#another for the ‘if you can get roger to take his sunglasses off he’s yours’ question

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐭 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: noncon, dubcon, heavy misogyny, daddy!kink, smutt in public (kind of), 18+ minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve takes his omega to her first pool party.

“Hey, baby. Look at this!”

Steve takes off into a run before canon-balling into the pool, making the water splash everywhere in the process. But he surfaces with a grin, flipping his hair off his forehead. His light blonde tufts look dark brown from the water, and the sun radiates against the droplets on his pale face, making him shimmer like a diamond. You can hear a bunch of people – including Natasha – complain because the splash from his jump has completely soaked them, but all Steve does is flip them off before shooting you a smug smile.

“Wow.” You say as you walk up to the edge of the pool. “That was really cool.”

Before Steve can answer, you see someone whizz past you from your peripheral. A moment later, there’s another gigantic splash as Ransom canon-balls in next to Steve, and you yelp as the water hits you. The brunette alpha surfaces with a grin that rivals Steve’s in smugness, with the latter looking on sourly as you clap politely at Ransom’s jump.

“That wasn’t nearly as impressive as mine.” Steve scoffs, eying you warningly. You immediately stop clapping. “And you splashed water all over my girlfriend, you fucking asshole.”

“It’s a pool party, Steve. God forbid she gets a bit of water on her.” Ransom rolls his eyes as he climbs out of the pool and flips Steve off before shooting you a smile which you don’t dare return.

The two of you are at Steve’s friend Ransom’s house. Or rather, in his backyard where a pool party is in full swing. It’s a particularly hot day and everyone’s either sunbathing or swimming or licking snow-cones made from Ransom’s “state of the art snow-cone machine.” (That was the first thing the brunette alpha had shown you and Steve when the two of you had arrived. He’d bought it especially for today).

“I mean, Ransom’s pool is alright.” Steve had told you earlier when the two of you were changing in the pool-house. “But you’d think it’s an Olympic size pool from the way he shows off about it. Baby, wait till you see the pool at my house, it’s twice the size of this one.”

You had nodded, although the idea of someone even owning a swimming pool of their very own – big or small – was so completely unfathomable to you. But everyone who was here today hadn’t even blinked an eye at all the luxuries this mansion had to offer. From the huge hallways and sparkling marble floors to the gigantic backyard which resembled more of a golf course. Not to mention the pool-house alone was twice the size of your house back home!

“This place is like a castle.” You had breathed, sliding your fingers over the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the pool-house, watching the party in full swing outside. Thor was handing out cans of beer, Natasha by his side in a pretty red bikini that made her body look incredible. Ransom and Andy were making snow-cones, and Sam and Bucky looked to be organising a game of pool volleyball. There was a net set up in the water, and it looked like they were arguing about picking teams.

You could also see a bunch of girls settled on the side of the pool, in pretty bikinis and stylish sunglasses. You recognised a few of them from campus, and that made you gulp. What if Steve left you to hang out with his friends? You pray these girls are nice and you’ll fit in.

Steve had snorted, coming up behind you with his hand on your waist, pulling you into his bare chest. “This place is not like a castle, omega. I can show you castles; you just wait till you see my house.” He had kissed down the nape of your neck, the feel of his lips making you sigh until he pulls away and frowns, tugging at your shirt. “Take this off. It’s a pool party, remember?”

He takes it off for you, licking his lips when he sees what’s underneath. He had bought the bikini for you a few days ago. It was white with baby pink strings tying the thong and also going around your neck. Steve had said it was extremely sexy and cute, but you felt vulnerable as ever and paranoid every time he’d finger the strings – like he was doing now. You’d double-tied them tightly, but all he had to do was tug at them and they’d come loose.

Steve had barely given you enough time to put your flip-flops on, as well as your cute flowery cover-up, before he’d dragged you outside to the party.

Which is where you are currently, and you can’t help but smile softly down at Steve, who looks extremely proud of the cannonball he’s just performed. He swims over to where you’re standing, reaching up to grab your ankles.

“Come in. The water’s nice and cool.”

Your heart skips a beat at how laid back he’s being. This is a different side to Steve, who was usually so stoic and strict. Either that, or he was downright devious. Sometimes though, sometimes he lets himself go and relax. Like when he’s playing video-games and gets really into it, or when the two of you are cuddling and he lets Steve Junior join in, or when the two of you study together. Or now.

“I – uh – I don’t really want to swim.” You answer awkwardly, and your alpha rolls his eyes, the grip he has on your ankles not loosening. But the thought of taking your cover-up off and being in such a revealing bikini in front of all these people has you shaking your head pleadingly at him.

“It’s a pool party, omega. That means you have to swim.” Steve tells you as if you’re a baby who doesn’t understand the concept of a pool party.

You exhale softly before sitting down by the edge of the pool and dipping your feet in, sighing at how nice the water feels. And a part of you does want to go in, but you don’t know why you feel so self-conscious here. Well, actually, you do know why. It’s because you feel so out of place, in this huge mansion of a house with all these people from college whom you probably have nothing in common with. They aren’t your friends, you don’t have any friends. And they certainly don’t want to be your friends either, you just know it.

Steve settles between your legs, spreading them and smirking up at you. He presses a light kiss to your inner thigh, and it’s innocuous enough but you still look around in alarm. But no one is watching the two of you and so you try to relax.

“Relax, omega.” Steve commands you, and you get a whiff of his summery scent and sigh as it seems to soothe you from the inside out. You shoot your alpha a small smile, and he only smirks, continuing to kiss your thigh as his hands slips up and down your bare legs. You freeze when you feel his fingers lock around your ankles, the sudden image of him cruelly tugging you into the water crossing your mind.

But Steve only lifts your foot up, licking his lips as he watches your white nail polish gleam in the sunlight. You gulp when he presses a kiss on your toe, before a dark, lustful look clouds his eyes and you pull away.

“Not here, Steve! Please!” You whisper.

“Why not? You’re my omega and I can do whatever I want with you, so–”

��Hey, Steve! Great weather, huh?”

Jake Jensen swims up to Steve, a comically wide grin on his face. He’s got a thick layer of white sunscreen all over his face, with an especially thick blot on the tip of his nose. And yet, he’s still sunburnt and slightly pink to match the shade of his salmon-coloured swimming trunks.  His eyes squint as he smiles at Steve – either because of the sun or because he’s not wearing his glasses.

Steve rolls his eyes, getting in front of you to block you from Jake’s view.

“Jensen, who the fuck invited you?”

“Uh, Ransom did? He invited the whole football team! This sure is a swell pool, huh, Steve? I’ve got one too – well, my parents do. But it’s not as big as this one.”

“I’m sure it isn’t.” Steve says drily, “Hey! Eyes on me, Jensen. Don’t even think about looking at her.”

“I wasn’t–”

“I know your angle, you fucking creep. Swimming over here and trying to act all casual so you can get a close up look at my girlfriend in her bikini.”

Jake blinks, his eyes zeroing in on you peaking over Steve’s shoulder. “I didn’t even notice her, actually, but–”

“Are you insulting my girlfriend now, Jensen? Are you fucking insinuating that she’s not noticeable?!”

“What? No–”

“Shut up, you fucking idiot. And get away from us. In fact, get out of the whole pool.” Steve points to the far corner of the backyard, where a jacuzzi bubbles away on its lonesome. “Go sit in there, Jensen. I’m banning your creepy ass from this pool. Now go before I kick you off the football team.”

You watch as Jake hurriedly swims away, a look of dismay on his face. “Steve, you shouldn’t be so mean to him– Hey!”

You yelp as your alpha’s muscular arms encircle around you, pulling you into the pool with a gentle splash. Your arms automatically go around his neck, and your legs – unable to reach the floor of the pool – instinctively wrap around his waist until you’re clinging to him like a koala.

“There. Now none of these creeps can stare at your body.” Steve’s hand slips down to squeeze your ass underwater and you jump in surprise, inadvertently rubbing your front against his crotch. His eyes darken and he clutches you closer, till you can feel his hard dick through his trunks rub against your mound which is barely concealed by your bikini. You fight yourself in order not to moan, shooting Steve a pleading look only to find that his eyes are too busy staring at your cleavage, which is ample and wet and pressed up against his chest.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy, omega.” Steve says, leaning forward to kiss you roughly. He bites at your bottom lip, almost drawing blood as his hands continue to fondle you. You feel your walls clench but you have to remind yourself that you’re in a pool with a bunch of other people. Meanwhile, underwater, Steve’s hand slips under your bikini bottoms, cupping your bare ass cheek and jiggling it lewdly.

“Fuck, why’d you have to wear such a tiny, slutty bikini, huh?” Steve whispers, licking the shell of your ear sensually and sending thrills up and down your spine. “You think you can look this sexy and cute and I won’t fuck you in the middle of this pool right now?”

“B-But, Steve! You chose this bikini!”

“Don’t lie, baby omega.” He pinches your ass again before his fingers tug threateningly at the flimsy string holding your bikini bottoms to your body. “Now everyone’s staring at your hot, tight little body because they all want to fuck you. But they can’t, because that’s my job.”

“Please don’t take my bikini off!” You plead softly, as he continues to play with the strings of your bikini-bottoms. You try to swim away from him, but he holds on tightly to you, shooting you a warning look before his eyes grow distracted by your breasts again, and his hands cup them both.

“Who told you to tease me like this, huh?” He kisses up your neck, squeezing and fondling your breasts like an animal pawing at his prey, “Who told you to wear such a tight, sexy bikini and push your tits up so they look all sexy? God, you’re killing me, baby. And I know you’re doing it on purpose, just like you always do.”

You know Steve well enough at this point to realise that when he’s riled up and horny, he tends to accuse you of baseless things like leading him on purposely. But all you’re trying to do at this very moment is make sure he doesn’t slip his dick inside you at this pool party in front of everyone. Because Steve could really be a menace when he wanted to, and his libido knew no bounds. He would definitely fuck you in front of an audience, no questions asked. In fact, he’d happily do it.

“Who’s that?” You blurt out in a desperate bid to distract him. You look toward the gates where Ransom is greeting a pretty brunette girl who you’ve never seen before. Steve follows your gaze and snorts.

“That’s Marta, Ransom’s new girlfriend.”

“Oh. She’s very pretty.” You comment, taking note of how Ransom looks genuinely happy to see her. He picks her up and swings her around, and she laughs and bats him with her purse before they kiss.

“She’s a gold-digging slut.” Steve says darkly.

“What?”

“You heard me. She has a reputation for being the biggest gold-digger in New York and everyone knows it.” Steve holds you close, as if physically shielding you from getting influenced by Marta, who isn’t even looking at either of you. “Instead of getting a degree like the rest of us, she’s been steadily seducing half the male population in the city, and getting them to buy her whatever she wants.”

“But I thought you preferred it when omegas didn’t get degrees?”

You don’t know where the quip comes from, but you regret it as soon as the words leave your mouth. Steve shoots you a warning look and you quickly bow your head submissively, “I’m sorry.”

“You better be. One more slip-up like that and I’ll spank you in front of everyone,” Steve threatens before continuing, “Omegas have no business getting degrees, but they also have no business acting like gold-digging sluts. Anyways, all of us tried to warn Ransom but he’s a fucking idiot, clearly.”

You look towards the couple once again; Ransom is making Marta a personalised snow-cone, drawing a sloppily-drawn heart out of strawberry syrup on top of the shaved ice. Marta claps excitedly, giving Ransom a kiss on the cheek. They look pretty happy and genuine to you, but Steve probably knows better?

You mull over all this new information, “B-But Steve, you buy me tons of expensive stuff all the time. Do people think I’m a gold-digger?”

Steve presses a bunch of kisses on your neck, holding you tightly against him as if he’s afraid you’ll float away. “No, baby. No one would dare make that assumption about you, because I would kill them. And anyways, you’re too cute and innocent and humble to be a gold-digger. Not like Marta, who is a whore.”

You wrinkle your nose, “Steve, please don’t say that…”

“She is, though. She made Ransom buy her a Birkin bag when he’d only known her two weeks.”

You’re wondering why Steve seems so incensed over a simple bag when suddenly–

“You sure do love to gossip, don’t you, Steve?”

Natasha walks over to the corner of the swimming pool where you and Steve are. She’s wrapped a silky black sarong around her hips, and it looks good with her deep red bikini.

“And you sure do love to eavesdrop, don’t you?” Steve fires back, his grip on you tightening possessively.

Natasha rolls her eyes and looks from Steve to you, “Don’t listen to Steve. Marta’s a great girl, we used to go to the same yoga class a few years ago.”

“Of course, you think she’s great.” Steve remarks, sneering at Nat as if she’s a disease, but the redhead remains unperturbed, shooting him a sweet smile before looking back to you.

“Let’s hang out soon. I can fill you in on all the real gossip, and –”

“She doesn’t want to hang out with you.” Steve answers on your behalf. You wince, because it’s not true at all! You’d love to hang out with Natasha, and she’s always inviting you out, either to shop or grab brunch. But Steve never gives you permission to go, because he claims Natasha is a bad influence. You wish you were brave enough to stand up to Steve but you’re not, so instead you just shoot Natasha an apologetic look, and the redhead smiles understandingly back at you.

“Steve! Come on, we’re playing volleyball and you’re on my team!” Sam calls out from the other side of the pool.  

Steve makes a face before shouting back, “I’m busy with my girlfriend!”

“She can play too.” Bucky walks up with the volleyball under his arm, “She can be on my team, we could use an extra player since we got stuck with Jensen.” He gives you a meaningful stare, his cold blue eyes raking you up and down, making you shrink back into Steve. But the brunette alpha smoothly looks away as soon as Steve glances at him.

“Haha, very funny. Omegas don’t play sports.” Steve gives you a kiss on the cheek and a condescending pat on your bum which you’re happy is underwater so no one sees. His lips brush against your ear, “I’m gonna go play for a while, okay, baby?”

You nod, “That’s alright, Steve. I’ll just stay here.”

Steve looks at you, then at Natasha, then back at you before narrowing his eyes, “Don’t talk to her. Just watch me play, okay?”

“Okay.” You cross your fingers behind your back, hoping he won’t see.

He kisses you some more, claiming it’s a good luck kiss but it quickly turns into a good luck make-out before Bucky drags him away.

You climb out of the pool, regretting it instantly because you feel all wet and exposed. But Natasha hands you a big, fluffy towel, and you gratefully wrap it around yourself before she tugs you over to a couple of deck chairs.

“Steve is so bossy,” Natasha giggles, and you follow her gaze to the other side of the pool. There’s a net set up and Steve is already busy explaining strategies to his team members, before telling them exactly where to stand and what to do.

“Yeah.” You agree softly.

“I bet the only one he really listens to is you, am I right?”

Your eyes widen, “Oh no, Steve doesn’t really… I, uh, I could never tell him what to do.”

Natasha stretches and lays down on her deck chair, “I mean, I tell Thor to load the dishwasher or empty the drier, that kind of stuff.”

You look down to your lap, “Oh, well, Steve says that household chores are an omega’s job.” You pause, your eyes focused on Steve as he slams the volleyball straight at Jensen’s face. Jensen yelps, his glasses flying into the water as Steve laughs and high-fives Sam. You suddenly grow paranoid, wondering if your words will somehow get back to him. “I don’t mind doing the household chores at all, though! Actually, I find it very relaxing.” (This isn’t even a lie).

Natasha nods thoughtfully, “Yeah, I don’t mind it either. But you could definitely get Steve to help you out.”

You smile, not saying anything. You certainly doubted you could make Steve do anything.

The redhead sits up straight, “I’m serious, though! Next time you’re unloading the dishwasher, just be like ‘Oh no, these dishes…they’re so heavy!’ Trust me, watch how he’ll make you sit down and do it all himself. Alphas eat the whole ‘damsel in distress’ thing right up.”

You mull over it; maybe that would work… Steve never ever let you do any heavy-lifting around the house. You weren’t even allowed to take the trash out, and sometimes he’d even take the laundry basket out of your hands if it looked too heavy. “Baby omegas like you shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,” he’d always say.

Relaxing and sitting back, all warm in your fluffy towel, you listen as Natasha gives you more relationship advice. She tells you all the “little things” you can do to control your alpha, like dress up in sexy lingerie and withhold sex until he agrees to your demands. Or keep him on his toes by not answering his texts immediately, and ignoring him so that it drove him crazy. You knew most of these ideas would never work with Steve, but it was nice to listen to her speak anyways, plus it also gave you an interesting insight on her relationship with Thor.

Steve’s team wins the volleyball match, and he comes back to you with a smug smile on his face. Swooping you up in his arms and giving you the biggest kiss ever, till your cheeks are hot and your heart is racing.

“Did you see me?” He asks, kissing you all over your face as if Natasha isn’t a foot away from you two, “Did you see how I scored that last point?”

“Yes,” you lie, because you had dozed off for the past few minutes under the deliciously warm sun and the fluffiness of your towel, “You were really good!”

“Damn right. And did you see how bad Jensen was?”

Steve gives you a detailed play-by-play of the whole game, whilst also simultaneously carrying you off to the hot-tub in the corner of the yard. Natasha waves you goodbye before skipping over to Thor, and you watch her bat him on the shoulder before he throws her into the pool, jumping in after her.

“…and then Bucky rage quit because his team was so shit, and I think he actually left and drove home.” Steve shakes his head, “Classic Bucky. He can’t ever take a loss.”

He gently places you into the hot tub, and you sigh as you sink into the hot, steamy, bubbling water. It’s deep, almost up to your neck when you sit down. But Steve has other plans, hastily pulling you into his lap once he’s settled down as well. In fact, he places you right on top of his hard bulge, which is definitely noticeable underneath his trunks.

“So, is my baby omega gonna give me a reward for winning?” He pinches your ass, a mischievous glint in his eye. His hands settle on your hips, grinding you down against his bulge and smirking when you yelp and grab onto his chest and shoulders.

“Not here!” You gasp, earning another pinch to your ass.

“Really? Is that why you keep grinding your cute little butt on my dick?”

“I’m not!”

“Don’t lie to me, omega.” Steve draws you closer with his big hand on the back of your neck, kissing you roughly, his hands fondling every part of your body. He keeps one hand squarely on your ass, his fingers digging between your ass cheeks and prodding at your puckered hole through the thin material of your bikini. You gasp straight into his mouth, and he just smirks against your lips, not allowing you to break the kiss as his other hand slips up to squeeze your breast. His thumb brushes against your hard nipple, and he tries to pull your bikini top off before you manage to fend him away.

“Not here, Steve, please!” You beg, not knowing how far he’d go. His eyes are almost black with lust, as if he’s horny off of winning the volleyball game and impressing you. And a part of you knew this would happen, that this was inevitable the moment he made you put on this extra revealing bikini in the first place. But you’d hoped he’d have at least dragged you off somewhere private, instead of the hot-tub which was out in the open with everyone still milling around.

“Address me properly, baby omega.” Steve whispers in your ear, his tone dripping with lust. “And you shouldn’t have put on this slutty bikini if you didn’t want me to fuck you in front of everyone. All these guys have been staring at you all day. Now I have to show them all how I own you.”

His fingers play with the string that’s holding your bikini top together, his other hand now tracing shapes on the exposed skin of your butt cheek. He gives it a jiggle, smirking when you clutch him harder, your hands wrapping around his neck in an effort to calm yourself down.

“I think you should take your bikini off. Daddy wants to see your tits.”

You shake your head pleadingly, “No, Steve – I mean daddy – please, I can’t do that!”

He doesn’t even blink, his eyes focused on your cleavage which is practically spilling out of the bikini. He licks his lips, a carnality suddenly taking over his being and he grabs the flimsy cups of your bikini and pulls them downwards, exposing your breasts. You don’t even have time to react before his mouth latches on to one of your nipples, his other hand covering your other breast by squeezing it.

You bite your lip to contain your moan, but Steve moans freely around your nipple as he suckles it. His tongue licks sensually around your hardened peak, making you jolt in his lap. He holds you down firmly, digging his boner up between your ass. He sucks your nipple as if he’s starving, biting at it as if he wants to make you scream, but you stop yourself just in time.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby.” Steve tells you, “I almost lost concentration a few times during that volleyball game. All I could think about was you looking all cute and sexy, wearing this slutty bikini as if you were begging me to fuck you.”

“Daddy – ah! – can we do this at home please?” You ask, because now you can feel yourself getting turned on. Despite your embarrassment and discomfort, you can feel your pussy clench at his degrading dirty talk.

“No. And stop telling me to stop or else I’ll fuck you on that deck chair, right in the middle of everyone.” He stops suckling on your nipple for a second, pinching it instead as he looks at you thoughtfully, “Actually, no. Keep telling me to stop because I like it when you do that. Reminds me how weak and babyish you are.” He licks a stripe up the side of your face before kissing your cheek sloppily, “Beg me again, say: ‘daddy, please stop.’”

“Daddy, please stop!” You moan pitifully, your brain wanting him to stop but your body not quite agreeing as you feel your hips involuntarily jut against him. And you’re just about to lose control, just about to give in to him because he feels so good and he smells so enticing and he’s your daddy so he’s in charge and the omega inside you is purring and wanting to do exactly what he orders you to, and then–

“Mind if we join you guys?”

Ransom plops into the hot tub, with Marta hot on his heels. Your eyes widen, and Steve huffs in annoyance before pushing your bikini back up to cover your breasts. The tub is bigger than most, and big enough that Ransom and Marta are able to sit a few feet away from you and Steve. They’re too busy talking to notice anything, but Steve double-knots your bikini strings just in case, glaring daggers at the couple sitting across from you.

You try to slip off Steve’s lap after that, but he holds you in place and shoots you a warning look. So you sit there, your back against Steve’s chest and his hard dick poking angrily against your butt.

“I was just telling Marta how similar you and I are, Steve.” Ransom pipes up.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Steve asks sardonically. You can tell he’s pissed off at being interrupted, which is never a good sign. You remember once he was about to fuck you in the locker room before the coach had called him. Steve had been seething, and with all that pent-up sexual frustration, you knew you were in for it once he was done. Right now was no different.

Ransom sits back, his arm around Marta who sips coolly on a frozen strawberry daquiri. You hadn’t really paid attention to it, but there was also an open bar in the corner of the backyard, with the alphas taking turns making drinks. Thankfully, Steve hadn’t drank tonight – otherwise he’d have been ten times hornier than he was now.

“We’re both wifed up and in serious relationships.” Ransom draws Marta close, and she nuzzles her nose against his neck. “And you know what? Now I get what all the hype is about. Marta and I have been talking about marking each other up too, and –”

Ransom drones on and on, and you nod politely. Steve, on the other hand, stiffens underneath you. You can tell he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. What you didn’t count on is his dick driving up into you at that exact moment. You almost gasp out loud before covering it up by pretending to clear your throat. His hands rub up and down your thighs, and you’re so happy this is all happening under the water otherwise you’d never be able to live it down.

Marta excuses herself to get another drink, Ransom’s eyes following her as she leaves, a lovesick look on his face.

“Bro, you’re pathetic.” Steve sneers, and all the while his hands are slipping up till he cups your core through your bikini bottoms, making your breath hitch. “You’ve only been seeing her for two weeks.”

“So?”

“So, you need to chill the fuck out.”

Steve pushes your bikini bottoms to the side, exposing your bare core to the hot water. Fuck. His thick fingers probe and explore your slick folds, and you cannot believe what he’s doing because Ransom is only a few feet away from you guys. And Steve’s casually giving out advice as if he isn’t about to finger you under the water this very second!

Ransom sighs, “I know, but she isn’t just some random hookup, okay? I actually have feelings for her.”

You’re barely able to focus on the two alphas’ conversation, your face and neck heating up as you squirm on Steve’s lap. A part of you feels so degraded, sitting on your alpha’s lap as if you’re nothing more than a decorative toy for him to play with while he talks to his friend. It’s what he’s doing right now, his pointer finger circling your clit casually while he holds you close in his lap.

“If you want to be the dumbass who gets played by an omega, then suit yourself, bro.” Steve shrugs, focusing his attention back on you. Ransom looks torn, and you secretly hope he doesn’t take Steve’s advice too seriously. You don’t know much about gold-diggers or relationships in general, but Ransom and Marta look genuine from what you’ve seen. Not that you have time to dwell over their situation, because Steve chooses that exact moment to slip two fingers inside you.

“Oh, oh fu-” You cry out.

Ransom frowns, “You okay?”

“Don’t talk to my girl!” Steve warns.

“Ex-Excuse me.” You squeak, managing to get up off of Steve’s lap while he’s momentarily distracted. You step out of the hot tub before he can stop you, quickly wrapping yourself in your fluffy towel. “Bathroom.” You explain, before speed-walking over to the pool-house, inwardly praying you don’t slip and embarrass yourself in your hasty exit.

Heart drumming, you safely make it to the pool house and make a beeline for the bathroom. You’ve only just managed to catch your breath when the door opens and closes behind you. You barely have time to register what’s happening before Steve pushes you forward, bending you over the marble sink and giving you four hard slaps to the ass in quick succession.

“Bad girl.” Steve tuts, “What got into you, huh? Running away from daddy like that?”

“I’m sorry, I just… Steve it would’ve been so inappropriate to do that in front of everyone!”

“What’s inappropriate is slutty baby omegas like you wearing sexy bikinis to distract me. You forced my hand, baby.” He swiftly rips your bikini bottoms apart, squeezing your ass cheeks with both his hands, till you know his handprints will be imprinted on your skin. “Well, we’re all alone now, omega. There’s nowhere for you to run.”

He presses his hard dick against your wet folds, and you sigh involuntarily, rutting back against him. In the privacy of this bathroom, you can finally relax.

“I’m gonna fuck you on every inch of every surface inside this bathroom,” Steve promises darkly in your ear, sucking and biting at your earlobe before pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, “and then I’m gonna drag you outside and fuck you against the glass doors of this pool house. You got that, omega?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.”

THE END. I know i know i know that ended super abruptly, but trust me when i tell you i could’ve gone on and on and ON and this was just meant to be a small drabble!!! PLEASE tell me what you think and reblog pls!!! ily ily ily and this was really random and idek if it’s any good but please just let me know what you think! ALSO YES, steve is such a menace in this and idk if this is canon compliant but it’s a poyt drabble so here we goooo!!! LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OK BYE

[cricketnationrise]

time: 1.31am (the time my dog woke me up today by jumping in my bed😅), location: Kensington palace , character: David and Alex please 🙏🏾 🐶, song lyric for vibes, discard if you don't like: "feels so good to be alive" 🌅 (from Beyonce's Be Alive Oscar performance 🎾💚🌻)

my ao3 is this same name but with underscores (the_marathon_continues )

no pressure if you can't get to this I'm sure you're inundated with requests!

*mushu voice* I LIVE hello i am in a two week lull of normal work hours so i have both time and brain space after a freaking month to write more and your prompt was the next at bat! i hadn't seen the oscars performance so that was cool to look up and see. i hope you love this little moment with my favorite boy. and alex.

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

1:31am, kensington

Henry’s stuck at some royal event, one that Alex wasn’t invited to attend, and Alex is fucking bored. He can’t sit still enough to watch something, there’s no chores to do since he’s stuck in Kensington waiting for Henry to come back, and he doesn’t have any schoolwork for once. And yes, it’s after one in the morning, but he certainly isn’t sleeping. It’s only when David pads into the monstrosity that is Henry’s gilded bedroom, that Alex’s brain lights up with glee.

A quick rummage through Henry’s closet (oh, the irony) and a text conference with Bea, Nora, and June, and Alex has a plan. David’s a good sport through all of the outfits Alex puts him in, placidly allowing the infringement upon his dignity and obligingly staying still for the camera. 

He starts with a black bow tie collar Henry had lying around and fashions two shirt cuffs out of an old white shirt of Henry’s to go around David’s front legs. A strategically placed pistol emoji on the most debonair picture of David and the tribute to Arthur as James Bond is sent off to the group chat. That one’s just for the family's eyes.

Alex finds giant sparkly sunglasses shaped like flowers (left behind by Pez, surely) and slaps a super bright filter on top. He posts it to Instagram with the caption Elton Paws. He spends way too long making a black vest, white shirt, and black belt for David, wanting to get as close to the iconic look as possible. David’s unimpressed face looks out from the photo with the caption I’ve got a bad feeling about this. A cardigan from one of Bea’s old dolls and David’s own booties for cold days sitting next to him complete the Mr. Rogers costume. Please won’t you be my neighbor? With a fit of giggles, he removes the booties from the shot, adds the tiny crown Henry pretends he didn’t buy for his dog and takes another photo. He adds a photo of Henry in a similar cardigan as the second photo. The third photo on the post is just the meme from The Office where Pam says ‘they’re the same picture.’” Alex spends another ten minutes color washing a normal picture of David with bright purple, solely so he can make a Courage the Cowardly Dog joke.

He doesn’t bother checking any of the comments, fuck if people think he’s being ridiculous. Alex built this life; he’s found his person (and his dog). He managed to create something beautiful for himself all on his own, despite being thrust into the public eye. He and Henry came out the other side of the leak with their relationship and futures intact and shining brighter than ever. They’ve spent long enough putting on their best faces in public—it’s about time people remembered that he’s twenty-fucking-three. If he can’t dress his dog up in ridiculous costumes and post them on the internet like everyone else on the fucking planet, then what is the world coming to?

And alex is so fucking proud of his life, both separate and intertwined with Henry’s. They can weather any storm and forget anyone who says their relationship isn’t what love looks like. Someday, they won’t have to split their lives over two continents. Someday, it’ll be a given, an if/then statement: If Henry, then Alex. They’ve been fighting for something resembling normalcy since way before the emails leaked. They’ve dealt with depression and being outed, with a long-awaited ADHD diagnosis and the pressures of their families and countries. They’ve hustled and worked and bent over backwards for the public for years. If the general population has a problem with them occasionally being ridiculous about their pet? Fuck ‘em.

It feels amazing to be goofy, to act like the young adult he is, to not run every single tidbit by a publicist or handler, to do something dumb with his dog because he misses his boyfriend. So Alex will keep on dressing David up in whatever strikes his fancy and posting the results. If nothing else, Henry will love the results.

an instagram post: 

[pic of david in a ridiculous costume, alex beaming with tongue out and peace signs while he holds david up for a selfie]  when dad is away, we will play.

[mistflyer1102]

support

A/N: For Day 2 of @flufftober. I'll get Day 1 posted soon.

Prompt: Family, friends and loved ones.

Warnings: Brief discussion of family losses.

Pairing: Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers

--------------------------

Sharon felt a hell of a lot better after her nap and the late lunch that followed.

She leaned her head against Steve’s shoulder as they walked through the tourist crowds in Boston that surrounded the neighboring aquarium. In hindsight, she was glad that she brought her sunglasses with her on the trip, given that they were on the coast and the sun was still blazing directly from above. As she closed her eyes, she could hear cars and buses honking at each other, the dreaded duck quackers going off somewhere nearby — she was sorely tempted to buy one just for prank purposes now — and the general murmur of other tourists and visitors. “I knew it was going to be crowded here since it it’s July, but damn, I seriously miscalculated how many of our fellow tourists we’d be jostling for space with here,” she said, leaning her head further against Steve’s shoulder as a salt-tinged breeze blew in from the ocean.

Steve said “At least we didn’t come up for the Fourth of July. I bet the crowds are worse then,” as he playfully nudged her with a hip. “And crowds are always part of the experience when vacationing. Natasha was right, you don’t get out often enough,” he said, laughing when she elbowed him gently in the side.

“Hey, we had a ton of fun on the Fourth of July and I wouldn’t trade that for anything else in the world. As for the vacations thing, you can thank Fury for that. When I first started as a full field agent, I remember being excited at their generous vacation policy. Then I found out it’s because they send you onto the field for months at a time,” she said, looking up at Steve, who glanced down at her. “Dad was patient and understanding when I told him. Mom…not so much when she found out. She didn’t want me to be constantly in danger, she could never agree with my dad about that. He wanted me to follow my dreams, she wanted me to be safe. To be fair, I can see both their sides, but I really wanted to join SHIELD. She and I ended up agreeing to disagree and just never talked about it when we saw each other,” she admitted, frowning as she looked ahead. She could see a parent redirecting their child from the slushie van that was parked along a nearby curb.

“I’m sorry if this brings up a painful memory, but are they still around?”

She shakes her head. “No. She passed away when I was MIA for over a year, Dad not long after. Never had a reason to take a vacation after that. I’d been roommates with Natasha for about a year when I finally met you, and she was a different class of agent then.”

Steve rubbed her back. “I’m sorry to hear that about your parents. My mom was a nurse and a single parent until she got hit with tuberculosis. After that, it was me and Bucky watching out for each other until the war started.” He looked at her. “And, well, you know what happened next. And here we are.”

She smiled back at him. “And here we are. You’ve got a support network now, yeah?”

He smiled back at her. “And that network includes my family. You, Bucky, Nat, and Sam.”

She grinned at him. "It can include whomever you want to include. Me, Bucky, Nat, Sam. Your teammates. Clint, Carol, Thor…” here she smirked and said, “Tony.”

She laughed at his grimace. “Okay, okay, I was teasing you, I know the two of you are butting heads again about the level of authority and reach the Avengers should have for an international group working for a domestic organization,” she said as she turned to face him. “The point is that your network includes whomever you want, even if they’re all the way in another dimension.”

He said “Tony is in the network, as much as he pisses me off every other day over things that even I’ll admit are dumb at the end of the day. At least for some topics, I still think the Avengers need to strictly define their reach for diplomacy purposes at the very least.” He gave her a rueful smile. “He and I are both stubborn, I think that’s part of the problem. But if we need to, we can call a truce and work together without letting personal issues get in the way."

Sharon tilted her head. “Is that what we’re calling the kerfuffle over the sparklers during the Fourth of July party? A ‘compromise’? I honestly thought you guys were going to stab each other with them."

“One, no one got hurt. Two, we were both sober when we did that, three, the sparklers weren’t lit yet, and four, we both admitted to removing the sparkler box from Bucky’s fireworks stash before we even realized he had a stash,” Steve said, holding up a finger for each point. He then asked “Did you see the size of that stash before the party started?”

Sharon shook her head, making a face. “No, it was already half gone when I even realized there was a stash to begin with. I’m jealous you saw it,” she said, tugging on his arm. “C’mon, the slushie van is calling my name.”

He followed, but she sensed he was letting her pull him along. “For what it’s worth, it was absolutely worth Bucky’s annoyance to have a sparkler duel with Tony. I can see if Bucky has pictures of the overall stash, but if he’s smart, he won’t. New York has strict laws about it, which is why I’m almost certain Bucky never said a word to anyone else about it. I also think that’s why he hosted the party at the harbor,” he said, taking longer strides to catch up to her again. He wrapped his arm around hers and took her hand. “Who is in your support network?”

She glanced at him, mulling it over as she looked back the slushie van they were approaching. The parent from earlier was now herding the bawling child away from the van and back to what she presumed was the rest of the family. She felt a tiny pang of something, but pushed it back down: she’d made it this far on her own, before Steve came along. “You, Nat, Bucky, Sam, Bobbi, I gotta include Tony because while he’s a pain in the ass sometimes, his dad and Aunt Peggy stayed in touch for years after the war and it became a ‘friend I see over every summer whether we like it or not’ situation. Clint, because we trained together before we got split up as part of special-agent training.” She paused, and then said, “I think that’s it for me.”

He squeezed her hand gently, and she squeezed it back as she slowed down to look back at him. He then lifted their hands to kiss the back of hers. “I’m not going anywhere, promise,” he said, and she couldn’t help but smile at the earnestness in his voice.

“Thanks. I’m not going anywhere either,” she whispered.

He didn’t let go of her hand as they resumed walking to the van. She didn’t let go of his either.

[awhitehead17]

Defying Expectations

TimKon, Lifeguard Kon, Civilian Tim, Humour, Friendships.

Summary: When Kon rescues a stranger from the water he was unprepared for how infatuated he would become with him. However it might not be just one way, because the stranger keeps on returning to the beach every time Kon happens to be on shift. Could that be a coincidence, Kon certainly hopes not. 

Enjoy! :D 

“That’s stupid and you know it.”

“No it’s not! It’s a completely reasonable excuse to use.”

“Who says? Reddit? You shouldn’t go seeking answers out from shady people on the internet.”

“I can do what I want.”

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn ya. I look forward to telling you ‘I told you so’ when it all goes wrong.”

Kon huffs and shakes his head not replying. Instead he turns his attention away and looks out over the area of beach he’s patrolling. With the golden sand, clear blue skies and hot weather, the whole package encourages people from all over to come and enjoy the glorious weather on the coast.

Working as a lifeguard at one of the most popular beaches is certainly an interesting job. Without fail something new happens every day, just when he thinks he can’t be surprised anymore something comes and defies that expectation and creates a new one.

It’s not a job he ever expected to do, it’s something he fell into after learning his love for surfing. One day he had been out catching waves and someone in the water shouted for help, being close by Kon helped them until a professional came by, after that something awoke in Kon and he looked into lifeguarding and followed the training until he qualified and got hired. He hasn’t looked back since.

Currently he’s sat with his colleague and friend in a buggy on the sand overlooking the crowd and keeping an eye on everyone just in case something happens, either in the water or on the sand. He and Roxy were chatting while observing to pass the time, the woman is like a sister to him and isn’t afraid to tell him her thoughts, they had just been discussing what Kon had planned to use as an excuse to get out of a meeting with the higher ups. The meeting isn’t anything bad, Kon simply doesn’t want to attend it and is trying to get out of it.

“Hey so next weekend what are your-”

Roxy is cut off from speaking when the radio of their buggy beeps. Answering the call Kon picks it up and listens intently as their colleague Cassie informs them of a situation.

“There's a group of guys east to you, one of them has fallen off the sand bank and into a rip. He’s struggling, one of you need to get out there.”

As soon as Cassie says east the two of them are looking that way and out into the water. Immediately they can see what she’s on about. Not wasting a second Roxy starts the buggy and is driving that way while Kon prepares to go in.

Kon speaks into the radio, “Roger that, I’ll be going be in,” before placing it back and taking his shirt and sunglasses off.

As they approach the area they could hear the aforementioned group arguing and upon further sight Kon could spot them pushing and shoving one another. They’re adult males, tall and muscled, and there’s one child amongst them but it’s the two oldest that are currently arguing.

Kon doesn’t pay them any attention, they’re not in danger, they’re not the concern right now. His current priority is the male struggling to stay afloat in the water, his hand occasionally coming up in the sign for help before it disappears again underneath the waves crashing over him.

Once Roxy’s parked the buggy Kon is moving, he’s off the vehicle in a second and in the next has the lifeguard board in his hands. Kon sprints over the sand and into the water, not letting the change in terrain stop him from moving and as soon as he's deep enough he jumps onto the board and begins paddling out towards the drowning male.

Kon reaches the guy in good time and reaches into the water to pull him up and onto the board. Once his head is out of the water he's coughing and spluttering, Kon manoeuvres him around until he's lying down facing the front. He gives the guy a minute to catch his breath before forcing the board to turn in the water and begins to make his way back to shore.

As he reaches the sand bank Kon climbs off the board and helps the guy off and steadies him when he stumbles, together they trudge out of the shallow water and back onto the dry sand where the others are standing.

Kon stops the guy he saved with a gentle hand on his arm, his other currently carrying the lifeguard board at his side.

“Hey you okay?” He asks concerned. Just because the guy was walking and appeared okay didn’t mean that there wasn’t anything amiss.

The male turns to him and for the first time Kon gets a real good look at his features. He’s young, maybe around Kon’s age if he had to guess. He’s got chin length black hair which is currently wet and swept back off his face, there’s pale skin that’s currently a little red from what Kon could guess is the start of sun burn, and light blue eyes which capture all of his attention within one blink. His frame his muscular in a lithe way, the guy works out but isn’t broad.

He coughs to clear his throat and answers Kon sounding a little croaky. “Yeah. Thank you. I lost my balance in the water then immediately got swept out. I’m a good swimmer but that was…” he waves his hand in a vague gesture but Kon knows what he means.

The water is an unpredictable place no matter how good of a swimmer you are.

Kon grins at him. “You’re welcome. After all that’s why we’re here. Are you sure you’re okay, you didn’t inhale any water or anything?” At the shake of his head Kon continues, “well if you need anything else let us know alright.”

The two of them reach the group waiting for the guy he saved. The two older men Kon spotted earlier immediately crowd the guy while the kid hangs at the back looking bored as ever. Choosing to leave them now no one is in danger Kon walks back to the buggy where Roxy watched the whole thing unfold. She smirks at him as he approaches.

“Good job,” she comments deviously. Kon pauses from where he had started to put away the board back on the buggy and peers at her.

“Why did you say it like that for?”

She shrugs acting nonchalant, “oh, no reason,” the giggle she lets out very much contradicts her words.

“Rox.”

“At least you checked him out once you were out of the water. He really caught your eye huh darling.”

Kon scowls at her. “I did not check him out! I was making sure he was okay after nearly drowning, because y’know, that’s what we do… we stop people from drowning.”

“Sure, love, whatever you say.” Kon glares at her but before he could protest further she carries on speaking. “If it helps I overheard the men he’s with. They’re brothers, apparently the playful shoving between siblings got out of hand which led to him falling in the water. I did hear though, that they are on vacation here for the week.”

Kon tries to not let his thoughts get ahead of himself upon hearing that. Pretending how that fact doesn't excite him, he shakes his head and climbs into the buggy. “And you’re telling me this because...”

“Because… you may get to see him again.”

Snorting at the idea Kon shakes his head. “Sure. As if we don’t see thousands of tourists every day and speak to over a hundred of them each day.”

Roxy starts up the buggy and they head back to the central part of the beach to continue with their shifts. Kon will deny it ever happened but he couldn’t help glance at the guy he saved again as they drive away, he blinks in surprise when he finds him already staring back at him. Unconsciously Kon grins at him and the other smiles shyly before ducking his head looking away.

===========

Kon would rather go to hell than tell Roxy how she was right. He doesn’t need that looming over him.

It turns out Kon will see the guy he saved for the following three days after that. He doesn’t know what it is but there’s a magnet attached to him because as Kon scans the crowds, keeping an eye out for anyone that may be in trouble, his gaze always somehow lands on the stranger. Different times of the day, at different parts of the beach. Kon always manages to sees him. Sometimes the stranger is looking back and other times not. He would be either with his brothers like the first day or with a couple females, sometimes a mixture of them all.

From a distance Kon couldn’t work out what his relationship with the girls are, whether they’re friends, siblings or more. And doesn’t that make him seem like a creep… he doesn’t mean anything by it but after four days Kon can’t deny and say there isn’t any attraction there. He wants to know more about this guy, he’s caught Kon’s attention like no one else ever has.

An elbow to his side jerks Kon out of his thoughts. Blinking he turns his attention to where Cassie is lounging on a chair. They’re in the central tower of the beach overlooking everything through the large windows and their binoculars, if anything happens they’ll alert the others in the buggy’s on the sand below them.

“What?” He snaps at his friend.

She grins menacingly at him. “Your man is here.”

Kon hates the way his heart picks up at her words and he desperately tries to hide his eagerness to the news. Instead he scowls at her and pointedly looks away. “What? I don’t have ‘a man’.”

“Uh huh, sure.” She drawls out, not even bothering to hide the amusement from her voice. “He's coming down the ramp on the west end, with one of his brothers and the hot blonde.”

Kon fights the urge with all his might to not look in that direction.

“Wonder how long they have left here?” Cassie questions out loud, clearly riling Kon up. She must have been speaking with Roxy. The two girls are always up for making his life miserable. “Perhaps around two or three days left?”

Just as Kon’s about to lose his patience their radios crackle with an incoming call. Cassie sits up and answers it. It turns out it’s Roxy and she’s not calling because there’s an emergency.

“Have you spotted what I’ve spotted on the west side of the beach?” She sounds too smug for her own good.

“We have!” Cassie cheerfully replies. “Kon’s denying his existence.”

“You do realise these radios are for work, such as when someone is dying.” Kon growls out, not appreciating the teasing he’s having to put up with.

“C’mon Kon, don’t be like that. When’s the last time you had fun outside of work?” Roxy asks, sounding more sober than moments ago. She clearly knows the teasing is starting to go too far.

“It’s none of your business.” Kon grumbles. Both Roxy and Cassie know the answer to that, and the implications. Kon hasn’t been in a relationship for years and as for getting laid, well it’s been a long time.

“Why don’t you ask him out? What’s stopping you?” Cassie asks genuinely seeming curious to what his reply will be.

Kon rolls his eyes and finally gives into the urge to look at the man he’s developed a crush on despite knowing absolutely nothing about him. He and his group have made camp on the west side of the beach not too far from the ramp. They’ve laid out their towels and have put up an umbrella to provide shade from the hot sun. The stranger is currently dressed in a loose t-shirt and swim shorts, he’s sat up hunched over his phone, his companions are currently running a photoshoot. The girl striking different poses with the beach and ocean as her backdrop and the brother taking said photos on a phone.

He watches the group for a moment before turning back to Cassie glaring lightly at her. “For starters, he may not be single - ”

Cassie immediately cuts him off. “Oh he is.”

She says it with confidence that leaves Kon blinking at her puzzled. Apparently the question is written over his face because she explains.

“I spoke to the blonde the other day, she’s called Stephanie. They’re here on a family vacation. She told me he’s most definitely single. And before you say anything he’s bisexual. And, he has also been eyeing you up too since you rescued him at the start of the week.”

Kon gapes at her trying to absorb what she’s telling him. Questions fill his mind but his brain to mouth filter is currently offline making it difficult to speak. On the radio he hears Roxy cackling in the background.

After several beats Kon shuts his mouth and leans back in his chair. Cassie very effectively just shut down his other points at the same. He glances at his colleague before looking away again feeling somewhat apprehensive about the situation.

“Pray tell, what do I do then? I can’t just go strolling up to him, plaster on a flirtatious grin and ask him out.”

Cassie raises her eyebrows and spreads her hands out, silently saying why not?

“I’m not doing that!” Kon exclaims. He huffs, “isn’t there like a rule or something about dating someone you recused?”

There’s a pause before three voices speak out. “No.”

Kon startles and turns around at the third and unexpected voice. Another colleague and friend is in the tower with him and Cassie, Kon has no idea how long Bart has been there but he stares at the guy bewildered.

“Have you been listening this entire time?”

With a mouth full of food Bart nods and hums, he swallows and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve been in the kitchen for the last twenty minutes. You’re currently talk of the entire team Kon. You need to go and ask this guy out, if you get rejected then at least you tried.”

Roxy’s voice comes over the radio again. “You have a break soon, do it then.”

“I’m not-” Kon starts protesting but cuts himself off, “why are you all ganging up on me? What have I done to deserve this?”

“You really want an answer to that?” Roxy replies with heavy sarcasm.

After that silence settles in the tower until a situation calls them in for action and it becomes a hectic half hour of rushing around and saving people in the water, thankfully all of whom make it and they have no casualties that day so far. Both Kon and Cassie got called into action while Bart directed from the central tower. When they get a chance to breathe Kon feels drained and he takes the quiet opportunity to cash in his break.

Roxy, who he’s at the buggy with on the sand, nudges him towards the tower. “Go grab your phone and then go get your man.”

Kon opens his mouth to protest but decides against it. Sighing in defeat Kon begins to trudge up the sand towards the tower. It seemed like Bart was still involved with the whole ordeal because he’s there at the bottom of the stairs to the tower when Kon arrives with Kon’s phone and towel in his hands.

Bart grins as he hands his stuff over. “Go get ‘em tiger.”

Kon shoves him hard in retaliation. Bracing himself for what he’s about to do he takes a breath and starts wondering over to the west side of the beach, towards the stranger he’s all but gravitated too this week.

It’s only when he’s several feet away from him that Kon realises he’s not wearing a shirt, having come straight from a rescue he didn’t even think about it until now. Oh well, he’ll have to make do, at least he knows he’s got a great physique and isn’t conscious at all. Constantly being shirtless to do ninety percent of his job will help with that.

As he nears the stranger Kon’s relieved to find he’s on his own, his siblings having disappeared somewhere. The guy is on his phone and not paying attention at all to anything around him. Kon shuffles awkwardly nearby debating on how to approach him, he curses himself because this has never been a problem before, in bars he finds it super easy to walk up to someone and show his interest but for some reason that same level of confidence isn’t making an appearance right now. In the end he tells himself to stop being pathetic and marches forward, choosing to approach the guy from the front in hopes to not startle him and Kon waits for his presence to be noticed before doing anything.

A few seconds later the stranger looks up and while he’s wearing sunglasses Kon can tell he’s got his full attention. With his cheeks goring red, and not because of the sun, the stranger smiles at Kon in recognition. “Hey.”

Kon grins back and feels his uneasiness fade away. “Hey. Not to sound creepy but I saw you here and I happen to be on my break, would you mind I joined you for a bit?”

The stranger shakes his head, his smile still prominent. “Uh, no, I don’t mind. By all means…” he waves to the free patch of sand next to him and Kon takes the invitation and expertly lays out his towel before settling down on it.

He leans over holding out a hand. “I’m Kon.”

“Pleasure.” The stranger replies, he takes Kon’s hand and shakes it, “I’m Tim.”

Kon does his hardest to ignore the thoughts that filter through his mind as they clasped hands. Tim’s hands are soft but there’s hints of roughness from callouses.

Before an awkward silence can fall between them Kon speaks up, glancing at Tim beside him. “So where are you from Tim? You sound American.”

There’s a beat before Tim replies back to him, at first Kon thought Tim hadn’t heard him but then Tim clears his throat in a way that makes him grin. Maybe ‘hadn’t heard’ was the wrong assumption but rather distracted would be more accurate.

“I, uh – I um.” He clears his throat again. “Yes I’m American, I’m from Gotham.”

Kon blinks having not expected that. “How long have you been marvelling at the blue sky for then?” He teases. “It’s not something you get to see every day.”

Tim snorts and shakes his head. “Okay, okay, Gotham may be dark and dreary, but there are good things about the city. I’m here on vacation with my family. In fact the assholes I call brothers is the reason you rescued me the other day.”

The blush on Tim’s cheeks deepens. Kon laughs at his comment and is glad Tim brought up the rescue himself, Kon had been tempted to comment about it but in case Tim felt too embarrassed by ordeal he opted to stay quiet about it. The fact Tim freely made the comment himself means it’s an open topic conversation.

“Brothers are assholes, big ones and little ones. Anyway that’s what I do here, I save people who find themselves in trouble.”

“Credit to you, you all do amazing jobs.” Tim says looking at him through his sunglasses. Smiling softly Kon shrugs at the compliment, it’s always nice to hear genuine gratitude.

Switching his gaze between Tim and the crowd on the beach he takes a deep breath and finally asks the question that’s lead him here. “Hey, I wanted to ask, and by all means you can say no, would you like to go out for drinks sometime?”

He refuses to look at Tim, nervous of what his answer is going to be. Kon’s surprised when all Tim does is laugh, he turns back to the guy gawking at him.

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that!” Tim quickly says between breaths. He giggles for a moment – which Kon finds absolutely adorable – and then takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He wipes his eyes underneath the glasses and speaks up again, this time more in control of himself. “I’m laughing because I was about to ask you the same question, and I viciously hoped that’s why you came here.”

Putting a hand on his chest over his pounding heart Kon breathes out. “Jesus man don’t do that. I genuinely felt my stomach drop.”

Tim snickers. “Sure. But yes, I would love to. However I’m only here for a few more nights, you free tonight?”

Kon sobers up at hearing the news but it’s not like he didn’t already know. “Well I guess we better make the most of it,” he grins at Tim and holds out his phone with the contacts app open, “I can message you later when I finish at seven. Then, as a local resident, I can show you the best spots on a night out.”

Tim takes his phone and enters his details. “Sounds good, I’m sure I can escape my hoard of siblings for the night.”

They grin at one another and Kon is more than surprised, and thankful, about how easy it seemed to be between them. They chat even further about all kinds of topics until Kon gets called off his break and with a reluctant goodbye they part ways as Kon heads back to work. However, he walks away beaming because there’s a new number in his contacts and he’s got a date that night.

He proudly declares this as he enters the tower meeting everyone’s expectant gazes. Where it goes from here Kon has no idea but he’s looking forward to whatever it may be.

[callmemana]

To Have & To Hold

I saw this post and I immediately had a thought of a lil story! I know that in the tags it originally said ‘icemav’ but whenever I see ‘Slider’ or ‘Iceman’ I think of these amazing women! I hope you enjoy!

Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner x Jade ‘Whiskey’ Rogers (OC) @mrsjaderogers

Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x Rachael ‘Dragon’ Kazansky (OC) @dragon-kazansky

It was a beautiful wedding, Dragon really out did herself for this celebration. The colors complemented each other and showed so much of both the couple’s personality. As the best friends of the bride and groom, Whiskey & Slider were in the wedding party.

Whiskey wore a purple bridesmaid dress, tight to the skin in all the right places and a slit starting at her right hip, hair up on her head and cascades down her back like a waterfall, curls delicately touching her shoulders.

Slider wore a black tux with a white undershirt, a boutonnière with a purple rose accompanied with small white flowers attached to his jacket on his left breast, black dress shoes shining in the sun on this wonderful San Diego day. He wouldn’t be Slider nor would Ice be himself without their aviator sunglasses.

As Whiskey helped Dragon get ready for her big day, the two women took shots and danced around to loud music. Laughter could be heard from the back room and the guests wondered what was the cause of it.

“You know, today might be a lucky day for Slider and you too,” giggled Dragon as she downed another shot. “Not possible! We wouldn’t do anything to take the spot light from you and Ice today! You guys deserve it for once, it can’t always be you and me gaining the attention from everyone all the time!”

Dragon rolled her eyes, “It’s always gonna be us babe, you and me against the world!” “True. They can try to break up the Chaos Crew, but it won’t work.” Whiskey said as she hugs Dragon. “Very, very true. Nothing can stop us.”

As they finished Dragon’s hair and makeup, they had one more hug before exiting the room and making their way to the doors to the alter. “This will be the last moments of you being Rachael Hunter.” Dragon wore a beautiful off the shoulder lace dress, tight in the bust, but flowed beautifully to the floor.

Her hair was curled and half up half down, with purple and white flowers braided loosely in between the three parts. Her makeup was just enough to highlight her natural beauty and show off her eyes.

“I know, I’m excited and nervous at the same time! But I’m mostly buzzed!” Whiskey huffed a laugh out at that. “You have no reason to be, you and Ice were meant to be together! I could tell the first day you met, you were each other’s forevers.”

“Jade, don’t make me cry! I’ll ruin all of our hard work!” “Oh please, you barely needed any makeup! You’re beautiful Rach! Now, dry those eyes, and get ready to face your husband!”

As soon as the doors opened and Tom saw Rachael, tears trailed down his face at her. She took the breath away from his lungs, she was perfect, inside and out. He couldn’t wait to finally call her his wife, Mrs. Rachael ‘Dragon’ Kazansky.

He knew by the smirks his friends were throwing his way, they would give him shit for crying later, but he didn’t care. Not with her in his eye-line. He felt someone knock his shoulders softly and looked over to see Slider, smiling at him, almost giddily.

The ceremony was filled with laughter as Hollywood and Wolfman threw the flowers as the ‘flower girls,’ and made it a show, and tears at the beautiful and deep words that the couple used to describe their love for each other. No one had any doubt that these two individuals would be together til death do them part.

At the reception, the wedding party made a grand entrance, as they do. It wouldn’t be a party without them causing trouble. Speeches were said, stories told, and cake smashed into each other’s faces, Rachael and Tom couldn’t have asked for a better day. As the sun began to set and the guests wind down with food and alcohol in their bellies, it was time for the Bride to throw the bouquet. Ladies from all around the room ran to the dance floor and hugged each other and jumped as they screamed excitedly.

Whiskey got up and jokingly nudged Ron too, as the couple made their way to the grouping, Whiskey and Slider stopped in the middle. Ron lightly pushes Jade as Dragon counted to three before granny tossing the bundle of flowers over her head with a smile.

The flowers went over the first row of ladies, before making it to the place were the couple were standing at. Whiskey made to jump, before realizing her currently footwear and decided not to. Ron had his arms out and hands opened to humor Whiskey as she watched him and giggled at his antics. When he felt a small amount of weight land in his hands, he looked at Jade with his eyes wide and mouth in the shape of an ‘O’.

Whiskey let out a full belly laugh at his face and as he lifts his arms up to celebrate his win, he accidentally hits another guest in the face with the flowers. She had to put a hand over her mouth to stop the laughter from coming out and catching the attention of the others in the room.

Dragon came into the group and with a smirk, “Oh my god Ron! You caught the bouquet, you know what that means! Ron and Jade are next!” “Haha, Rachael. I know you did that on purpose.” “You can’t prove that, it was chance. I didn’t even look!” Dragon replied, hand over her heart as if offended.

“But I know you, and I know that you have a devious little plan in that head of yours.” Ron wiggled his pointer finger at her accusingly,“you’re half of the Chaos Crew, your always up to something.”

“Whatever, the court of law says that your innocent until proven guilty. Do you have any evidence, Mr. Kerner?” Ron huffs, “No, I don’t defendant.” “Then as the judge of this courtroom, as it is my wedding, I hear by say that Mrs. Rachael Dragon Kazansky is found not guilty and now exempted from all wrong doing.” “Fat chance for all of the wrong doing you and my fiancée get into.”

Ron made his way back to Jade and gave her a sweet kiss before sitting back down and playing with her hand. As the night finally came to an end, the couples said their goodbyes as the newly weds would be gone for a month on their honeymoon.

“You know I love you right?” Jade rolled her eyes jokingly, “Of course I do Babe. You wouldn’t have caught the bouquet if you didn’t wanna get married so soon.” “Rachael threw it at me, I’m telling you!” “Ah, don’t blame the Bride Ron. You were pushing me out of the way.” “As a joke!” “Don’t fool yourself, you wanted it wayyyyyyy more than anyone else.” “I only got up for you!” “You hit a woman in the face with the flowers!”

“On accident! Jade, seriously, I don’t believe in the rules of catching that stupid bouquet of flowers. We’ve set our date, and when we finally do say our “I Do’s” just know that it came at the best of time or us. We don’t need to rush our wedding to show our love for each other because of flowers tossed over the Bride’s head on her day. Focus on ours, because I can guarantee, ours will be so much better.”

“I love you too by the way, but if you ever accuse my best friend of something she 100% did again, I’ll have to hurt you.” She kissed him lovingly, before they got into his car and drove home.

Forever 🏷️ list: @mrsjaderogers @dragon-kazansky @bayisdying @gracespicybradshaw

🏷️ list:

[stesichoreanpalinode]

Roger according to Freddie’s driver

From an interview with Freddie’s driver Peter Jones, posted to Queenzone in 2005: the whole interview was, according to this thread, taken down after it was posted there, but someone quoted this bit so it’s still there:

Did you get on well with the other members of Queen?

Yeah, very well. I probably got on better with Roger really. We would go back to the hotel and Freddie would normally have a number with him. At one point, before Peter Freestone turned up, I would have to share… well, in Munich, we’d all have the Presidential Suite, which would be a bedroom one end, a bedroom the other end, with inter-communicating doors, and a sitting room and dining room and all the rest of it… he’d have his room and I would have mine, but then I’d be on call 24 hours, I couldn’t get away from it. It suited me to let Freestone get his foot further under the table, cos it took the pressure off of me, you know, he’d be calling on him, instead of me. So when we went back to the hotel, there was always millions of bloody tarts about, you couldn’t fight them off with a stick! And we’d either go back to my room or we’d go back to Roger’s room, and many a night we’d go back to Roger’s room and oblige the ladies and then see them off! And then Roger would be going on about when he first met Freddie; how Freddie was always sort of hanging around… he painted quite a sort of vivid picture about him not really being wanted around that much at the time. But Freddie would push himself... until the perseverance paid off. And the market stall thing, according to Roger, Freddie used to go and hang around there and that type of thing. So Roger and I really did have some deep conversations, which you do when you’re bombed out of your head… you sit and talk for hours about the silliest and sometimes most personal of things. I think that’s probably why he got on better with Freddie, than Deacy or Brian did. He was able to open up. He was a lovely guy, a really lovely guy. I’m sure if we met again now it wouldn’t be any different to what it was... we’d pick up from where we left off… but really I think that’s all water under the bridge now.

"Which three words would sum up Roger best for you?

(Peter looks skywards!)

Another wine dear!?! That would be it, I think. He’d know what I mean. "

From here:

http://www.queenzone.com/forums/617076/excellent-interview-with-peter-jones-fms-driver-friend-.aspx?page=2

[artzychic27]

… What if… SB&IB actor au?

(AU where the fans have taken over the studio and rewrite it according to Scarlet Beetle and Ikati Black and are forcing Thomas to watch every episode, and the actors are just thrilled)

Director: *Laughing* Cut!

Marinette: I’m sorry! *Hugs Chloé* I love you, Chloé!

Chloé: I love you, Mari! Being mean is torture!

—

Nathaniel: Nooroo, Wings- Ugh! I… I had something in my mouth.

Cast: *Laughing*

Nathaniel: What was in my mouth?!

—

Alya: Ever heard of Anan… An…

Marcelle: Anne?

Alya: Anne. Yes, my sister wrestler name is Anne.

Cast: *Laughing*

Alya: That’s her wrestling name, y’all! Remember that! Nailed it! *Walks off of set*

—

Ivan: *Just starts dancing out of nowhere*

Sabrina: *Snickers* Why?

Ivan: Why not?

—

Jalil: Now, as you know, the one with the scepter is Akenathen. And there, opposite is Nefertiti… Akenathen. That’s what I said.

Alix: That is what you said.

Alim: It is.

Jalil: I’m dumb. I’m so dumb.

Alix: No, you got big brains up there.

Jalil: A big dumb brain.

—

Nathaniel: Everyone in my class is a virgin!

Kim: *Walks on the set* Way to call us out, man.

Nathaniel: Get out of the shot!

—

Marc: *During Horrificator; Bumps into the classroom doorframe* Fuck! Jesus- Ah! Oh, I hit my forehead- Ow!

Sabrina: *Laughing* Are you okay?

Marc: No! No, I’m really not! I’m taking my coffee break! *Walks off the set*

Cast: *Laughing*

Nino: *Laughing* You had your break five minutes ago.

Marc: I need another one!

—

[Confessional]

Marc: Asstruc always had me slouching, because, back then, I was the “feminine” boyfriend, so I couldn’t be too tall when around Nath. And I… Sometimes forget how tall I am.

Nathaniel: And when I was around Marc, I wore shoes that gave me some more height, but around others, I was in my regular shoes.

Marc: Yeah, but now he’s my short boyfriend again. *Kisses his forehead*

Nathaniel: That sweet one-foot height gap. But when I’m Monarch, I’m in heels, because that’s just to assert dominance.

—

[Confessional]

Marinette: Hey, I’m thrilled we got rid of that asshole. Now we got cool assholes running things!

Adrien: And I can curse now! I’m not some “Sunshine Baby!” Watch this! THIS NEW SHOW IS FUCKING AWESOME, YOU COCK-SUCKING PUSSY-LICKERS!

Rose: Guys, check this out. KISS MY BALLS, BITCHES! *Cackles*

Adrien: We’re gonna cause so much fucking chaos now!

—

[Confessional]

Juleka: I, for one, think it’s pretty cool they incorporated our sexualities and genders into the show. Like… That’s badass, right? How many shows or movies do that?

Nino: Yeah, and they’re not like all in people’s faces with me being a trans guy.

Juleka: Yeah, just got that little patch, and that’s it.

—

[Confessional]

Nathaniel: Yeah, it gets weird talking to the air constantly, but when I see the final thing, I’m like, “Damn, that’s good.”

Kim: Yeah, but you can hear the other cast members laughing while we’re conversing with the Kwamis. Now I know how Mari and Adrien felt.

Max: It’s hard as hell. But, the jokes on them since they’re gonna be talking to Kwamis in season 2.

—

[Confessional]

Denise: I… I am thrilled to finally have lines.

Lacey: Yeah, Ass-truc literally just stuck us in the class and said, “React.” Like… Like we’re the background characters in VicTORIous!

Ismael: You have no idea how invalidating that was! I went through years of acting classes only to be stuck in as a background character!

Aurore: Yeah, and somehow Marc becomes the main classmate.

Marc: One of the worst parts had to be how Asstruc was so uncreative with the outfits for characters who weren’t me, Aurore, or Mireille. Seriously, Jean’s sweater was reused like four times!

Jean: But then, the design team gave it some life! I’m a theater nerd as God herself intended!

—

Ikati Black: FUCK OFF ROGER! The rest of you! Unless you wanna look like jackasses for firing at a villain while he still has a captive, you're all going to listen to me, and listen good! GOT IT?!

Officers: Sir, yes sir!

Ikati Black: *Slips on a pair of sunglasses* Power move.

Scarlet Beetle: *Rolling on the floor laughing* Stop! Stop!

—

Copy Cat: Nice try, little bird. But you're not going to escape this cage so easily.

Marc: Perv!

Copy Cat: Dude!

Nathaniel: *Putting on his Monarch costume* Perv!

Roger: Oh, total perv.

Copy Cat: I need a coffee break!

Marc: All according to plan. *Leaves while still tied up*

—

[Confessional]

Marcelle: I’m glad they gave Marc a sister and brother, and it’s even more exciting since we’re all actually siblings.

Marc: Yeah, it’s fun seeing my sibs during shoots. Kiran was especially excited.

Kiran: I can’t wait to get Akumatized!

Marcelle: … *Whispers* I’m gonna tell him.

Marc: *Whispers* Don’t you dare.

—

Austin Q: *Hugging Austin T after they finish Lady WiFi* I love you.

Austin T: I love you, too. But we’re just acting.

Austin Q: I know, and I’m sorry for the mean things I said.

Austin T: *Pats him on the head* It’s okay. Later we’ll get ice cream.

Austin Q: Yaay!

—

[Confessional]

Austin Q: I hate being a jerk!

Austin A: I want redemption! Are we getting redemption?!

Austin B: *Sucking his thumb*

Austin T: … I’m what’s known as the group mom.

—

[Confessional]

Ivan: I’ve been handling our fame pretty well. Y’know, with new outfits comes new fashion lines, cool new fanart, and music videoes. But sometimes, I’d just like to enjoy a cappuccino in peace. Is that too much to ask?!

—

[Confessional]

Lila: When the fanfiction writers tied up Astruc and bound him to a chair, I was like, “Okay,” then they burned the scripts and I’m thinking they must be on something, but then they bring in new scripts, I’m reading them, and I’m like… “I’m not an asshole bitch anymore?” I love it. The writing sounds like something teenagers would actually say, and I am perfectly fine with doing the show ever if it means getting to follow this script.

—

[Confessional]

Alya: *Getting her Lady WiFi makeup done* The artists… They’re just wonderful. Okay, they aren’t putting the girls in My Hero Academia female hero costumes, they aren’t giving the guys insane muscles, it’s all good. I felt comfortable in my costume.

—

Marinette: I would like your son’s hand in marriage.

Gabriel: Consider it done.

Adrien: That is not in the script!

Emille: Adrien, shush! It’s improv!

Alix: I thought that was when people say, “Yes, and?”

Adrien: Someone say “Cut!”

—

[Confessional]

Kim: *Looks up from his book* Oh. Hey guys. We have a lot of fun on this show. But one thing that’s not fun is forcing Luka Couffaine to only wear pants.

Max: That’s right, Kim. Thomas Astruc has forced Luka to wear pants instead of being allowed to wear the skirts they so love.

Nino: Don’t get us wrong, Luka still looks amazing in those jeans, but come on! Who doesn’t want to see Luka Couffaine in a skirt?!

Ivan: I know I wanna.

Nathaniel: As do I.

Ismael: Skirts make his ass look hot.

Simon: So, if you or someone you know wants to see Luka in a skirt, donate to Let-Luka-Couffaine-Wear-Skirts.com.

Jean: Together, we can all see Luka Couffaine in a leather skirt and fishnet stockings.

Adrien: If you don’t donate, then you’re a joke. And so is your family.

Marc: Let’s put Luka Couffaine in a skirt so that we may simp over them when they bend over.

—

[Confessional]

Cosette: So… I’m getting a girlfriend! That’s right! Uh-huh! I’m getting a fucking girlfriend! There’s gonna be hand-holding, kissing, all that shit! Yeah! Fuck yes! I’m getting a girlfriend!

—

Marc: When I let you go, you better get running in the next ten seconds, or I will jam one of my fucking pens through your neck, yank it out, and then finger-fuck the hole!

Nathaniel: … What’s stopping you now?

Marcelle: … You bisexual little fuck.

Cast: *Laughing

Marcelle: I stand by my statement.

—

Reshma: *Just randomly dancing* I… I don’t know. *Laughs*

Ismael: Okay, okay. That’s alright. But how about this? *Starts Moonwalking*

Marc: *Doing Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation choreography* Ya’ll got nothing on me.

Mireille: Okay, okay. But have you considered- *Starts breakdancing*

Denise: *Doing Luisa’s Surface Pressure choreography*

Jean: *Voguing* You were saying?

Cosette: *Doing Wednesday’s dance* Should this just be the show from now on? Everyone’s dancing for no reason?

—

[Confessional]

Chloé: *Getting her hair and makeup done* So, this is cool, I’m actually getting redemption, and some of the Austins along with a few canon characters are going to be… Wait, was I supposed to… Oh, God… Oh my God! I am so sorry!

—

[Confessional]

XY: It’s awesome being back on the show. I get to see some friends, hang with my dad, and we’re actually to peel back some of my layers.

Bob: Yeah, while it sucks I’m still the asshole father, I think this is good; it’s something audiences need to see- The-the toxicity of the music industry and the effect on teenagers.

XY: And we never delved into our relationship on the original show. It was clear I was being abused.

Bob: Exactly! God, I’m glad Asstruc is in the dungeon. Speaking of which, it’s your turn to feed him the fish heads.

XY: Damn it!

—

[Confessional]

Aya: When I got an email saying Asstruc was taken hostage, I was thrilled, but then I got another email saying the new writers wanted me to have a role on the new show, and I was ecstatic! Yes, my son plays the villain, but I’m happy he’s not longer a background character who’s only important when it comes to some ship that’s not even that cute anymore.

[bucksfucks]

  𝙜𝙪𝙮𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙜𝙚 ; ����𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

summary┃there’s nothing quite like getting scolded, punished, and fucked by your best friend’s dad. 

pairing┃bestfriend’sdad!steve rogers x f!reader 

word count┃2,552 words 

warnings┃significant (but undefined — reader in her 20’s) age gap, peter parker & pietro maximoff mention [aged up], authority kink, heavy daddy kink, teasing, mocking, slight degradation, praise kink, jealous!steve, corruption kink but very slight, breeding kink, creampie, choking kink, pubic hair ‘cause it’s normal, fingering, squirting, unprotected sex — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes┃man i bit my lip so hard writing this

gif credit

     It was a hot, scorching day. The suns rays licking your skin as you emerged from the pool; wet and temporarily cooled off.

     Grabbing the towel that was sitting on your chair you began drying off your wet skin, your friend trailed right behind you doing the same.

     You were lucky she had a pool, it was probably the only thing saving you on such a hot day. Otherwise you would surely be inside, sucking on a popsicle and complaining about the heat to her. 

     “The boys should be here soon, I think they stopped to grab some beers.” Your friend, Luna, said, checking her phone through her sunglasses.

     You hummed, nodding your head as you finished the last gulp of your water.

     She was excited; the boys being Piet and Peter, an odd duo. 

     Luna was convinced that Peter was in love with you, and that she was in love with Piet.

    He did have puppy dog eyes for her, though. 

    Peter? Well, you just weren’t that interested in him.

    He was a great guy, super sweet and smart, but he just wasn’t what you looked for in a man.

    “I’m gonna grab another glass of water, you want one?” You ask her as you finish towelling off the rest of your body.

    She shakes her head, “I think they’re here, I’m gonna go run out and grab them.”

    You hum, nodding your head before making your way into her massive, way-too-big house and sliding into the kitchen. 

    It never failed to amaze you, you admire the marble plastered over the counters and the mouldings on the wall. 

    Her father is the CEO of Rogers Inc., one of the largest corporations in greedy America; so it makes sense. 

    A shudder ran through your body at the thought of her dad, it was so wrong to fantasize over your best friend’s father, but it was hard not to. 

    Steve Rogers was the man of your dreams for nothing other than the fact that he was older, much, much, much older than you.

    You grabbed the crystal pitcher out of the large fridge a shiver running down your bikini clad body before you spun around, gasping and nearly dropping your glass at the sight of Steve standing at the entrance of the kitchen in a pair of loose jeans and a white shirt.

    “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, honey.” He chuckled, making his way in.

    “Oh no, it’s-it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting you, is all, Mr. Rogers.” Your voice shakes, intimidated by the powerful man that now stands in front of you. 

    “You can call me Steve, sweetheart. You know that.” The way the pet-name falls off his lip, accompanied by a subtle smirk, it makes your mind wader as your eyes scan him up and down. 

    You nod your head, finally mustering the strength to pour yourself a glass.  

    “Just gonna get by ya’,” you gasp when you feel his warm hand on your cool skin. 

    He scoots by you, body just barely brushing against yours as he grabs a beer. You watch him open it, popping the tab, “have fun with the boys.” He winks, taking a sip before strutting off deeper into the house. 

    You never thought of yourself as that type of person, to go after a father, a dilf if you will, but the permanent imprint of his broad shoulders ran laps in your mind as you walked back outside in hopes of distracting yourself. 

    Your name was called, “hey Peter!” You greeted him with a hug, watching the way his eyes ran down your body. 

    Would Steve’s eyes wander? They didn’t in the kitchen. Maybe he thinks you’re just a kid. 

    “How are you?” The question caught you off-guard, but then you’re reminded of where you are. 

    You have to shake your thought away before you’re smiling, diving into the pool and trying to fight the ache that’s settled between your thighs just how you wish Steve would. 

~

    “Luna are you sure?” Peter sounds worried as he squeaks out his question, she just swats her hand at him, scoffing as if the question was rude. 

    “Of course I’m sure,” you’re following close behind her as you tip-toe past her dad’s, Steve’s, office. 

    “So he won’t be mad?” Peter interjects, “he won’t ever know.” She points a finger at him as his eyes go wide. Piet just shoves Peter lightly, “it’ll be fine, just keep your voice down.” He reminds his brown haired friend as you roll your eyes. 

    The plan was to sneak the two boys inside, over for the night, but even they knew how strict Steve was.

    Not to mention the fact that Peter looked like he was about to shit himself in fear at the mere thought of Steve finding out. 

    “Guys, we’re almost there, okay?” Luna says as she turns around walking backwards behind a corner. 

    “All we gotta do is-” 

    Suddenly her voice is cut off, a small oh falling from her mouth as Steve rounds the corner with a disappointed look on his face. He looks from his daughter, to the two boys, and lastly, at you. 

    “All you gotta do is what?” He challenges with authority in his voice, folding his thick arms over his muscular chest. 

    You gulp, heart hammering in your chest, but unlike the other three, it’s not from fear. 

    “Hey dad,” Luna tries to put on her fake sweet voice, but Steve doesn’t buy it, instead he just raises his hand and sends her to her room as she huffs and puffs. 

    He kicks the two boys out next, giving them a warning that’ll surely scar them for a few months. 

    You’re all that’s left in the tall hallway as he makes his way over to you. 

    “I always thought you were a bit of a troublemaker,” he hums, coming to stand directly in front of you. 

    Despite your own stature, he was still taller than you and had an air of authority consuming him. 

    You could feel your pulse in your ears, nothing but a pair of denim shorts covering your bottoms and your dried bikini top exposed your undulating chest. 

    “Mr. Rogers I-,” but you were just cut off again. 

    He craned his neck down, rich mahogany permeating your nose as you inhaled sharply. 

    “It seems like you can’t seem to remember to call me Steve,” he hums, “maybe you could call me Daddy instead.” 

    Your are pupils blow, lust-blown and wide as you catch his own darkening eyes. 

    “How’s that sound, sweetheart?” He was egging you on, gauging your reaction as you took a sharp breathe in through your nose. 

    “Good,” you replied meekly, not trusting your voice to deliver anything else. 

    He wasn’t pleased with the response, cocking his head to the side as if to say.....

    “Daddy.” 

    There it was, the one word he wanted to hear slip past your lips. 

    “Atta girl.” He winks, the simple praise affecting you much more than you thought it would’ve; but it drives you absolutely wild. 

    You wonder what he’ll do next, what his next move could be. 

    He just steps away from the wall, “you fuckin’ him?” It catches you off-guard, eyes going wide in confusion. 

    “That Parker kid, are you fucking him?” He asks, tone calm and confident as he interrogates you. 

    You shake your head, “no.” You reply comes naturally, there’s nothing to lie about, the sexual energy is prevalent and you’re having a hard time keeping your thighs from burning. 

    He smirks, “good girl, a guy like him wouldn’t know how to treat a girl like you anyways.” 

    There’s a voice in your head that telling you, screaming at you that this is your best friends father. 

    It only feeds your hunger, fuelling the fire that ignited long ago. 

    “I don’t fuck guys my age.” You spit back, enjoying the way his body stiffens and how he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. 

    “‘Course not, why would a pretty little thing stoop to their level?” It’s a rhetorical question, obviously, but then suddenly it hits you; hits you like a bus going sixty miles an hour. 

    He’s going to fuck you. He’s going to fuck you while your best friend is in the room next door. 

    “Maybe because there’s no one who I’m really interested in and you know,” your voice trails off as you find your confidence. 

    “I’ve got needs just like everyone else.” 

    You can see the twitch in his pants, the growl that bubbles from deep within his chest as he shoves you back against the cool wall. 

    “You know damn well what you do to me, don’t you?” It’s a low snarl as his nose brushes your jaw. 

    “Know how fuckin’ hard you get me every time you’re prancin’ around my house in your little shorts. Biting your lip; talkin’ about how fuckin’ horny you are and how you wish you’d have an older guy, an older guy like me, take care of you.” 

    Goosbumps erupt over your skin as he whispers those words in your ear, neatly trimmed beard brushing over your sensitive skin. 

    “Honey, I’ve got exactly what you’re lookin’ for.” Before his lips were on yours, thigh wedged between your legs as you gave into the feeling of him.

    Suddenly there was a ratting, footsteps coming closer as Steve took a reluctant step away from you and pressed his index finger against his lips.

    You locked your lips, nodding lightly as you tried to steady your breathing as you listened for the footsteps—his daughters footsteps, your best friends footsteps.

    They sounded further away, disappearing somewhere deeper into the house as Steve sidled up to you again.

    A gasp left your lips when you felt his hand on your ass, squeezing at the flesh.

    “Shh, shh, shh,” he cooed, “don’t wanna get caught now, do we?” He smirked, pulling you flush against him as you whimpered.

    Steve kicked his office door open gently, the two of you stumbling into it.

    “Mr. Rogers-“

    He nearly glared at you, “wrong.”

    You gulped, “Steve,” but he just tsked you and chuckled darkly.

    “Baby girl, you just can’t learn, can you?” He strides over to you, harshly grabbing your chin between his fingers as he angles your head upwards.

    You hiss when he pushes your smaller body against the frame of the door, “and Daddy doesn’t like repeating himself.”

    The ache between your thighs is undeniable and you need nothing more than to feel the weight of him between them.

    “I-I’m sorry, Daddy,” you reply in a hoarse voice. He perks up at the sound of his name, but it doesn’t seem to change the course of plan he’s already made up.

    “It’s too late for apologies, honey. And I think you know what happens to bad girls,” he mocks condescendingly, but it only spurs you on.

    Steve kicks your feet apart gently, denim jeans already unbuttoned as he snakes a hand down them.

    “Let me guess,” he hums. “No one’s ever been able to give you what you want?” His fingers find your clit through your swimsuit as you moan.

    “Nothing but a series of five minute fucks that leave you unsatisfied, huh?” Your heart is hammering in your chest as you feel heat rise to your face.

    And it’s embarrassing how close you already are.

    “Mhmm,” is all you can spit out before his fingers are diving between your folds, moving your swimsuit to the suit and stuffing you full of his fingers.

    “Oh I know honey,” he cooes. “It must be so hard finding a guy your age to fill your needs.”

    When you open your eyes at his words, you can see how dark his are. It’s not dark or deceitful, it’s lust and desire.

    “Yeah,” you whisper pathetically as he curls his fingers inside of you.

    His hand is around your neck not even seconds later, lips against yours as you manage to find his cock through his pants; palming him as he groans into your mouth.

    “Won’t ever need to find a guy your age now that you have me, honey.” He purrs against your lips, a shudder running down your spine.

    “Now be a good girl and cum all over my fingers.”

    It’s an explosion of pressure, the moan you want to release never comes with the weight of Steve’s hand wrapped around your throat.

    It’s leg shaking, the pleasure you’re feeling before Steve removes his fingers to lick them clean.

    “Look at you, honey. Look at how drenched you are.” And you are, damp from squirting as you’re still tightly holding onto his shirt practically begging for more.

    “Turn around,” he purrs, undoing your bikini top as it falls to the ground.

    Your nipples perk up at the cool air, already aroused as he pinches one of them.

    When you’re pressed up against the door again, you whine, you audibly whine as he pulls your bottoms down your legs.

    “What a perky little ass,” he smirks, smacking it as you hear the sound of his zipper and the clink of his belt hitting the floor.

    He hums, running his hands all over your body as he takes the time to memorize all your curves, ridges, and bumps that you hate.

    “Absolutely perfect,” you’re flush against his warm skin.

    Steve’s fingers run down your tummy, resting right above the hair that decorates your mound; not fazed for a second.

    “And all for me to ruin,” he hums before you feel him lining himself up at your entrance.

    When he pushes in, you know that he’s ruined all men for you.

    When he bottoms out, you know you’ll never get this feeling with anyone else.

    When he thrusts into you, his fingers digging into your skin—you know you’ll crave him.

    “Takin’ all of me so fuckin’ well,” he grunts, anchoring his feet on the floor as he snakes his arm around your neck; your chin resting against his elbow.

    “Gonna make me cum so fuckin’ hard, have you full to the brim.”

    You gasp, arching your back and bending your knees as he pounds into you with no other motivate than making the two of you come.

    “What a good little girl you’re bein’ for Daddy,” he rasps in your ear, “can feel you squeezin’ me, know you wanna cum.”

    You whimper, “yeah.”

    “Then let go, cum all over Daddy’s cock.” Is all he can say before you’re squeezing him as he holds you upright.

    You can feel him shudder and shake as he comes, biting your shoulder before he slips out of you; along with his come that now trickles down your thighs.

    He watches it leak out of you, catching his breath before spinning you around to face him.

    “No more guys your age, yeah?” He asks, “no more guys my age.” You reply, smirking as you admire his physique.

    “Good girl, let Daddy take care of you and you’ll never have anything to worry about again.”

    That night you laid in his bed, curled up against the father of your best friend with her just a mere few rooms over as your phone buzzed with texts from her about how much she hated how her dad kicked you out.

    What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

[captaincoldzero]

Bird or Angel? | Steve Rogers x Male Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Steve Rogers needs help and Sam knows someone who can find Bucky Barnes.

A/N: I made this to happens after Captain America 2 - Winter Soldier.

A/N.2: I made the powers of the reader based on Hawks from Boku no Hero Academia.

A/N.3: Sorry for any mistakes, but English is not my first language.

Ever since Steve found out that Bucky, his best friend, was still alive, he couldn't think of anything else. He didn't know if he just wanted his best friend alive or because seeing him being used by Hydra made him so uncomfortable.

Sam Wilson promised he wanted to help him find Bucky but as they expected it wouldn't be easy.

― I know someone who can help us. ― Said Sam one day when he was eating at a diner.

― Why didn't you speak before? ― Steve asked, wiping his mouth after taking a bite of the hamburger.

― He's a difficult person to contact. ― He replied, drinking some of the soda.

― Have you spoken to him yet? ― Steve asked a little excitedly.

― Calm down, he won't talk about this with anyone. ― Sam said, sounding very relaxed.

― How can he help? ―  Steve asked, leaning back in his chair.

― You will see. ― Sam said with a smile.

…

Steve and Sam had to go to the roof of a tall building. Steve was worried about the other man's request, but Sam seemed calm about it. He had told Steve that he had met this man because the two of them worked together. Sam said they flew together.

Which made Steve wonder if he also had wings like Sam's.

— Where is he? ― Steve asked when he saw it was just the two of them on the roof.

― He should be arriving by now. ― Sam said and approached the edge of the roof.

― I'm already here, Wilson. ― They heard a male voice behind them.

A man was standing above where the door was to go back inside a building, wearing an aviation jacket and sunglasses. But when Steve looked right, he noticed two large black wings flapping against the man's back that kept him a good few inches off the ground.

― It's been a long time, L/N! ― Sam said, smiling at the flying man.

― Should you be Steve or do you prefer Captain America? ― The man approached Steve, still keeping off the ground.

― Are they real? ― Steve asked, focused on the two black wings flapping.

― What? ― The man asked, confused, but seemed to remember that he wasn't stepping on the floor. ― Yes, they are. ― He replied with a smile.

― That's the Y/N. ― Sam said approaching Steve.

And so for the first time at that moment, Y/N touched the ground like a normal person. Maybe even he could look like a normal person if it weren't for the wings on his back.

― I'm a mutant. ― Y/N said, putting his hands in his coat pockets. ― A human with special genes that give me special abilities. In my case, Wings.

― Is your power having wings? ― Steve asked.

― Yes and no. It goes further than that. ― Y/N replied smiling.

― Y/N was one of our best trackers. He flew fast, saw far and wide, and could hear and feel other people through walls. ― Sam said a little excitedly.

― Can you do this? ― Steve asked a little curiously.

― Of course, my captain. ― Y/N said in a joking tone.

…

Y/N started helping Steve and Sam search for Bucky. The man disappeared early in the morning and returned late at night. He'd gotten leads on Bucky's whereabouts, but nothing on James himself.

Steve went alone so he could walk a little. He went to a mall as if he was going to find Bucky walking around at any moment, but his subconscious told him he just needed a break.

― Are you okay? ― Y/N asked, scaring Steve a little.

― When did you get here? ― Steve asked in surprise.

― I saw you coming in here and it looked desolate. ― Y/N replied.

Steve noticed that Y/N always had a similar tone in his voice, something like good humor and lightheartedness. He was strange for someone who had served in the army and was still an agent type.

Looking closer, Steve missed something behind Y/N. In place of wings, Y/N carried a backpack slung over one shoulder. And instead of the aviation jacket, he wore another coat.

― I thought the wings were real. ― Steve said going to sit on a bench in the mall and being accompanied by Y/N

― But they are. ― Y/N said laughing.

Y/N opened his backpack and showed it to Steve. Inside were thousands of dark feathers. Steve looked confused at Y/N and quickly grabbed one of the feathers. He pinched the quill a little and rubbed his finger. Y/N grimaced slightly and took the quill out of Steve's hand.

― They're sensitive. I can feel and control each of the feathers, so they are still attached to my body. ― Y/N explained putting the quill back in the backpack and zipping it up.

― They look tougher than a normal feather. ― Steve said laughing at Y/N's reaction.

― And they are. The scientists at the barracks said they are as resistant as adamantium.

Steve kept thinking about Y/N's wings and the way he looked happy and calm when he was away from the ground. Now, looking like a normal human, he looked a little more serious. He still maintained his fun vibe, but he looked unhappy at the same time.

― Do you like to fly? ― Steve asked to bring up a topic.

― Think that I have to like it. ― Y/N said laughing. ― I'm passionate about flying. But I think the wings influenced me for that.

― Since when do you have them?

― As long as I can remember. They told me that I was born with bones in my back, especially in the area around my shoulders, different from the average person. At first, they just thought I had a disability until the feathers started to grow. ― Y/N said without a smile on his face. ― My parents didn't like it at all and I ran away from home. I started to hide the wings with coats and big shirts until they reached sizes that kept me from hiding. So I learned that I could make the feathers come loose and still manage to get them back into place.

― So that's why you're walking around with your backpack when you don't have your wings? ― Steve asked and the man nodded.

― It's easier. ― Y/N replied, smiling again.

The two stared at each other for a while. The image of Y/N flying in front of the Sun, making him look like some sort of angel, came to Steve's mind and made him feel his face flush a little. Y/N cocked her head to the side.

― You're turning red. ― Y/N said and Steve turned away.

Steve was going to reply, but Y/N turned away quickly as if something had caught his eye. He got up and started to run. Steve started following Y/N wanting to know what he was doing.

They got close to the escalators when they heard people screaming on the second floor.

― What's up? ― Steve asked, reaching for Y/N.

― A robbery. ― Y/N said following with his eyes,  two men carrying a large bag running. ― They're armed.

Steve ran to the escalator and ran up, while some people complained about his haste. Arriving on the second floor, he began to run to catch up with the men.

When they realized that Captain America was behind them, they aimed their gun so they could shoot. People screamed as he walked away and Steve jumped behind a pillar.

― Are you afraid, America? ― One of the men spoke up.

Steve tried to look at the men behind the pillar, but when his face appeared, the man fired in his direction, causing him to go back into hiding.

Suddenly, he heard the men cry out in the complaint. When Steve looked their way carefully, he noticed five black feathers around them. They had hit the guns and cut the handle of the bag, causing it to fall to the floor.

― Where did these things come from? ― They are hitting the air as if trying to ward off flies, while the feathers stay around them.

Steve looked over the edge of the second floor and found Y/N still in the same spot, but now the backpack was open and hanging from his hand. Also, some feathers were still sticking out of it. Steve smiled at the other man who returned the gesture.

The men began to run, leaving their weapons and bag on the floor. A man tried to stop them, but the robber pushed him over the edge of the railing. People screamed and more feathers came out of Y/N's backpack. Some got into the man's clothes and others just got under his body causing him to slowly start to fall like a sheet of paper. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the feathers moved away from him and went to where the men were trying to flee.

― Thanks. ― The man spoke and Y/N nodded.

Many feathers began to fly around the men until they pushed them over the edge of the banister. They screamed in fear, but the feathers caught them before they hit the ground.

Y/N took off his coat, revealing two small tufts of feathers on his back through the two holes in his shirt. The feathers that held the men and the ones that were in the backpack flew towards the Y/N until they formed the two large wings that Steve already knew well.

People were looking at him in surprise. Some with disgust and strangeness, but most fascinating.

― The police have arrived and you are not going to run away. ― Y/N spoke and some feathers came out of his wings and came back carrying the men's bag under it.

Y/N opened the bag seeing several jewels and gold in it. Probably from the jewelry store he had inside the mall.

― Are you seriously trying to rob a store at the mall? ― Y/N asked, laughing at the men.

They tried to get up, but feathers flew quickly towards them, showing them a sharp point.

― They won't hurt me. ― One of the men spoke, staring at a feather that was aimed directly at his face.

― Will they not? ― Y/N stretched his left wing to the wall and some feathers flew to the wall, pinning them to the wall as if he had shot them with a gun.

The two thugs looked scared at the wall and remained still until the police entered the mall. Some people started cheering for Y/N which surprised him.

― People like heroes. ― Steve spoke beside him.

― For someone as old as you, you don't seem to know anything about the world. ― Y/N was serious.

As the officers approached the men, Y/N brought his feathers back into his wings. He left off the ground with a flutter of wings, but Steve held his hand.

― I want to fly with you one day. ― Steve said with a smile and Y/N noticed that he was a little red.

Y/N smiled and nodded in agreement.

― Just let me know when. ― Y/N spoke and Steve released him.

Y/N fast flight to the mall exit, disappearing into the sky.

― Was he with you, Captain? ― One of the cops asked as he approached Steve.

― Will be. ― Steve said looking at where Y/N had flown.

…

Y/N always liked to work in silence and not helping people was easier. He helped people in front of an audience for the first time. During the week, newspapers, magazines, and the internet were talking about the flying man at the mall. Some haters and the others adore them.

Y/N was following what people were saying, but what made him smile was when he watched the news that night.

“No one has any news about the flying man from the mall. Nobody knows who he is. But despite all the mystery about this man, he is already winning over many fans who are now calling him the Hawks.

Will the Hawks be a new hero? Is he with the Avengers? Will we ever see him again?”

[earliebirb]

i’ll save you a seat

steve/tony, established relationship, canon divergence, 1673 words

(inspired by this deleted scene from the avengers [2012])

“Waiting on the big guy?”

“Ma’am?” Steve looks up from his sketchbook, eyes squinting against the sunlight. 

He meets the gaze of one of the waitresses working at the café. Her long blond hair flows down to her chest and she is dressed in the café’s signature uniform: pastel orange blouse, black skirt, and a white half apron tied around her waist. 

“Iron Man,” the waitress clarifies, lips quirked up in a knowing smile. “A lot of people eat here just to see him fly by.”

“Right,” Steve says, lips twitching at their inside joke. He opens his mouth to say something else, but a familiar silhouette in the distance catches his eye and breaks his train of thought. “Uh, actually…”

He nods at the sky. The waitress follows his gaze.

The object grows larger, approaching at a high speed. It morphs into a blur of red and gold that streaks across the blue sky right above them, sending a gust of wind that ruffles the waitress’ blond locks. The figure lands a short distance away from the café with a distinct metallic thunk — the sound of gold-titanium alloy hitting concrete. 

All around him, people begin to whisper among themselves with excitement, some even taking out their phones to document the spectacle. Although Steve can’t really say he enjoys the attention, warmth still blooms in his chest as he observes the approaching figure. He finds himself hiding an involuntary grin behind his hand.

“Always a dramatic entrance, huh?” The waitress chuckles.

“You know it.” Steve sighs with fond exasperation. All eyes are on Tony as he walks toward the outdoor area of the café, the nanotech suit peeling away from his body. The excited murmurs and whispers increase in volume.

When Tony finally arrives at the table, he bends down to plant a kiss on Steve’s cheek. “Good morning, beloved.”

“Mr. Stark-Rogers,” the kind waitress greets with a smile. “The usual?”

“Please, Beth. I told you to call me Tony.” Tony reaches up to slide his sunglasses a few inches down the bridge of his nose, giving her a disapproving look that makes her chuckle. “And yes, please. Thank you.”

“Table’s yours as long as you like,” she says before disappearing into the indoor part of the café to relay the order. Steve knows she means it, too. She’ll make sure of it, just like she always has for the past few years.

The café had been Steve’s favorite café, at first. He visited the place often, especially during his first few weeks in the twenty-first century. He developed a fondness for their sesame seed bagels and the lovely view of Stark Tower from his favorite outdoor table, although the latter is a fact Steve would never admit to Tony even on pain of death. 

However, the café quickly became Steve and Tony’s favorite café when their reluctant camaraderie bloomed into friendship all those years ago. Even before they started dating, Steve and Tony already established a weekly ritual of having brunch at the café whenever their schedules aligned. 

Tony did eventually admit to Steve that he found the café’s coffee to be subpar. He did, however, insist that the café was his favorite, albeit for reasons different from Steve’s. Not for the bagels, not for the exceptional view of Stark Tower, and definitely not for the coffee, but because the café was a place full of memories. His memories of the two of them, his memories of Steve:

“That café was where I first made you laugh. Like, really laugh. I’d seen you smile or chuckle before, but that kind of full-body laughter? That was a first. And I remember thinking that… I really, really liked the way you laughed.”

It has been seven years since Steve first sat at this very table and sketched the figure of Stark Tower looming before him. Beth is still working at the café, having made her way through the ranks. Now a co-owner of the café, she has developed a friendship of sorts with Steve and Tony — both of whom she claims to be her favorite regulars. Tony likes to joke about how she probably says that to all of her regulars, something Beth always denies vehemently. 

Steve turns his attention back to Tony, who has taken off and folded his sunglasses, letting them hang from the collar of his shirt. 

“Would it kill you to take the elevator and walk?”

“It’s not like I do this every single time. Besides, why take the elevator when you have a flying suit? That’s just ineffective.” Tony makes a face as he pulls his chair out.

“‘S good exercise.”

“I exercise plenty.” Tony sits down on the chair across from him, scooting closer to the table. Under the table, his ankle brushes Steve’s. “Besides, we just engaged in a vigorous workout session this morning.” Tony bites his lower lip, giving Steve a lascivious wink.

“Tony,” Steve reprimands, but finds himself unable to say anything further, not when the back of his neck is heating up at the memory of what they were up to just a few hours ago. While Steve immediately showered afterward and headed straight to the café, Tony decided he wanted to sleep for a few more hours, promising to join Steve later. 

Tony grins before leaning forward on his elbows to peer at Steve’s sketch.

“Which lucky building are you sketching today, honeybunch?”

He squints and frowns when instead of a building he finds a rough and nondescript sketch of a person’s face. 

It could be anyone to the untrained eye, but Steve’s pen strokes are sure and confident, having rendered the same jawline countless of times. 

Every single time, Tony’s figure never fails to fascinate him. Always so beautiful from every angle, in every light. Steve knows it well enough by now to be able to sketch him simply from an image in his mind’s eye. 

Still, nothing beats the real thing. Steve takes in the sweep of Tony’s dark lashes and his coffee brown eyes as he appraises the drawing.

“It’s not a building,” Steve says instead. 

Tony hums noncommittally, tilting his head at the sketch and giving it one last look before leaning back in his seat. “How was your morning run?”

“Uneventful.”

“Really?” Tony says distractedly, his attention on Beth who is once again approaching their table with his cup of coffee, black as midnight.

Tony engages in more small talk with Beth as she sets the cup and saucer on the table, asking after her husband and kids. There is an easy and carefree smile on his face, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

All the while, his fingers are fiddling with two sugar packets Steve knows he will only use one of. He is always buzzing with energy, parts of him always in a state of perpetual motion, finding it near impossible to stay still. 

Steve also knows that he won’t finish the coffee because it wasn’t made by Steve or himself.

These little idiosyncrasies are details that make up Tony, the little quirks that only Steve knows.

The little things that make you mine, Steve thinks privately. He feels something inside him softening at the thought.

“Sorry, honey,” Tony says when Beth eventually leaves to take another table’s orders, his smile soft and affectionate. “You were saying? Running was uneventful?”

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly, “nothing really interesting.” He admires the way sunlight turns the tips of Tony’s dark hair into a lighter shade of brown. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re still the highlight of my morning.”

Tony huffs, rolling his eyes, but his lips curve up into a pleased smile and his brown eyes are warm with affection as he meets Steve’s gaze. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. The band of vibranium around his husband’s ring finger gleams in the late morning sunlight.

“I better be, after waking you up with one hell of a—”

“Tony!” Steve exclaims, knocking his ankle against Tony’s in warning. “Stop it.”

“What? It’s the truth! You really did enjoy it when I—”

“There are children around,” Steve hisses, casting a furtive glance at a nearby table occupied by a family of four. 

Tony laughs softly, his shoulders shaking with it. Still holding his gaze, he brings Steve’s hand to his lips, pressing two feather-light kisses to the back of his hand. He continues holding Steve’s hand against his mouth, and when he speaks Steve feels his lips and the bristles of his goatee brushing his skin.

“Sorry, baby, I can’t help it.” Tony hides a smile against Steve’s knuckles. “You’re just so pretty when you blush.”

Steve looks down, avoiding Tony’s eyes in favor of staring at the cookie crumbs next to his half-full cup of coffee that has long since gone cold. His cheeks are still burning, and Tony’s words are not helping.

“See?” Tony says, before planting a kiss to his knuckles. “So pretty.”

Steve shuts his eyes with a defeated sigh. “Please just drink your coffee.”

Tony chuckles again but Steve hears the clink of ceramic, a cup being lifted from its saucer. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

He only allows himself to open his eyes when Tony gets distracted by some pigeons, immediately launching into a spiel about the one time he was attacked by a pigeon who was apparently really determined to steal his sandwich.

Steve nods along dutifully, reacting at appropriate times throughout the story, but all he can think of is that sitting there, at a café’s outdoor table on Park Avenue on a bright Sunday morning, his husband sat in front of him talking a mile a minute, is that there is nowhere else he’d rather be.

His gaze falls down to where Tony’s hand is still holding his, even when his other hand is gesturing animatedly as he tells his story.

Yes. Steve thinks, smiling helplessly at the twinkle in Tony’s eyes — the one that appears whenever he gets excited. I’m home. 

[hubbie22]

Here is an ask well half an ask from the lovely @meddowscrl please don’t hate me 🥺 I just can’t do happy endings. I tried, I just couldn’t. I can only do angst. I like to suffer ~nervous laughter intensified~ Also, please excuse the writing, I have a respiratory infection and am heavily medicated.

You were happy, weren’t you?

“I want a divorce.”

You stare at him, you had only asked if he wanted to change the drapes. And the answer, turned your world upside down. He had been your boyfriend since 1968, your husband since 1972 and yet with one sentence he was now nothing.

“The drapes, I just wanted to change the drapes.” You mutter out like a hapless child.

“We haven’t been good for months.” He looks at you, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

“We haven’t?” Since when haven’t you two been good? Since when haven’t you two shared one brain cell? That was news to you.

Roger stands firms, flicking his long hair back. “No, Y/N.” He sighs, “We haven’t been us for months.”

“Is there someone else?” You look at him, searching for something. “You promised me. You promised me.” The words come out like a chant or mantra, what you held onto when he was on the road. A promise from another lifetime ago.

He sighs, as if he wants to tell you the truth. But he looks at you, and he sees the brokenness he caused. And he can’t bare to make it worse. So, he lies.

“No.”

You walk past him, and he grabs your hand and you think for a moment he will tell you he change his mind. But he hasn’t, and you tear yourself away from him trudging up the staircase.

“Y/N, this has been a long time coming. I’m not happy…. I’m not happy with you anymore.”

“A long time coming for who?” You can’t even look at him while you are packing your things. Most of which, he bought you. So, you only bring what you can into this relationship with yourself. “For you? Because I was happy.” There are tears streaming down your face, like a waterfall, “And I thought we were happy, it’s news to me that we aren’t. And that’s we haven’t been for sometime. Or maybe that you haven’t been.”

You sit across from him in a London high-rise, a wood table between you two and armed with a divorce lawyer. It happened fast, or maybe you were out of it the last few months.

You looked over at Roger, his hair was shorter the last time you saw him.

He stopped by your new apartment to drop off things you left, you could remember his shocked face when you open the door. You heard rustling outside and curiously you opened the door to see Roger crouched down, putting a box by your door. Blue eyes meet yours, and it was like time hadn’t passed. And maybe that’s why you treated it that way, maybe that’s why you went with the old routine. And you wonder if it was the gleam in his eyes, that let you believe that there was something to hold onto; that hope remained.

“Just some bits and bobs of yours.” Roger said, fumbling his keys in his hand.

“Thanks, Rog.” You can’t move from the door frame, the gaze y’all shared unbroken. Years of memories dancing between tha gaze. The squeal of the kettle you put on earlier makes the both of you jump.

“Cuppa? I still have your favorite biscuits.” You couldn’t stop yourself from buying them. It was just normal. And sometimes normal in this new word you didn’t know, was what you needed to sleep at night.

“Really?!” His blue eyes light up, and you motion for him to come in. Staying for tea was a dangerous thing, an old and easy routine. It was weird being so comfortable with someone, who was leaving you behind. Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Maybe it was because of the easiness of it all, that you left yourself fall back into the comfort of it all. As of you two were old friends, not two lovers frayed at the seams. Because of that easiness, you let yourself entertain a thought that maybe you could save your marriage. Put back the broken pieces into something recognizable, but it wasn’t enough. The yearning, the reminiscing of old times through the stuff he brought to you somehow turned into fumbled kisses and clothes thrown around haphazardly. It was something you thought would change the course of where your life was going. Instead of reconciling, it turned into Roger sneaking out when he thought you were asleep. It turned into your lawyer, letting you know Roger wanted you to have more than you asked for. It turned into more resentment and hurt from you, how he could use you and then leave you. How could he so easily but all those years together aside? It turned into something that shouldn’t have happened. And it turned into something that would stay with you forever. A funny word forever, because forever never is forever.

“Sign this, and your divorced will be finalized. All assets obtained during the marriage have been split, due to Mr. Taylor’s wishes.” Your lawyer says looking at you, sliding the papers across, while Roger’s lawyer speaks, “You will be comfortable, and well off Y/N. My client has been more than generous. In fact, I’ve never seen a settlement this amicable from the side of the main breadwinner .”

You sign the papers without any words, you don’t even look at Roger. You realize as you sign on the dotted line, this will be the last time you will use the surname you used for years. Funny how something you thought would never change, would be stagnant in your life just fades away. You then pass the papers across the table back to Roger’s lawyer, you watch as the lawyer slides the papers over to Roger for his signature.

And when Roger takes the paper, you stop breathing you wonder if his mind will change at the eleventh hour. But, he signs it without any hesitation. It’s a fluent and flawless movement, very unlike Roger- really. Part of you breaks at that, it was like he didn’t care he was closing the door on years of his life. Closing the door on you.

You stand up, smoothing out your wide legged pant suit. After the divorce, you had dipped your toes back into the world of working for a living. Putting that masters degree in business to use, and now it was time to separate yourself from the last of the rock n roll lifestyle you loved. And you turn to walk away, high heels on the marble floor when someone grabs your wrist turning you around.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Roger looks at you with concern in his blue eyes. And you wonder if it’s for the friend he was losing, and not the marriage he let go of so easily.

You look at him, “I will. Don’t forget to wear your glasses, we both know you are blind. Don’t forget to call your mum once in while, she misses you. And try not to get so angry at the boys, they mean well.”

“Even after everything I’ve done, you don’t hate me.” You spot something in his eyes, you can’t put a name too. An emotion that seems out of place, it was almost looked like guilt and forlorn.

“I told you a long time ago, I could never hate you. No matter how much, I may want too. I just can’t.”

“You are too good, Y/N. I’ve forgot to remind myself of that. Maybe that’s why…” he drifts off, “Even those daft band mates of mine agreed. Never let me forget it. But, Im sure they are out to drive me mad!” He says with a small smirk.

“With the drum sets you destroy, I doubt the plan to make you mad.” You make a small sound, something between a strangled “hmph” and snort in retort.

“Same old, Y/N.”

“By the way, I have something to-”

“Roggiee!” A voice like a bell cuts through the hushed words you tell him.

You both turn to see a girl, or really a woman bounding toward y’all. And you look toward Roger, and you see the look in his eyes. A look that used to be reserved for you. And it clicked, the guilty look etched in his eyes, not even moments ago. The guilty look he wore that night. The whole reason your world was being upended and ruined. It was for her.

The bitterness filled you up, the way he could so easily toss you aside. The look you threw at Roger was one of pure resentment and unbridled rage.

“You lied.” Your hushed words, that come out through clinched teeth drip with a malice.

He looks at you with wide eyes, as if he was trying to shelter you from the truth. And you see that damned look again. “Y/N, please. I just couldn’t tell you.”

But before you can answer, she comes up with a smile on her pink lips and a twinkle in her dark brown eyes. “You must be, Roggie’s lawyer! I’m Gwen.” She smiles at you. And her smile is sickly sweet, and almost innocent.

It makes you want to scream, to throw something, to do something other than what you are doing.

“I’m Y/N, actually.” You extend your hand to her. Her eyes go wide, and she looks at Roger, who goes to her side immediately.

“Y/N, please listen.” He hold onto her side, and the whiteness of his knuckles against the material of her dark dress don’t go unnoticed by you. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her.”

Gwen chimes in, “We honestly tried to stay away from each other, we just couldn’t. We were drawn to each other.”

If you weren’t so bitter, hurt, and angry perhaps the romantic side of you would find that notion tragic. You had read about it in books, and always rooted for the star-crossed lovers. But, now you were the collateral damage, you were the woman scorned.

“When we decided that what we had was something, I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tell you that I was in love with someone else, when you were there from the start. I just didn’t want you to find out after I got back from tour-”

“He couldn’t see you broken like that.” Gwen finishes for him.

You can’t even begin to comprehend the information given, you were gobsmacked. You were completely barred raw, for everyone is this godforsaken lobby to see. And because of that, you selfishly did not want to see how genuinely happy he looked with someone else. Someone who wasn’t you. So, you used the words you knew would cut him to the bone. “So, you thought it was better to make me believe it was my fault you weren’t happy. That I was ignorantly living in one sided marital bliss, while you were falling in love with someone else? While you were planning to leave, I was planning for a life with you?” Your eyes are blazing, your face hot with rage, “You thought it was better to make me believe I was the problem? I can’t believe you! After everything I did for you? After putting my life on hold for you?! This is how you repay me? I deserved the truth, but you, the both of you took that from me.”

“I just-” He sighs, “I just wanted to be happy again, and when I’m with Gwen I’m happy. And I was going to tell you, I was going to tell you that day with the drapes. But, you then you uttered that damn promise. And what was I supposed to do? How could I break my best friend? I’ve always been the asshole to everyone, but you.”

“I love you.”

You look at Roger, his long blonde hair disheveled with bright blue eyes. “I love you too, you are my friend. My very best friend.” You bump your shoulder against his, and let out a giggle.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

You stare at him wide eyed, “Oh.”

“I have been for sometime.”

“Rog, I love you too. But, that doesn’t mean I want to date you. I know how you are, you will grow bored of me and find someone else. And love is sweet, but it’s not your nature. I don’t think I have it in me to me hate you, or to lose you. Please don’t make me lose my best friend.”

“You don’t get it, Y/N.” He looks at you like you hung the moon, and you like it. You crave that look. “I don’t want anyone else, it’s you. And I think it’s always been, and always will be you.”

“You promise? You promise it’s only me forever?” You bite your lip and stick out your pinky finger, like you had done so many times growing up.

“I cross my heart and hope to die.” He says as he raises your intertwined pinkies up to kiss it.

“And in that moment, I was back in Truro laughing with a curly haired little girl, and then I was in uni with that same girl, who was my best friend, I saw that girl. And, I couldn’t do that to her.”

You look at him, your face cold as stone. “I’m still that girl, I haven’t changed. You have. And that’s okay, it’s okay the change that’s life.”

That is how it ends, with a look of heartbreak on your face as the elevator doors close on the sight before you. And when the doors open, and you are greeted by the sight of the lobby. You realize, you didn’t even tell him what you wanted too.

Would it change anything?

[cherry-gemz]

Poolside: Steve Rogers' Birthday Challenge

Here's my submission for my first bingo square on @the-ce-horniest-book-club challenge! Master list here.

Summary: You and Steve get to spend his birthday as a wet summer 😜.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Y/N

Rating: 18+ only! 🍆

Word count: < 600

Prompts: I can do this all day

You wave your hand attempting to cool down during this insane heat wave. Your hair was sticky and you held it up with one hand. Steve came around the corner and gave your shoulder a kiss. It's cold and refreshing, sending chills down your body.

You yelp in surprise, "Babe!"

He smiled and stuck his tongue out to show an ice cube he's been sucking on.

"Ooh, I need that all over."

"Is that right?" He replied and brought you in a hug.

"Ugh, it's too hot, Steve," you lament. "You know I'm always up for some fun, but I can't even think straight, let alone try to enjoy myself. Plus I gotta make your cake and that's going to heat up the whole house."

He pouted and raked his hands through his product free hair. You've enjoyed his time off from the team right now, especially it being his birthday. While you appreciated the Avengers, they didn't exactly know boundaries and would impose themselves by stopping by your place or take Steve off hours on end doing who knows what.

But not this July 4th. This one Steve promised it would be just the two of you. He leaned in for a kiss and you placed your hands beneath his shirt, just to watch him break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of your warm hands on his skin.

He kissed your forehead, "You can skip the cake…" he said as he arched his brow and started to unbutton your shorts. "I think I have another dessert in mind."

You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, "You really know how to get what you want, don't you?"

His fingers delved to the apex of your thighs and you hitched a breath. It was unbelievably hot, but you closed your eyes as he worked his magic.

"Steve…" you moaned. "It's so hot…"

He removed his hand and pointed to the backyard, "I have an idea."

You turn to see him pointing to the pool, "Really? Feeling adventurous are we, Captain?"

"What? It's my birthday after all. And it's a way for us to cool off, while we get hot…"

🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲

"Steve!" You moaned as rammed himself in and out of you, holding onto the poolside. He stretched your walls and as you screamed his name again in a rush of euphoric state.

"I can do this all day," he grinned and hooked your high over his broad shoulder, allowing a deeper entrance. This was unlike him. He usually was a sweet, traditional missionary type of man. But you were all for it.

You saw stars as he continued his rhythm. The coolness of the pool's water gave you the refreshment you needed, while his hard member satisfied that craving you had between your thighs. He placed a hard kiss on your lips as you hit your climax.

"Steve….yes! Don't stop!"

"Didn't intend to, sweetheart," he breathed in heavily as you scraped his muscular back with your nails.

Another kiss followed by more that trailed down your jaw and neck. You both were so occupied with each other that you didn't notice Bucky, Sam, Tony, and the rest of the Avengers entering the house and to the pool.

Steve shouted as you both came, you melted into him and held him while the pool water sloshed in and out. Steve opened his eyes and then slowly noticed his friends approaching.

"Um…" Sam said awkwardly. "Happy Birthday?"

Your head whipped around in shock as Steve turned beet red.

"Looks like the party already started," Tony laughed and peeled his sunglasses off.

"Hey, get out of here yous! It's my birthday!" Steve shouted as you laughed.

"Happy Birthday, indeed," Bucky grinned.

[p---ink]

What’s On Your Mind?

Author’s Note: Hi :) Remember me? I’ve missed you guys, and Tumblr altogether. I felt absolutely guilty about not writing, but the writer’s block was strong on this one guys. And while I’ve had lots of ideas for stories I couldn't quite put them onto paper...or screen. Anyway, wanted to try something new. So this one is about a Thor! I dedicate this one to you @swaggysposts​ since I know you love Chris Hemsworth. Its pretty short, but still, tell me what you think, my love! 

Summary: Avenger reader has a crush on the god of thunder.

Warnings: some lite language and fluff. 

Word Count: 4.7k

Part Two   Part Three

“I’m sorry? Did I hear that right? You said you can what?” Mr. Stark asked, without a doubt forgetting that there were stranger things in the world. 

Clearing my voice, and speaking a bit louder I say, “I can read minds, sir.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Stark voiced out loud placing a sleek pair of sunglasses on his face. He was still pretty skeptical of my claims, but another part of him was very anxious. Or would the word be embarrassed? Mortified? Yes that was definitely the perfect description.

Whatever the feeling was, I knew the cause was because he knew that if what I was saying was true, he would have to start groveling because of the dirty thoughts that raced through his mind when we first introduced ourselves.  

‘Forgive me for looking Pepper, but this girl has the ass of a professional volleyball player’ was what he thought as he opened the door for me on the way in.

“I can’t hear what you’re thinking though, because It only works through touch.” I lie, as I watch his worry fade away. I needed this job, and I couldn’t be disqualified because of harmless thoughts that we could all be guilty of sometimes. Besides it wasn’t Tony’s fault: these jeans did do wonders for my bottom. 

Something told me though, that if this Pepper weren’t in the picture, he’d have no problem saying what he thought of me out loud. And he was a handsome man, couldn’t be much older than 40, so maybe in another universe I’d consider him. Not this one though. 

“Hey Kid,” Stark started, interrupting my own inappropriate thoughts, “just saying ‘I can read minds’, wont be enough. You’ll have to prove it.”

“Of course! Sorry—” I was cut short by the sound of the thick glass doors of the conference room being slammed against the walls. 

A brown haired boy with deep chestnut eyes, that looked as frantic as the rest of his face, rushed out apology after apology as he took his seat next to the older man. 

Tony, who hadn’t spared the younger boy a glance, said, “Ah, perfect. Tell me what he’s thinking.”

‘Spiderling’ was the name he had assigned him through thought. As I concentrated on his confused features, he looked from me to Stark.

“What who’s thinking? Is Dad—I mean Mr. Stark, referring to me? How could she possibly do that? Oh God, he hasn’t said a word to me since I got here. He must be really upset because I’m late. Geez, I hope he doesn’t take Karen again. I’d rather he kill me.” I repeated, after relaying all of the boy’s thoughts as fast as he could think them. 

“Is she right?” Tony asked the boy. He felt both amazed and amused. Amazed with me, and amused by Spiderling for thinking of him as a dad. He would never let him live that one down. 

After swallowing his astonishment, and turning his attention from me, Spiderling answered “Yes.”

“Good. And at least we both agree on your punishment. I’d rather kill you, too. Saves me less trouble in the future.” Tony stated. He was punishing him because apparently this was the third time he’s been late to the interviews he was supposed to be in charge of. 

Spiderling let alarm overtake his features, but before he could say anything, Tony continued on with more questions. 

“Do you have any other skills, we should know about?”

“Well just a bit of hand to hand combat. But it still needs a lot of work. Other than that no—”

“How did this happen?” Spiderling interrupted, wonder getting the best of him.

“Kid,” Tony starts, but he goes ignored by Spiderling. 

“Were you bitten by some kind of radioactive insect like me? Or are you super smart like Mr. Stark? Or perhaps it was gamma radiation like Dr. Banner! Or maybe a super serum like Mr. Rogers!—”

“Don’t make me remove your batteries, junior!” Tony interrupted, then he looked to me. “I’m sorry. He’ll keep going if you don’t nip it in the bud early.”

But he didn’t have to tell me that. His own mind, like Spiderling’s, was racing a mile a minute. 

“No its fine really. He’s just curious.” I reply with a chuckle. “And to answer your question Spiderling: maybe I was born with it, or maybe its Maybeline.”

I began to grow embarrassed by their silence at my terrible joke, until Spiderling stifled a chuckle. “I get it!” He said between snickers. “Wait why’d you call me Spiderling?” He asked. ‘Is she picking on me?’ He thought. 

Needing to correct his thoughts to clear up any offense I say, “No! I would never pick on you, I just thought that was your name because Mr.—”

“Y/N, was it?” Tony interrupts, yet again. “I think you’d make an excellent addition to our team! When can you start?” 

“Really?” I ask gleaming, ignoring the fact that he wanted me to shut for outing what he really thought of his younger protégé. “I can start right away! Thank you so much for this opportunity!”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” He hurried. “F.R.I.DAY, will prepare your room, and Peter here will show you around.”

At that Peter hopped to his feet mind racing with thoughts of excitement on the hopes of a future friendship. “Follow me!” He said, grabbing my hand.

“Not so fast, champ. I need to speak with Ms. L/N alone for a moment.” Tony stated, nodding at Peter as he excused himself from the room. 

Tony cleared his throat, and relayed his thoughts, thoughts that were hard to separate from Peter’s louder ones earlier. “So Y/N,” He started towards me, leaning in close as he chose his words carefully. “I couldn’t help but notice, that you didn’t need to touch Parker nor I to read our thoughts. Care to explain?”

Flustered at being caught I stumble across my words as I try to explain, “Ah yes, well its rare, but sometimes I don’t need to touch the person.”

“Mmm.” Tony hummed, not believing a word I said, and I knew then the gig was up.

Cocking my head, and wearing a semi-sympathetic expression I say, “Don’t worry. I don’t even know who Pepper is.” 

And before Stark could protest, I ran to Peter’s side, so we could begin the tour around my new home. 

That was all a little over eight months ago. And so much had changed now. Peter’s hopes became true. We were the best of friends. His boy-like charm never grew old to me, and nor did my gifts to him.

“Cerulean” I’d say, when he’d think things like ‘What’s your favorite color?’. He always thought questions like that as a sort of game. I never got tired of playing along. 

It seemed to never click in his mind though that he could never scare or surprise me when he hid behind corners or couches, because I could hear his thoughts before he got the chance to. 

But besides the little stunts he’d try to pull by hiding his thoughts in order to frighten me, Peter was as transparent as they were. The boy was an open book, and he rarely kept a secret. It made us perfect friends, because he never seemed to get tired of me knowing every single detail about him. 

Though the other avengers treated me like family, Peter seemed to be the only one welcoming of my “gift”. 

If you asked Steve, he’d think something along the lines of “I’m too old for this shit” when I’d answer questions he hadn’t had the chance to ask. Then he’d immediately curse himself, for thinking a swear word when I’d tease him with one of the team’s inside jokes, like “language.”

Bucky tried his hardest to keep his thoughts in a vault, but it never worked. I knew exactly how many dead bodies he had under his belt, and where he kept his hidden stash of plums. 

Natasha, however, never tried to hide her kill count. She always made it a point to up the number by one as a threat to me, every time I accidentally crept inside her head. I always made it a point to keep my distance whenever she was deep in reflection.

Banner was interesting. His mind had two voices of course, and neither one of them gave a shit about whether I heard them or not. There were the deep thoughts that I struggled to understand most of the time, then others were one-word sentences only. They were louder than the rational side of his brain. 

“La, la, la, la, la”, was literally all that Sam would think whenever there was something he wanted to hide. Sometimes he’d do it just to piss me off, because he knew if I said to ‘knock it off’, he could accuse me of evading his thoughts in the first place. 

In truth, I never tried to read what they were thinking. I found the process invasive, and distracting from my own feelings. I worked hard to shut it all out, doing my best to make truth of that lie I told Stark all those months ago. But it was very draining, and took more energy than my body could exert. One person was easy enough to ignore, but more than ten, proved to be a task.

Most of my entire life I spent working in order to shut out all of the world around me. I avoided crowds whenever I could, blasted my music through my headphones whenever I couldn’t, and made sure to drug my body heavily with painkillers and vitamins whenever the last two weren’t options. 

It was so much work just to go out into the world. So much work until I met him. 

The son of Odin was the only person whose thoughts I would pay to hear. Coincidentally, he was also the only person who’s thoughts I couldn’t read. I could never hear him, I would only ever feel him. He radiated a rare intensity I had never felt before. His thoughts, or should I say feelings, even managed to drown out all of those around him. I had no choice but to focus on him whenever he was around. 

When I was with him, he literally clouded my brain. I didn’t have to work to shut him or the others out. He did it for me. 

I usually thought that was refreshing. But in the time I grew to know him, I found it mostly frustrating at times. 

You could say I liked him, but that would be putting it lightly. 

Liking someone for me, was a rare luxury. My crushes were always narrowed down to celebrities, and other people who didn’t know I existed. 

It was a pain to date people whose thoughts about you were always on display.

And if you thought dating was hard as a telepath, try having sex. Imagine being able to hear all of your partner’s most inner thoughts about the faces you make when you cum, or discovering that you have a small birthmark on your ass that you would otherwise know nothing about. 

Yeah, it wasn’t the greatest experience.  

I had never experienced the actual joys of feelings for someone, and wondering if they liked me back. Thor was my first. And chances are, he would never feel the same way. 

He was a literal god, and he lived up to that fact. I was just an average Midgardian, with a silly school-girl crush. It would never happen. 

Silly thing that Fate was. She had to make the only man I found irresistible, unattainable too. What a bitch. 

“Hey. Are you ready?” Natasha asked referring to our daily training. 

“Yes, what’s on the agenda today?” I ask, a bit confused that she isn’t in her workout attire. 

“Well you’ll h–”

“What? Why?” I squeak, before she can finish her thought…well before she can finish her sentence. According to her thoughts, I’d now be training with Odinson.

“I think you’ve graduated from me, kiddo. You can read my thoughts fast enough to predict as well as react to all of my oncoming moves.” Natasha relayed, a hint of sadness detectable through her words. Though she behaved like an older sister to me, she would miss throwing me around on the mat. “We’ll have to see how you do against someone whose actions you can’t predict, just in case that problem comes up out in the field.” She informed me while walking away, before I could confront her. 

“Can’t it be someone else?” I yell to her, but she doesn’t answer. 

“You wound me, Y/N.” That deep familiar voice bellowed from behind me. “And here I thought you enjoyed my company.”

Oh you have no idea, I thought to myself, as I spun on my feet to face him. I craned my neck to peer up at his eyes. One was a pretty hazel, while the other a deep blue. Cerulean. Funny how he’s the reason I’ve grown so fond of the color after all of these months.

“It’s not that I don’t like you. I just don’t think its fair is all. You know? With you being a god.”

“You’re worried you won’t be able to handle me? Do not fret. I wouldn’t dream of giving you more than you could handle.” He said, wiggling his brows suggestively, while flashing a smile. I suppose I failed to mention that he was a massive flirt that could put even Tony Stark to shame. “I promise to take it easy on you.” He furthered, smirking and winking his hazel orb.

“Why do I feel like your idea of taking it easy is vastly different from mine.” I say, trying to settle the butterflies. 

“Whatever you’ve heard about me is nonsense. I’m a merciful master.” He assured.  “We’ll just do some light work today: of course we’ll start with stretching, then 30 laps around the facility to build your stamina, a few hours of work on the machines to build your muscle—because my lady you are a dainty little thing, and then we’ll end the day with an hour or two of sparring.” 

At the sight of my dumbstruck face, Thor says, “I’m sorry that must be too light. How does 50 laps and three hours of sparring, sound?”

“Are you joking?”

“You’re right. I have some matters to attend to on Asgard, but I think we can squeeze in 75 laps, take it or leave it.”

Realizing how deathly serious he was, I quickly say, “I’ll leave it. Let’s get started.”  Deciding to address the subject of excessive training later, I turn to begin my stretches. 

Quiet. As usual. I was alone with my thoughts, which was something that only happened quite literally when I was alone. I couldn’t help but be immensely aware of his presence.

Moments like these i’d die to know what he was thinking. Especially when I could feel his stare. It burned worse than fire on my skin. 

Fire couldn’t compare to his actual touch, however. The same touch I now felt on my upper back.  For a man who weighed over 600 pounds, he was as stealthy as a cat when he wanted to be. His thick fingers against my spine raised goosebumps to my flesh. I would have jumped out of my body if he wasn’t there to keep me grounded. 

“My apologies. It was not my intention to startle you.” He informed, through a deep hearty chuckle. “I just needed to correct your form. Your time on the field will suffer if you continue with your training like this.” 

“Oh.” I replied, tensing a bit as one of his hands traveled around to my stomach and the other pushed against my spine to straighten my posture. My mind was hazy, and if I had even understood the words he spewed a moment ago, that status now changed.

“It all makes me wonder what the Lady Spider has been teaching you.” He continued, as if he didn’t notice the change in my demeanor. “Better.” 

When he stepped away from me, I released a small shaky breath. “What’s on your mind?” He asked. Maybe he did notice the change.

I mentally decided that I would ask him the months-long question I had always wondered about. “What’s on yours.” I state instead of ask, trying to resume my stretches.

“Pardon?” Thor asked. “Do you wonder about what is I ponder? Or is that your answer?

“Both.” I say without hesitation. “Why can’t I read your mind?”

“I’m afraid that’s by design, my lady.”

I stop stretching and turn around to ask, “How?” He had my full attention now. 

Shortly after he corrected my posture, Thor had propped himself up against one of the machines to properly examine my form while I stretched. I tried to ignore how awkward that made me feel. 

“Since an early age I’ve had to learn to guard my thoughts.” He stated. “My brother is the God of Mischief, and Loki often played games of the mind. Mother took notice of how much it was ailing me, and taught me a few useful tricks on how to keep him out. I guess I’ve always practiced them, even in his absence. I don’t know if I even know how to stop it.”

“Oh.” I breathed out. Trying to make sense of his words. 

While I was doing that, he asked,“May I ask why it is you wish to know? I thought you hated your gift.”

“I do. But I guess it still feels odd to not be able to use it on someone. I have no clue what you’re thinking let alone how you feel about me. It unsettles me.” I immediately regretted saying the last part as soon as it was out. 

His reaction did not aid my embarrassment. A thunderous laugh erupted from his throat. It was the kind of laugh that you could feel in your abs, and I knew this because his whole torso shook as it spread through his vocal cords. He was genuinely amused. 

His amusement prompted me to ask, “What’s so funny?”

“How I feel about you.” I think he mutter softly, before following a little louder to himself, “It’s weakened you.” 

“What did you say?” I never had to ask someone to repeat themselves unironically, until I met him. 

“Your ability I mean. It has impaired you.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I think the word is ‘spoiled’. Yes that seems to be the perfect descriptor.” He teased.

His words made me feel small and silly. Almost insignificant. “Excuse me?”

Sensing my irritation, he quickly told me, “I meant no disrespect. Its just most of your kind and some of mine are not awarded the same privileges that you have. We rely on body language and hidden meanings behind words to determine how someone feels. Well with the exception of me of course, because who would not adore me?” He joked. “But that’s beside the point. You have not yet learned how to read between the lines. Which is why I unsettle you.”

“I know how to read body language, I’m not an idiot.” I say a bit more sharply than I intended. My sense of inferiority getting the best of me.

“I’m not implying that you are, just that if it were not for your talent you would know have known what was on my mind ages ago.”

“That makes no sense. If I couldn’t read minds, i’d be in the same place I am now: unable to know what it is you think.”

“My dear, even if you could read my mind it would make no difference, for I’ve already made my feelings towards you painfully clear. One need not the aid of your capabilities.”

“Thor, could you stop the riddles—”

He ignored my pleas and kept going. “But just to be explicitly clear this time, since obviousness is lost on you—” 

“Stop insulting—”

“I shall tell you how I feel about you.” He stepped and leaned in closer, as if what he was about to say was a secret meant for only my ears.  “Listen closely because I will say this but once, so be wary not to misunderstand: I desire you.” He explained, words dripping with the utmost sincerity. 

My brain started racing. And I suddenly realized just how close he was. “You desire me?” I repeated to myself.

“Yes. I desire you.” He stated again, anticipating my uncertainty. 

If my heart wasn’t beating fast before, it surely was now. My poor ribcage wasn’t built for this.

“A-A-as a friend right?” I stutter out. “Because we aren’t, we aren’t close, like the rest of the team? Yes,” I breathe out. “That has to be what you mean.” I say that last part more to myself than to him. Clearly I’ve misunderstood his words, even though he warned me not to.

“While I would value a companionship, I’m afraid that is not all I mean when I say I desire you.”

“Eerr” Words are hard to form all of the sudden. Stammering out sounds is all that I can do. 

The air around us stilled, and it was pregnant with silence. He gave me a moment to think before asking, “Would you like further explanation.”

“Yes please.” I rush out quickly. “I think that will clear things up a bit more.”

“Right it would. Well If you wish to know what’s on my brain when you’re near, I shall tell you.” His words are teasingly slow, and he knows this.

"But I doubt,” He continues, “i’ll be able to properly convey just how bad I long to be in your presence when you are gone. Just how much I battle myself when it comes to finding any excuse to touch you. As you know, I lost one of those battles today. I don’t know if you can handle, just how much I imagine your warm embrace to be. How tender I’ve imagined your lips to feel. I just know them to be softer than rose petals and sweeter than nectar.”

“In fact,” He started. I could almost physically see the lightbulb go off over his head. And then, he began ridding us of the rest of our space, extending his long arm to snake around my waist, and pulling me against his chest at a speed faster than lighting. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to put that theory to test.”

It was like a lucid dream. I was only allowed to watch everything play out before me, without the luxury of making any actions myself. It took great focus on my part to even will my head to move. My nod was so subtle I was unsure if he could even see it. But the God of Thunder had more than enough to go off on.

He joined the hand around my waist with his other, and shortly after I could feel my feet rise from the ground. My hands that were previously glued to his chest, found their place behind his neck to support the rest of my body. His head met me the rest of the way, before he blanketed his lips over mine.  

He released one of the hands around my waist, to bring it up to my face. His fingers, now fastened to my jaw, slightly parted my lips allowing him to further explore my mouth with his. As massaged my tongue with his own, I could feel his eyelashes dance across my cheeks. That’s how close he was.

Most beards are scratchy and rough, but his felt like silk against my skin. His lips were even softer, and were like velvet in comparison. 

I inhaled the scent of rain on freshly cut grass. It reminded me of dewy meadows and Irish springs. His touch was firm, but he managed to hold me with care, like a bull who had trained for years with the sole purpose of entering a china shop. 

He tasted like what summer felt like, if you could make sense of it. The kiss had the same intensity behind severe thunderstorms. Beautiful but deadly. I found myself teetering on the edge of a cliff: desperate to chase this thrill, but also wary of whether or not it was worth dying for. 

I mentally decided that I could expire in his arms, and be perfectly content with that decision.

I got more into it. I thought that if this was a dream I’d take full advantage of it. Surely dream Thor would be fine with me taking over the kiss. It felt only natural. 

I decided it was time for my tongue to do the exploring. My lips needed to memorize the feel of his. My hands wanted to study every strand of hair that lived on the nape of his neck. That was only fair right?

I was enjoying his embrace so much, that I mistook the spinning in my head for shock from kissing a god, instead of the telltale signs of an impending headache. The lack of air in my lungs was because he took my breath away in a figurative sense, instead of the literal physical sense it actually was. The ache that spread throughout my body wasn’t because of the suffocating grip he had to keep me pressed to his chest, but because our bodies were on the brink of fusing into one. 

On second thought, maybe dying in his arms is more painful than I previously thought. 

I tapped out, and he immediately released me, placing me gently on the ground. I struggled for air, but it was like he didn’t miss a beat. Not a drop of sweat in sight on his gorgeous face. Instead, I could see a bright smile forming. 

“Are my thoughts clear enough, now?” He asked, breaking out into smirk.

But I had no time to acknowledge his joke, for I could feel reality setting back in. And reality is, I was a flustered fuck. 

“I’m sorry.” I stammered. “I must be holding you from your business on Asgard!”

“What? No—”

But he had no time to argue, for in a flash I was already gathering my gym bag and heading for the door.

“What about your training?” I heard him yell.

“I’m sorry! Maybe another time!” And after that, I practically sprinted to get out of earshot before he could protest or stop me. 

I raced passed Peter who was on his way into the gym. “Y/N! Are you okay?” I heard him yell. But what was strange is that I couldn’t hear him think it, despite being more than enough distance away from Thor.

“I’m fine.” I yelled back, hoping he wouldn’t follow. Maybe Peter’s mouth was faster than his thoughts.

No. That wasn’t it, because as I raced through the tower, everyone’s minds were silent, even though they were chatting casually with one another. That never happened. 

I burst through the nearest lady’s room, desperate to calm my nerves, when I saw Natasha applying red lipstick.  The action by itself wasn’t disturbing, but the expression she wore was.

“Don’t tell the others.” She voiced, in a threatening tone.

“Don’t tell the others what?” I asked confused. Maybe she’d be able to take my mind off of things. 

She looked at me like I had grown two heads, much like the first day we met when I proved that I could read her thoughts. “I know you read them. But this is different Y/N, the guys will never let me live this one down.”

“Nat, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the date.”

“You’re going on a date?” No wonder she was so panicked. The woman was more comfortable with killing than she was with being vulnerable.

“Yes—What is wrong with you?” She half-yelled, interrupting herself as if she just realized something was wrong.

I had, had enough with trying to not think about him, because the task was damn near impossible so I decided to just say it. “Thor admitted his feelings for me. And then we kissed!” I cried. 

Oh, Nat mouthed, taking a more comfortable position against the bathroom sink. She leaned against its counter, and crossed her arms,“And now you can’t take your mind off of him.”

It was my turn to look at her like she was a lunatic. “How did you know that? Are you a mind-reader too?”

Song for the Chapter: Waiting For You by the Aces:  Pretty Self-explanatory lyrics. Think of the song from Thor’s POV

part II

A/N: If you made it this far, don’t be afraid to tell me what you think :)

[twoidiotwriters1]

Copycat: The First Young Avenger —(Marvel Fem!Oc)

Words: 2,001

Warnings: Mild panic attack.

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next chapter

Listen to: ‘God Must Hate Me’ -by Catie Turner

x: Miss Stark Holds Herself Accountable.

"I don't know what to say. I'm disappointed. I'm upset."

"The parent speech doesn't suit you, Tony."

"Yeah well, the angsty teenage phase is widely overdone too," He said without looking at her. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, I thought that was clear."

"This is my fault, Tony..." Happy started quietly.

"No, the things you said to me this morning aren't the reason why I decided to scramble that girl's brain," C.C. groaned, rubbing her forehead tiredly. "It was my choice. I wasn't hitting her that hard anyway! Mr. Harrington pulled me up before I could let go and the hair simply came off! I swear I wasn't trying to hurt her! I just wanted to scare her!"

"And why on earth were you trying in the first place?" Tony finally looked at her from the front seat, brows knitted together. "You get insulted once and that's enough for you to go feral? D'you think that's enough?"

"No!" She clenched her jaw. "I tried to talk things out, I really did, I kept my cool but then... she said I was a freak."

"And you really proved her wrong, didn't you?"

"Tony, she's had a hard day..."

"No, you don't understand," Tony pointed at her. "She's stronger than she looks and far more experienced than any kid her age— she should know better than to start fights with another student."

"I'm supposed to let them step all over me simply because I'm not like them?"

"You ignore them— they're fifteen! The most they can do is talk behind your back and I'm sure you've gone through worse—"

"I can't remember my 'worse', alright? And even if I did it doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be upset about someone making fun of me!"

"You're allowed to be upset, you're not allowed to sit on them and rip their hair off!" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll have to inform Fury and Rogers about this."

C.C.'s chest tightened with fear, but she kept a careless attitude. "If you must."

"He might take you away, you won't go back to school."

"I'll survive," She retorted stubbornly.

Tony sighed heavily, Happy entered the garage and C.C. walked out of the car quickly, she rushed all the way up to her room, threw her backpack to a side, and started to pace.

It was too early to call Wanda and Pietro, they would be training or having lunch, and she didn't feel like being scolded by them either. Fury would show up soon for sure, and he would order her to pack her bags, he'd tell her that he was disappointed.

"I don't give a shit about all this," She huffed. "I wanna go."

She burst into tears.

The girl made her way to the bed, she tried to dry her face and control her sobs, but it was useless. C.C.'s hands went up and closed tightly around some locks of hair, she was sick of everything and everyone, now more than ever she wanted to disappear, it was too much, being human was hard, especially when she wasn't one entirely.

Someone knocked on the door, she was unable to yell at them to go away. C.C. wanted to be left alone, but above everything, she wanted to be listened to.

The door opened quietly, Tony's cologne made itself present and she groaned, turning to face the wall. The girl hugged her legs and leaned against her headboard.

"I thought you were done lecturing me," She sniffed. "I've had enough for one day, and you're not my actual guardian, so..."

"I'm not here to fight," He took off his sunglasses and leaned back against the headboard as well, legs hanging from the mattress. "What did they say to make you this angry?"

"Is not what they said," She mumbled. "Is how they acted when I confronted them. Like I was stupid, like I was the one who was wrong."

"In other words, you cornered them and they played dumb?" Tony asked. "Yeah, people don't like it when you call them out in public."

"I thought the least they could do was admit they'd been shitty. I would've moved on afterward, I'm not petty, I was willing to ignore everything if only they'd admitted that what they did was bad."

"Really?" He raised a brow. "That would've been way too kind, some other person would've dropped the friendship on the spot. I would've done it."

"Yeah, you're not the first one to tell me I'm too naive, but it's not that I'm kind, or forgiving... it's that... well, let's be honest, it's not like I deserve better, right?"

Tony straightened on his place. "Excuse me?"

"I'm an experiment," She laughed through her tears. "I'm lucky most of my features are human, that I can blend in with the rest effortlessly— but I'm not like them. When Fury found me I was like a stray cat, I had injured innocent people to get out of my enclosure... what I'm trying to say is that I'm not a real person, so I can't force them to treat me like one."

"Copycat..."

"No like, I see the other kids, and they wear all kinds of clothes but I can't— cause I'm scared it'll give me a panic attack if my blouse gets stuck on a door— and I rather drop dead than to have a mental breakdown in front of the others—"

"Kid—"

"And I don't like cutting my hair cause I have a big scar at the back of my head— and I can't remember how I got, or why, and I hate to think that they'll see it and think I'm even weirder. What did they do to me? W-what am I?"

She held her legs tighter, unaware of her claws.

"I'm a freak. Everyone else chose to become what they are... I didn't have a choice, and I'll always be an aberration—"

"Friday, activate lullaby protocol," Tony spoke up.

The window darkened for a brief second before projecting a forest scene, out of the speakers she could now hear birds singing, and the distant sound of running water. C.C. looked up and her mind stopped, she spoke in awe.

"What's this?"

"When I became Iron Man, life didn't get easier," He explained. "You're way younger than I was then, I thought you would need help at some point. You're a tough kid, but as soon as you started school I created this protocol."

"I would've killed to have this thing on for the past two weeks..."

"If you would've spoken to me, I would've told you sooner," He commented.

"Well, it's not like you're around that often, is it?"

"True," Tony looked ahead, sighing once more before standing. "I'll call Fury, and if you want you can go back to the Avengers facility with him, it's up to you. I don't think he'll try to take you away, I was lying."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're not used to cruel teens and it was only a matter of time before one of them pushed you over the edge."

"Fury will be disappointed."

"Maybe, but I'm the biggest disappointment in this team, Kit, that's a fact."

C.C. gave him a timid smile. "You're probably right."

"I'm always right," He told her. "Wash your face, otherwise your eyes will get all red and swollen and then you won't look human."

"Did you hold back when you hit her?"

"I barely slapped her— the hair incident only happened 'cause my hand got stuck. Didn't even use my claws."

"But you threw her to the ground and use your backpack to attack her."

"Yeah, but as soon as I realize what I was doing I just kept her on the ground, I would've dropped it had she apologized on the spot."

Fury stopped his pacing in the living room and stared at her.

"Are you proud of your actions?"

"No," She kept her gaze down. "I'm not an animal, I'm a person. In the future, I'll refrain from acting on a whim."

"My agents are allowed to make mistakes... but only once. Make an error like this again and I'll take you back to the facility, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

The man watched her carefully.

"Agent," He gave a step forward. "You're certain you want to stay?"

C.C. looked up and smiled.

"It's either this or going back to the facility. At least here I've got things to do, back there... I'd be waiting around until the next mission."

He nodded, lowering his gaze. "I see you're wearing shoes now."

"They're not so bad," She moved her feet a little. "I had the wrong impression of 'em, thought they would slow me down, but I had no problem while I was kicking my classmate's ass."

Fury let out a puff of air that she would've sworn was a laugh.

"Midterms are coming," He started to walk away. "I expect you to get high marks—"

"Will I get a reward if I do?"

"How about gaining my trust back?" Fury offered. "Don't get cocky."

"They said what?"

"After you left, Lily heard your uncle as you were leaving, and apparently she heard him say you were on thin ice, that you'd be back behind bars or something—"

"So now they think the reason I left Mexico... is that I was in a juvy?"

MJ shrugged. "Told you they lost it."

C.C. laughed, Tony had said something like that, but he was talking about going back to the avengers facility, not jail!

"And they think I'm a wanted criminal or something?"

"They think you left the country to escape your record," MJ passed her the bag of chips. "Did you?"

"Oh yeah, I killed a bunch of people to get here," C.C. said. "That's not the reason why I got locked up, though."

"What's the reason?"

"I'm half alien and they wanted to run experiments on my body."

MJ snorted. "Awesome."

They sat at the first partially empty table they found, there was only one boy there, and he had his face so close to his phone he hadn't noticed them.

"Some of that is kinda true, though," C.C. sighed. "If I don't get good grades on my midterms I'm most likely going to get transferred to another school— or I'll be homeschooled until I'm twenty..."

"Were your parents pissed when they found out about the fight?"

"Mom was pretty pissed, but my dad was kinda expecting this to happen... I'm not grounded, though."

"Cool, then we can hang out after class, I have this movie I wanna show you..."

"Would love to, but I think I should focus on catching up with my studies first, I swear I can't remember half of what we see in class! I'm confident I'll pass most of them, but chemistry is kicking my ass..."

"Have you considered joining a study group?"

"Didn't you say everyone thinks I'm a wanted criminal?" C.C. said sarcastically. "Yeah, they're dying to have me around— bet they'll be making a line to tutor me."

"I can tutor you."

The girls looked at the source of the voice: Peter Parker was now seated next to the other boy, who was looking at him with wide eyes.

"Hi, Peter!" C.C. smiled. "Would you really? I should warn you that I'm really dumb—"

"You're not dumb," He said, now a bit shier than before. "I mean, I'm free to tutor you if you want, but I'm sure you could join a study group—"

"No, I think I rather study with you, if you have time," She said, moving her body so she could face him. "When can we start?"

The other boy aggressively whispered something to Peter, but the boy elbowed him and responded right away.

"Friday?"

"Friday's perfect," C.C. replied.

"You know Peter?" MJ questioned once they were out of the cafeteria.

"Not really, I helped him a few days ago," She replied. "This is just him helping me back."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@ieatpanicattacksforlunch​​​​​ @jesuswasnotawhiteman​​​​​ @23victoria​​​​​@siriuslysirius1107​​​​​ @greengarsstuff​​​ @itsyagirl01​

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘n’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 1- Disco Down

Intro: It's range day. SWAT vs LAPD Special Crimes branch. You and your finance decide to have a bit of fun with the interdepartmental competition.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So yeah, I started another series. Bad WIYBUPT. But there aint enough Disco out there so I thought I’d rectify that situation. This is also another entry for @imanuglywombat​ ‘s  “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “Juicy Ass”. See here for more information.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

It was early in the morning, the first warm rays of the LA sunshine had barely begun warming the pavement when the two of you had started your day. Paul was already pouring you both coffee to go as you met him in the kitchen, dressed in your Swat training tee, utility pants and standard issue uniform boots, hair French braided back. You smirked at the dapper young detective before you, slacks, dress shoes, button down and tie. 

It'd been a gruelling last few weeks for you both. You were working a SWAT case with your unit and Paul was busy working an LAPD Vice officer's homicide. He would trudge in late at night, either from the precinct or more recently from a night out with Vice following some leads. You were always already asleep and he didn't want to wake you. He'd kiss you softly, shower, kiss you again and crawl into bed, hugging you close.

Now, you were both getting ready to head out, finally having slept in the same bed together for the first time in weeks. Given your nature, the two of you were playfully squabbling over the upcoming late afternoon's task, a joint fire arms training session between your unit, LAPD SWAT and Paul's unit. The joint time spent at the range always turned into pool of who'd win and, usually, was too close to call rounding off with each team going head to head in a final duel. 

And things were getting competitive in the Diskant home. 

"If I can make it," Paul grumbled, "we should sweeten the deal."

"You'll make it.” You popped a shoulder. “Paul Diskant doesn't miss a day at the range, nor friendly competition. So, name your terms?" You smirked mischievously over the rim of your mug, watching him adjust his tie. 

"Winner gets a favor." Paul devilishly replied. 

"What kind of favor?" You played along and the look on his face already made your insides squirm as he raised a brow and curled his lips further in his smirk. "Paul!"

"Y/N!" Paul mimicked, cutting the distance between you, big hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing along your shirt. "Baby, it's been days. This Vice case has me pulled away longer than I have been since I was a beat cop."

You rolled your eyes and wrapped your arm around his shoulder, fingers grazing the point where the short hairs of his buzz-cut met his neck. 

“Fine." You kissed him deeply, the taste of coffee on both your tongues but something that was just him too. "We'll call it a bonus." “Bonus...” he nodded. “I can run with that.”

“You couldn’t run a fucking bath, Disco.” "Oh Sweetheart, you're on." The challenge in his voice and mischief in his eyes lit a fire under you. You kissed him again and moved away, a swift smack from his hand to your ass made you yip but you kept walking. 

****

The drive into the station was quiet, you reading over your training schedule for the day and Paul driving. The only sound that filled the vehicle was the sound of him humming along to the radio, thumb tapping along to the beat of the song on his steering wheel, before you heard him let out a loud sigh.  

"I have some stuff to chase down this morning but if nothing pans out, I should be at the range with the rest of my unit."

"Well, then I'll hope it doesn't pan out, just so I can kick your ass with my Glock," you chuckled as he let out a groan.

"Baby, you know, watching you handle that Glock and riffle makes me horny as fuck right? Nothing like a woman that can shoot," Paul admitted. He took your left hand away from the file and pressed his lips to the top of it. He knew why you did it, but he still hated not seeing your diamond flashing on your finger all day. 

"Oh yeah?" You turned your standard issued sunglass covered eyes to him, "is that why you wanted to marry me?" 

Paul chortled, “one reason among the many."

He pulled into the carport and parked in his designated spot. You exited the vehicle and gathered your bag from the popped trunk. 

"See you at the range, don't be late, or I'll have to listen to Rodriguez bitch as she drives me home." You gave him a teasing kiss and slung your bag over your shoulder, walking away. 

"Hey, Y/N?" He called after you. You stopped and turned around to look at him, lifting your sunglasses to the top of your head. "Don’t waste too much energy today, huh? You’re gonna need all the strength you have tonight, Baby."

You chuckled to yourself, "Just show up, we'll talk energy later," you rolled your eyes and walked off, flipping him the bird over your shoulder. 

The scorching sun boiled across the training facility tucked between the hills of the valley, away from the hustle of the city and just far enough out of reach for civilians. Abandoned buildings and, green fields and a simulated neighborhood made up the grand, multi-million dollar facility. You and your team had been at it all morning, moving through the buildings in full tactical gear and safety equipment. Together you cleared buildings, fired upon fake assailants and suspects. You and your partner, Alma Rodriguez, even hit the weights and boxing bags to keep loose after a hand to hand session against Everett and Evans. To keep your trigger fingers hot and ready, you played a round of long range sniper poker, you of course beating the team with a straight flush, bullets hitting their targets dead center. 

It was the last hours of daylight by the time Special Branch showed up and you couldn't help but smirk as you watched Paul set up his gear from across the field. Long gone were his slacks and tie, and now, he was dressed in a tight black tee with the edges of his two bicep tattoos peeking out from the hem, and uniform issue pants and boots, his wrap arounds shielding those beautiful blues you loved getting lost in. 

You smirked as the two of you locked glances, his smile forming across plump lips. A cocky flick of his head was sent in your direction and you laughed, pulling a hundred dollar bill from your pocket and slapping it flat against the table. 

The competition started, pairing SWAT members against Specials, two by two until both your captains were the final two. 

"Shooters on the line," the facility command officer called. Each shooter stepped up, readying their rifles. Your team lined up behind your boss, Paul and his desk buddies watching from their side. "Stand by... Ready..." The whistle sounded and the first shots at their prospective targets were fired. 

Firing judges followed behind each shooter, judging accuracy, safety and protocol. Three rifle shots fired down range and the shooters tossed their weapons to the side, tucking and rolling one roll with their hand on their pistol all while watchful eyes looked on. Your boss didn't roll, but Paul's did and the snickering started from Special Branch. It didn't deter your focus as you watched your boss, Captain Rogers, finish the round. Three shots fired at metal targets, each one going down in accuracy, then a clip reload and three more shots fired at a close range target before the commanding judge asked both men to put their weapons on safe and holster them. He approached each target for accuracy and declared Paul's boss, Captain Wilson, the winner of the round. That brought the two teams to a tie. 

The Detectives cheered and razzed SWAT but both captains settled their groups down. The field judge confirmed the tie in the competition and groans sounded from both teams. 

"I'll tell you what, I'll toss in an extra two hundred bucks to pit Y/L/N against your pick," Rogers held two one hundred dollar bills up, handing them over to the field judge for safe keeping. 

"Alright, I see your two and raise two," Captain Wilson held out his bills, "for Diskant to take that challenge."

"Oooooooh", both teams razzed the real life couple. 

You couldn’t help the smirk on your face as one of Paul’s colleagues piped up that this could back fire spectacularly as would Paul really want to risk pissing off the woman who controlled his sex life.

“That’s exactly why he wants to win,” you jibed back, causing him to roll his eyes and scoff, “because his sex life is on the line if he doesn’t.”

More laughter rang out across the area as Paul merely shrugged, a smile flickering across his face as you heard Rogers speak loudly to Wilson from behind you.

“Between us, two hundred on my girl to blow your man outta the water."

Paul leaned down, to whisper into your ear, a smirk plying on his lips, "something's gonna get blown."

"What was that?" You coyly played. 

“Sure you wanna do this?” He asked, turning to look at you, his brow arched. “I mean you could just forfeit now and save yourself the embarrassment.”

You held his gaze for a moment before you made a show of dragging your eyes down his body, your gaze lingering on his crotch as if you were contemplating his offer, before you raised your head, your tongue poking out from between your lips a little.

“Did you forget to zip up?" You asked. Paul gave a start, his head jerking down to look at his ‘piece’ so to speak, and at that moment the whistle was blown to start.

The first shots were fired, Paul's just seconds behind yours. Tucking behind the mailboxes for your next shot, you nailed your target and moved forward to fire your final rifle round, using a metal barrel as your cover. You laid your riffle to rest, took a few steps, tucked your chin and rolled, planting your feet and rising up to draw your personal firearm. Poised for your next quick shot behind a mock window frame, you fired at the target and moved on, Paul's form in your peripheral, matching you shot for shot. Coming around the frame you fired a walking shot at your next target and then took your place at the final marker, firing away before the expected reload and emptying your clip into the standing paper target with his hostage. 

"Safety on... Holsters." The range judge called after he blew his whistle. You and Paul followed his commands and waited as he examined your individual targets. It was close, you knew it. Paul was an excellent shot. 

You watched as the judge looked over Paul's target first, poking his finger through two holes in the face before moving on to yours. You nailed your target, all three shots hitting the suspect. One dead shot to the center of his head, the other in the chest and the last in the torso. 

"Here's your winner," the judge declared, pointing at your target. 

Cheers began to ring out and you heard Paul groan loudly, turning to you. "You cheated.”

"I guess the favor's on you," You quipped as behind him you saw Captain Rogers holding his hand out, ready to receive the cash prize from Wilson.  

“You still cheated.”

“I did no such thing!” You scoffed.

“You distracted me.” He folded his arms across his chest, a sullen pout on his handsome face.

“Well, you should know better than to take your eye off the target, Disco,” you smirked and he narrowed his eyes playfully. “On second thought, I think I will let Rodriguez take me home. Burgers and beer on you. Don't forget the extra pickles."

He smirked, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, "come on, ride back with me, I'll make it worth your while."

"Erm, unless I'm mistaken you just lost so..." You popped a shoulder, your eyes not leaving his as you began walking backwards away from him. "I'm in charge."

“I want a divorce.” He shot back and you laughed, shaking your head.

“We’re not married yet, hot shot.” You winked.

“Details.” He waved his hand and you snorted, before you turned and jogged to catch up with your colleagues.

*****

As per your instructions, Paul didn’t forget the extra pickles and later that evening the pair of you were sat on the sofa in your comfy clothes, food and beer in hand as you lounged back watching a film on the Television. You stole a glance at your fiancé for a moment, his sharp profile illuminated in the soft light of the lamp to his right. He really was incredibly handsome, and you often wondered daily how the hell you’d gotten so lucky, as he could have had his pick of women, they tended to fall at his feet wherever you went. But he’d chosen you. Not only that, he’d pursued you. It had taken him a good few weeks after you’d both met on a case when he was in Uniform to finally accept his offer of a date. The dates had continued, and six months later you’d moved in together, and a year or so after that, he’d gotten down on one knee in the middle of your apartment and asked you to be his wife.

Which, reminded you of something you’d heard before.

With a smirk you turned your attention back to the film, took another bite of your burger before you spoke, your tone light and airy.

"So... strippers huh?"

Paul hastily swallowed his food and turned to look at you. "What?"

"Nothing, just typical."

"No, what?" He chuckled.

"I just heard one of the guys before commenting about how the wedding is getting closer so the stag do needs planning. The words Vegas and strippers were mentioned. Several times"

"Fucking Adler, man," he shook his head, dropping his empty burger container into the paper bag on the table in front of you.

“So you are going to Vegas, then?” You shoved another fry in your mouth to stop the smirk from spreading at the teasing.

"Uh, yeah," his reply was nonchalant, but he rubbed at his neck in that way he always did when he was a little nervous or uncomfortable. His big tell.

"Right. And there will be strippers?”

“Yes, there PROBABLY will be strippers." He side eyed you a little as he reached for his beer, the faint flush of red visible on the back of his neck as you took the final bite of your food.

“How probably?”

"There MAYBE be a night at the club." He leaned back, bottle in hand.

"Dicks." You gave a dramatic sigh, dropping your now empty food container into the bag with his. You made a show of scrunching down the top of the bag, dropping it to the floor by the side of the sofa, ready to be taken to the trash, before you leaned back, shaking your head.

"What?" he turned to you, beer paused halfway to his mouth.

"Oh, no, I was just saying, at my hen do there will be dicks. Lots of dicks."

“What the fuck?” He spluttered and you shrugged, not looking at him, feigning concentration on the television.

“I can't have strippers too? Tut, tut Disco, that's very old fashioned."

There was a pause, and you waited for his reaction, knowing it could go one of two ways. Out and out petulant protesting, or some sort of childish, half witty come back.

"You know, my dick is by far the most important." He chose the latter.

"You mean you are the most important dick?"

“Yeah.” He conceded. “Hey, least I’m important in some way.”

At that you laughed and moved a little closer to him. He shifted, allowing you to snuggle under his arm, pressing a kiss to your head.

“You know what else is important?” You asked, your hand gently tracing shapes on his white tee.

“What?”

“That you don’t forget that you owe me a favor, Detective Diskant." “That I do.” He agreed, and you felt him nod.

“So, there’s a pile of ironing that needs doing and the bed sheets need changing tomorrow. Can you manage?”

At that he let out a loud guffaw, his chest rumbling against your cheek. "Seriously, Baby?" He glanced down at you as you tipped your head up to look at him. "Absolutely," you winked

“I am at your complete mercy to satisfy you in any way you want... and you ask me to do chores?” He rolled his eyes. “You’re losing your sense of adventure, Sweetheart.” "Oh I have a sense of adventure, but a bet is a bet and we've pulled three doubles between the two of us so shits gotta get done, and you lost, therefore, you... are... my... bitch.” Your words were punctuated by soft jabs to his chest with your index finger and Paul groaned, throwing his head back against the sofa as he scrunched his eyes closed.

“Fuck my life.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You looked at him and he opened his eyes. “Fuck my wife?”

“We’re not married yet.” He smirked, arching an eyebrow at you as he played back your words from earlier.

“Details,” you played along and he laughed as you shifted a little more so your face was level with his. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

With a cheeky grin he leaned over, pressing his lips to yours, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as the kiss grew deeper, his tongue slowly sliding against yours. You let out a soft moan, shifting a little, your hand cupping his face and then he pulled back. You pouted at the loss of contact and opened your eyes to shoot him a glare, to find him smirking a little.

"Double or nothing, I bet I can make you cum in less than two minutes.”

“Two minutes?” You arched a brow, biting your lip a little as you squirmed at the frankly filthy look in his eyes. “Now?”

“Yup.”

“Bring it on.” You threw down the gauntlet. “But that doesn’t include the time it takes me to get you naked.” He grinned, shifting a little so he was side on, facing you.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “Or the foreplay.”

“Jesus Christ, Paul, just get on with it. You said two minutes. Clock starts the second you start, your challenge not mine. He grabbed your beer bottle and placed it along with his on the table with a bang. “You saying you don’t want me to love on you a little bit before I bang you into next week?” His voice was low as he hovered over you a little, his face inches from yours. "I'm saying I'm fucking desperate, that's what I'm saying."

"Then I won't need two minutes.” He grinned, pressing further into you, causing you to lay back on the sofa.

“God, you’re so full of it.” You narrowed your eyes.

“You’re gonna be full of it soon.” He smirked, his lips pressing to yours. "Stop... Talking... And... Do... It," you demanded between his dizzying, little pecks. His lips curled into a smile against yours as his hands gently trailed up the outside of your smooth thighs, thumbs grazing under the hem of your cut offs. The assault from his lips already soaking you.

It wouldn't take much, you both were fully aware of it. Nearly a week apart or just missing each other had you two desperately seeking release. The question was, who would cave first. He said two minutes and you knew he could hold off until you were good and worked over. His fingers slipped between your denim shorts and he gave a low groan as he felt your damp panties. His kiss grew hungrier and he was quickly on your flies, your shorts were down your leg in a matter of seconds, tossed over the back of the sofa, panties with them. 

He moved to a kneel, one hand gently hooking your right leg up to rest against the back of the couch, knocking the other to the side, your foot falling automatically to the floor, toes pressing onto the soft carpet, leg bent at the knee. You don't even register how fast he moved downwards, and part of you wondered if he lost on purpose. A flat long swipe tasted at your folds.

"Jesus," it felt glorious and your back arched off the sofa in delight. There was a wee bit of scruff causing a tease of friction against your inner thighs and although you weren't timing him, you knew it couldn't have been more than sixty seconds when his tongue dipped into your hole causing you to cry out. 

"Fuck, Paul..."

He gave a little chuckle, mouth vibrating against your nub which he grazed with his teeth. You bit your lip as your insides began to tremble, you were so desperately trying to hold off just to get that last win over him, but it was useless. That rumble had you in the throes of it and you were gone, your legs shaking as you came, your walls clamping around nothing as you gasped, your body shuddering with pleasure.

The smirk and glisten that was evident on his lips as he sat up and caged you in, had you clawing at his shorts. "I win."

"Yeah, okay, you smug little shit,” your voice was breathy as you recovered from your high, your hands pulling at the drawstring in the middle of his abs. “Dare I ask how you want me?”

His baby blues, already dark with desire, flashed and he pressed his lips to yours, his mouth dominating and you could taste yourself on him. You groaned as his hands slid up, cupping your face and he pulled back.

“Hands on the floor, feet on the coffee table, knees bent.”

You blinked, “what?”

“Hands on the floor, feet on the coffee table, knees bent.” He repeated.

Okay, so this was new…

With a final, suspicious look at him as he moved back, you stood, jumping and emitting a little squeak as he slapped your ass as you went. Taking a deep breath you turned, placed your hands on the floor and rested the tops of your feet on the coffee table, your knees bent.

“So you can do as you’re told.” Paul smirked, standing up off the sofa.

“When I want to.” You peeked up at him as best you could to see him sliding his shorts down his legs, stepping out of them before he moved round and threw his leg over your shins. His hands slid up the outside of your thighs, coming to rest on your waist as he pulled you back a little, his erection pressing into your behind as he ground against you, giving a little hiss.

“Fuck, baby you look so good from back here.” He moaned, bending over slightly to press a kiss to your spin and you shivered, your arms wobbling a little and you began to worry just how much of this you could take.

“Paul, seriously, just…”

“Patience.” He cut you off as he gave your ass a soft slap making you emit a noise that was half way between a squeal and a laugh as he positioned himself behind you, and you immediately missed the warmth of his chest where it had been pressed to your back moments ago.

You felt the tip of his dick as it poked at your entrance, and he had no problem slipping inside your already soaked folds. But the angle and the pressure of your body closed off as he slipped inside you set your nerves on fire. You both moaned out together as he slid home, his balls to your clit.

You felt how thick he was against your walls. A little twitch and flutter from his shaft as you both remained still, you silently begging and waiting for him to move. His fingertips gently dug into your hips as he slowly pulled back and moved forward again.

"Fuck, baby, so fucking tight, like this," Paul ground out as he pumped slowly in and out of you. He was taking his time, slow thrusts and long pulls back. In truth, it was agony, but a beautiful torture. And a torture that he continued again, and again, and again. Over and over, in no rush whatsoever, a sharp contrast to where he’d brought you off before on the couch as fast as he could.

Your arms were shaking from baring the position but you wanted more. And as the bubbles of pleasure slowly simmered through your core and deep into your belly, you moaned out your demand. "Harder."

"Oh, fuck," Paul quivered inside you but picked up his pace, his hips slamming into yours, your insides squeezing him tightly as his hands gripped at your hips, blunt nails biting against your skin. With every thrust forward you were jolted, your palms sliding on the rough surface of the rug underneath you, and you curled your fingertips into the deep, cream coloured shag in an attempt to prevent yourself from face planting straight onto the floor.

"Yeah, just like that," you panted, your elbows locking as you pushed yourself up slightly, "oh fuck, Paul!" You could tell by his breathing and how he felt inside you that he was ready to cum but he could always hold off until you had yours. "So close," you managed to pant out, letting him know you weren’t far.

He slowed his pace, bending his body down your spine again, and pressed his lips to the back of your neck, "just," he thrusted, "let", again, "go". 

His words flipped the switch inside your body and you felt yourself going, the blood already rushing to your head from the position you were in, and the pressure was pounding in your ears as you came, hard. "Oh my God!" You cried out as your walls clamped down around him, milking his hot seed to explode inside you. 

"That’s my girl, fuck!" He roared at the feel of you around him, and his hips grew sloppy as he came, grunting, pulling you back onto him as he let go of his thick payload. 

With your chests heaving, bodies stilled, his fingers still around your hips, his thumbs drew lazy circles on your back. You felt his blue gaze on you and you couldn't see it, but you knew he was smirking. 

“Paul.” You managed to swallow, “baby, my arms.”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” He moved gently to pull out of you, curling his arm around your waist in the nick of time as your elbows gave way and the pair of you tumbled rather ungracefully to the rug by the table in a tangle of limbs, your giggles ringing around the room, drowning out the sound of the television.

“You okay?” He asked gently, as you moved so you were lay on your back looking up at him as he lay on his side, propped on his left elbow. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear with his right hand as you nodded, leaning up to kiss him deeply.

“I’m not even gonna ask where you saw or read about that.” You chuckled and he grinned, glancing around the room cheekily before he looked down at you.

“Boys talk, sweetheart.” He shrugged. “But admit it, that was better than making me fold sheets.”

You chuckled as he pressed his lips to yours again, your fingers gently twisting his silver chain between them as you looked at him and arched your eyebrow. “If I admit it will you do it again? Only not tonight, don’t think my arms could take another round.”

Paul let out a laugh which rumbled in his chest and he pressed his lips to yours again. “Maybe we can make a game out of it, see how many other surfaces I can use to I prop your feet on and fuck you from behind.”

You scoffed, slapping at his arm as he grinned down at you cheekily, and you bit your lip.

“I can run with that.” Your hands moved so they slipped round his back, gently tracing shapes over the muscles, making them twitch a little and he sighed as your nails reached that spot on his neck that always turned him to putty in your hands.

“Stop, you know what that does to me.” He looked down at you.

“I do.” You agreed, continuing nonetheless.

“Seriously, you want more?”

“Well, like you said.” Your fingers curled round the nape of his neck, pulling his face down so it was inches from yours. “It’s been a while since we got time together, best make the most of it.”

“Oooh, you’re a bad, bad woman future Mrs Disco…” he smirked, kissing you deeply. “And I’m so down for that.”

****

It was late in the evening, the two of you having carried your sex-capades from the lounge to the bedroom, both of you spent and spooning in the aftermath of bliss when Paul's cell rang out. 

He grumbled and shifted slightly, turning to grab the offending item form the night stand before he answered, "Diskant."

You strained your ears to listen to who was on the other end but it wasn't audible.

"Yeah, okay, got it. I'll call you back," he replied and hung up. Then he quickly made an outgoing call. "Hey, so I just talked to Scribble. Freemont and Coates, or whoever they are, want to meet us." There was a brief pause, "tonight." Another pause and he closed his phone. 

He sighed, turning to you, "I got to go."

"Okay," you sat up, an uneasiness filling your veins. 

"I'll be back," he slipped out of bed, dressing quickly in black jeans, a black button down and hat. He clipped his badge from the nightstand to his belt after slipping into his uniform boots. Then leaned over and gave you a long, deep kiss. "I love you."

"I love you. Come home to me," you kissed him and pulled back, your fingers pressing the medallion of safe keeping against his chest. Paul touched his forehead to yours before he pressed his lips to your own in a soft kiss and headed out. You heard the door click as he left your apartment, and you gave a sigh, settling down into the bed, pulling his pillow to your naked chest as you closed your eyes. Whilst you knew that this was the job, hell, you’d done it yourself for long enough, it still never made it easier and for some inexplicable reason, tonight it made you even more twitchy than normal. But, that was more than likely down to the fact you’d managed to enjoy some quality time together tonight, and it had been so good.

Before long you drifted off to sleep, and you had no idea what time it was when the cordless rang, shrilling through the apartment, raising you from your slumber, but as you blinked yourself awake, it was still pitch black outside. 

"Hello," you croaked. 

"Y/N," you recognized the voice immediately, given your own happenings with IA. 

"Captain Biggs," you replied, suddenly fully awake as you sat up in bed, the covers clutched to your chest.

"It's Paul,” his voice was low and serious and instantly you felt a cold, icy dread floor your system from your head to your toes as he passed, taking a breath, “a unit is on its way for you."

***** Part 2