deep.

“You look so beautiful like this.” He breathes. Running his nose along your cheek, your jawline, down the line of your neck. He inhales deeply, lashes fluttering as he takes in your scent. His chest is starting to hurt from how fast his heart is beating, but he doesn't care. His entire focus is on you — the sounds you’re making, the way you feel as your cunt sucks him in, the warmth of your body pressed against his.

“I love you.” He says again, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His arms wrap tight around your waist to hug your body tight against his own, leaning all of his weight onto you as he continues to thrust into you. His movements are almost lazy. He’s addicted to the feeling of being inside of you, the slow, languid drag of his cock. The way you gasp as he presses his hips flush to yours. He can’t stop smiling.

“I love you too, Caleb. Always… always loved you.” You gasp. Caleb hisses at the breathless sound of your voice, his thrusts growing harsher and more erratic.

He sits back on his heels, dragging you along with him. He keeps his grip on you tight, crushing you to his body as he fucks up into you, gasping and panting each time his cock sheathes itself fully within you.

“Close… I’m so close, baby. Cum, please… need to… need to feel you cum.” He grits out through his teeth, head lolling back as his fingers dig into the flesh of your back, desperately attempting to bring you closer. If he could, he’d merge your bodies together so he’d never have to be without you.

“Can’t… I can’t, need more—“ You gasp out in response.

Caleb groans, one of his hands slipping down your back and around your side, pressing itself between your two bodies so he can rub at your clit. Your core flutters around his length, a fresh wave of arousal setting your nerve endings on fire. You rock into his touch, grinding back down to meet his thrusts before you’re pressing up to chase the touch of his fingers.

Your body tenses, walls clenching around him as you come with a cry, arousal soaking him until its dripping down your thighs. You’re trying to kill him, he’s sure of it.

He finds it impossible to deny his release much longer. How could he, when you look so perfect against him like this, your expression hazy and blissed out. You looked utterly wrecked, and it was entirely his doing.

His hips jerk forwards shakily, a series of grunts and curses spilling past his lips as his cum fills you to the brim. He drops his forehead against your shoulder, both arms moving to wrap loosely around your waist to keep you close to his body.

He keeps you there for a moment before slowly lowering you back onto the mattress, gently draping his body over yours. He nuzzles your neck just to have another excuse to breath in your scent, the smell of sweat and sex mixing with something so distinctly you.

The silence is only broken as you whine, pushing at his chest. “Caleb, heavy.”

“Oh? Am I?” He teases, laughing against your neck as you try to wriggle free. He just tightens his grip. “Nuh-uh, pipsqueak. You’re stuck with me.”

He means it.

[nanenna]

Playing with the timeline a little, and costumes, and everything really. So... you know... #canon divergence

---

Robin, the Robin of Batman and Robin fame, was lounging on a pile of pillows and blankets that Danny’s pretty sure were mostly stolen from other rooms in the keep, he recognizes the fur blanket as something Frostbite had gifted him specifically. No, not important. “Why is Robin here?” Danny looked over at the skeletons that were gathered around, one holding a plate with food on it.

Where did they get normal human food? Was that one of his sacrifices? Danny wanted to eat that!

No wait, not important. The skeletons were all staring at him with wide sockets, he could practically hear their bones rattling.

Robin stood up from his plush nest. “Are you… the ghost king’s secretary?” he asked skeptically.

Danny’s lips thinned, probably best to just stick with the truth for now. “No.” He turned back to the skeletons, “Okay, no one’s in trouble, you guys did the best you could. But new rule, from now on any live sacrifices need to be reported to me immediately.”

The skeletons all nodded and then gathered around Danny so he could reach up and pat them all on the head, they rattled their bones in happiness. Danny grabbed the plate of food, a steak with a loaded baked potato and roasted veggies for sides of all things, and carried it over to his desk. “Oh nice, someone really wants to get on my good side.” He set the plate on the desk’s corner and started sorting through the notes to find the request attached to it.

Robin hesitantly followed Danny to his desk. “Are you the ghost king?”

Danny heaved a sigh, “Unfortunately. I tried to get out of it, but it was me or Plasmius and the last thing anyone needs is to give him any power at all.” Danny frowned at the note that went with the steak dinner. “Ugh, gross, no.” He pulled out his stationary and quickly wrote “No.” on a sticky note and sent it on its way.

“Who… nevermind, not what I’m here for.”

“Right,” Danny agreed, he really didn’t want to explain the intricacies (or lack thereof) of Realms politics to Robin. “Where’s the note that came from whoever sacrificed you?” Danny hadn’t found it yet in the pile on his desk, which was weird.

“Oh uh… that was me.”

Danny looked up at Robin, who was staring Danny dead in the eyes. “What?”

“I sacrificed myself.”

Danny could not possibly have heard that right, that made no sense! “What????”

“Well I wasn’t going to go sacrifice some innocent person just to get your attention,” Robin snapped before softening his voice and adding on, “your majesty.”

It seemed Danny had heard right. But still: what?! “Who would… why! Do you have any idea?! Did you even know who I am?!”

“Pariah Dark, tyrant-”

Danny shoved a gloved hand into Robin’s face, “No, ew. I am not Pariah Dark, and you’re very lucky he’s not the king anymore. Ancients!” He left his hand in Robin’s face as he took a moment to try to gather his thoughts into something a bit more coherent. “Okay, let’s just… start from the beginning I guess. Why did you sacrifice yourself to the ghost king?”

Robin shoved Danny’s hand out of his face, “Batman was killed by Darkseid-”

“What?! No way!” Danny grabbed Robin’s hand and started dragging him out of the room. “That whole thing was a few months ago now, right? Not long after I had to go through that stupid coronation and was still getting used to things.”

“I don’t know when you were coronated.”

“Not important, the important thing is I’m pretty sure the whole world would know if Batman died. Or least everyone would be gossiping about him going missing.”

“Oh, so news of the battle hasn’t gotten out of Gotham.”

“What battle?”

“Not important,” Robin said dismissively with a wave of his free hand.

And well, they had arrived at the archives, so Danny shifted his focus to navigating the many tall shelves laid out in some kind of book labyrinth with a sorting system that only made sense to the lunatic that designed it. Or maybe it made sense in their native language, it certainly wasn’t alphabetical in English. He took Robin down a corridor that was actually a dead end, a huge book on a pedestal enshrined in its own little section. “Alright, this is the ledger of the dead.” Danny let go of Robin’s hand and started flipping through it.

“Oh,” was all Robin said, staring down at it in… some kind of emotion. It was hard to tell with most of his upper face hidden by a mask.

“Batman… Batman… Batman… yup, not here. See? Batman’s not dead.”

“First of all, he’d probably be under his real name. Second of all, I already knew that. If you’d let me finish explaining…”

Danny sighed, “Alright, explain then.”

“Everyone else believes Batman’s dead, but I know he isn’t. I found evidence he’s lost in time and I need help getting him out before something awful happens.”

“Sorry, not my domain.”

“What?”

“Not my domain, I’m the ghost king, not the time king.” Danny crossed his arms and raised a brow at Robin.

“But the book said you have access to every era and every dimension.”

“More accurately the Realms as a whole does, but I’m not in charge of the Realms, I’m in charge of the ghosts. It’s all political stuff, making laws, collecting taxes, stopping the various groups from going to war against each other, that sort of thing.”

“Taxes?”

“Only two guarantees, death and taxes. Or however that saying goes.” Danny wasn’t sure with his blank expression, but Danny’s pretty sure that one broke Robin’s brain a little. Good, payback and all that. “So sorry about going through all this for nothing, but I’m sure there’s some kind of time god or something you can pray to for help.”

“When Batman stops bouncing around time and gets back to now the bomb Darkseid stuck in his is going to go off and destroy the whole world.”

Danny froze, staring at Robin with wide eyes. “Shit.”

Robin nodded solemnly, “Shit.”

“Okay, alright, I can fix this.” Danny ran a hand through his hair and tried not to start giggling hysterically. “Good news, I know who to go to for help.” Danny grabbed Robin’s hand and started dragging him again, Robin seemingly happy to go along.

DPxDC Prompt #17

There is a room Danny's Keep he set up shortly after defeating Pariah Dark. It became necessary when the broader magical community realized Pariah had be defeated and therefore a new King took his throne. Danny found himself briefly bombarded with waves of attempted summonings.

Which, the summonings themselves, wouldn't have been so bad. Turns out people can't just drag the King of Ghosts to themselves on a whim. Danny has to actively accept a summoning to get pulled to it. And if he just decides "No," the pull and whispers go away. No problem there.

No, the problem is the offerings. And sacrifices. The things that people put in the circle as payment for even attempting to summon him. Like having to put a quarter in the payphone just to listen to it ring and ring and ring as the person on the other end of the call doesn't pick up. Since the summoning magic regarded these things as belonging to Danny even if he rejected the summons, they usually ended up just materializing in front of him if he didn't go to them.

Which, okay. It was funny that time he got to end a fight with Vlad very fast when a whole gold bar materialized and dropped on his head. And the food was nice sometimes when it was late and everywhere was closed and his parents had left samples in the fridge to contaminate everything into animation again. But the goat head dropping from the ceiling onto his desk during on of Lancer's English tests was not appreciated. Even if it did get the test rescheduled and the whole school shut down for a few days to investigate the "potentially satanic activity."

So, yeah, it was a bit of a problem. Fortunately, it was a problem with a relatively simple solution. Danny set up an inbox. With a bit of help from Tucker and Pandora, and a couple tips from Clockwork; all summoning offerings and sacrifices would now go straight to the dedicated room in the Keep.

And! As a special touch, the summoners would also get a chipper, automated voice saying, "The Ghost King you are trying to summon has more important things to do than answer you right now. Please leave a message in the circle with your name, date, location, contact information, and reason for summoning. The Ghost King will get back to you at his earliest convenience." Sam's stupid fancy girl gala voice had been perfect for that little message.

It was the perfect solution. Danny no longer had to deal with randomly materializing offerings putting his secret identity at risk. Pariah's skeletons, who had been antsy for something to do now that they were no longer bent under the thumb of a cruel tyrant, were instructed to take care of all the offerings; making sure everything was always cleaned up and put away. And all Danny had to do was stop by periodically to check in and "Officially respond" -ie, write a fuck off note- to the summoning messages (Clockwork's insistence).

A perfect solution. Up until Danny checked in one day to find the skellies pampering a whole ass boy. No. Not just any boy. Danny recognizes that costume.

"Why is Robin here?"

[sheerfreesia007]

Folded Up With You

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Word count: 1,353

Content warnings: Soft smut, MDNI, Fluff, cursing

Summary: Seungmin comes home after his vocal lessons and finds you in a slightly indecent state as you do laundry. You absolutely drive him wild and he can’t control himself when it comes to you.

The smell of his favorite laundry detergent greets his nose as he opens your shared apartment door causing him to sigh tiredly as a happy warm smile slips onto his face. Seungmin has just come back from finishing his vocal lessons and he’s ready to spend the rest of his day with you being lazy on the couch. But as he spots all the folded piles of laundry laid out on the couch he knows that his plans will have to wait for a moment. His eyes widen slightly at the massive amount of laundry that you’ve not only washed and dried but also folded in neat piles for the two of you. He hadn’t realized that it had gotten to be so much since he’s been busy with his schedules.

Just then he spots you walk into the living room with a laundry basket on your hip singing a happy tune dressed in what looks like the shirt that he wore to bed last night. Desire grips Seungmin tightly in it’s grip as he stares at you from the door as you bend over at the waist and set the laundry basket on the floor. He gets an eyeful of your naked lower half as you grab a piece of clothing from the basket and straighten up to begin folding it while the television plays in the background Looking down at himself he rolls his eyes as he feels how instantly hard he got at just seeing you in his shirt and then your little flash of indecency further cemented how much he wanted you right this instant.

He moves slightly to step out of his shoes and into his slippers before he’s moving quietly around you not wanting to alert you that he was home yet. Coming up behind you he grabs you around the waist and you cry out in surprise while he drags your body back against his and grinds himself into you. He moans loudly into your ear and you gasp as you feel his jean covered hardness against your naked core.

“You do this often?” he asks sultrily in your ear. He bends his head down towards your neck and nips at the skin behind your ear for a second which causes you to shiver in his arms before moaning softly.

“Do what Minnie?” you gasp out at him as his tongue lathes against your neck slowly. Seungmin has never felt desire rush at him so quickly as it does now after seeing you in his shirt folding laundry. There was just something about you being at home waiting for him while doing chores for the household. And the fact that you’re wearing nothing underneath the shirt drives him absolutely wild.

“Wear my clothes while doing laundry?” he asks softly as his hips grind up against your ass slotting himself between your thighs.while beginning to repeatedly grind against you. Heat is starting to course through him and he knows that you’re feeling just as turned on as him when your soft gasps start to fill the air. 

“Sometimes, especially when it’s this much because I can’t keep all of it in the laundry room so I have to fold it out here. Other times I do laundry naked.” you confess to him and Seungmin groans loudly as the image of you naked folding the laundry fills his mind.

“Fuck baby.” he groans out as he slams his hips up into yours causing you squeak at the movement His hands start to move over your body towards your core and when his fingers dip in he has to grit his teeth to calm himself down at how wet you are. “I need you baby. Can I have you? Please? Fuck I need you, you’re being such a good housewife for me. Doing my laundry while half naked.” he begins to babble and you whine softly at his words while his hips continue to grind into you and his fingers coat themselves in your slick as he plays with you. One of your hands comes up to grip at the back of his head and you turn your head to capture his lips with yours.

Seungmin moves you both to the back of the couch and leans you over the back of it. “Please baby. Let me fuck you. I swear I’ll make you feel so good. Gotta take care of my perfect housewife when she does the chores.” he pleads with you

“Fuck Minnie, you found a new kink here baby?” you ask over your shoulder breathlessly as he continues to grind his hips into yours. You whimper when you hear his fly unzipper and when his hardness presses along the curve of your ass under his shirt your knees buckle slightly but you’re able to catch yourself on the back of the couch.

”This is gonna be quick baby. I’m too turned on to go slow. I need to fuck you.” He tells you honestly and you just moan in response. You feel his hardness glide against your wet core and whimper softly before he’s slamming into you. Your breath is knocked out of you as you back arches and your hands grip the back of the couch tightly. Seungmin smirks when you choke on another gasp when he’s fully seated inside of you, your walls clenching and unclenching around him making him feel pleasure radiated throughout him. “Fuck baby.” He groans out loudly to you and you cry out as he begins to thrust against you at a fast pace.

Pleasure is coursing through the both of you as you both move against each other. Seungmin’s hips press yours in the back of the couch as his hands slip underneath his shirt that you’re wearing to cup your breasts tightly in his hands. He nuzzles his face into your neck while groaning loudly.

”You’re so perfect for me. Wanna make you a real housewife.” He mumbles into your skin as he punctuates each word with a harsh thrust of his hips. Your walls clench around at his confession and he moans loudly at the feeling. “You like the sound of that baby? Wanna be my housewife?” He asks while panting for air.

”Wife.” You gasp out as your head falls back on his shoulder and he furrows his brow at you.

”What?” He asks never stopping his movements as he leans further over your back to hear what you’re saying.

”I want to be your wife Minnie.” You whine out to him and Seungmin moans in a broken tone as he grips your hips tightly before slamming himself as far into you as he can before releasing inside of you.

”Oh fuck.” He groans out and you cry out loudly as your own orgasm flows over you at the feeling of his own orgasm.

”Minnie, Minnie!” You cry out and he quickly wraps his arms around you tightly as his hips buck into you in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

”I got you baby. I got you.” He promises as let’s you ride out your orgasm with him buried inside of you. “That’s it sweetheart. I got you.” He coos at you before slowly releasing you to lean against the couch while you catch your breath. He’s still buried inside of you when you shiver feeling his fingers graze down your spine. “Wanna be my wife huh?” He asks sultrily and you shiver again at his question. “What about the mother of my children too? Wanna be that?” He asks eagerly and you whimper when you feel him twitch inside of you.

”All of it. I wanna be all of that for you.” You gasp out as you press your hands into the back of the couch and lift your upper body off the couch.

”Good girl. My perfect girl.” He coos at you before suddenly bucking up into you again making you cry out desperately. “Let’s go for round two and then we’ll talk specifics.” He says to you softly making it sound like a promise that you were eager to keep with him.

SKZ Taglist: @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @inlovewithstraykids, @channiesrightasscheek

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

It's the last day of Fluffebruary. My heart. Today's fill is: Marriage Proposals. I do reference the fills for days one, thirteen, nineteen (sort of), twenty-three, and twenty-six in this one. MCU has nothing on me. There's also switching POV, which I note by doing two lines of dashes. Time jumps within the POV are marked by one line of dashes. You can also read this on AO3 here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

Buck ambushes Bobby when he gets out of the bathroom, because he’s been trying to get Bobby alone all day.

“I need your advice,” he begs, and Bobby turns toward him with an expectant look on his face. “Is it ethical for me to get my boyfriend really drunk so he doesn’t wake up when I try to measure his ring size?”

Bobby blinks at him and shifts his weight to put his hands on his hips, his body language radiating exasperation and paternal disappointment. “Kid, what the hell do you think my answer’s going to be?”

He winces. “That I should’ve asked Chimney if I wanted a ‘yes’?”

“Probably.” He smiles and reaches out to squeeze Buck’s shoulder, jostling him a bit. “I’m happy for you two.”

“Thanks,” Buck says, smiling and finally not feeling like he’s going to shake out of his skin for the first time since he woke up that morning. “Any ideas?”

“You guys don’t have the same size hands?”

Buck flushes. “No, ah—his are a little bigger. Broader. His fingers are—I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed how big they are.”

Bobby raises an eyebrow, his hand retreating from Buck’s shoulder. “Can’t say I have.”

“Really? It’s, like, the second thing I noticed about him,” Buck says incredulously, and Bobby’s other eyebrow goes up. “Right. Okay, yeah. Straight guys don’t usually notice other guys’ hands.”

“Not unless I need to,” Bobby confirms. “Notice anyone else’s hands that might be the same size?”

Buck thinks about it for a moment and then it hits him. “Actually, yeah. I think I have. Thanks, Bobby.”

“Anytime, kid. Good luck. Let me know if you need anything,” he says, turning and wisely exiting the situation. Buck probably shouldn’t have gotten all gooey about how big Tommy’s hands are. To be fair, they're big and his fingers are thick.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling out his phone.

Well, he might as well get a reference photo while he’s at it.

–

Sal slides into the booth across from him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Buck drops the beer mat he’s been playing with and looks around to make sure no one’s listening before leaning in. “What’s your ring size?”

He smirks and lifts his beer to his lips. “Why, Buckley, you know I’m a married man. You willing to fight it out with Gina or is this a side-piece situation?”

“Shut up,” Buck groans, sitting back as Sal cackles. “Also, Gina would gut me.”

“And dump you in a river,” Sal confirms. “You trying to make an honest man of our Tommy?”

Buck flushes and shrugs, picking up the beer mat again and running his finger along the edge. “Hoping to.”

“Good for you, kid. Thirteen and a half.” Buck’s head snaps up, and Sal’s got a real, genuine smile on his face. “But you can get ‘em resized pretty easy. What's yours?”

“E-eleven, I think?” he guesses, trying to remember the last time he'd looked. “Maybe a ten and a half. I don't really wear rings.”

Sal grins and holds out his beer. “Better get used to it.”

Buck feels a smile creep across his face and sighs, lifting his own beer to tap against Sal’s. “Hopefully.”

“I think you'll be okay.”

–

–

“Ten and a half,” Sal says, dropping onto Tommy's couch.

“What?” Tommy asks from where he's trying to get a pebble out of the tread of his boots.

“His ring size. Ten and a half, maybe eleven.” He puts his socked feet up on the coffee table and shrugs. “I'd go with eleven, it's easier to size down.”

The knife he's using slips and almost slices across Tommy's hand. “What? How—how?”

Sal smirks. “I have my ways.”

Tommy drops the boot and sits back on his heels with a heavy sigh. “Okay. So—I’m doing this. Am I really doing this? It feels soon, right?”

“Couldn't tell you. But from where I'm sitting,” he says, sweeping his hand across to gesture at the living room or maybe the house or just Tommy's entire life, “you two built something together. Just keep building. We don't usually get to live too long—if it's not a fire, it's a building falling on you or a bolt of lightning or cancer. And you're already middle-aged, Maso. You got your boy, he's not going anywhere. Just put it on paper.”

“You're right.” Tommy stands and shakes out the tingling that’s settling into his hands. “Thanks.”

“‘S why I’m here,” Sal says, crossing his arms over his chest. “And the free booze.”

Tommy snorts. “You thought it was free? Buddy, your tab’s been running for years. I’ll finally be able to pay off the mortgage when you settle up.”

Sal looks offended at that. “Hey, just for that, find a new best man.”

“I didn’t ask,” Tommy points out.

“Who the hell else you gonna ask?” Sal shoots back, getting to his feet. “Your other best friend?”

Sal comes around the table and engulfs him in a tight, back-slapping hug, which just turns into a hug.

“Thanks again,” Tommy says as they pull apart.

“Love you, brother,” he says, holding his face and pressing a smacking kiss to his cheek. He reminds Tommy of his Prozio Aldo so much sometimes, especially when he does shit like that. “Let’s go cut down a tree.”

“We’re just trimming it,” Tommy reminds him.

“Uh-huh.” Sal steps around him to grab his boots and starts walking toward the back of the house. “You say that now, but wait ‘til I get a few more in me. You’ll be lucky to have a yard by the time I’m done.”

–

He’s pacing outside the station until he hears Maddie call his name, and he whirls around to see her approaching with a tray of something. They’re doing a late holiday potluck, having passed Christmas and New Year’s, and Tommy had made sure she would be coming.

“Hey!” he says, folding her into a side-hug before taking the tray from her. “Can we, uh, hang out here for a second? Just waiting for Bobby and Athena.”

Maddie’s brows pinch together for a moment. “Sure. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, realizing he probably looks like he’s going to pass out. “Yeah, I promise.”

Bobby steps around the corner, glancing over his shoulder, Athena close behind. “Hey. Sorry, kid’s trying to get my damn dry rub recipe again and keeps cornering me. What’s going on?”

Tommy looks between their expectant faces and wants to dive head-first into whatever Maddie’s brought, which smells like it could be something with apples and brown sugar. “I wanted to ask you guys something. I kind of thought maybe Howie should be here, but he can’t keep a secret at all.”

“He can’t,” the three agree in unison.

He exhales slowly, realizing he’s been barely breathing for the last few minutes. “I wanted to ask you guys something—”

“You already said that,” Bobby points out, and Athena elbows him.

“I know it’s old-fashioned,” he admits. “And kind of backwards, because it’s really his decision, not yours, but you guys are his family. But I am kind of old-fashioned, I guess.”

“Tommy,” Athena says firmly, catching his eye. “Ask us.”

He swallows and looks at the tray and then back at them. “Can I maybe have your blessing to—to ask Evan to marry me?”

Maddie’s hands go to her mouth as she lets out a gasp, and Bobby’s looking at him with a wide, knowing smile. Athena looks proud, probably having sussed him out the second he walked into the station earlier.

“Yes!” Maddie squeals, hugging him around his middle and almost upending the tray. “Yes, absolutely a yes.”

“Yeah,” Bobby agrees, and Athena nods.

“What’d you think we were gonna say?” she asks, and Tommy shrugs helplessly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?” he asks, letting Maddie take the tray back from him.

“Oh, absolutely,” Bobby says, pulling him into a hug. “I think you’ll be fine.”

–

–

It’s been almost a year since they got back together. Buck doesn’t want to do anything too big, because then too many things can go wrong and there’s all the added pressure. He’s heard horror stories from people who got proposed to in big, public settings who felt obligated to say yes. He won’t do that to Tommy. Tommy melts under romantic gestures, but actually important moments tend to be smaller and quieter. They’d gotten back together in the privacy of a cockpit, they’d agreed to move in together while they were wrapped up in each other on a picnic blanket, they’d talked about marriage and kids in the privacy of their own house and cars and in corners at parties. He’s got no problem screaming how much he loves Tommy from the rooftops, but some stuff is theirs.

He asks Tommy if he wants anything particular for dinner, and Tommy surprises him by saying Miceli’s.

“You really want to risk it?” Buck teases.

“Hey, I like their food,” Tommy protests.

Buck nods. “It’s good. Good enough to risk us breaking up a third time, though?”

Tommy crowds him up against the bathroom counter and wraps an arm around his waist. “You really think I’d let you go again?”

The casual possessiveness does things to Buck, and he shakes his head, swallowing hard as his eyes flick down to Tommy’s lips. “Seven?”

“Six,” Tommy says, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his throat. “I want to get home early.”

Buck shivers, and then he’s leaning against the bathroom counter alone.

“See you tonight, sweetheart.”

He licks his lips and nods. “See you. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Tommy replies, swooping back in for a quick kiss that turns into a long kiss until Tommy pulls his head back with a gasp. “Eddie’s gonna kill me if I flake on him.”

Buck finally releases his boyfriend and waits for him to leave their room and then listens for the sound of the garage door opening. When he’s sure he’s alone in the house, he goes to his duffel bag and digs down until he comes up with a drawstring bag containing a ring box.

“Alright, don’t Buck this up,” he mutters, kissing the box and shoving it in his pocket.

–

–

Tommy is going to have a fucking heart attack. He feels like he needs Valium on an IV drip. He and Eddie are skipping basketball so he can pick up the ring, because Tommy had been too nervous to keep it anywhere Evan could find it.

When he finally has the small bag in his hands, he climbs into Eddie’s truck and has to do box breathing so he won’t pass out.

“Dude, you flew into a hurricane,” Eddie reminds him.

“Uh-huh.”

“People used to shoot at you.”

“Yep.”

Eddie looks at the bag and then at Tommy’s face. “I mean, I get it, but maybe you should chill for a bit before we go to the next stop.”

They’re getting Tommy a new suit, because he has two, and one of them was worn to a cowboy’s funeral and the other one was worn to Maddie and Howie’s reception/anniversary party. Evan’s seen him in both of them, he needs a new one. He’s picked that out also and had to get it altered, because he always has to get suits altered or they hang on him weird.

“No, we gotta go,” Tommy says, trying to relax. “Let’s go.”

–

–

Tommy looks good. Tommy always looks good, but Buck loves seeing him in a suit. He’d loved getting him out of the last one he saw him in, he’s definitely going to love getting him out of this one. It’s simple—black jacket, trousers, and tie with a white shirt—but it’s form-fitting and makes him look like James Bond. He’s glad they’d joked about dressing like they were going to a Michelin-star restaurant, because this is a good look for Tommy.

Buck’s skipped the tie, going for a burgundy suit with a white shirt that Hen had helped him pick out. The shirt has a high collar with no lapels that he’s never worn before and doesn’t use a tie, but it’s also a little tight. Buck hopes he doesn’t somehow stop breathing. Wouldn’t be the first time on a date, and it would suck if it happened on this particular one.

“Look at you,” Tommy murmurs, slipping his arm around Buck’s waist under his suit jacket. “Wanna stay in and fool around instead?”

“Not a chance,” Buck teases, drawing Tommy into a toe-curling kiss. “I wanna show you off.”

–

They Uber to the restaurant, since Buck is too nervous to drive and Tommy says he didn’t get enough sleep. They also want to drink a bit, though Buck’s going to take it slow until he has something to celebrate or needs to soften a rejection.

Their table is a little toward the back, and it’s quiet near them with no one immediately nearby. It’s perfect.

They make it through most of a pitcher of beer and their entrees, and Buck starts to feel like it all might come back up. He taps rhythmically against his knee to ground himself and keep himself from just bursting out everything he’s thinking.

“Hey,” he says, and Tommy looks up from the dessert menu, as though he doesn’t already have it memorized, “so I’ve been thinking about some stuff. Nothing bad, I promise. It’s, uh, good, actually? I think. I hope.”

Tommy sets the menu down and looks pleasantly confused. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” he says, grinning and leaning in a bit, drawn to Tommy always. “I’ve just—there’s so much stuff in our lives that’s unpredictable, you know? Especially with what we do. We talked about this a while ago, I don’t know if you remember? The whole ‘safe haven’ thing.”

“Of course I remember,” Tommy says, smiling and reaching across to take Buck’s hand.

“Good,” Buck says, turning his hand over and wrapping his fingers around Tommy’s. “I’ve thought about it a lot. You’re this steadying force in my life, this thing I’ve been looking for since I can remember. Most of my days are unpredictable, some of them are terrible, and I have an eye in that storm and it’s you. You give me peace and love and comfort. You’re the calm and the safety that I’ve been looking for every single day of my life.”

Tommy’s face softens. “Evan, you’re that for me, too. You’re more than I ever knew to look for. God, I couldn’t have dreamed I’d ever meet someone like you, let alone be lucky enough to love you and be loved by you.”

Buck’s heart starts racing in his chest, because it’s time, and he pushes his chair back so he can get up and come around to Tommy, who looks thrown.

–

–

Evan is standing next to him and Tommy wants to grab him and put him back on his chair, but when he starts to rise, Evan’s hand presses on his shoulder.

“Just—I don’t know what else to say here,” Evan says, reaching into his pocket and lowering himself onto one knee. “I just want to know if you’ll marry me, Tommy.”

That—that’s his line.

Tommy feels like the air’s been vacuumed out of his lungs, and he doesn’t think he has hands anymore. Or feet. The top half of his head might be gone, too.

“Oh–I—oh,” he gasps when Evan opens the ring box he’s holding. His hands are shaking when he does it. “I—Evan.”

He pushes his chair back and reaches into the pocket of his own trousers before kneeling in the cramped space between this side of the table and the wall. Evan’s eyes are teary and a little confused, and then Tommy holds up his own box, opening it to reveal the ring.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, and Evan’s face crumples before he claps his free hand over his mouth to hold back a noise Tommy’s never heard him make. It’s like a laugh, a cry, and a sob all at once. Tommy's own eyes start to flood with tears even though he's also laughing, because this is ridiculous.

They grasp each other’s faces and laugh and kiss, and then they’re hugging. There’s noise near them—clapping?—and Tommy presses his nose to Evan’s jaw.

“That was a ‘yes,’ by the way,” he whispers, and Evan laughs against his shoulder.

–

–

He didn’t know. He’d been so focused on his own anxiety that he hadn’t noticed Tommy’s. But there’s a ring on Buck’s finger, and he can’t stop staring at it or the one on Tommy’s.

“How’d you get my ring size?” Tommy asks.

“Sal,” Buck replies, and Tommy laughs. “What?”

“That’s how I got yours.”

Buck remembers Sal asking him, hadn’t thought much of it because it was relevant to the conversation, and laughs. “God, he’s going to be—”

“Insufferable.”

“—the worst,” Buck agrees.

Tommy brushes his thumb over Buck’s ring and smiles. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked your sister, Bobby, and Athena for their blessing. I asked Howie earlier this week.”

Buck bites his lip and leans in to prop his chin on his free hand. “I asked Bobby if it was unethical to get you drunk so I could measure your finger.”

“It is,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes when Buck shrugs. “But—so everyone knew?”

“Yep.”

“And they still let us—”

“Yep.”

Tommy huffs out a laugh. “Bastards.”

Buck tugs his hand close so he can kiss his knuckles. “Let’s go home.”

Their server appears a few moments later when Tommy flags her down, and she places a bag on the table with a smile.

“Your desserts—packaged to go and on the house. There’s some extras in there, too,” she says, stepping back. “And your dinner was paid for by another patron. Have a great night, guys, and congratulations.”

Someone had already sent them a video and someone else sent photos via AirDrop, and Buck twists around to see if he can figure out who paid. The people who had sent the pictures and video were gone. No one else is paying them any particular attention.

It’s outside, they’re standing in the same spots they had almost two years before, but Buck has his arms around Tommy’s waist this time. This time, they have rings on their fingers, and they’re getting into the same car and going to their home. Where he imagines they’ll have intense celebratory sex followed by celebratory desserts eaten out of take-out containers while they drape themselves over their couch in their underwear.

“C’mere,” Tommy says, holding up his phone.

Buck smiles for the photo, holding up his left hand alongside Tommy’s.

–

–

In the Uber, Tommy sends the photo to the ‘Fire Family’ group chat with the message: We said yes!

There’s a flurry of emojis and congratulatory messages and questions about when the wedding is. He turns the screen off on his phone and links his hand with his fiancé’s on the middle seat.

“Think we can plan a wedding in under a year?” he asks.

Evan scoffs. “Give me a clipboard and a budget, we’ll be married in six months.”

Tommy smiles and leans over to kiss his cheek. “The sooner the better.”

“In a rush?” Evan teases, smiling at him in the dim light.

“To spend the rest of my life as your husband? A little. Kind of wish I could’ve done it a long time ago. Like, years ago, even though I didn’t know you then,” he admits, and Evan smiles, making a soft noise. “Hm?”

“Something Hen said,” Evan says, shaking his head. “‘You’ll go to bed and wake up every day wishing you’d found each other sooner. ‘Cause life is so damn good that everything before him felt like wasted time.’”

Tommy’s heart slams against his sternum. “Yeah.”

Evan lifts their hands to kiss the back of Tommy’s, tucking it against his cheek. “She said that, and I knew I was going to marry you. I didn’t hope I’d do it or think I’d do it. I knew.”

“I was sitting in a park and had just asked you to move in with me, and I knew I’d have eloped with you that day if you asked.”

“So about three weeks after I talked to Hen.” Evan chuckles and turns his head to kiss his hand again before lowering their hands back onto the seat. “You ever think we’re meant to be sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” Tommy agrees lightly, and it’s his turn to kiss Evan’s hand, his lips landing right next to his ring.

[arislore]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚જ⁀➴ NSFW Alphabet

Pairing: Inexperienced!Spencer Reid x Profiler!Reader

Summary: A fun little list of NSFW headcanons organized by the first letter of each topic. Enjoy!

Tags: established relationship, spencer was a virgin when y’all got together, oral (f & mentions of m receiving), slight medical play, sexy use of statistics, male masturbation, mentions of anal

Warnings: Most of these are paragraphs but there are a couple of letters that i kind of gave up on.

Word Count: 1.9k

A: Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s exhausted, but he manages to stay awake long enough to clean you up and talk to you until you fall asleep. He’ll rub little soothing circles into your skin and hold your head on his chest, letting you count his heartbeats.

B: Body Part (their favorite body part, both on their own body and their partner’s)

His favorite body part on himself has to be his hands, because he loves watching you fall apart on them. His favorite body part of yours is definitely your eyes. He loves to see how they squint when you’re confused, how they crinkle when you’re happy, and how they gloss over when you get needy for his touch. He also loves when he makes you feel so good that you start to cry, just from how overwhelmed you are.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

As we all know, Spencer is a germaphobe, so when you first had sex with him, he cringed when he felt his cum flood the condom. After you explained that you were on the pill, he was ecstatic that he didn’t have to use one again. He doesn’t mind dirtying you, though–one of his favorite things to do is cum inside of you when you don’t have time to clean up, and you’re forced to walk around with it in your underwear. You almost wrung his neck when he did this on a case.

D: Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly really likes being called “Doctor” during sex, and when you figure this out, you don’t let him go a single day without rubbing it in his face. In the bullpen, you’ll move in front of him, brushing your ass against his crotch with a quiet, “Excuse me, Dr. Reid,” just to hear his breath get caught in his throat. When you bring him his coffee (no cream, but ten tablespoons of sugar), you’ll set it down in front of him, placing a hand on his bicep, all sultry, saying, “Here you go, Doctor.” It doesn’t hurt that he looks incredibly sexy wearing his crime scene gloves.

E: Experience (how experienced are they?)

He was a virgin when he met you. He’d kissed Lila in the pool nearly a decade prior, and he had a long-distance relationship with Maeve, but he had never actually gotten further than a single make-out session. When you touched him for the first time, he was so sure he had died and gone to heaven. He couldn’t fathom a world where someone as beautiful as you could love someone like him.

F: Favorite Position (goes without saying)

He loves any position where he gets to see your face. He loves watching you react to each little touch, watching your mouth contort in pleasure as you beg him for more. He prefers missionary, but he’s more than happy to have you on top when he’s too tired to do the work. But if he can’t see your face, it’s just not as good for him.

G: Goofy (how serious are they in the moment?)

He’s serious, but sometimes, when he’s nervous, he’ll start rattling off statistics about sex, which made you laugh at first, but now it just turns you on even more. When you taught him how to eat pussy, he responded with, “Right, because only eighteen percent of women can reach orgasm from penetration alone.”, which left you speechless. The first time you guys used toys, you were a little embarrassed that you needed it in the first place, and he said, “You know, eighty-two percent of women use sex toys. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the curtain match the drapes?)

His pubic hair is tinted red, although he doesn’t have much of it. You didn’t mind at first that he didn’t trim it, but when you started going down on him more, it bothered you, and he immediately started manscaping each time he showered.

I: Intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment?)

To Spencer, sex is all about you. He doesn’t even care if he gets off, although it’s an added bonus. He’s always holding your hand, or rubbing soothing circles into your hip as you get overwhelmed. For him, foreplay is the best part. He loves to tease you for as long as you can stand it. Kissing, biting, licking all over your body, leaving little marks and bruises. He just wants you to know how loved you are.

J: Jack Off (masturbation headcanons)

He rarely touched himself before he met you. Even though it took years for either of you to work up the courage to admit your feelings to one another, he noticed nearly everything about you, from the way you pouted when you didn’t get your way (and god, he wanted to see your lips wrapped around his cock), to the way you chest heaved when you were out of breath (why couldn’t he be the one to get to you react that way?). All he could think about around you was sex, and he needed to have an outlet for that somewhere.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves when you sit on his face. At first, you were nervous–you didn’t want to hurt him, and you had a friend who broke her neck because her girlfriend sat on it too hard. He joked that if he were to die, he'd die a happy man, but that didn’t help. After enough coaxing, you eventually did it, and realized that you were kind of stupid for not doing it before, and he was stupid good with his tongue.

L: Location (favorite place to have sex)

He prefers a bed above all else, but he won’t say no if you pull him into a storage closet because you just can’t keep your hands off of him any longer. Honestly, he’d do it anywhere you asked–even a car, although he doesn’t fit that well and it hurts his back. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the more adventurous one, but he doesn’t mind–it’s just a new experience for him to try.

M: Motivation (what turns them on?)

If you asked him, he’d say that you breathing turns him on, which is true, but what really gets him going is when you absentmindedly play with him, whether it’s his hands, his sleeve, or his collar, it’s like all the blood rushes to his cock and he’s so lightheaded he might pass out. He knows it’s wrong, but sometimes when you yelp in pain, he has to do breathing exercises to calm down.

N: No (something they wouldn’t do / turn offs)

He can’t bring himself to do anal. Not just because it hurts you, but also because it’s kind of gross.

O: Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving? what’s their skill level?)

He loves to give head. If he’s honest, he’d be happy if you never went down on him again, as long as he gets to eat your pretty pussy for the rest of his life. He wasn’t very good at it at first, but he’s a quick learner, and by the end of the first time, he made you see stars you didn’t know existed.

P: Pace (how fast or slow are they?)

If you’re both frustrated, he’ll fuck you hard and fast, but typically, he likes to be slow and gentle. He wants you to feel each inch as he fills you, each drag of his cock inside of you. Rationally, he knows the two of you could have sex whenever you want, but irrationally, he never wants it to end. The longer he keeps you cumming, the longer he gets to have with you.

Q: Quickies (their opinion on quickies)

He doesn’t like them very often, but if you have a couple cases back to back like you did after the pig farm, he’s ecstatic when you pull him aside for a quick fumble in the dark.

R: Risk (do they like to experiment?)

Everything is an experiment for this man, since he’s never really done anything before you. He’s happy with it though, and he’d do anything you asked him to, as long as you really wanted it. If you told him to hop on one foot naked on a balcony he thinks he would do it. You would never ask that, though, which he’s grateful for.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long can they last?)

The first time he fucked you, he lasted a total of five seconds. He was super embarrassed, of course, but with time, his stamina grew and he can fuck you for nearly a half an hour now, maybe even longer if he takes breaks. He knows the average time it takes for a man to orgasm is seven minutes, so he’s grateful he finally beat that statistic.

T: Toys (do they use toys? how?)

He doesn’t use toys on himself, but he loves to use them on you. He loves to see you writhe when he uses a vibrator on your clit, drinking in your high-pitched moans when he changes the position or setting. He doesn’t use dildos on you often, but every once and a while, it’s nice to watch you get fucked and actually be able to pay attention to something other than holy shit you’re so wet oh my god, because usually, he can’t.

U: Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

He’ll tease you for days if he has the chance, leaving you a pathetic, wet mess until he finally gives in and touches you exactly how you need.

V: Volume (how loud are they?)

Spencer Reid is nothing if not vocal. He’s always babbling about how good you’re doing, how good you feel, how badly and how long he’s wanted this. He can’t help but whine and moan pathetically when you touch him, and he’s not too shy to beg for what he wants.

W: Wildcard (a random headcanon)

He’ll never admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he thinks it’s hot when you cry, as long as you aren’t upset. He loves to kiss and wipe away your tears, and he hates how his cock twitches when your eyes get all glossy. You actually noticed before he did, but you never said anything because you don’t want to embarrass him.

X: X-Ray (what’s going on under those clothes?)

He’s tall and slender, with a very low body fat content. He doesn’t work out very often, which leads him to still be soft on his stomach and chest. He’s got hair, but it’s very light and you can barely see it, outside of the tuft in his pants. His cock is long, thick, and cut, with a shiny red tip when he’s hard.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before he met you, he didn’t think he’d ever have sex, but then he laid eyes on you, and he’s been eternally horny ever since.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s tired, but he can stay up until you fall asleep–just know, he’s not that far behind you.

[theconstantsidekick]

Sad and Funny

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Stark!Reader (future), Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader (past), Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Angst? I think?

Summary: Bucky gets an unexpected call on a random Tuesday night, asking him to come to a bar and be the designated driver for Y/n Stark... the woman whose family he murdered? Yeah, that one. But she used to be his best pal's best girl, so he can't not show up, right?

(This takes place before the events of  Falcon, The Winter Soldier and Static. However, it can be read as a stand-alone piece. But it’s fun. I promise.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Near Alcoholism, Mentions of Past Traumas, Grief, Self Deprecation, Self Hate, just an overall sad time tbh.

a/n: I read some destiel fic about dude a crying about dude be to dude c and this idea just sprung up.

Bucky Barnes, The Boyfriend (other one-shots) | The Falcon, The Winter Soldier and Static | Static: Get, Set, Glitch | Static Verse Masterlist

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’m—I’m looking for—a girl? She’s apparently really drunk, looks like an Avenger?”

“Sergeant Barnes,” a voice calls out to him from the end of the bar. “This way!”

With a hushed thanks to the bartender he’d been talking to, he makes his way through the bar.

“Thanks for coming, Sergeant Barnes,” the guy puts out his hand for him to shake.

Bucky takes it. “Murdock, right?” He searches his brain for the full name. “Matt Murdock? The lawyer?”

The guy—Murdock, smiles. “Yes. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances considering the last time, but this is as good as it gets for a guy in my line of work.” He seems very sincere, like he actually is very happy to meet Bucky at a shady little bar in Hell’s Kitchen. And what does Bucky know? Maybe he is. 

“Yeah,” Bucky replies in a non-reply. But Murdock doesn’t seem to mind, and well, no one really should. Bucky’s mind is elsewhere. “I—I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what I’m doing here.”

Murdock fidgets, fixing his red glasses while his smile falters, only a little. “She’s—uh—” his lips curve up again”—pretty out of it,” he points behind himself, at the table. “I didn’t think I’d be very capable at handling that situation given… my predicament.” Murdock nods at the walking-stick in his hand. And, well, yeah. Fair enough. “So, she asked me to call you.”

“Why?”

Murdock stills for a second, gripping the handle of his walking stick with both hands. “Don’t you think that’s a question better posed to her?” 

Well, yeah. 

He can’t fucking ask her, though. Can he?

But Murdock doesn’t give him the chance to counter. “So, can I count on you?”

“What?” Bucky’s so fucking lost right now.

“Can I count on you?” He repeats. “To get her home safe?”

Oh, shit! Yeah. “Yes… Yes, of course.”

Murdock hands him a napkin, “Great! That’s her address and her keys are in her pocket.” Bucky nods, still very lost. But Murdock smiles at him again, “Thank you so much for doing this. I have an arraignment early in the morning, so I gotta be on my way. I’m really sorry for dumping her on you like this.”

“It’s—it’s no problem.”

He nods then, smile still intact. “Thanks again, Sergeant.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, not completely registering what’s going on. Murdock takes the opportunity to walk past him, and make his way towards the door.

Bucky’s intently staring down at the napkin he’s just been handed and he can’t help from wondering… did Murdock write it down? He couldn’t have, obviously. So, does that mean some random person in this bar just knows her address now? Should Bucky be worried about that? But then again, he’s gotten his ass handed to him on a platter enough times to know, it would be frankly, silly to take her on. However, the world has gone to shit lately, so maybe—

“For what it’s worth,” Murdock calls out, halfway to the door, “she seemed quite—content when you agreed to come.”

Bucky’s left speechless.

“Take care, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Yeah. See you around, Murdock.” Oh fuck.

The moment the words are out of his lips, he knows he’s fucked up. He’s fumbled—hard. He winces and his hand slowly comes up to clasp his mouth in pure embarrassment. 

Mudrock pauses at the door, head falling. 

Bucky’s thanking all the Gods above for his super hearing right about now, cause he can hear Murdock chuckling at Bucky’s horrifying fumble. 

Before he can apologise, Murdock’s already out the door.

He sends out a silent prayer cum apology to the universe, and adds this to his never ending fuck ups.

Trying to shake off the embarrassment, with measured, slow movements, he takes a seat on the table, opposite the woman who’d apparently asked him here.

“Y/n?” 

She’s sitting—if he can call it that—with her head on the cold, hard table. There’s a slice of lemon in her mouth that’s sticking out and her hand is gripping onto her liquor filled glass like someone might steal it. 

She looks like she just conked out mid sentence, and fell face first onto the table. 

He tries again, “Hey, Y/n?” No response. 

He doesn't want to jerk her awake, but it doesn’t seem like he has a choice anymore. 

“Y/n?” He gently touches her elbow. And motherfucker! She’s up in an instant.

The first thing she does the moment she’s up is spit out the slice of lime from her mouth and down her entire drink in one go. 

Once she’s done, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, slamming the glass on the table. “Tess!”

Who the fuck is—

“What do you want?” The bartender from before shouts back.

“Another drink—for me and tall, dark and brooding over here,” Y/n replies, pointing at Bucky. 

“I already told you, you’re cut off!” Tess, the bartender, throws back from behind the bar, as she continues to work.

“You can’t cut me off, Tess! I’m an Avenger! I saved the world! You can’t cut me off! Them’s the rules!” Y/n argues. Bucky can clearly smell the liquor on her, he thinks he could probably do that even without his enhanced sense of smell. But her competence doesn’t seem all that hindered because all of that made very clear sense. And sounded borderline logical too. You save the world, you get to drink however much you want? Seems like a fair bargain to Bucky. 

“Not in this bar!” Clearly it doesn’t seem fair to Tess.

Y/n huffs, deflates. “Fine,” she gives in. “I’ll take a look at the refrigerator in the back, tomorrow—when I’m sober, if you give me and my roguishly handsome comrade here another round. How about that?” Bucky’s entire body stops functioning. But Y/n either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. “What say, Tess?”

“There’s something wrong with the lights in the office too—”

“I’ll look over the entire bar’s electrical grid.”

“... One last round and then you’re done.”

Y/n rejoices like she’s won a war. Clapping her hands, she shouts in excitement. “You’ve got yourself a deal, sweets.” And then she turns to him, “What will you have?”

Bucky’s been rebooting so far, so instead of saying anything competent he just makes a noise that sounds something like, ‘What?’

“The drink? What’s your poison?”

“Uh, no. I—I’m good.”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed. “Come on, man! Just have a drink.”

“I’m supposed to be your designated driver, wouldn’t it be pretty irresponsible to drink?” Bucky shifts nervously and shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

But she doesn’t think his excuse is anywhere near valid. “You’re a super soldier, dude. One drink won’t even touch you. Just—gimme some company, alright?” She huffs, “Please?”

He swallows thickly. “Whiskey,” he tells Tess. “On the rocks.”

The bartender nods, “Two whiskeys on the rocks, coming up.”

The bar is fairly free of commotion, if you discount Y/n Stark’s antics. It’s a cosy little joint. Bucky must have walked past it a million times without paying any attention to it before. But now that he’s here, he can see why someone like her might enjoy it. It’s dimly lit, there’s a jukebox in  the other corner, playing songs that Bucky knows for once in his life and all the patrons are on the older side, and completely unbothered by the presence of two Avengers amongst them. 

Maybe he’ll come back here some other time. Neat place, nice bartender and no-one ogling him, the place meets all his criterias.

“Oh!” Y/n exclaims suddenly. “Where are my manners?” She sits up straighter. “Sergeant Barnes, thank you for coming. I won’t pretend that I’m not surprised to see you, but thankful regardless.”

“Yeah,” he says, slowly, brows knitting together. “Don’t—don’t mention it.” He can’t help it, he has to ask, “Sorry but, are you drunk? I really can’t tell.”

“Oh, I’m plastered,” she answers casually, grabbing another slice of lemon from a shot glass full of them. She begins nibbling at it.

“How’d you manage that? Isn’t your metabolism like mine? It would’ve taken you at least a couple bottle to even—”

She looks at him dead straight, “I own half of Stark Enterprises, and I’ve been drinking like a tankard since I first tasted freedom—back in ‘53.”

Fair enough, he thinks to himself. “So, you’re saying you’ve got practice.”

“And then some.”

Tess brings their drinks just then, and places a glass each in front of them.

Both of them quickly express thanks.

She raises her glass, he follows too, because what the hell else is he supposed to do?

“To Steve Rogers, the lying piece of shit.”

Oh.

She clicks her glass with his and takes a sip.

Bucky just cocks his head in mild disagreement and sets his drink back down on the table. “That’s what we’re drinking to?”

Eyeing him suspiciously, “Why? You got a problem?”

He sighs, “I understand why you’re upset with him, but he’s still my best friend.”

“Why?”

He bites his lip, trying to control whatever emotions are stirring inside him.

But Y/n Stark isn’t one to back down. “He left you,” she says. “Just like he left me—except yours is worse.” She smiles, and it’s the most cutting and painful thing Bucky’s seen in a while. “End of the line, he’d said.” Snorting, she adds, “Guess his line ended a lot sooner than yours, huh?” Bucky’s jaw clenches. And she must notice the shift in his demeanor instantly—which he has to admit is a feat considering her claims of being plastered. Her hand comes up to lips, covering them, like a child caught saying a cuss word. “That was—that was mean. I’m sorry—I wasn’t… It wasn’t a jab at you—really. It was,” she stumbles over her words, finally seeming drunk. “It was—it was meant for him. Not you.” She shakes her head, sadness clear in her motions. “Not you.” She raises her glass again then, “To life,” she begins, “that’s mostly sad, but sometimes—like in this moment—funny.”

Bucky’s not sure what to do next, so he decides to do the obvious thing. He raises his glass, clicks it with her and takes a drink. “Funny?” He asks, “How?”

“It’s tuesday night, and I’m so fucking hammered that I had to call up the one guy who hates me more than I hate myself to come drive me home.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Don’t know about you, but that’s pretty fucking funny in my book.”

He’s more lost now than when he walked into this joint. “Hate—I don’t hate you? Why would I—Why would I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” She asks him like it’s the most obvious thing. But it’s not. And she must see that to him it is not obvious at all, because then she explains, “I am the reason why he left, pal.” She points to herself so hard, Bucky wants to pull her hand away,  “I am the reason why he left you. Why don’t you hate me?”

His heart breaks. 

“He—he didn’t leave because of you, Y/n. You—you have to know that!”

“Didn’t he?” She challenges with her head cocked. “If I could make him love me enough, then he never would’ve left—he never would’ve felt out of place in this world, in this time. If—” She lets out a hollow, broken laugh. “If I could make him love me enough, he would’ve stayed.” She closes her eyes briefly, before opening them to face him again. “I’m your culprit, Sergeant. If I had been… enough then you wouldn’t have had to navigate this shitty new world all by your lonesome.”

Fucking hell, Steve.

“That—that’s not true! He loved you.” She begins to protest, but Bucky cuts her off. “I knew that guy since before he could stand up long enough to pick a fight, and I am telling you—he loved you.” He really did. Steve really did love her, completely and utterly. “He just needed—” he sits back. “He needed to go live the life he lost. It—it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t because you weren’t enough… He loved you, more than you know.”

“Well, he had a funny way of showing it,” she remarks, feigning ease. Taking another swig from her glass, she says, “But that’s just life, isn’t it? Sad and funny—sad that he left, funny that he maybe loved me even as he did it.” Bucky has to look away. “Still, at least he gave me this.” When he looks up she’s pointing at him. “Another curiously morose, and remarkably hilarious moment.”

“I want to ask, but I’m afraid to,” Bucky admits to her, with a curious look over his glass.

She holds up her finger, “Think about it, Sergeant Barnes—ex-Hydra assassin,” she points to him, “ex-Hydra assassin,” she points to herself. And then slowly she spreads her arms, motioning to the entire place, “United States of America, baby!”

Bucky can’t help it. He shakes his head with a hint of a smile.

“Can you imagine? If Armin Zola saw this?” She asks, clearly finding this all very, very funny. “Do you think, when he was creating us—the Winter Soldier and Static—that he could’ve even imagined a scenario where I would call you up on a random Tuesday night to be my designated driver?” She begins laughing. “Can you—can you imagine if someone were to tell him that this would happen? Do you—” she’s having a hard time getting her words out, with all the giggling, “Do you think he still would have created us? Hydra’s two most lethal weapons, sharing a drink in Hell’s Kitchen?” She cannot physically control herself, cannot stop the laugh that bursts out of her.

And Bucky’s gotta admit, that is pretty damn funny.

Sad and funny.

“Come on, you think it’s funny too,” she accuses. “I can see in your eyes, Barnes.”

“Fine,” he says, his smile blooming as he takes a sip. “It is kinda funny.”

“I remember,” she begins in between her laughs, “Peggy used to tell me Red Skull said that he could see the future, in the Tesseract, and man! That’s a load of shit, cause if he actually could, and he knew this would be the outcome, I don’t think the man would have experimented on himself and turned, you know?”

“Red?” Bucky supplies, smiling wide now.

“Red!” She shakes her head, still chuckling. “He was so fucking stupid. I mean—all of Hydra’s fucking stupid.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Bucky counters, adjusting in his seat.

“No, seriously, consider this for a second!” All of a sudden, she’s all excited and pumped. She takes another sip of her drink before she starts, “They were fucking useless, man. I mean, name one great plan of world domination that worked out for them?” 

Bucky—he stops. “What—that’s—What?”

She puts her hand up and begins counting, “Started a war, lost the war because of a kid from Brooklyn who juiced himself up with a serum they could never really recreate.” Well, okay. Bucky can concede to that. “Infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D., schemed for decades, only to be found out, by the same fucking guy.” Alright, that’s fair, too, he supposes. “Created Babayaga, a fucking ghost story,” she motions to him, “but then lost him too, cause they were dumb enough to send him on a mission to encounter his best bud—who, again, same fucking guy.” In retrospect, that does seem very stupid on their part. “Decided to commit mass genocide again, tried to kill 7 milliion people but got taken down by a guy in an eye-patch, a dude with wings, an ex-Widow, a fucking ex-Hydra employee,” meaning her, “and the same fucking guy!” 

Put it like that?

Bucky’s not sure what to say.

“You have to be a special kind of incompetent to screw up that bad, and be defeated by the same fucking guy that many times,” she surmises. “I mean, did they ever even actually accomplish anything?”

“I think you’re forgetting the countless assassinations they orchestrated,” he counters, leaving the ‘and we pulled off’ part silent.

She meets him eye to eye then, “Sure, we killed a bunch of people for them but—I’m gonna talk about the one thing we don’t talk about, now. I’m sorry, but it’s important to the point I’m making here—take Howard and Maria, for instance. The Winter Soldier killed them and stole the last of the serum, sure. And then what? They made more Winter Soldiers that were killed in their sleep by Helmut fucking Zemo?”

Bucky’s having a hard time breathing with the crushing weight of his guilt burning a hole through chest, but Y/n seems distinctly unaffected by it.

“None of the shit they did, or made us do, ever really panned out,” she summarizes, easily. Like she isn’t technically stating that her family died for nothing, that he killed them for nothing.

“Just because we can’t see it, doesn’t mean there wasn’t any damage done, Y/n. That’s not how it works,” he argues, with a curt tone.

She must notice it too, “I understand you must think I’m inferring that your… misery was all for naught. Which, I suppose I am, but I hope you can also see that if I make that statement with respect to you, it also reflects upon me.”

“Let me get this straight, what you’re saying is—we both got the shit end of the stick, years of torture and guilt, for absolutely nothing?” He leans forward, elbows on the table.

“Yes,” she answers simply.

“And that—that’s fine with you?”

She shrugs. “Isn’t all misery meaningless?” She throws back, not impolitely. “Furthermore, if there were a meaning behind our misery, would it be any less miserable?”

Well, fuck.

Bucky’s at a loss for words.

Because while it pisses him off to no end, she isn’t wrong. If there had been a reason behind Hydra’s years long torture of him, would that have made any of it better? Would it really have mattered to him? Would it have changed anything other than the fact that he’d feel far more guilty about it? And if there really isn’t any meaning to it, does it make it hurt any less?

While she’s clearly sympathetic to Bucky’s spiralling inner monologue, she doesn’t seem all that affected by it as she looks over at Tess and wordlessly asks for the bill. “Look, pain is pain is pain. Meaningful or not makes no difference. My comment wasn’t on either of ours, though. I just meant—if one has the kind of power and resources Hydra did, I’d like to think they’d do something a little more significant with it.”

It takes a second for Bucky to readjust to her casual tone and even more casual words. And that’s not even taking his spiral into account. So, his answer comes out after a short pause, “I thought you already did.” She cocks his brow at him in question. “You founded S.H.I.E.L.D.”

She tilts her head, impressed. “Most people don’t know that.”

He shrugs, “I’m not exactly most people.”

She smiles, giving in. 

Tess comes to them with a check, and Y/n pays it leaving a hefty tip.

“I may have been a founding member of S.H.I.E.L.D.” she says, once Tess has left, “but you forget that I also worked for them as an agent.” Both of them begin getting up from their seats. “I went on just as many missions for them, as I did for Hydra, if not more… But knowing what we know now, I couldn’t tell you where the orders really came from.” With that she puts on her jacket in one clean motion and walks past Bucky towards the exit.

When he catches up to her, she’s outside, staring at his bike.

“That yours?” She asks.

He pulls the keys out of his pocket. “Yeah…” His eyes fall to the ground as he adds, “Steve gave it to me.”

“Figures,” she says with a hint of annoyance. “It’s a Harley-Davidson Sportster, right?” Her eyes are set on the bike in front of her, but Bucky nods anyway. And though she can’t see him, she continues, “He gave me the same one in red.”

“You—you’ve got a bike?”

She turns to him then, “I’ve got several.”

Color him surprised. “Huh,” is all he can say. And to make up for the lack of words he begins walking over to the bike. “You coming?”

“Coming where?” She asks, blocking his way with her body.

He nods to the bike, he sidesteps her to finish his initial task of getting onto it. “I thought the whole point of calling me here was to drive you home.”

“On that?” She questions like she doesn’t already know the answer. “I’m shit faced dude, and you’re a fucking furnace. I’ll fall asleep on your shoulder in 10 seconds flat and fall off the damn thing.” The image does something to Bucky that he doesn’t want to look too closely at—not the falling off part, the other part.

“You said the word ‘furthermore’ in there like it was something people say in casual conversation. The longer I stick around, the more I wonder if you’re actually even drunk,” he argues. 

She rolls her eyes and stomps her feet. “Yes, because being babysat by you was on top of my Make A Wish list.” She puts her hands in her jacket pockets. “My place isn’t that far from here. I’ll just walk home. Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/n—”

“Thanks for showing up, especially because you didn’t have to,” she smiles at him. “You’re a good man, Sergeant Barnes.” With that she begins walking away.

And fuck him. 

Fuck this all to hell.

He gets off his bike and catches up to her in a few steps.

At first, she doesn’t acknowledge him. But then she says, almost to the world, instead of Bucky, “My place is actually really far from here.”

“I know,” he replies.

“You could’ve just put me in a cab,” she offers.

“You want me to hail one for us?” He asks.

“No,” she confesses, like it’s a secret but not one she wants to hide from him. “I want to walk.”

“It’ll take an hour on foot,” he reminds her.

“For most people, yes. But we’re not most people.”

He sighs, “So, we’re walking?”

“I know I’m walking—to my place. You can still run back to your bike and just ride off into the sunset… or moonlight, whatever.”

Yeah, right. 

Like Bucky’s gonna do that. 

So they walk.

It’s not all that late, the streets are still buzzing with pedestrians, none of whom neither care nor notice the two Avengers walking around.

Bucky’s gotta admit—it is peaceful.

“You like bagels?”

He’s caught completely off-guard by the question. “What?”

“Bagels, Sarge. I know they had them in the ‘30s. And I’m certain they are a thing in Wakanda, so you can’t—”

“Yes, I like bagels.”

She smiles. “Great! Come on!” She takes a right on the street and Bucky, as is the theme of the night, lost and confused, follows her.

The bagels are pretty fucking great. 

Bucky had skipped dinner to rush over, so he really needed to put something in his stomach so you won’t really hear him complain. He’s not all that picky about what he eats, never had a chance to be. But these—they are really good.

Well, except for—

“Why is mine rainbow colored?” He asks, but eats it anyway, it’s his last bite.

“To make up for the lack of it in your life.”

That makes him snort. 

“Can I ask you something?” She says then, looking deceptively small.

“Will it stop you if I said ‘no’?”

She makes a face that says, ‘you’ve got me there, Sarge.’ “Why’d you come?”

He almost chokes. 

Clearing his throat, he composes himself a little before he answers, “Your friend, Murdock sounded… worried on the phone.”

“He is not my friend,” she tells him laughing, as if it isn’t a sad thing to say. “We’re just… acquaintances. Even that might be a stretch. He hates me, actually. Well, maybe not hate. Let’s just say he doesn’t like me an awful lot.”

“You make it a habit of drinking with people who don’t like you very much?” He doesn’t really mean anything by that. He’s just making small talk.

But then she looks at him sideways, with a smirk. “It would seem so, yes.”

He gets up from where he’s sitting on the bench. “I don’t what gave you the impression that I don’t like you but it’s wrong.”

“Is it?”

Bucky’s not sure why he’s getting so worked up over this. All he knows is that he doesn’t want her to think that he holds any ill will against her. “I have no reason not to like you—none whatsoever. You, on the other hand, have plenty not like me!” She laughs at him. And that works him up some more. “So, tell me, Y/n, what the hell am I doing here? Why the fuck did you call me?”

It might have been all the blood rushing to his head courtesy of getting worked up, or maybe it’s just plain old carelessness. Because Bucky knows, as soon as the words are out, that he’s fucked up. 

And the atmosphere immediately shifts. 

He was supposed to emphasis on ‘me’ and not ‘fuck’. 

“Y/n—” he tries to walk his words back but it’s already too late.

“What, you had something better to do?” She asks, cutting and unkind towards him for the first time in the entire night. Bucky looks away. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says, triumphantly. “Did it cross your mind that maybe I called you cause you’re the only person on my contact list who I knew wouldn’t have any big plans tonight? Seeing as the only friend you ever had left you hanging like a ditchable prom date.” She looks at him, accusing, “And yet, you still won’t kick him off that damn pedestal.” She laughs, pacing now. “You’re fucking pathetic, Barnes.” Oh. So that’s what this is. “You’re stuck here, still holding on to him, looking up to him like a beacon of hope, defending him—for what?” He really should have known that this is what this was. “I don’t know whether to pity you or laugh at you.”

He can’t help it. 

He laughs.

“Something funny?” She bites back, still raging.

He relaxes. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Sad and funny, like life.”

“You wanna share it with the rest of the class, Sarge? Tell us what’s got you giggling like a teenager?”

He looks at her then, with all the patience in the world. “You called me to pick a fight.” Her face loses all color, it goes slack. “You’re drunk and you’re sad, and you wanted to fight… And who better to pick it with than me?” Her jaw clenches. “Look, I know you’re hurt. You’re mad at him for leaving and it hurt—I get that, I do, better than anyone else—”

She cuts him off. “No. No! You don’t get shit. Don’t do that—don’t act like you and I are the same. We are not!” Her hands are flying everywhere. Her anger is very animated. “When he left me he was being an asshole, but when he left you he was being a fucking traitor.” And just like that, Bucky’s left dumbstruck as all the anger leaves her body. “We—we weren’t together, not really. I mean, we weren’t even a thing anymore, not since Siberia. He didn’t owe me shit anymore. But you? He owed you the fucking world and he left you anyway. So, we are not the same! Because I have absolutely no right to be mad at him!” She turns away from him. “You’re not the ditchable prom date, Sergeant Barnes—I am.”

It feels like a gut punch hearing her say that.

“Hey, look at me.” She doesn’t. She’s stubborn. But he can be stubborn too. “Look at me, come on.” She relents. “You’re a ditchable anything, alright? Now, he may be my friend, and I can understand that he had to go live out the life that was stolen from him, but that doesn't mean I didn’t tell him he was a jerk for leaving you behind.”

“You did that?” Her brows furrow.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because it was a jerk-y thing to do?”

And then, and only then—when she’s laughing does Bucky feel like he can breathe again. 

“I didn’t call you to pick a fight, James—can I call you James? I’m gonna call you James. Sergeant Barnes is really hard to say when I’m this drunk—but yeah. I didn’t call you to pick a fight with you. I called you, because you’re the only person I could.”

Bucky’s lost all over again. “What are you talking about? You could’ve called Rhodey? Or Pepper? Or Banner, or that guy with the bow and arrow, whose name I can never remember—”

“Clint Barton.”

“—Barton,” he corrects and continues, “Hell! You could’ve called Sam and he’d come running. You’ve got people, Y/n. People who care about you, a lot.”

Sighing, she slowly walks over to the bench and takes a seat. Shoving her hands in her pocket, she begins, “Rhodey’s got a hot date tonight. And Pepper’s probably reading some stupid book, after having tucked Morgan into bed. Banner is deep underground, somewhere on an Island, which you never heard from me. Batron’s youngest got this cold that won’t quit. And Sam is on a mission.” She looks up at him from where she sits, “But even if every single one of them weren’t busy, I still would’ve called you.”

Bucky’s gonna happily ignore how the sentiment warms his heart. “Why?”

She takes a second. She pauses to find her words.

Once she has them, she begins, “Apart from Sam, they’ve all done the picking me up from a bar when I’m shit-faced routine at least ten times over, each of them.” Ouch. “The last time it happened, Rhodey read me the riot act and yelled some sense into me,” she confesses. “He—he said, ‘I get that you’re grieving, Y/n. But if you don’t pull yourself together sooner rather than later, you won’t have anyone left to come pick you up from your bender.’ And yeah. He was right, but that’s not why I didn’t call him.” She clenches her jaw. “I didn’t call him, or Pep or Banner, or Barton or Sam, cause they’ll always presume that I’m grieving—and don’t get me wrong, I am. But—” her voice breaks. “I’m also trying to get over the world’s most extraordinary break up.” She sniffles and Bucky’s legs almost give out at the sound of it. “They—they think this is about Tony, and fuck. It should be about Tony! It is about Tony! But—but it’s about Steve, too! I mean, fuck. Yeah. I lost my brother, but—but I lost the only man I’ve ever loved too, goddamn it!” She’s crying now and before Bucky can think better of it, he walks over and kneels in front of her. “And—and I can’t tell them that. I can’t tell them, that I’m out here drinking myself into oblivion because of a fucking boy! Because, how fucking stupid is that?”

“It’s not stupid at all.”

“Of course it is! My brother died, James. He fucking died! He sacrificed his life to save the whole world! And I’m sitting here crying cause I got dumped!” Bucky wishes he was back in the ‘40s when he always had a handkerchief in his pocket for a dame to wipe her tears, because she’s crying in earnest now. “You know what’s the worst part?”

“What’s the worst part?”

“The one person—the one fucking person I want to call to pick me—fuck that. The one person I want to drink my sorrows with, the one person I want to go on a bender and paint the town red with is fucking dead!” Well, fuck. “Not that it stops me—you know? When I’m drunk, and I mean three sheets to the wind, kinda drunk, I completely forget that he’s—that he’s not gonna answer the fucking phone anymore.” Sniffling, she tries composing herself. “That’s probably why I drink, I think. Cause for those 30 minutes, when I’m plastered, I forget that my best friend, my brother, my Tony is dead.” And she laughs, surprising him and herself both. “I mean, that and the fact that America’s Golden Boy fucking dumped me for the most amazing woman there has ever existed in all of existence.” He can’t help me, he laughs a little at that too. 

She wipes away her tears and composes herself fully. “I called you, because you’re the only person who probably won’t think I’m an asshole for sometimes being just as heartbroken about losing Steve as I am about losing Tony.” She looks at him with her wide eyes, vulnerable and open for the first time since he met her all those years ago in whichever Hydra base they were trapped in. “I called you because, you, Sergeant Barnes, are the only person who I wouldn’t guilty with, for setting my all-consuming grief aside once in a while to let myself drown in my heartbreak.” 

Bucky Barnes doesn’t know this yet, but in a few years, he’ll become her permanent designated driver, for all time, always. He’ll become her emergency contact. He’ll become her ride to every single event. He’ll become her safe place.

In a couple of years, Bucky Barnes will become the man she loves more than she’s ever loved anyone ever before, and he’ll love her back with everything he is and everything he has—steadfast, unwavering, without hesitation.

And while Y/n Stark will give up drinking in the memory of her relationship with Steve Rogers, she’ll never fully outrun the grief of losing her brother. It will come in waves, fierce and unrelenting. And on the nights when it feels too heavy, she won’t reach for a glass of whiskey. She’ll reach for him. She’ll find him, just like tonight. But instead of throwing verbal punches, she’ll ask him to hold her. And he will—like he’s holding the world, because he will be, indeed and in fact, holding his entire world. 

He’ll even ask her about this night. Only to find out that she has no memory beyond the point of falling face first into the bar table. He’ll laugh, shake his head, and tell her the whole story. She’ll groan in embarrassment, apologize too many times, and he’ll just smile, admitting that this was the night he first knew—if he spent too much time with her, he’d fall for her completely.

She’ll tease him for being a sap.

But that comes later.

Tonight, here, he doesn’t know any of that. 

So tonight he’ll say, “Come on, let me take you home. I think we’ve had our fill of sad and funny things happening for one night.”

Find other one-shots here. Find other Static Verse works here.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 148 (Keeping a Promise to Ben and His Dog)

cw: death

The sun had barely risen when Heather and Conrad took Ash and Gord to Deadgrass Isle. Ben Gordon's old lighthouse towered over the isle from the point, and they found him waiting by the anchor statue in front of the museum.

His dog, Captain Whitaker, had joined them in his translucent form - the better for him to enjoy an ambrosia treat, they understood.

The morning had finally come for the old lighthouse keeper to hand his beloved pup to these Gordons before his final journey.

Both dogs smelled the treats in Heather's jacket pocket, but she sated Gord with a Buttercup before letting him run off to chase a flock of birds. She could see Ben, finally, just like Conrad and her son, and the old man's smiling explanation was simple. "You're a Gordon now."

Conrad looked between the dogs and his family - both living and dead. "Are you ready for this, Ben?"

The old man nodded. "I've been ready a long time. So's the Captain."

"You're not afraid of what happens when you cross over?"

Ash's innocent question made the ghostly lighthouse keeper smile. "I've seen enough in my time that nothing would shock me. I'm ready."

"I'm sorry it took us so long to come back here." Conrad glanced apologetically at the ground.

"Do you mean for you and your family to pick up the Captain, or the long overdue return of the Gordons to Brindleton Bay?"

The Gordon men shared a wistful smile. "If fate decided to bring me back to Brindleton Bay in the form of my gorgeous wife, then fate is too good to me."

"Fate didn't make you a good enough man to deserve everything you have. That came from somewhere else."

Conrad nodded in agreement. "My parents."

Ben laughed. "Good genes."

Captain Whitaker barked, accepting the friendliest introduction as Heather reached for the ambrosia treats. Though she'd made more than a few, she'd never actually used one, and hoped more than anything she'd gotten the complicated formula just right.

The ghostly Chesapeake Bay retriever gobbled the ambrosia, and almost immediately began to glow within a prism of light. Ash watched in awe as the dog floated above the dirt, spinning rapidly before landing on four legs. "Wow! He's really coming alive again!" Ash cried with excitement.

The Captain didn't look much different now than Ash remembered him from the snowy day he first met Ben and his dog on Deadgrass Isle, and the reanimated pup barked joyfully in his new form.

"I haven't seen him this excited in over a century."

Captain Whitaker's new humans bent down to give him pets, welcoming him into the family with Buttercups and friendly hugs. Gord had returned from chasing birds covered in mud, but he excitedly greeted his new four-legged friend, too.

The excitement of the moment almost masked the weight of everything they'd come to do, but Captain Whitaker couldn't forget about Ben. They'd been companions for over a century and a half, but Ben was ready to move on, and the Captain knew it.

The retriever marched away from Heather, Ash, and Conrad, finding his longtime best friend glancing wistfully toward his old lighthouse on the hill. Blinking back a tear from his eye, Ben bent down to scratch behind the Captain's ears for old time's sake.

"Nobody could've had a better friend than you. Be good for the Gordons, and young Ash. And that sweet little girl I know you can't wait to meet." Captain Whitaker barked - high pitched and happy, but long and mournful at the same time. "I'll see you some day, old boy."

Ben stood, his form already shifting as he slowly left this simlandian plane. Though he made himself visible to others in a form they recognized most readily, his body now glowed with the same translucence as most ghosts.

"What happens now?" Ash wondered. "Does Grim come?"

Conrad shrugged. "I don't think so, buddy. But I think Ben knows what to do."

With one final wave, Ben floated to the small custom stone grave Heather and Conrad had commissioned for him. He laughed warmly at the inscription.

Ben Gordon (1835-1901) Your watch is finally over. We've got the Captain from here.

"Did you have to tell everyone how old I was?"

Conrad raised his hands apologetically. "The local historian insisted on it before we placed it on the isle. I know Gordons don't crave the spotlight, but he said you're an important part of town history and should be remembered properly now that the Brindletons aren't here to erase our name."

Ben blushed. "Tell him thanks, if you think of it."

With one final glance to his surroundings, he tipped his cap and somersaulted into the air. In a puff of white smoke, he disappeared into the gravestone, and Ash looked on in awe.

"So that's it? He's really gone? We really helped him?"

Captain Whitaker barked in the affirmative, bringing the awestruck Gordons back to earth. Ash raced off to school, leaving Heather, Conrad, and the dogs for a moment of contemplation.

Lighting candles to honour Ben's spirit, they vowed to uphold the promise on his epitaph.

But more than adopting a new dog, they'd accepted an unspoken promise to keep safe the town Ben had guarded from his lighthouse for so long. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: This was such a headache, I'm still so annoyed that EA made Captain Whitaker a living dog in the middle of me playing through the adoption arc. I thought I had the solution when I downloaded a ghost version of Captain Whitaker from the Gallery, but when I put the ghost in game he was alive again! Why?!

I had to steal a random NPC ghost dog they'd met once, change him to a Chesapeake Bay retriever in CAS and add the telltale bandana. So that's the dog Heather is actually reanimating, before I switched him out for the real Captain Whitaker who Conrad befriended with Gord back in the winter.

Also, because Heather is pregnant the house already has eight sims. So I technically cheated adding Captain Whitaker to the family because even though I have 10 set for my max house size, when I have eight sims I can't adopt or ask to move in as normal. But this was a bonus gen goal which I can cheat if I want, and I wanted to - especially after all the trouble I went through to play out the arc!

[withlovemark]

“good birthday boy”

synopsis -> ten is too tired to have sex but he is so fucking hard, so you take matters into your own hands (literally and figuratively). after all, it is his bday.

warnings: hand job

inspired by this video -> click here 18+ only

ten! has just gotten out of work, schedule – hectic, as always. you had planned to have some fun birthday sex with him but with the way your boyfriend walked into the room, tired eyes, falling right into the bed, you knew you just wanted to take care of him.

quickly discarding your own clothes, you toss them to the side, your naked body grabbing ten’s attention, “baby, i have like no energy left,” he pouts, sighing.

“don’t worry love, i’ll take care of you,” you whisper sweetly in his ear, making your way over to him and gently removing his shirt. you littered kisses all throughout his chest, sucking and licking his nipples along the way, making him giggle under your touch. moving lower and lower until finally removing the rest of his clothes, leaving him completely bare, pretty pink cock immediately springing up, “already so hard for me,” you praise, kissing the tip of his cock, earning a lazy smile from your boyfriend.

carefully, you maneuver your way around him, resting his head on one of your thighs as you cradle him, ten looks at you curiously, watching, too tired to protest. he trusts you enough to let you do whatever you wanted.

you lean down to his lips, giving him a sweet kiss, “i got you, love,” you murmur against his lips before spitting on your hand and wrapping it around his cock, precum mixing in with your saliva as you slowly start to pump him up and down, lightly shocking him.

you smile at him, his initial reaction fading away as he completely relaxed in your arms, comfortably lying on your thigh as you continued pumping him, precum making it easier to slide up and down. he focuses on the warm, tight grip you had on him, the sight of your fingers around his cock working him up, staggered, breathy whines spilling from his lips, back arching to your touch.

“faster love, please,” he begs, lightly thrusting his hips up, mouth latching onto your tit, sucking and biting your nipple as you caress the back of his head, smiling sweetly at him, fingers running gently through his hair.

you give him what he wants. pumping him faster and faster, thumb swirling around his red tip, his abs starting to clench, heat traveling down his toes, as he continues to moan against your tit, tongue swirling around your bud, feeling his own orgasm come to a close.

“c’mon love, you can let go,” you hummed, bringing him up to your lips for a tongue-filled kiss, your boyfriend twitching under, cum spilling out of his cock and into your hand as you coaxed him through it, “just like that love, you did so well,” you praise.

ten’s eyes tightly shut, breathing heavily as his orgasm completely takes over. you were so good to him, he has never felt more bliss than he does now, “such a good birthday boy,” you praise, gently lifting his head up as you stuck your tongue in his, ten quick to respond, smiling into the kiss.

-

an: just something short n sweet n spicy for the bday boy <3 happy birthday to the most talented, ten! officially done with the february bday neos! see yall on march for renjun :3 (p.s. do people even read ten smut? lololol >.<)

[ordinary-barbie]

Rafe watches your favorite show without you.

Rafe x fem!reader

summary: When Rafe watches a new episode without you, he faces your wrath—or does he?

tags: fem!reader, pet names (babe, baby), some kissing, mention of Severance but no spoilers I promise

a little something I decided to whip up, heh. Idk if this is even that good but f it we ball

You loved Rafe deeply, but right now, he was enemy #1.

One of your favorite things to do with your boyfriend was watch shows together. The two of you had recently gotten hooked on Severance, tearing through the first season in a single weekend. Now season 2 was in full swing, and you were excited to catch the latest episode—after you came back from your old college roommate's bachelorette party weekend, of course.

Rafe had groaned when you'd reminded him that you were going to be in Charleston for the weekend. He was (mostly) okay with you leaving him for a few days, but what really sucked was not having your weekly Severance date.

You'd returned from your trip feeling exhausted yet happy after a weekend of partying with your girls. All you'd wanted to do was cuddle up with your man and catch up on your show. When you'd played the episode on your laptop, you noticed that Rafe wasn't reacting to certain story developments like you were—almost as if he had already seen them unfold...

You paused the episode and turned to Rafe, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Rafe Cameron, did you watch the new Severance without me?"

Rafe smiled bashfully, knowing he was caught. "Babe I tried to wait, I really did. But I was so bored last night and I couldn't resist..."

You tsked at Rafe. "Wow, you just broke a cardinal rule. Don't watch a show without your partner!"

"I should've been patient and waited for you. I'm sorry, baby," Rafe replied, genuinely sounding contrite.

You thought about playing up your disappointment more—making him sweat a little—but Rafe was looking at you with puppy dog eyes that you simply couldn't resist.

"I guess it's okay," you said, flashing your boyfriend a smile. "But you're gonna have to make it up to me..."

Rafe pulled you into his lap, kissing that special spot behind your ear. You moaned, leaning into him as he moved to your neck, lavishing it with kisses. "What'd you have in mind, princess?"

"Um..." You'd had an idea brewing, but Rafe's kisses had your brain scrambled in the best possible way. He chuckled at you, giving you a peck on your nose.

"How about after dinner, I'll watch that Summer House show you like?" Rafe offered.

This was huge. Rafe hated reality TV and always popped his earbuds in whenever you'd turn Bravo on.

"Wow, you really are sorry, huh?" you teased, laying your head on Rafe's shoulder.

A lazy grin tugged at Rafe’s lips. “I'll make sacrifices for the woman I love.”

“I appreciate it, babe. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you warned him with a mock sternness.

Rafe smirked. “Yes, ma’am. I love it when you get bossy.”

You rolled your eyes, though your eyes sparkled with amusement for your silly boyfriend. You closed your laptop—you could always catch up with Severance tomorrow. Right now, cuddling with your boyfriend and taking a nap sounded pretty appealing.

[roc-haze]

Tis The Damn Season | ArthurTV

In which Arthur is your best friend.

————

Get on the plane. Fly. See your friends. See your ex. Forget why you broke up. Get back on the plane. Fly. Reopen the wound. Repeat.

Moving away to pursue your dreams felt like breaking free. Unbridled opportunity, a new city, separation from the family and friends who don’t quite get you. Ending a relationship around the same time as the move was weirdly liberating and ultimately inevitable. James, your partner, was happy to stay put and had no real desire to move on from the small town in which you grew up.

One of your good friends, Arthur, had experienced the highs and lows of leaving it all behind.

“Let me know when you’re home, and I’ll come over to debrief. The small town fatigue hits hard.” He grinned, embracing you in a huge hug at Heathrow Airport.

Two weeks later, here you were. The flight had gotten in around 8pm, jumping in a taxi and immediately heading straight for your flat. By 9pm, you found yourself laying on top of the duvet, candles lit across the room and a vinyl playing quietly in the background.

The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed throughout the flat, followed by rustling and a quiet “hi mate”. A few moments later, Arthur entered through the doorway and crossed the room to side beside you.

“I had a feeling I might find you like this.” Arthur put down the tote bag he was carrying, laying down next to you.

“What gave it away?” Your voice monotone, lacking any real emotion.

“The photos of James on your story. You looked a little too happy.” Arthur lay staring at the ceiling, not wanting to say too much.

“I think he has a way of pulling me back in,” you let out a sigh, eyes fixated on a mark on the ceiling. “It’s just nice to have someone know you so well… like I forget what it’s like to not have this urge to fill the silence or to make myself exciting to someone else.”

Silence fell over the room, Arthur allowing you the space to vent.

“It’s just fucked, Arthur. God forbid I have a desire to move away and better my life. I mean, look at me. I have a great, fulfilling career. Incredible friends. Am I not worth changing for? He’s acting as if I’m babe for the weekend.” Your voice trembled, eyes watering.

“Do you want an actual answer to that? Or would you prefer to vent?” Arthur asked cautiously.

“Both.” You finally shifted to look at Arthur.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always made space for him in your dreams. You’ve had a goal, a plan on how to get there and so far, you’ve done everything you’ve set your mind to. Some people are just content with what’s in front of them… James is one of them.” Arthur smiled softly.

“I just don’t understand. I don’t see him for months, we see each other again and it sounds like he’s reconsidered and is ready to move. Only for him to turn me down all over again.” Your hands made their way to your face, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not worth it or you’re not enough to move for. It’s just an indicator that he’s not your forever person. The right person will be sure about you… they won’t have to reconsider. They’ll know.” God, Arthur was annoying when he was right.

“You’re probably right.” You sat up against the frame of the bed. “Please tell me you brought wine with you.”

Arthur followed suit, standing up to retrieve his bag. “Of course I did! I have some picky bits too.” He pulled two bottles of wine out of his bag, before holding up an array of snacks.

“You are a man after my own heart, Mr TV.” You gave him a small grin, rising to your feet.

“Shall we go commiserate on the couch? There’s a new episode of 90 Day Fiancé out.” Arthur handed you the wine, throwing an arm over your shoulder and directing you through to the living area. “Just out of curiosity.. do you think you’ll be dating anytime soon? George asked me to put in a good word.”

You laughed, jabbing the man lightly. “For George, I’m free any day of the week.”

——

Author’s note:

Won’t lie friends - this is based on my life at the minute oops. I am in my sad girl Taylor Swift era at the moment 🥲

Working on a Will fic! Please send through any requests 🫶

Deliberately did not pick a small town as I am not British hehe pls imagine for yourself xx

[slaymitchabernathy]

Doctor’s Orders

| this drabble contains sexual content ;) |

Some things are just unavoidable in life.

A breakup, a spilt coffee on a brand new shirt, or in Soarynn’s case, a visit to the doctor.

She has nothing against the medical world, nor the professionals who work in it. On the contrary, she’s glad for the Capitol’s doctors who keep her happy and healthy. It’s their big, pointy needles that she hates.

But one cannot exist without the other it seems.

This visit, however, will not require any poking or prodding, she was assured by the receptionist that it was strictly a routine checkup. And besides, Dr. Kyte is a phenomenal doctor, always making Soarynn feel more than comfortable while taking a glance at her most intimate places.

She bounces her knee up and down while sitting on the counter with a small cushion and paper that crinkles every time she moves. It shouldn’t take more than an hour, not that she has anywhere important to be but once again, she’s not the biggest fan of the doctor’s office.

She’s been having some nausea, back pain, and tender breasts. But she hasn’t gotten to that time of the month yet which worries her. She’s two weeks late.

Still a virgin but it doesn’t hurt to check!

There’s a knock at the door and she straightens up, “Come in.”

Soarynn is fully expecting Dr. Kyte to walk in with her light brown hair pulled back into a bun and glasses to be on the bridge of her nose. So when a man, a very handsome man walks in, she’s surprised, to say the least.

He’s got a clipboard in one hand and is wearing the standard white coat so he must be a doctor. Perhaps he’s in the wrong room. He looks at her with a polite smile, “Hello, I’m Dr. Snow.”

When he extends his hand, Soarynn does not take it. “Oh, um, I think you might have the wrong room,” she tells him with a hushed voice, “I’m here to see Dr. Kyte.”

Dr. Snow nods, shutting the door behind her, “Yes, well Dr. Kyte left about an hour ago unfortunately, there was a small family emergency so I’m filling in for her.”

Oh.

Soarynn is still like a statue while he scans over her file that’s on the clipboard, if she knew she’d be seeing a male doctor, she would have rescheduled. While he’s scanning her file, she does some scanning of her own.

Dr. Snow is very handsome. He has blonde hair, curls from the looks of it but they’re slicked back with gel. He had a sharp jawline and a prominent nose, with full lips. He’s very tall, even perched on the counter she’s shorter than him.

His blue eyes meet hers and she’s suddenly so embarrassed. He caught her staring.

“It says here that you’ve been experiencing a number of symptoms over the past few weeks.”

Soarynn manages to squeak out a response, “Mhm.”

Dr. Snow frowns, making his way over to her right where he pulls open a drawer, grabbing a pair of latex gloves to snap on. “These symptoms seem very common for women experiencing early stages of pregnancy. Are you sexually active?”

Soarynn blushes, dropping her gaze. With Dr. Kyte, she’s so honest and open. With Dr. Snow, she feels…nervous.

“No,” she says, barely a whisper.

He takes a step closer to her and she can smell the distinct scent of roses which is odd coming from a man but not unpleasant. “Ms. Nightingale, if you were the victim of sexual assault, I can assure you that this is a safe space to talk about it.”

OH!

Soarynn is more than quick to shut down any idea of being assaulted, "Oh goodness no! I swear nothing has happened to me. I simply wanted to see what the issue was, I assure you, I am not pregnant." That seems to make him feel a little bit better as he visibly relaxes, "Ah, good. When was your last cycle?"

Soarynn really doesn't remember Dr. Kyte asking all of these questions, even though they seem to be the standard procedure. It's not standard for a man who looks like a model to be asking them though. "About a month and a half ago," she answers, "that's why I'm a bit confused. I'm never late."

He eyes her curiously, she wonders how old he is. Is he married? Does he have a beautiful wife and children at home? She ever so casually glances down at his left hand, more specifically, his ring finger, and almost cheers when she sees that it's empty.

"I see, it could be a number of things, stress, diet, lack of sleep. I suggest we do the full routine checkup to ensure that nothing is amiss." Soarynn finds herself mindlessly nodding to his words, he could say anything and she'd go along with it, "Of course, I think that's more than reasonable."

Dr. Snow gives her a small smile, "Perfect, I'll have you get undressed then.”

What?

Soarynn blinks once, twice, three times before opening her mouth, “Pardon me?”

“I’d like to do a full body checkup,” he explains, “the nurse has provided you with a gown I see.” Soarynn had barely glanced at the pink gown the nurse left for her to change in. And it’s not like what she’s wearing is very practical for a checkup right now.

With her heels and tights, her skirt and blouse. No, this won’t do, changing is the best option but also the most nerve-wracking.

Dr. Snow must notice how nervous she is, “Why don’t I step out for a moment?”

She nods eagerly, grateful for the privacy, “That would be wonderful, thank you, doctor.” After offering her a polite smile, Dr. Snow steps out momentarily so that Soarynn can change and gather her thoughts at the same time.

Soarynn undresses in a methodical fashion, first her blouse, then her skirt, then her tights. Her hands slightly shake as she neatly folds them and places them on the end of the counter.

She's so nervous, why is she nervous?

Soarynn has never felt at home when visiting the doctor's office, it's so sterile, so strict. And now, so sexy.

There's a knock at the door and she almost jumps out of her skin, "Just one minute," she calls, fumbling to slip on the paper dress. Considering how much she pays for healthcare, you'd think they'd come up with some cuter clothes.

With the dress on, she feels better, safer, calmer.

"Ms. Nightingale?"

"I'm ready."

He walks back in, looking more handsome if that's even possible, "Have a seat on the counter and we'll do the full body examination." Soarynn does as she's told, careful not to tear her dress, at least she kept her bralette and panties on, wouldn't want to flash the man.

"We'll start with the eyes, nose, and throat."

Soarynn holds perfectly still while he checks her ears with one of the many instruments she knows nothing about. Soarynn tries to ignore how close he is, how if she turned her head, they'd be face-to-face, almost nose-to-nose.

Then he checks her nose, hopefully no bats are in the cave.

"I'm going to turn off the lights so I can check your eyes," he explains, going to turn off the overhead lights. Soarynn stares up at him while he shines a light into her eyes, trying not to blink. "Your eyes are a fascinating color," he tells her, going to turn the lights back on, "normally I just see blue, but you have quite a bit of gray as well."

Soarynn blushes at his words, "Thank you, my mother had the same color."

"She's no longer with you?"

"No," she says quietly, Soarynn never got to meet her mother, she died giving birth to her. Dr. Snow clears his throat, "Neither is mine, makes you want to do right by them, doesn't it?"

She nods, although she never met her mother, she still feels as if she met her in another life. According to many people who knew her mother, she could be her twin.

"Alright, now I'm going to listen to your lungs," he says, grabbing at the end of his stethoscope, "this might be a little cold" he warns. Soarynn braces herself for the cold but still jumps when the cold metal touches her skin, "Sorry," he mumbles, pulling it away, "let me try to warm it up for you."

Soarynn watches Dr. Snow rub the stethoscope between his hands in an attempt to warm it up for her. Is this what good healthcare looks like? "Here, this should be much better," he tells her, pressing it to her skin again. And it is much better.

"Thank you," she says. He simply nods, "Now take a deep breath for me." Soarynn does as she's told, taking in several deep breaths while he moves the instrument around her chest, pressing it onto the paper dress.

"I'm going to have you turn around so I can listen from the back." Soarynn awkwardly turns on the counter so he can listen to her lungs more, "Good," he says quietly, "just breathe in and out, you're doing great."

Soarynn didn't think she had a praise kink, but she might have just formed one. With this man exclusively.

"Well, your lungs are in perfect condition," he announces, making Soarynn sigh in relief, "now I'm going to have you lie on your back so I can complete the exam."

Soarynn knows about this part of the exam, where she gets undressed and Dr. Kyte momentarily pulls her panties to the side just to make sure nothing is amiss.

The hesitance in her eyes tells him about her apprehension, "If you'd like I could have one of the nurses conduct this part of the exam." Soarynn thinks about the cute lace panties she chose to wear this morning, completely oblivious to who would be seeing them right now.

"There's no need," she decides, going to lie down on her back.

He looks surprised by her boldness but it's about time she started acting more confident. "I'm going to untie your dress," he tells her, fingers methodically undoing the three ties in the front of her dress.

It only takes a moment for the cold air to fully hit her almost naked body. Soarynn stares up at the ceiling while his fingers ghost over the soft skin of her stomach, "I'm just going to press down on your stomach," he explains, pressing his fingers into her soft skin. Soarynn squirms a the touch, a giggle escapes her lips and she clamps her mouth shut.

"Sorry, I'm a bit ticklish."

He smiles down at her, "Me too."

Oh, well, in that case, they should just get married.

"I'm going to have you unbutton your brassier for just a moment so I can examine you for any foreign bumps that might be harmful to your health." Soarynn's hands slip under her back, skillfully undoing her clasp.

His fingers are cold as they gently slide her bralette down, baring her breasts to him. And it's cold, which means...they're cold. Standing at high alert in fact. Her nipples might be the death of her.

His hands are large and he gently grabs her right breast, dutifully feeling for lumps before he moves to the left one, "Everything feels good," he informs her, "we can go ahead and put this back on."

A wave of confidence washes over her and she's speaking before she can even process it, "Or we could leave it off."

He looks down at her, blinking once, twice.

"Okay."

Soarynn's hands tremble when he moves down her body, stopping right next to her hipbone, "The last part of this exam might feel a bit intrusive, but it's only for a minute," he assures her, "I'll simply have you pull down your underwear, I'll do a quick inspection and you'll be able to get dressed again."

"Okay, Dr. Snow." Soaryn doesn't miss the way his throat bobs when she calls him that. "You needn't pull them down too far, I just need a quick look." Soarynn peels her lace panties down to about mid-thigh, farther than necessary but that's okay with her.

She doesn't mind.

His fingers brush against her folds and an involuntary moan comes out of her mouth. Fuck. Soarynn bites her lip to prevent any further noises from leaving her mouth, praying that she can get through the rest of this. His long fingers drag along her soft skin, not even touching her folds anymore but she's still so sensitive down there.

He presses against a pulse point, causing goosebumps to form all over her skin.

His hands are so cold.

"Alright, we're all done with the checkup."

Soarynn let out a sigh of relief, she didn't even know she was holding it in. "I'll step out again so you can get dressed, leave the gown on though," he says, already opening the door.

Soarynn nods and watches from her position on the cushion, waiting for the door to shut before she sits up. First, she pulls her panties back on, ignoring how there is now a wet spot forming between her thighs. Next, she puts her bralette back on, clipping it back into place before she begins tying the dress once more.

Another knock comes, but this time, she's ready.

"Come in."

Dr. Snow steps into the room with a smile on his face, polite and easygoing, calming her nerves instantly even though he's part of the reason she has any, to begin with.

"I reviewed your file mixed with the results from the full body checkup and everything seems to be in order. What I would like to recommend is a shot to help boost your hormones, it's possible that your levels have dropped."

Soarynn visibly pales at the thought of getting a shot, getting poked, a needle piercing her skin. And he seems to pick up on that rather quickly, "If you're not sure if the shot is necessary, we can always take a blood sample to see further into the issue."

Even worse!

"No," she shakes her head, quickly putting an end to getting her blood drawn, "that um, that won't be necessary. I trust you." Perhaps those aren't the most professional words to use with this man, but he does seem trustworthy, and if he just saw her hard nipples, there's not much else to hide.

"I'm just scared of needles," she explains, resting her hands on her thighs, "I usually need someone to hold my hand." Dr. Kyte always has a nurse come in to hold Soarynn's hand while she administers the shot, but she's not here.

He nods, looking down at the floor, he's wearing shiny black shoes. He looks very important right now.

"I see. Well, I don't think we have any available nurses at the moment, unless you'd like to wait for one."

Soarynn worries her bottom lip between her teeth, she doesn't want to seem like a baby, even though she definitely is one when it comes to shots. But maybe this can be a learning experience for her.

"It's fine," she decides, "I can handle it."

Dr. Snow grins, "Atta girl, it'll be quick, I'll have to inject the vaccine into your neck though."

Oh.

He needs to work on mentioning everything before she agrees to it.

Her voice cracks, "Okay."

Soarynn watches Dr. Snow pull open several drawers, pulling out a syringe, a vial, a wipe to clean her skin, and a bandaid.

At least the bandaid is pink.

"Which side of the neck?" He asks, looking left to right. Soarynn shrugs, it's going to hurt either way, "Right."

He nods, stepping forward but then he pauses, it's a bit of an awkward position that they're in. "Maybe I could just spread my legs," she suggests, batting her lashes up at him, "so you can get closer." Dr. Snow bites the inside of his cheek, gripping the syringe tighter, "Sure."

Soarynn does exactly that, spreading her legs so he can stand between them. The paper dress rides up on her thighs, baring her lace panties to him. His breath trembles for a moment, "Alright, is it okay if I rest my hand on your thigh?"

It's suddenly very hot in here.

"Of course, Dr. Snow."

He places his right hand on her left thigh, his fingers are still cold but she welcomes the sensation. They're also very close to her cunt. She chooses to ignore that part.

Soarynn watches from the corner of her eye as he brings the syringe up, their faces are inches apart now. She tilts her head to the side, baring her neck, "Is it alright if I push your dress down off your shoulders?"

"Mhm."

He gently tugs her paper dress down, exposing her chest once again and Soarynn closes her eyes, tensing and preparing for the piercing needle to penetrate her skin.

Instead, it's his fingers penetrating her cunt.

Soarynn moans, throwing her head back and arching her back at two of his long digits plunging deep into her cunt, pressing right against her sweet spot. "Oh," she gasps, her chest pressing against his, "oh please."

His breaths are on her neck instead of the needle, then his lips, sucking hard on her tender skin. His fingers thrust into her at a rapid pace, making it known how wet she was for Dr. Snow. It almost feels like a dream, a terrible, nasty, forbidden dream she should not be having.

"You like that?"

Soarynn whimpers, her eyes rolling back, "Yes," she whines, latching a hand onto his forearm, "yes Dr. Snow, I like it."

"I knew you needed something to distract you, to take your little mind off of the bigger things in life." Soarynn is at a loss for words, his fingers feel so fucking good. Her toes are curling and she can barely hold herself up so he removes his hand from her thigh to wrap his arm around her waist.

His lips travel from her neck to her jawline, then, to her lips.

It's a lustful, passionate kiss shared between them, a forbidden desire.

"So wet," he says against her lips, "so needy, so willing to take it, aren't you? Bet you'd spread your legs for anyone huh? A doctor, a lawyer, a President, anything and anyone to fill your greedy little cunt."

Soarynn tries to shake her head but it's pointless. He's right.

His fingers slam into her so fast, hitting that sweet spot every single time without fail. Soarynn shrieks when his thumb finds her clit, rubbing it in tight circles to bring her to a delicious orgasm.

"That's right," he says, panting, "gonna cum all over my fingers like a good girl huh? Can't take a shot but you can take other things right?"

Soarynn moans, her walls flutter around his fingers, and his words cause that wire inside of her to snap.

Dr. Snow doesn't let up one bit though, in fact, he starts going harder. "I can't," she whines, trying to push away from him but he's so much stronger than she is, bigger, taller, larger. His cock is probably huge.

"You can," he tells her, his voice laced with authority, "and you will. Be my good little slut and cum for me again Soarynn, I want this entire building to know what a slut you are for me."

His saying that reminds her of what a shameful, scandalous position she's currently in right now. Getting finger-fucked by her doctor at the doctor's office.

People are in the next room getting a prescription, she's in this room getting fucking pounded.

"Please," she mumbles, "please, please, please."

Her brain has been turned into mush, she can't think straight, talk straight, even look straight.

All she wants is another orgasm.

"Already dumbed down huh? Can't think about anything else but my fingers huh? That's all you want, all you need, isn't it baby? Just need to be filled all the time, keep your pretty little mind filled with pleasure and sex."

His lips are on hers again, this time more aggressively as he bites at her bottom lip. Soarynn gives him full control, letting him lead so she can mindlessly follow.

Her next orgasm is riding up on her and his fingers are going faster than before, her cunt is slick, making the most obscene noises right now in front of her doctor, a man who went to school for years. All for her to fall apart on his fingers.

"Cum for me Soarynn," he orders, his voice harsh, "cum all over my fingers like the little fuckdoll you are."

That's all it takes.

Soarynn sees white when her second orgasm hits her, her body goes limp in his arms, hoping he'll keep her upright while she moans loudly.

Soarynn's eyes begin to drift shut, growing heavier and heavier before they close and all she can think about is how he never gave her that shot.

꧁ ꧂

When Soarynn's eyes open, she's in her bedroom.

She looks to her right and finds a glass of water on her nightstand, along with a bowl of fruits. When she looks to her left, her boyfriend is staring down at her, a proud smirk on his lips.

"You really got into it this time," she mumbles, snuggling up to his side. Coriolanus has since removed his white doctor's coat, and the rest of his clothes for that matter from what she can feel, most likely just in his boxers.

Coriolanus chuckles, smoothing down her blonde hair, "You were much more confident this time," he replies, "telling me to leave your breasts exposed really threw me for a loop." Soarynn grins up at him, usually when they do these roleplay things, she's a shaking, timid, shy little thing. She's been a client for a lawyer, a secretary for the President, and now a virgin patient for a doctor.

It's a rush.

The first time he ever mentioned it, she hadn't been so sure about it. Pretending to be someone else? It was strange.

But then she learned to love it, getting to play around like she was someone else. And it was just extremely hot, the whole "forbidden romance" genre has always been a favorite in her books. Soarynn has read countless books about these types of relationships and now, she gets to live out her fantasy.

And Coriolanus gets to pretend to be powerful in every situation, holding power over those below him and thriving in his new role while fucking her senseless.

It's a win-win situation.

"I had to catch you off guard," she says nonchalantly, "and I thought you were going to fuck me, not finger me." He laughs, "Is there a difference?"

"There's a very big difference."

Coriolanus yawns, they always do these things late at night, and this time, they were in one of their spare closets, using spare counter space and floor space to create a believable doctor's office.

"Well that's because I plan on fucking you all night long darling, I'm still not done with you so I hope you're ready for an all-night affair."

Soarynn's eyes light up at the prospect of sex all night long, a weary concept to some people, but not to her. Sex with Coriolanus is amazing, whether they're playing pretend or being themselves.

It's always good.

"Is that so?" She murmurs, slowly pushing herself to sit up next to him, "I have to stay in bed with you all night?"

Even though they aren't pretending anymore, his throat still bobs. It's rare that she catches him off guard so she cherishes every moment she has of it.

But he recovers smoothly, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

"Mhm," he responds, slipping a hand between her thighs. Soarynn sighs at the touch, always welcomed, always wanted.

"Is that an order?"

Perhaps next time he could be a Peacekeeper who arrests her.

The next words he whispers send a shiver down her spine.

"Doctor's orders."

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @lovelylove268 @kickmybark @iswearicanfixhim @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @evilmenarehot @cervvsq @snowgirl12 @matcha-muses @anisangeldust @snowsgames |

[cocogum]

The Great Wave - Chapter 17 Review

‼️SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER‼️

Nothing too major happens in this chapter which I think is a good way to relax a bit from all the serious stuff (and doppelgangers) that we've had to see in older chapters. But sadly, we don't get to see Amalia freaking out over the orphan ouginaks like a customer at a pet smart store (sorry @kirichux looks like it'll just stay a fantasy 😭) Too bad that didn't happen (for now 👹). Either way, it's at least nice to know that Yugo was actually not personally angry at Joris but rather just had a very serious while thinking about daddy Rasalar's face in the last chapter.

OMG LUIS STILL KEEPS CALLING HIM JOJO ‼️‼️‼️

I mean I know that he still does call him 'Jojo' since we also saw him in season 4 calling Joris like that, but I'm just happy to see him addressing him like that even in the Great Wave 💕💕💕💕

And yeah Luis is right, relax you're not acting as Bonta's representative/messenger right now lol Even your shushu has a point which is honestly saying A LOT. You can call them your besties here Joris don't be shy 🥰🥰🥰

And speaking of Yugo, I'm semi glad that the face he made last chapter wasn't meant for Joris. Cuz not only would he have confused the living hell out of Joris but he would have also scared the crap out of these kids.

JORIS IS WORRIED FOR HIS DEMIGOD BESTIE ‼️‼️‼️ OMG RASALAR IS GONNA GET HIS SEXY ASS KICKED ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(sidenote: I personally see Lilotte as Joris's mortal bestie while Yugo is his demigod bestie. Yeah that's how I think i know it's clever ✨️✨️)

(yeah @geekgirles ur right, these two look so good in that panel 💗💗)

Like Joris is literally hearing that his demigod bestie got poisoned by the dragon who was meant to use him as a vessel. Shit was always personal but Joris knows that he crossed a line when he went for Yugo 🩷🩷

This must be such a weird day for Joris to visit memory lane again. First, he catches a thief who looks way too much like his past best friend. Then, he learns from Yugo and Amalia that the dragon who was meant to use him as a vessel poisoned Yugo.

Who's next on the list that would resurface from the dead and punch his childhood in the dick? His mom??

HAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAAHHAAHHAHAAHAHAHHA-

So uh Atcham really doesn't remember...either he sucks at remembering past faces or he's genuinely tweaking.

No cuz like wtf is going on in his head?? Same with Kerubim. Aren't they aware that they're standing face to face with Lilotte's doppelganger??? Come on, they literally look THE SAME. Fine, maybe Atcham kinda forgot since he had only seen Lilotte a few times BUT KERUBIM DOESN'T HAVE ANY EXCUSES TO NOT REMEMBER!?!?

He literally watched Joris GROW UP WITH LILOTTE. She was literally his best friend! After she died, can you honestly tell me how many more mortals Joris has gotten this close with??? Exactly. Atcham may be dumb for not remembering one of Joris' friends, sure, but Kerubim is the true dumbass here.

Speaking of Lilotte actually, Thirteen is clearly her doppelganger but it would be super ironic if her number (aka name 💀) was meant to be a bad omen for Harigue lol (if you forgot who that was, I don't blame you. It was that disgusting old man's name who slaved these precious kids)

Like her number name literally meant 'bad luck'. And you're telling me that she ended up being the one to bring Joris to his base? Yeah, if that isn't shit luck for that old bastard, then i don't know what is. It's especially ironic for her because that ended up being her lucky number 💕💕💕

ALSO PUPUCE IS ALIVE ‼️‼️‼️ WTF ‼️‼️

She's such a fighter, look at her still moving around with her little stubs 💕💕 It's nice to know that she survived 500 years with Joris and can still manage to run around...Pupuce is a real fighter lol

Also fun fact about her kind, they kinda work like bees: when they attack the player, they instantly die afterwards. So one attack equals immediate death. Looks like Pupuce is a pacifist....💀💀

These two bozos forgot that their asses got handed to them and are now Joris's kids. Yet they don't wanna share their stuff with OTHER orphans 😭😭😭

I swear to god it doesn't matter how old they get they are still lazy morons in each life.

I missed Luis's house magic 💕💕 The dofus movie made his skills look so smooth and satisfying like the motion and the way the bowls would just appear out of thin air, I loved it!!

AND THE CHILDREN‼️‼️‼️‼️

LOOK AT HOW THOSE LITTLE PUPS ARE OGGLING THE TABLE!!! That fucking old man never fed them right, he literally lashed out at them that they should be grateful that he feeds them every once and a while. So for them, seeing as table filled with food without anyone pushing them away or sneering at them is literally like seeing a miracle happening right in front of their eyes.

I bet that some of them still can't believe that they're out of the sewers. Those poor kids must be thinking they probably died or something because ever since Thirteen came back to the sewers, they got saved by a strong important guy that managed to scare the shit out of 'their master', got taken out of the sewers, got told they could just call their rescuer by his first name, got told they could stay at their rescuer's house, got told they could eat his food and sleep at his place, AND got told by their rescuer that he would give them normal names.

LIKE PLEASE YOU CAN'T TELL ME THAT SOME OF THEM ARE AT LEAST DOUBTING THEIR OWN EXISTENCE RIGHT ABOUT NOW!!!

All I can say is please let Yugo's wave not annihilate them and shred them into more pieces than they're already missing 😭😭

I can't tell if they're purposely being petty assholes while having the mental age of a kid. Cuz wtf bro this is like being a mom and showing off your new baby to your other kids only for them to hate the newborn because they'll have to start sharing everything with them 💀💀

I'll smack these two 😃😃

TWENTY-SEVEN STOP YOU DON'T HAVE TO GIVE HIM ANYTHING 😫😫😫😫

Don't get me wrong, it's so cute that he gave his (make-shift 😭) teddy to Joris but the fact that he was thinking about giving him anything at all, especially his TEDDY, was as if he gave him some sort of payment rather than a gift. Because why would he give him his teddy of all things? He's still so incredibly young, he obviously uses it all the time. So to give it away would mean that he's so incredibly grateful, he would see it as his payment to Joris so that he and his siblings would be able to stay here 😭😭😭

STOP IT WOULD MAKE TOO MUCH SENSE!!!! 😫😫😫😫

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS WTF MAN 😭😭😭

He says it way too casually too 💀💀

"Yeah no, he's been a pain in my ass for like 500 years now 🙄🙄 urgh I can't stand him sometimes i swear 😒😒" like excuse me????

I'm waiting for the Joris fans to use this face as their pfps lol

And into the abyss they go...

[playstation-dreamcast]

Love your Wesker hcs! I've always loved whenever he's angry, his nose wrinkles up like a dog. What about possible headcanons of someone trying to cheer him up and finds out that he snorts when he laughs? Much different than the stoic 'evil aah laugh' that he has

This one lowkey got away from me, and at some point it stopped being headcanons and became just like...weirdly formatted fanfiction lmao. Anyway, I think I'm funny- this is a fair warning 💜

Okay, so first of all what you need to understand is that the mission you have taken on is only really possible in theory. It has been hypothesized in the past that you can make Wesker smile- or even laugh- but it’s never been proven in a scientific setting or in a replicable way. So good luck soldier.

I think Wesker has an extremely niche sense of humor. Like, I think he would have laughed at this joke and then hated himself for it. (Please excuse not only the link to a youtube short, but for it being from the Ted show)

I think for most people, if they get a particularly rough huff of air out of him they’re happy. But, of course you’re not most people and you know that everyone laughs at something. Like, genuinely laughs, not that obviously fake cackle he whips out when he wants to seem menacing. You noticed he’d somehow managed to be more bitter recently. His already volatile mood set to the extreme and seeping arsenic into the air. So, naturally you decided this was the week you were going to hear him genuinely laugh

You start off with the driest joke you know. “So, a horse walks into a bar, right? And the bartender goes “hey, I see you in here a lot. Are you an alcoholic?” and the horse says, “I think not!” and poof into the air!” You have his full attention, it’s going well, you contine “So, normally at this point the philosophy students I used to hang out with would giggle, because they were familiar with the philosophical proposition of “Cogito ergo sum” or I think therefore I am. Bu-”

“Let me guess, you don’t explain that concept first because it would be to put Descartes before the horse?” Fuck he was good. 

Okay, so obviously that didn’t work. Try again. “Okay okay, you’re gonna live this one” Wesker just raised an eyebrow at you. You continued. “So, an infinite number of mathematicians walk into a bar, right? First one orders a beer, second one orders half a beer, third one orders a quarter of a beer- so on and so forth. Finally, after the seventh order the Bartender just says, “You guys are all idiots,” And pours two beers.” You smiled proud, just to realize Wesker’s face hadn't moved an inch. He gave you a pity huff. “Sounds like they should have known their limits.” He said,  which like…damn- his was a way better punchline and he didn’t even crack a grin. He just scrunched his nose up in that way that told you he was done with the conversation

Finally, you had a breakthrough. It came on a random Wednesday afternoon of all days, when a coworker asked you “Hey, what’s the difference between an etymologist and entomologist?” Without even looking up from your own paperwork you just said “An Etymologist would know.”

THAT. That was what got him. You heard it from behind you, the normal huff followed by an actual- legitimate- real life giggle from him. Your head whipped to look at him so fast you should have gotten whiplash. “Really?! It’s the study of words you find humorous?!” You weren’t even trying to joke, but your entire reaction was just so fucking funny to him. He was full on laughing now, yet you still couldn’t get over it. “You found that funnier than Descartes before the horse?!” 

He snorted. He snorted loud, one hand coming to grab his side while the other came up to try and muffle his hysterics. The joke wasn’t even that funny, it was your reaction to his reaction that got him more than anything else. Still, your eyes glittered as a victorious grin found your face. A win was a win, and you were going to ride this high as far as it would take you. You opened your mouth, just for Wesker to hold out his hand and shake his head. He needed to catch his breath.

He admitted to you once he calmed down that he tried not to laugh, because he found his snort to be “undignified.” You couldn’t disagree more. And the joke was on him, because now you had cracked the code. You had actual, contextual evidence that he was actually capable of joy and laughing (Something you had always suspected) and you were determined to hear it again

It was easier to pull it out of him again once you got it out of him once. It got to the point that even when he was at his most surly you could get him to at least chuckle pretty reliably. Slowly chipping away at that cold hard armor he had built up to slowly reveal the actual human that was there. 

He said he wasn’t a fan of it. That the work you were doing was serious, and you shouldn’t be joking around so much. And yet he still kept you around! Still indulge you in your antics, and even got involved himself a few times. That scrunched up nose that once meant annoyance now indicated joy and delight. Rare feelings for him to have. It was nice. Maybe he'd keep you around afterall

[cherubcameron]

Igual Que Un Angel

Chapter Four

Synopsis: Sofia is pregnant, and the last thing she needs is for Rafe to find out. It’s her dirty secret, it’s not like he’s barging down her door to speak to her. He looks as if he’s done with her for good. Will outside forces, force Sofia to confront the situation at hand. Or will she be able to keep this secret up? Not like, her belly isn’t growing everyday or anything.

Trigger warning: mentions of throwing up

MASTERLIST

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Sofia sighed; her legs were killing her. She was glad the swelling in her feet wouldn’t start until four months in. But god, she thought the nausea would have gone away by now. She held herself against the sink at the Pelican Yacht Club. Thankfully, it was for workers only. So no one would see her, nearly dying. She was starting to think this was going to be a recurring thing for her. Always holding the sink for support.

“I love you, but I’m pretty sure you’re trying to kill me.” She whispered to her baby, rubbing her belly. She’d thrown up three times now, she hated this. Hated feeling nauseous all the time. It didn’t help that she was always surrounded by food.

“Sofia! You okay in there!” Shit, it was her manager.

“Ye-yeah.” Shit, her voice sounded wobbly even to her own ears.

Sofia quickly washed her mouth, the room still felt like it was spinning. But she needed this job. She opened the door slowly, smiling up at her boss. He looked concerned, his eyes scanning her face.

“You look a little green. You sure everything’s okay?” He asks, his eyebrows raising. Leaning a bit forward to see her face.

“I’m good, promise. Just a little bit under the weather.” She attempts at a smile, but she knows it doesn’t look right on her face. She feels so weak, she rather be sitting.

“Rick says he heard you throwing up. Not once, not twice. But three times. Plus you don’t look too great. You know, if you’re not feeling well. You’re free to go home.”

Sofia tried to speak but he cuts her off.

“Just go home, my wife was the same way. When she was…” Sofia blinked several times, he smiled at her softly. “I can recognize it now. My wife has gotten pregnant three times.”

Sofia nodded, a smile appearing on her face. Just for a little while, it felt nice to share that weight she was carrying. That she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

“Thank you, Phil.” She couldn’t help but feel her heart warming as she stared at her boss.

“No worries, just don’t make a habit of it. We still need you. Rest as much as you can. I’ll ask my wife for advice for you. Oh and you’re lucky Rick didn’t suspect a thing.”

Sofia stops herself short. “How did you know I don’t want people to know?” She asks, almost shyly.

“Well, you did come to the furthest bathroom from the bar. So it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

Phil smiles at her, and as Sofia walks away, she nods. Smiling back at him. Happy that she didn’t feel like everything was crashing around her. For once at least.

Rafe hadn’t returned any of Topper’s nor Kelce’s calls. So he was surprised when he saw Ruthie approaching him, near the docks.

“I hate this just as much as you. But Topper says I’m just as scary as you. And I could get through to you.” Ruthie folded her arms against her chest. “Whatever that means.”

Rafe shook his head, tying the anchor rode. “Didn’t realize I needed, not one but two babysitters. Tell them I’m fine. I just need space.” He made sure the anchor rode was tied to the dock securely before finally meeting Ruthie’s eyes.

“Look, we get it. You and Sofia broke up. I know it’s not easy seeing your ex. But—”

He scrunched up his nose, squinting at her. “Not everything is about Sofia. Why does everyone always assume I’m hurt over Sofia? I could care less.” But even as he says it, he can feel the lie come out of his mouth like peanut butter sticking to the roof of his mouth. Difficult and hard to chew down.

Ruthie smirks, raising an eyebrow. “I never understood. One minute, you were saying you two weren’t a thing. That you wouldn’t stoop so low to be with a Pogue. Then Topper tells me, the two of you broke up. I mean, poor girl, I would’ve had whip lash.”

Rafe jaw clenched, he was sure if he kept clenching it, he’ll inevitably break a tooth.

“You just never know how to mind your own business!”

His outburst doesn’t make Ruthie flinch. It just made her smirk more. A little laugh escaping her lips. Rafe clenched his hands into fist. Did no one ever know how to leave him alone?

“If I were you, I would leave.” He says, through his clenched teeth. Ruthie tilts her head, a small fake pout on her lips.

“Or what? You’ll hurt me?”

“Ruthie, I swear to god—”

She rose her arms up in defense. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving. Don’t worry. I’ll just tell Topper and Kelce, you need your space. But you know you can’t ignore them forever.”

Rafe watched her leave, his hands still clenched in fist. Once she’s out of view, he turns towards the water. Puffing out his lips, he didn’t have the heart to tell them, he didn’t want to be their friends anymore. He never knew it would hurt. But it did.

He just didn’t feel like he belonged with them anymore. He didn’t think they’ll resort to getting Ruthie, of all people to try and speak to him. He untied the anchor rode once more. He needed to get back on the water. Try to clear his head a bit more. Clearly, he needed to do some more of that.

So Topper had resorted to going to his sister to get him to talk. Rafe threw his phone on the couch, not wanting to talk anymore about Sofia. Wanting to forget that she even existed. Forget the pain she’d brought into his life. The pain burned, he placed a hand over his heart. Shit, don’t cry, don’t cry. Fuck, stop.

Before he knew it, sobs were erupting out of him. He couldn’t control them no matter how much he tried. He held onto the wall, as he had tried to make his way to his room. Why’d she hurt him? What did he do to her, to make her turn her back on him like that?

He let out another sob, tears sliding down his face. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to forget. But he couldn’t. He loved her. He loves her so much, it burned.

He rubbed his nose, little hiccups escaping his lips. He hated how much he missed her. Hated what she’d done to him. And the worst part was, he didn’t think he’ll ever stop loving her.

There was two ways Sofia managed to reduce him into a boyish like state. When she was sweet, when she was giving him the kind of love he craved. Not realizing how much he truly wanted to just be accepted. Unlike his dad, she never used it to weaponize against. It was real, or at least he thought it was.

And then there was this, where he felt so much emotions. Things he couldn’t handle, that it just lead to anger. And pure melancholy. He didn’t know how long he stood there near the hallway of his house. Sobbing like a child. But once he was done, he fell into a fast sleep.

Sofia wasn’t sure if she regretted telling Lupita. Usually, she could confide in her. As childish as she could be. She was never one to go around spilling others secrets. She knew so much and kept it all hidden. Sofia knew she could trust her to keep her secret.

But she knew, this wasn’t a kind of secret you could keep forever. Eventually, her belly will begin to show more than it already was. She was going to have to eventually tell Rafe. But the idea of it, the thought of how he’d react. It scared her. And the last thing, she wanted was to abort the baby. She wasn’t the kind of person who would dictate how others decided. But for her own choice, she wanted this baby. More than anything in the world.

She covered her hand over her belly, “Mi bebe.” She cooed, as she glanced towards her belly. A small smile crept onto her face. For now, this was her secret. Her baby.

Well, now it was also Phil’s and Lupita’s secret too. But she didn’t want to think of all the logistics of the situation.

She sat back on her bed, she’d been standing as she read the messages Lupita send. She knew her mom was going to have a fit. Then she’ll go on a long lecture about how, this isn’t why she left Mexico for. How disappointed she was going to be. Sofia physically winced at the thought. The last thing she wanted to he was a disappointment to her family.

But the more Sofia did, the more she did just that. And not only that, she wasn’t even married to the father of the baby! Her mom was going to strangle Sofia. Sofia already felt strangled by the traditional views her mother held.

“Just you and me, baby.” She continued to rub her belly. “You and me against the world.”

She shook her head, Lupita just had to live in Georgia.

Two weeks later

She finally hit the three month mark. Her head was in the toilet, her eyes red from crying and throwing up. She was thankful, that her mother nor her father weren’t home. Her siblings were all at school. Leaving Sofia alone.

She grabbed for her phone, clicking Lupitas name. “Please, tell me you know how to cure morning sickness.”

Lupita laughter lilted through the screen. “Yeah, cause I’ve been pregnant before. Why didn’t you google it?”

Sofia slaps her forehead, “Oh wow, why didn’t I think of that.” But she sounds as sarcastic as she feels. Lupita groans on the other line. Sofia could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“Espera, you’re the one who called someone; who doesn’t know shit about babies. Or pregnancy.” Sofia frowned. Yeah, she should have just called Phil instead. “I’m here for you all the way. But you have to remember. I can’t really help you with advice. I’m also like two years younger than you.”

Sofia felt her stomach begin to churn again. “Hold on.” She placed her head back into the toilet, throwing up more of whatever it was she’d eaten. Which wasn’t much.

“Jesus! Gross! You could have muted yourself!” Lupita says, Lupita laughed. Making Sofia know, she wasn’t being serious.

“Sorry, can’t help that this baby makes me nauseous.” Sofia let out a deep sigh, closing her eyes. She hated this, she’d always hated throwing up. Even as a kid, when she would get really sick. She was always crying how she didn’t want to throw up, as she threw up. It wasn’t something Sofia wanted to relive. Unfortunately, now she was.

“Google it, prima!” Sofia opened her mouth to speak but as she did so, Lupita hung up the phone.

“N-no, no! Lupita!” Sofia hung her head low.

She called the next person, she knew could actually help. No offense to Lupita or anything. She dialed Phil’s number. Her heart rate speeding up as she did so.

“Hey, it’s uh me Sofia. I’m sorry to call you like this but—”

“Hey, no worries. Is there something I can help you with?”

Sofia tried not to look into the toilet bowl. Her eyes glazing up at the ceiling.

“How did your wife deal with morning sickness?”

Phil laughs softly on the other lane, “is that the employee who’s pregnant?” It sounds like his wife and Sofia can’t help but notice that she sounds almost excited.

“I can—”

“Hello! Is this Sofia?” His wife says on the other lane. Sofia is fighting the urge to throw her head back into the toilet bowl.

“Uh yeah, that’s me.”

“What’s wrong, honey?” Her sweet voice lilted through the phone screen. Sofia felt her heart warmed. Finally feeling like she could truly express how she’s been feeling. Plus, Sofia trusted Phil. Therefore, she trusted his wife too.

“I’m so nauseous and it’s been like this for days. It’s never ending.” Sofia says, her hand going over her stomach.

“Morning sickness, yeah. Not for the faint of heart. Just make sure to have ginger with you. Ginger tea. But do it in moderation! If you find it makes you sensitive. Banana is great too. Lots of fluid, so basically water. You should also be resting hun.”

Sofia nodded, she didn’t have much of an appetite. But she rather do anything she could to stop feeling like the world was spinning. And like she was going to throw up every second.

“Thank you so much Mrs. Collin’s.”

“Oh please, call me Jane. If you need anything else. Don’t forget to call. Hold on, let me give you my number.”

Sofia quickly put herself on mute, so she could flush the toilet. Then laid herself against the seat. Finally, feeling less alone, it felt nice to confide in someone who knew what they were talking about. She finally manages to get herself up from the toilet, carefully walking herself to her bed.

[deltarogers]

WHAT?

PAIRING: Steve Rogers x Pregnant!Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve been pregnant for nearly 3 months, and you haven’t been able to tell your boyfriend because you’ve been busy with missions. During one, you decide to drop the bomb, scared neither of you will come out alive.

WARNINGS: near death experience, angst to fluff, mentions of miscarriage

“Steve!” Your voice rang out, rushing towards your boyfriend. There was a scuffle in downtown Manhattan, and the Avengers had been called in, you and Steve included.

A small outburst led to thousands of AI manned drones to come in shooting at civilians, and you guys were trying to put an end to it.

Bruce had gotten out of control, and so had the drones, amounting to enough to cause a building to collapse.

And it was going to hit your boyfriend.

You rushed towards him shortly after calling his name, shoving him out of the way.

You nearly made it out yourself, but a large pillar had crushed your legs, searing pain coursing through your body.

Remain calm, you thought to yourself. You were 12 weeks pregnant, and you didn’t want to risk miscarrying.

“Y/n?!” You heard Steve call out right before he found you, rushing to your aid.

“Fuck- Steve…” You trailed off and he shook his head, trying to lift the pillar off of you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m going to get you out of this” He assured and kept trying. The more he pushed, the more he failed, and the more anxious you got.

“Steve” You said and he looked to you “Is now a bad time to tell you that I’m pregnant?” You asked and Steve paused, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, as if he didn’t hear what you said.

“What?” He said, his voice thick with venom. He was pissed, and that only made you more nervous.

“Steve- I’m sorry, please just-“ You trailed off, panic finally setting in.

“Right-“ He said, and it seemed, with the prospect of you being pregnant with his child, he lifted the pillar like it weighed nothing, his previous failures erased.

The ride in the aircraft back to the Avengers tower was painful, physically and emotionally. Steve wasn’t speaking to you, and your legs had never been in so much pain before.

You tried to hold yourself together, sitting in silence as your body throbbed and begged for relief, but you couldn’t, hissing and wincing at the pain.

“We’re almost there..” Nat said and you were more than happy for the comfort, not that you were getting any from your boyfriend.

You assumed he didn’t want the baby, and that he was pissed that you were pregnant.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He finically said, after pacing near the cockpit for 10 minutes at least.

“You were busy…there wasn’t a right time” You explained and he scoffed.

“You had plenty of opportunities…that excuse is bullshit” He retorted and that’s when you began to cry, frustrated that he didn’t understand.

That’s when it happened.

All the stress had gotten to you; getting hurt, Steve being angry, not telling him you were pregnant….

First it felt like cramps. Then there was a sharp pain that shot through your stomach, causing you to cry out as you nearly collapsed to the floor.

“Y/n? What’s going on, sweetheart…” Steve said quickly as he rushed to your side, helping you back up and into your seat.

“Hurts…” You muttered and Steve went into a frenzy.

“Stark! I need you to get us to the tower, NOW!” He cried out and Tony turned back, only to see you faint in Steve’s arms.

When you woke up, you realized almost instantly you were in the med bay, next to you sat Steve, his furrowed brows and worried expression were the first things you saw.

“Steve? Is the…” You started and he shook his head to silence you.

“The baby is okay” He assured and you sighed in relief.

“If you want to, you know…terminate, we can” You finally said after a few beats of silence. “If you don’t want this baby, we have options” She said to him.

Steve lifted his head surprise when he heard those words. “Absolutely not” He said sternly, which caught you off guard.

“I don’t want that, sweetheart” He said after taking a breath, his voice much calmer than before. “I was so upset that you didn’t tell me, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you” He apologized “I have been busy…and I’m sorry for that too” He added.

“It’s okay” You said to him, gently grabbing at one of his free hands, placing it on your small bump.

Steve didn’t let you work after that. Well….he did, but he wouldn’t allow you to come on missions, and you respected that, not wanting to worry him more than you had to.

Now, you were about 6 months along, baby bump full and large. You guys were having a girl, who was estimated to be 9 pounds. I guess that’s what happens when you get pregnant by a super soldier.

Waiting for Steve to come home every night was worrying, and he knew that. He didn’t mean to worry you, but he had to work, he wanted to.

When he came home this particular night, he was in a good mood, making his way to you, resting on the couch.

“Hi, Captain” You said with a teasing smile, holding out your arms for him as he sat down next to you. “How was work?” You asked him softly.

“Good, I missed you, and her” He said and gently placed a hand over your bump.

“Missed you too…we both did” You said before gently cupping his cheek in your hand, leaning down to press your lips to his.

Steve melted into the kiss, allowing your lips to move in nearly perfect sync, before pulling away for air.

“I love you…both” Steve muttered, moving down to press soft kisses to your stomach.

“We love you too. Steve” You said softly sighing in relief.

FIN.

A/N: Honestly did NOT have a solid ending in mind. Stay tuned for more Cap and a page revamp!!!