#but uh. hi everyone? thanks for reblogging so much stuff from me?

[cmdonovann]

why am i suddenly getting so many reblogs outta nowhere? not that im mad about it im just confused (woke up to like 40 something notifs this morning omg). anyway uh. i have commissions open? please commission me? i will give u discounts if u commission me for dnd character art or elder scrolls stuff bc i love that shit lol

[nysus-temple]

Uuuuhhh can I save this for a thesis? Because holy shit.

Odysseus was afraid the entire year on Aeaea in the Odyssey.

Content warnings: Rape, Sexual Coercion, Sexual assault, Sex Work, power dynamics, this will also be long as fuck as I talk too much. This is NOT a "Circe the Goddess Hate Post". I call her out but that's it. I tried to keep this neutral but still making a point (Let me know if I gotta put more)

Lots of lovely folks on here have written great essays on what Calypso did to Odysseus as it's soooo blatantly obvious there. It literally states how he cried every day and how he flinched from Calypso, very straightforward on how he was explicitly raped.

But I've noticed that a lot of people are always iffy about Circe's situation (understandably so, it's not so in your face.) She's usually always mentioned in the "Odysseus never cheated! He was raped!" posts but then the evidence is only ever given against Calypso, and then mentioning how you can't say no or disobey the orders of an immortal and how it was in exchange for freeing his men.

WHICH IS ALL CORRECT!!! But!!!

There ARE immortal/mortal couples who genuinely love each other. Dionysus and Ariadne, and Eros and Psyche are examples. Apollo and Hyacinthus. It's true that Psyche becomes immortal eventually and in some versions, both Hyacinthus and Ariadne do too (depending on versions). But even while mortal themselves, their immortal lovers still remained respectful and loving towards them and definitely doted on them. There are definitely power dynamics at play here but there's some nuance.

Odysseus and Circe's relationship, however, is very different. We all know he slept with her at the very least once. And that was in exchange for his men being returned to humans. That was the only time it was explicitly stated. With Calypso, it tells you every night he was enchanted and slept beside her. It was the narrator speaking but Odysseus is the narrator now and it's his story. If you think he lied, this probably won't change your mind anyway.

But even if it was a one-time thing, (which isn't the only interpretation and I will have points that talk about others) then why did he stay a year? What was he doing?

I'm doing a deep dive into the year he spent on Aeaea based on evidence in Book 10 and then the beginning of Book 12. Step by step, and honestly I'm writing this for Tumblr, not as a thesis so I will be a bit more casual but still using sources. To me, it's very obvious that he was uncomfortable throughout the text simply based on the language that is used. But it's very subtle and not an outright statement of "He's been crying every day."

BTW, just so we're clear, this is not a "Circe is the root of all evil, etc." type of post.

This isn't meant to villainize her. She's an immortal being and in mythology that changes things. Everybody is morally gray. I genuinely think if we were to ask her feelings on it, she'd probably be like "Oh, yeah! Turned his men into pigs! Strange little man he was." I don't think she gave a flying fuck.

I just simply get pissed tf off when people think Odysseus was fine. It honestly disturbs me how often I'll go on other websites YouTube and see everyone call him a whore and a womanizer. It's sexism at its finest because 1.) "MaN AlwAyS wAnTs sEx" and 2.) women can't rape/coerce. THIS IS SIMPLY TO LOOK INTO HIS FEELINGS ABOUT IT.

This is also only for Homer's Odyssey, using different translations. If you want to discuss this, (I'd be happy to! Just be nice!) DON'T BRING UP ANY OTHER WORKS.

With all that out of the way, come yell with me 🤗

I've read multiple translations, as I know there's going to be bias depending on who's translating. And having done so, each one has basically the same situations described the same so that's nice for consistency. Also, there are some parts in the story that are vague and that we'll never have answers to.

Odysseus first simply sees the smoke from her chimney and then sends his men in, after drawing lots Eurylochus leads half of the men to check out the house. I mentioned here vaguely how the 2 immortals he sleeps with are both introduced while singing and weaving, which could be seen as an enchantment (which to me is most likely. They both possess magic and are goddesses). So I'm just gonna move past that. Just take a peek and come back or just know that enchantment was likely.

Next, I'll see people often joke on Tumblr about how

"Odysseus says that Polites is his best friend yet only mentions him once!"

I think Odysseus mentions his best friend, the one to jubilantly go in first, to show WHY he would go through with this. How much these comrades mean to him. That's his best friend, and there are approximately 20 others who are now pigs as well. Could you knowingly leave one of your best friends to live a life like that knowing you could've done something?

[...]Circe—and deep inside they heard her singing, lifting her spellbinding voice as she glided back and forth at her great immortal loom, her enchanting web a shimmering glory only goddesses can weave. Polites, captain of armies, took command, the closest, most devoted man I had: ‘Friends, there’s someone inside, plying a great loom, and how she sings—enthralling! The whole house is echoing to her song. Goddess or woman—let’s call out to her now!’ So he urged and the men called out and hailed her. She opened her gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting them all in, and in they went, all innocence.

(Fagles, Book 10)

In the Odyssey, it's never mentioned why she turns people into animals. I think they were turned into pigs because, throughout the Iliad and Odyssey, Odysseus is often associated with boars. His men are associated with him, therefore: 🐖 Piggy. From what we know, the lads were just eating her food. With how much Xenia and hospitality are a large part of the story, they probably thought they were safe. They were GUESTS. This is especially welcome after the Cyclops and the Laestrygonians. And it literally says "All innocence". They were simply naive.

Then Eurylochus runs back, so terrified that he couldn't speak at first. He then begs Odysseus to just leave the men behind. Odysseus has shown that he does TRY to save his men when it is truly not reckless to do so.

But I shot back, ‘Eurylochus, stay right here, eating, drinking, safe by the black ship. I must be off. Necessity drives me on.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Then the famous warning from Hermes. I've seen folks bring this up when talking about this. YES, he is literally commanded by Hermes to not refuse her if he wants his men back in basically every translation. It sounds like Circe was warned as well. When? We don't know, but it sounds like Hermes didn't pick "sides" here.

Strange that he was still like, "Sleep with each other" to both, because he could've been like, "Circe, there's this guy named Odysseus. When he comes to this island, change his men back." But who knows, maybe it was Circe's idea from the beginning and Hermes went along with it. Just food for thought.

Now here’s your plan of action, step by step. The moment Circe strikes with her long thin wand, you draw your sharp sword sheathed at your hip and rush her fast as if to run her through! She’ll cower in fear and coax you to her bed— but don’t refuse the goddess’ bed, not then, not if she’s to release your friends and treat you well yourself. But have her swear the binding oath of the blessed gods she’ll never plot some new intrigue to harm you, once you lie there naked— never unman you, strip away your courage!’

(Fagles, Book 10)

But that doesn't explain why he was there for a year afterward! Nor if he himself was okay with it, which is what I'm trying to delve into as he wasn't.

Also the knife thing? She's still immortal. It was meant to startle her. Her dad is Helios. Odysseus would've been toast, literally.

Also note this exchange wasn't a "Yippee! Hermes says I'm going to get laid!".

...just approaching the halls of Circe, my heart a heaving storm at every step, paused at her doors, the nymph with lovely braids— I stood and shouted to her there. She heard my voice, she opened the gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting me in, and in I went, all anguish now …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Another translation by Ian Johnston, (they all say the same thing essentially but trying to make a point.)

I continued on to Circe’s home. As I moved on, my heart was turning over many gloomy thoughts. After I had walked up to the gateway                                                of fair-haired Circe’s house, I just stood there and gave a shout. The goddess heard my voice.                      She came out at once, opened her bright doors, and invited me inside. I entered, heart full of misgivings.

HE👏WAS👏SCARED! The tone is solemn and suspenseful. He was just told that without Hermes' help with the root, he wouldn't be able to survive and bring back his men. Circe was dangerous.

He made her swear not to harm him.

Straightaway she began to swear the oath that I required—never, she’d never do me harm—and when she’d finished, then, at last, I mounted Circe’s gorgeous bed …

(Fagles, Book 10)

Please note that she NEVER promised that to his men. His comrades did NOT have moli in their systems. He had no way of truly ensuring their safety in any way from Circe.

He then refuses to eat until they get turned back. I don't think Circe is "Evil" so maybe it slipped her mind. Or yes, she could've thought, "Hey, I got what I wanted. He's handsome enough. Homer never shuts up about how hot this guy is He hasn't brought up the pigs yet. I'll just let this play out. Maybe HE forgot. I don't have to do anything." We don't know. But Odysseus probably felt like he got deceived. Funny as that's what he tends to do.

"Hey, I did my part of the deal. I slept with you. Now do yours."

She pressed me to eat. I had no taste for food. I just sat there, mind wandering, far away … lost in grim forebodings. As soon as Circe saw me, huddled, not touching my food, immersed in sorrow, she sidled near with a coaxing, winged word: ‘Odysseus, why just sit there, struck dumb, eating your heart out, not touching food or drink? Suspect me of still more treachery? Nothing to fear. Haven’t I just sworn my solemn, binding oath?’

So she asked, but I protested, ‘Circe— how could any man in his right mind endure the taste of food and drink before he’d freed his comrades-in-arms and looked them in the eyes? If you, you really want me to eat and drink, set them free, all my beloved comrades— let me feast my eyes.’ So I demanded.

(Fagles, Book 10)

He doesn't trust her despite what she had told him that he should when they sleep together. He has figured out that while she will not hurt him, his men were not a part of that oath, the men he was trying to protect in the first place.

She is then moved by how they rejoice when they see one another again. While turning people into animals for funsies isn't cool and coercion is fucked up, I think she comes to see this group as not quite friends but I think she did find them entertaining in a way.

This is very strange but I've seen some folks say that since Odysseus was pissed at Eurylochus for still not believing him about Circe is proof that "Oh he was trying to defend her!". Which??? Uh, Eurylochus was literally questioning his leadership as a whole. Calling him reckless and shit. He is captain and he's the King, he can't let that shit slide. The text literally says "Mutinous". Also if I had to sleep with someone I did not want to especially if it was to save my friends and I got called names afterward I'd get fucking pissed too.

Only Eurylochus tried to hold my shipmates back, his mutinous outburst aimed at one and all: ‘Poor fools, where are we running now? Why are we tempting fate?— why stumble blindly down to Circe’s halls? She’ll turn us all into pigs or wolves or lions made to guard that palace of hers—by force, I tell you— just as the Cyclops trapped our comrades in his lair with hotheaded Odysseus right beside them all— thanks to this man’s rashness they died too!

They stay a year. Again it's never stated that Odysseus slept with her that whole time. You could interpret that. (Honestly, I feel Circe would get bored with him? She's a goddess, she's got more important matters than mortal men. And she definitely doesn't love him.)

His men DO have to bring it up that "Odysseus has forgotten his native land." Maybe they thought they could sneak out without her knowing??? I am fucking REACHING but hold on as Telemachus did because he knew Nestor would well, be Nestor and try to coax him with "Have a meal with us! Let me tell you about how badass I used to be in my youth." But to sneak away from a goddess? Without her permission? That won't end too well. Aeolus in the beginning kicked out Odysseus when he tried to ask for another bag of wind. If she didn't want him around, she could literally boot him out. While she didn't force him to stay like Calypso did, she didn't "release" him either.

We don't know if they've been asking for a long time. Odysseus does say to Circe that they have been begging him nonstop, but he could also be saying that to try and convince her. He's good at persuasion. I think while he knew he could rely on her for food, shelter, and good advice, he still didn't feel...SAFE with her. I think he was possibly avoiding her personally.

I think HOW he asks her to leave is important to know as well.

...but I went up to that luxurious bed of Circe’s, hugged her by the knees and the goddess heard my winging supplication: ‘Circe, now make good a promise you gave me once— it’s time to help me home. My heart longs to be home, my comrades’ hearts as well. They wear me down, pleading with me whenever you’re away.’

(Fagles, Book 10)

Throughout all of Homer's works, the characters grasp another's knees when they are desperate and are literally at the other person's mercy. Priam did when begging Achilles for Hector's body back. The man who literally killed his son and was defiling his body by dragging it around. Leodes grabs Odysseus' knees to beg for his life before Ody kills him. If he saw her as a friend, and not a captor, WHY DID HE FEEL THE NEED TO BEG IN ORDER TO LEAVE?! No one, who is in a healthy relationship, has to BEG for permission to leave. Or to "Break up", if you interpret them as still sleeping together.

And even Circe acknowledges that he is there against his will!

‘Royal son of Laertes, Odysseus, old campaigner, stay on no more in my house against your will.

(Fagles, Book 10)

[...]Odysseus, man of many resources, scion of Zeus, son of Laertes, don’t stay here a moment longer against your will

(A.S. Kline, Book 10)

This is probably another reach that you can ignore but the whole "they wear me down", could be trying to appease her. "Look, you're REALLY cool, it's actually my crew that wants to leave hahahah please don't kill them"

I mentioned before how Telemachus snuck away from Nestor but that was simply out of necessity because he needed to go home now. Not rest for the night. NOW. Nestor is just everyone's grandpa. Menelaus kind of talked more but Telemachus is very straight up in "Please I have to go now" and Menelaus immediately got things ready for him. He never has to beg and clasp his knees. Telemachus was never afraid. Menelaus is a fun uncle and Helen is your cool auntie.

Back to Circe! She tells him instructions for the underworld, they were in her bedroom. But that might've been the only way to speak with her. As even Penelope is usually away from the suitors when they are in her halls, Circe may have done the same. The text never states she played hostess physically. If she was hosting in the halls during the day, why did Odysseus wait until night to talk to her? He could've just asked her while she was on her throne in front of everyone. (He did so with the Phaeacians)

Or maybe he went alone because she only swore an oath to not harm him and so he didn't want his men near if she decided she didn't want to let them go. I could be missing something here so feel free to say something. Idk if this was a pride thing on how "I don't want others to see me beg".

This is also where I think there might be interpretation differences. A lot of folks say "She had the info he needed to go home." and she did. BUT HE DIDN'T KNOW THAT. She actually gives advice of her own volition it seems!

She gave him new fine clothes and put on pretty clothes herself but that doesn't mean they had sex. Nausicaa gave him nice clothes as well but he never slept with her.

Then he leaves. Immediately. Not even doing a headcount as he didn't realize one of his men had died. (That was negligence on his part but he wanted out) He booked it, to the UNDERWORLD BY THE WAY. Circe even had to sneak the animals he needed for the sacrifice. Odysseus even basically said "She's a goddess. She can do things mortals can't" at the end of the book. And it almost feels...Numb? Solemn? Neutral? Gives a "It is what it is" vibe.

But Circe got to the dark hull before us, tethered a ram and black ewe close by— slipping past unseen. Who can glimpse a god who wants to be invisible gliding here and there?

(Fagles, Book 10)

She’d slipped past us with ease, for who can see a god move back and forth, if she has no desire to be observed?

(Johnston, Book 10)

She's a goddess. She has magic. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.

NOW ON TO BOOK 12!!! That was long! GET A SNACK AND WATER! LUCKILY THIS'LL BE SHORTER!

In Book 11, Odysseus swears, upon all his loved ones in Ithaca, to Elpenor that he'd give him a proper burial as he's been "unwept, unburied". So in Book 12, he sails back to Aeaea to fulfill his promise.

But you know what's funny to me?

He didn't tell Circe he was there.

He didn't even go to greet Circe himself. He sent his men to go get Elpenor's body.

The biggest clue that he didn't love/trust her is that if she was his "Affair partner" then why not go see her for "one last night together"?

SHE came out herself and pulled him aside to know what happened and then gave more advice.

I dispatched some men to Circe’s halls to bring the dead Elpenor’s body. [...]

Nor did our coming back from Death escape Circe— she hurried toward us, decked in rich regalia, handmaids following close with trays of bread and meats galore and glinting ruddy wine. [...]

But Circe, taking me by the hand, drew me away from all my shipmates there and sat me down and lying beside me probed me for details

(Fagles, Book 12)

In every translation, it talks about how he sits, and she lounges/lies down. That's not sex 🙃 In some translations, it even says he tried to be with his shipmates but she pulled him away!

So we lay down and slept beside our ship’s stern cables. But Circe took me by the hand and led me away, some distance from the crew. She made me sit, while she stretched out beside me on the ground. 

(Johnston, Book 12)

Then, she gives advice about the sirens, Charybdis, Scylla, and her father's Cattle. He tries to ask if he could save all his men. She scolds him for even thinking he could try. He again books it out of there.

I think we all know it wasn't "love". But I think a lot of people think Odysseus was willing and happy with whatever this was. "Friends with Benefits", if you will. I guess you could see it that way but I will say that makes me feel itchy with the whole power dynamic and fear. I don't think folks who have that arrangement have to beg on their knees to ask if they can leave though.

I mean the entirety of Book 10 gives me the vibes of "Laughing uncomfortably because you don't want to upset the other person". To just grin and bear it.

A lot of this was just putting the text here and picking it apart step by step. What you do with this is up to you. It's rambling while banging pots and pans together.

Maybe you see him as drugged the entire year and still sleeping together, as the moli "wore off". Even then, just because her magic can't affect him, there are plenty of natural concoctions that can be created that can affect mortals.

Maybe you see the entire year as sex work in exchange for shelter and food.

Maybe he was just alongside his men the whole time under her roof and was avoiding her after the exchange. After he got asked by his men to finally leave, he would start to walk up to that room only to freeze and turn around, thinking "One more day won't hurt. Should wait until I know she's in a sympathetic mood".

I beg of you, however, PLEASE understand that there was fear and coercion throughout his entirety on Aeaea. He wasn't staying to get laid. While there is so much going on and too many things that are left vague to really know exactly what happened, it is consistent that he was scared/numb. Lots of people go through with things they don't really want to do just to appease others. There are plenty of situations of sexual trauma where one person goes through something and the other has no idea the other person isn't okay. ESPECIALLY WHEN SOMEONE CAN HARM THE PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT AT ANY MOMENT!

Sexual trauma is a very complicated thing and while he was scared, he definitely wasn't as traumatized by her as he was by Calypso. Calypso was a torturous hell while Circe was a year of walking on eggshells. Not comparable but I still think it should be acknowledged. It's wild because I read the Odyssey and kept thinking "Y'all are calling the sex slave a cheater? The guy who slept with a goddess to get his men back? The ultimate simp apparently doesn't love his wife??"

Things I'm adding that shouldn't affect the argument as it is not in the Odyssey but I want to mention as it's a "fun fact": Odysseus' dad was an Argonaut. Laertes probably met Circe as well, (or knew of her) with the whole purifying thing and maybe Odysseus heard his dad tell stories of her. Later myths also have Circe with the habit of turning her crushes (or their lovers) into something with Scylla and Picus.

In conclusion, Yeah, he was afraid of her. At least to an extent. And don't pull the whole "Ancient men didn't get raped". Male victims exist and deserve compassion for what was done to them and women are capable of sexual abuse. If you think otherwise, you are not a true feminist and Fuck you. I said in the beginning this'll be casual and I don't wanna write a fancy ending. You can still think Circe is neat but you have to know that this was fucked up.

If you think a lot of this is bullshit or wanna give more context or wish to yell with me but still know he wasn't alright on Aeaea, cool. If you want to point out mistakes or something I should keep in mind with interpretations then feel free to say so but give text evidence. If you try and bring up the Telegony and/or Madeline Miller's Circe, fuck clean off. This is Homer. If you call Odysseus a whore and not the malewife he canonically is I'll start biting. 😤

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[buckyispunk]

Ocean Blue

Aloha Chapter Two ~ Bucky Barnes x f!Reader (no use of Y/N)

read Aloha part one here!!

masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: After a great day of playing football with Bucky and his friends, he plans an excursion for you. However, Bucky might not be as perfect as he seems.

A/N: thank you to everyone who liked, commented on, or reblogged chapter one! I was so so so thrilled with how well the first part did and I'm glad you all enjoyed it!

Warnings: facefucking, exhibitionism (dressing room shenanigans), brief fingering, discussion of unhealthy relationships, mention of cheating, bit of a praise kink, orgasm denial, come eating, dom!Bucky and his filthy mouth, drinking, insecure reader, self-deprecating thoughts, please lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: 8.6k

You feel the heat from the sun’s rays shining on you through the windows before you even open your eyes. You also feel a solid mass under your chest and it isn’t until you open your eyes that you remember the previous night. Bucky is underneath you - still sleeping if his soft snores are anything to go by. You feel your lips turn up into a smile as memories of last night play through your mind. 

His arm is draped over your body, securing you to him. You try to gently pull his arm off you so you can get up, but his bicep flexes as he subconsciously pulls you in closer. As much as you’d like to stay here cuddled up with Bucky all morning, you have to pee. You nuzzle into his chest and begin to pepper kisses across his toned pecs. 

Bucky rustles above you and you hear a soft hum as he wakes.

“Mornin, doll,” he keeps you close to his chest with one arm and raises his other to run through his hair.

You turn to look up at him and he leans down to press his lips to your forehead.

“How’d you sleep?” his morning voice is deep and gravelly. 

“Really good. You?” you hold back a giggle at his tousled hair.

“Amazing, hon.”

“Glad to hear it, Buck. Hate to ruin the moment, but you have to let me up so I can pee.”

“Says who?” he uses both arms to hug you tighter into his chest.

You gently slap his bulging arms and squeal, “Bucky! Let me up!”

Bucky scrunches his face up as if in thought. “Fine, but it’ll cost you. One kiss.”

“Ew, I have morning breath.”

“Don’t care, doll,” he guides your face to his and leans in to take his payment. 

After a couple of seconds, he releases you from his grasp. It isn’t until you’re about to pull the covers off of you that you realize you’re naked. Sure, he saw everything last night, but it’s different in the light of day when you don’t have any alcohol in your system. 

“Um,” your cheeks heat as you sit on the edge of the bed, covers pulled tight around your body, “could you, uh, look away for a minute?”

“Doll, you’re beautiful and you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. But if it’ll make you more comfortable then of course I will.”

He rolls over onto his stomach and presses his face into his pillow. You lean over and plant a kiss on his shoulder blade before jumping up and running to the bathroom. You go pee and brush your teeth before grabbing one of soft bathrobes with the resorts logo on the breast and tying it around your waist. When you open the bathroom door, Bucky is standing, pulling on his boxers. 

“Would you wanna go get breakfast with me?” he asks, adjusting the elastic of his underwear.

“That sounds great.” 

Bucky smiles and gathers his clothes from the floor, blush forming across his face as he does so. With an armful of clothes, he turns to look at you.

“I just want you to know, I don’t usually do that. Sleep with girls I just met- I mean. I mean, yeah I’ve done it before,” he begins to ramble, “but like, not often. I just felt like there was something between us and you were just so gorgeous last night, you’re still gorgeous. Shit, I’m so-”

You cut him off with a hand on his bare shoulder before he gets any farther.

“Bucky, it’s okay. I understand what you mean. I don’t normally do stuff like this either.”

“Well, I’m gonna go to my room to put on some different clothes. I’ll come back in a couple of minutes and we can go downstairs?” he starts to pull on his dress pants from last night. He pulls the wrinkled button up over his shoulders, not bothering with the buttons. 

He holds his shoes and belt in one hand as he makes for the door. He opens the door and steps out. You follow him, standing in the doorway. Before you have a chance to say goodbye, you hear a familiar voice coming from over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Nice clothes, Buck!” Sam is walking down the hallway toward the two of you, Steve beside him. “We didn’t hear you come back to your room last night,” Sam continues his teasing.

Bucky lets out an exasperated sigh before turning to face his friends. You’re mortified that they’ve caught you. But at the same time, you want to laugh at the murderous look on Bucky’s face.

“Not another word, Sam,” he goes to hold up his hand, as if in warning, before remembering that his belt is dangling from his fingers, and quickly lowers it, trying too late to hide further evidence.

Sam doubles over laughing, meanwhile Steve stands still as a statue, eyes trained on the ground. He looks almost as embarrassed as you do.

“We were just headed downstairs,” the blond explains.

“Sorry, Barnes,” Sam says your name and nods at you, “I’ll leave you to continue your walk of shame,” he lets out another roaring laugh, slapping Bucky on the shoulder before continuing down the hallway, Steve in tow.

The blond looks up to give you a sheepish smile, “I’m sorry,” he mouths an apology to you.

Once his friends are gone, Bucky turns to you. “I swear to god, I’ll kill him if you want me to,” he says with a straight face.

You laugh at him, “It’s fine, Bucky. He’s just being funny.”

Bucky gives you a thankful smile and leans down and pecks your lips before making his way to his room.

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes!” he calls to you.

When Bucky knocks on your room door exactly two minutes later, you’re running a brush through your hair. You had thrown on a pair of shorts and a tank top.

“Just a second!” you call out.

You grab your things and slip a pair of flip flops on before opening the door. Bucky apologizes again for Sam’s bevahior and you tell him not to worry - you enjoy the lighthearted fun. You grab plates and get in line for the buffet.

Bucky piles his plate with so much food that you’re worried it’s about to start falling off. He reaches for the tongs to add bacon to his stack of food.

“There is no way you can fit any more food on that plate,” you look at him in disbelief.

How is he planning on eating that much?

Bucky grins at you before taking the bacon from the tongs and sticking it directly into his mouth, giving you a smirk.

“That better, sweetheart?” he mumbles around a mouthful of food.

You roll your eyes at him and walk to the first empty table you see. Bucky follows behind a minute later with his plate and two cups of orange juice, you’re mildly impressed at his ability to carry it all without spilling anything - like you surely would’ve. But then again, his hand dwarfs the cups of juice, so you suppose that helps. He sits down across from you and sets one of the plastic cups in front of you.

“Thank you,” you tell him after swallowing your bite of food.

“‘Course, doll,” he answers around a mouthful of toast.

You figure it’s just your luck when Brock and Marissa walk into the dining room. Did they eat breakfast at the same time as you every day? You let out a sigh, hoping they don’t see you. You really don’t feel like explaining who Bucky is, Hi, Brock! This is the guy I just met who called me “his girl” when I slept with him last night, isn’t he great?

Bucky turns to follow your eyeline, landing on the couple.

“Is that…” he trails off.

“Yep. Brock and Marissa.”

He looks down and nods, dejected look on his face, “I can leave, if you want,” he offers. “I mean if you don’t want them to see you with me.” How is it that you just met this man, yet it appears he can read your mind?

You would never do that to Bucky, though. He didn’t deserve that. So what if Brock found out? You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. You’re a grown woman. You’re single and you decided to have some fun with a man who’s interested in you. It’s not like you’re the only person who’s ever had a one night stand - if that’s what you’d call this, anyway.

“Of course not, Bucky. I don’t care if they see us. Besides, you haven’t even started your cereal or your eggs.” This earns a grin from Bucky.

“Hey, you keep that up and you’re not getting any of my waffles,” he points his finger at you.

Brock and Marissa sit down. You try not to watch them - you really do. But they’re sat right in your line of sight and it makes it hard. Brock eats with one hand and scrolls through his phone with the other. Marissa does the same. 

Bucky notices you watching them and turns to look. Marissa says something to which Brock just gives a noncommittal nod and continues scrolling. It’s no wonder he doesn’t see you with his face buried in his phone.

“Was he like that when you were with him?”

“Yeah. Especially toward the end. It was like he won me over at first by doing all this stuff for me and taking me out on dates. But then after a while he stopped doing all of that. I was lucky to have a conversation with him that lasted more than a couple of minutes.”

Bucky gives you a sad look. “I’m sorry doll. Glad you don’t have to put up with that anymore.” He mutters the next part under his breath so quietly you almost miss it, “Asshole didn’t deserve you.”

“What about you?” 

He looks confused and you realize your question had been rather vague.

“Have you ever had any serious relationships?” you clarify.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Last serious one ended just before I got out of the army. I was on a nine month deployment. The distance was hard. I called her as often as I could, had flowers sent to her. We’d been together for years. Turns out she was cheating on me while I was overseas. Said she was lonely because I wasn’t home. Needed something more, I guess,” he shrugs, “Thought she was the one. Had the ring picked out and everything.”

“Oh my gosh,” your face drops. How could someone do such a thing? He was away serving his country and she had cheated on him? He had even sent her flowers while he was gone - Brock had never once gotten you flowers. “I am so sorry, Bucky. That’s terrible.” You can tell his mood has declined from talking about it and you’re not sure how to console him. 

“Don’t worry about it, doll,” he gives you a forced smile. “Besides, it’s best that I found out when I did. I got all my money back for the ring,” he jokes, but his chuckle doesn’t meet his eyes.

You simply nod in agreement. You and Bucky finish eating in silence, reflecting on the heavy topics the two of you had discussed. Bucky downs the last of his orange juice and, as if nothing had happened, the grin is back on his face. 

“Wanna go to the beach? If you’re not sick of me yet, that is.”

“Don’t think I could ever get sick of you,” you chuckle before realizing what you had just let slip.

You’re not sure what exactly your feelings are for Bucky, but it’s clear that there was an instant connection between the two of you. And last night made it obvious that it’s not just a platonic connection. Regardless, you don’t think you should reveal your cards to Bucky just yet.

He doesn’t need to know that he hasn’t left your mind since you first laid eyes on him across the bar. He doesn’t need to know that he’s made you happier in two days than anyone has in years. He doesn’t need to know that you’re not sure you could go another day for the rest of your life without seeing his blinding smile. But it’s too early to be having these thoughts. So you quickly stand and clear the table before Bucky has a chance to respond. You head to the elevator without another word. Bucky follows you, confused smile on his face. 

Bucky leaves you in front of your room so that you can get changed and, for the second time today, he promises to be back in a couple of minutes. You change into your bikini and put your tanktop and shorts back on over it. It’s been about five minutes and Bucky still hasn’t come back to your room. You decide to take the time to pull out your phone and text Tess, your best friend back home, filling her in on everything that has happened with Bucky and his friends so far. 

After you’ve finished updating Tess, Bucky still hasn’t come back. You wonder for a moment if he had changed his mind. Maybe he didn’t want to hang out with you anymore and this was just his way of getting rid of you. You only let those thoughts cloud your mind briefly before you snap out of it and realize that that was unlikely. He hadn’t shown any indications of wanting to get rid of you - the beach had been his idea. You decide to go to Bucky’s room.

You pad down the hall in your flip flops and stop in front of Bucky’s door. You hesitate for a second before raising your hand and rapping your knuckles against the wood. You hear muffled curses coming from the other side of the door before it opens a second later. 

“Shit, doll, I’m so sorry,” Bucky answers the door. He’s still wearing his clothes from breakfast. He returns back into his room, leaving the door open for you to follow. “I can’t find my trunks anywhere.”

You step in and close the door behind you. His room is kind of a mess. There are piles of clothes scattered everywhere and you see why as he crouches down in front of his suitcase and begins throwing clothes out of it, desperately searching for his bathing suit. 

“Whoa, Buck, calm down,” you hold back a laugh at his overly-frustrated state. “It’s just a pair of swim trunks. Did you only bring one pair?” 

A visible heat creeps up Bucky’s cheeks, “Well I didn’t think I was gonna be in the water that much,” he explains. 

“There’s a store down in the lobby, I’m sure they have some if you want to buy another pair.”

Bucky sighs and stands up, giving up on his search. “I’m sorry doll. You can go to the beach now if you want and I can meet you there after I find a new pair.”

“It’s not like I need to spend the entire day at the beach Bucky, we still have plenty of time. Besides, I want to look around for souvenirs.”

“Okay, doll,” he gives you a grateful smile. 

The two of you make your way to the main floor, Bucky still obsessing over his trunks, I just don’t know where they could have gone.

Upon stepping into the resort’s store, you’re met with all sorts of fun souvenirs and brightly colored clothing. Bucky makes his way over to the swim wear section and you wander around, looking for gifts for your parents and Tess. You settle on a mini totem garden sculpture for your parents and a pretty bracelet for your best friend. 

“Hey, doll!” Bucky peeks his head out from behind a dressing room door.

You hadn’t even noticed he’d gone into a dressing room. You make your way over to the stall he’s occupying and raise an eyebrow. “Find a pair of trunks?”

“Wanna come in and see them?” he grins and opens the door for you, but keeps his body hidden behind it. 

“You need my help choosing a pair?” you sigh and step into the dressing room after setting down your gifts.

Bucky closes the door behind you and he’s shirtless, wearing only the pair of swim trunks he’s trying on. You drop your eyes to them and burst out laughing. The trunks say stop staring at my with a picture of a rooster underneath the words, directly over where his junk is. Bucky joins you in laughing. 

“You just had to take your shirt off too, didn’t you?” you tease. Not that you’re complaining about the sight in front of you.

“Well we need to get the full effect so we can tell whether or not we like them,” he justifies, grin never leaving his lips.

“You’re not seriously getting those, are you?”

“Nah. You could follow the advice on them, though.”

“Please, Barnes. Says you,” you remember the way he’d stared at your bikini-clad body yesterday. “Besides, are you telling me you don’t like it?”

You turn to leave the dressing room and are stopped by a hand on your arm. Bucky grabs you and pulls you into a kiss. You deepen the kiss and he begins rutting into you, feeling his bulge rub against you. You know there’s people outside the dressing room. Anyone could overhear you if you or Bucky get too loud. But you don’t care about any of that as you sink to your knees on the dressing room floor. In fact, maybe it spurs you on a little. 

Bucky stares down at you with wide eyes, jaw dropped. “Fuck, doll. What are you doing?”

You dip your fingers into the waistband of his boxers beneath the swim trunks, testing the waters. “Want to repay you for last night.”

“Doll, you don’t have to do that. Are you sure?”

You ever so slightly start to pull down the trunks along with his underwear and look up to him for permission before continuing. He gives you a nod, a look of awe spread across his face. You drag them all the way down and let them pool around his ankles before he steps out of them, leaving him fully nude in front of you. 

You’d seen him before, but not up this close. His tip is pink and leaking a drop of precum. He’s barely hard and you’re already wondering how you’ll be able to fit him all down your throat. 

“Stop staring at my cock, doll,” he says quietly as he stares down at you, smirk on his face.

He reaches a hand around to tangle in your hair and gently pulls you closer, dragging his length across your face. The feeling of his heady weight resting on your cheek sends a flood of arousal to your core.

You lick up his hardness until you reach the tip. You place a kiss on his slit, tongue darting out to lap up his precum. 

“I don’t like teasing, sweetheart,” Bucky gives you a warning look.

You take the head into your mouth and begin to lower yourself onto his cock. Bucky’s hand rests in your hair, letting you set your own pace. You begin bobbing up and down on his shaft, taking about half of him into your mouth with each descent. After a couple minutes of letting you control things, Bucky pulls your head off of him and leans down so he’s face to face with you. 

“If it gets to be too much, tap on my thigh two times. I want you to repeat it back to me if you understand.”

“Tap on your thigh twice to stop,” you meet his eyes. They look almost completely black, his pupils blown wide with lust.

He pulls you in for another kiss before rising to his full height. 

“Ready, doll?”

You’re not sure why the thought pops into your head, but you decide to try something out. “Yes, Sergeant.”

Bucky’s face turns to something resembling a scowl as his grip tightens on your hair and he drags you back onto his cock. He pushes you all the way down until you feel him hit the back of your throat. And then he forces himself in even farther. Your face is pressed against his lower abdomen, nose nestled into the dark patch of hair just above his cock. You breath in through your nose, which overflows your senses with his musk.

Bucky releases his hands from your hair, allowing you to take a breath. You gasp for air before reattaching your mouth to his cock, already missing the taste of him. He lets out a quiet groan and holds your head in place as he begins to thrust in and out of your mouth. He buries himself in the back of your throat and you gag around him. 

“Fuck, doll. Love feeling your throat close around me.”

He holds himself there for a few more seconds before giving you a reprieve. 

“Doing so good for me, hon.” He praises, just loud enough so that you can hear him, quiet enough that anyone outside the dressing room wouldn’t be able to. 

He continues using your throat to chase his high. He lets a quiet groan slip every so often, making your pussy clench around nothing each time. He picks up the pace, holding your head still and brutally jamming his length down your throat over and over. You lift a hand to his hairy thigh to brace yourself. 

“Feel so good. My pretty girl.”

You reach a hand into your panties to give your throbbing clit some attention. Bucky notices immediately and grabs your wrist, ripping your hand out of your shorts. 

“Bad girl. Did I say you could do that? Put both your hands behind your back now or you won’t be coming at all today.” He lodges himself into the back of your throat and holds there, cutting off your air flow until you follow his orders. 

You do as he instructed and clasp your hands behind your back.

He pulls out of your throat and looks down at you, expression softening. “You can still tap out if you need to, doll.”

You’re not sure what makes you respond the way you do, but you’re quick to regret it. “Please, you think this is rough?” sarcasm drips from your wrecked voice.

Your response brings the scowl back to Bucky’s face and the hold he takes on your hair makes your scalp sting in the best way. 

“Fuckin’ brat.” He uses your hair to drag you up and down his length, not stopping to give you a break.

He’s focused solely on chasing his own high, enjoying the way you gag around him. When tears begin to run down your face, he swipes them away with his thumb.

“You asked for it, pretty girl,” he gives you a mock look of sympathy, not letting up. “Fuck, I’m getting close. You’re such a dirty little slut letting me fuck your face like this. What if someone overheard us right now?”

Your moan is muffled around his cock, the vibrations making him grit his teeth in pleasure.

“You like that, doll? Want everyone to know what a little slut you are for me? Want them to see you on your knees for me?”

You do your best to nod with his rock-hard length in your mouth. He gives a few more deep thrusts and you feel his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly before he uses your hair to yank you off of him.

“Can I come down your throat, doll? Pump your stomach full of me?”

“Please, Buck,” you manage in a hoarse voice.

Bucky groans and forces himself as far down your throat as he can possibly get and holds there, both of his hands keeping your head in place. You unclasp your hands behind your back and bring one up to massage his balls, sending him over the edge. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and does his best to stay quiet as he shoots rope after rope of his seed down your throat. You feel his warm come trickle down your throat and begin to choke on it. He keeps you in place until his orgasm subsides.

He finally lets you go and you pull off of his length, sputtering and gasping for breath. Bucky kneels down in front of you and holds you to him, calming you. He runs a hand up and down your back and smooths your hair. Once you’ve caught your breath, you lean in for a kiss, which he gladly returns, groaning into your mouth when he gets the briefest taste of himself on your lips.

“You did so fucking good for me, doll,” he whispers into your ear. “Made me feel so good.” He reaches a hand down and slips it into your panties, instantly being met with your wetness. “Fuck, doll. You really liked that, huh?”

“Yes, Bucky. Made me so wet,” you buck your hips up into his touch, hoping he’ll make you come. “Please, Bucky,” you beg, “I was good for you, don’t I deserve a reward?”

“I’ll decide that for myself, doll. I’ll make you come if and when I want to,” he runs a finger through your slick and rubs a few circles over your clit. 

You were already on the brink of orgasming the entire time Bucky was in your mouth, and you’re sure that all you need is a couple more strokes of his calloused fingers to push you over the edge. You’re not surprised that Bucky seems to know this too when he pulls his hand out of your shorts.

“Be a good girl for the rest of the day and I’ll make it worth your while. Give you anything you want tonight, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you pout, although the way he used you to get himself off and left you desperate for release turns you on like nothing ever has before. 

He stands and helps you to your feet. He gets dressed while you use the mirror to fix your disheveled look. When the two of you look normal again, he opens the dressing room door. 

You’re glad to find that the store is almost empty and it appears that no one had heard anything. You pick up the gifts you had selected for your family and Tess and Bucky returns with a new pair of trunks. They’re a solid salmon-pink color.

“Whatcha got there?” he asks, nodding to the trinkets in your hand.

“Some gifts for my family back home. See you found a bathing suit.”

“Well, you didn’t like the last one, so…” he chuckles at you and the two of you make your way to the checkout.

Just before you reach the counter, Bucky calls your name. He’s stopped in front of a display of Hawaiian shirts.

“We should each get one!” the excited look on his face is too cute to deny, so you simply nod and agree. 

You pick one out and Bucky (coincidentally?) selects a matching men’s one. You set your stuff down on the counter and move to pull your wallet out of your bag before Bucky stops you and sets his own stuff down on top of yours. You’re about to argue that he’s not paying for all of your stuff, but he raises his eyebrows and shoots you a warning look.

Don’t you dare try and pull that again, he words from when you had bought dinner last night replay in your mind. You look down at your feet and blush. If it didn’t turn you on so much, you’d be embarrassed at how submissive this man makes you.

He grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge next to the cashier and sets it on the counter. Bucky pays for everything and hands you the bottle of water while the cashier bags everything up. You’re thankful for the instantaneous soothing the cold water provides as it hits your raw throat. You turn to Bucky and smile, as if to thank him. He sets a hand on your waist and gives you an affectionate smile. 

Bucky takes the bags from the cashier and leads the two of you out of the gift shop.

“I have to go up and change into my trunks. I can set your stuff in your room for you while I’m up there, if you want,” he offers.

You dig your extra key card out of your bag and hand it to Bucky. He disappears behind the elevator doors. Just as you’re about to take a seat, you see Sam and Steve. They catch your eye and make their way over to you. 

Once you see them up close, you notice that Sam’s swim trunks are identical to the ones Bucky had been wearing yesterday.

“Are those Bucky’s swim trunks?” 

“I may have forgotten to pack my own. And Steve wouldn’t let me take his. Bucky wasn’t in his room last night, as I’m sure you know,” he finds his joke hilarious and lets out a laugh, “so I went into his room and took them,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if, by a chain reaction, it hadn’t led to you on your knees for Bucky in a public place just ten minutes ago. 

“Ew, Sam,” your face scrunches up in disgust, “That’s gross.”

“Don’t worry! I’m wearing underwear with them!” 

Steve chooses now to speak up, “As much as I’m sure she’d love to hear about your underwear, Sam,” he tells his friend sarcastically, “where is Bucky?” he turns to you.

“He went upstairs to change into the new trunks he just bought,” you eye Sam, “because he couldn’t find his.”

As if on cue, Bucky appears, wearing his new trunks and the Hawaiian t-shirt he just bought. You notice he’s also holding your new shirt.

“You asshole,” he furrows his brows at Sam, “Are those my trunks? That’s gross, man. I had those on yesterday.” 

“Don’t worry,” you interject, “he’s got underwear on.”

Bucky gives you a confused look, probably wondering how you know that, and you, Steve, and Sam laugh. 

Bucky returns his attention to Sam, “Give me back the key card to my room,” he holds out a hand expectantly.

“Told you, you never should’ve given it to him,” Steve says.

“Hey!” Sam turns on the blonde, “You helped me take all his towels!” He reaches into his - Bucky’s - pockets and hands over a key card.

“Punks,” Bucky mutters, grabbing his room key back.

“Do you guys wanna come to the beach with us?” you offer.

“We actually just left the beach,” Steve answers, “Thanks, though.”

“Good,” Bucky takes your hand and leads you away from his friends, “See you later!” Steve and Sam laugh as Bucky leads you away. 

“Were they bothering you?” he looks over at you.

“No, Bucky, you don’t have to worry so much. Sam made another comment about you not going back to your room last night, but it doesn’t bother me. I like them. I think they’re just trying to embarrass you in front of me.”

“You can say that again,” Bucky mutters. “Oh, hey,” he holds up the shirt you’d forgotten he was holding, “I just thought maybe, um,” you find it adorable that the man who was just fucking your face in a public place now seems so shy, “maybe you could wear your shirt too and we could match.”

“Aw,” you smile up at him and take the shirt, “sure, Buck.” You throw the shirt on over your white tank top. 

You grab two beach towels and stuff them in your bag before stepping out of the resort. You and Bucky make your way to the beach, fingers interlaced. When you pick out a good enough spot, you and Bucky lay out your beach towels and strip down to your swim suits. You make your way to the water’s edge. 

“You comin’ or what?” you throw over your shoulder with a smirk. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he gives you a mischievous grin, “Just enjoying the view.” His eyes flit down to your ass and you scoff.

You do your best to refrain from smiling as you give him a mock-offended look. He makes his way over to you and you splash him with ocean water when he gets close enough. He laughs for a minute but then his expression turns more serious.

“Remember what I said about being good today, doll?” he steps closer to you and leans down to whisper in your ear, water dripping from his hair. “If you wanna come, that is,” he pulls away, smirk upon his lips.

You blush and turn away. The refreshing salt water surrounds you and makes you feel as light as a feather. It’s as if each wave is chipping away at the weight on your shoulders.

You look at Bucky, who’s busy watching a ship in the distance. His blue eyes are the same color as the ocean. He’s got a slight smile on his face and you think that he looks as content as you’ve been feeling ever since you got here. The water comes up to his swim trunks, but leaves you an unblocked view of his abs and pecs. Water droplets run down his sculpted body and you’re suddenly ultra-aware of the fact that your core is in desperate need of attention. 

“Heads up!” you hear a familiar voice call out from behind you.

You turn and before you know what’s happening, Bucky is diving in front of you, landing in the water with a splash. He emerges holding a football. 

“Sam, watch out! You almost hit her!” he scolds his friend, who’s standing in the sand with Steve.

“I was aiming for you, if that makes it better,” he grimaces and apologizes to you.

“Hard to believe you were the best marksman in our troop,” Bucky scoffs and shakes his head.

“Get the ball!” Steve yells before rushing into the water, Sam following behind him.

Steve makes a beeline to Bucky, who starts running in the opposite direction. Bucky loses his footing in the waist-deep water and Steve catches up to him. The large blond dives at Bucky, arms outstretched, and tackles him into the water. Sam isn’t far behind and jumps on top of both of them. You hear curses and gasps for breath as they just about drown each other. You watch, laughing to yourself at the three idiots. 

Steve emerges from the pile, holding the football victoriously over his head. Bucky and Sam steady themselves, catching their breath. Your giggling is cut short when Steve tosses the ball to you. You catch it out of habit and freeze when you see the look on the guys’ faces. 

“Oh, shit,” you mutter.

“Better run, darlin’,” Bucky gives you a boyish grin. 

You turn and do your best to run, smile on your face growing as you surprisingly manage to keep some distance between you and the men chasing you - Bucky leading the pack. A smile spreads across your face, flashbacks of playing football with your cousins on Thanksgiving playing through your mind. One year, one of your cousins had broken his arm - he had landed on it wrong after being tackled. After that, your parents made you stick to playing two-hand tap. 

“Slow pokes,” you tease the boys. 

“Oh, doll,” you look over your shoulder to see Bucky gaining on you, “you know I was letting you get away, right?”

You let out a shriek as you suddenly feel Bucky’s hands on your hips. Your grip tightens on the ball as his long fingers easily span your waist.

“Sorry, babe, part of the game,” he gives you a look of false sympathy before wrapping his arms around your hips and gently tackling you into the water.

You can tell he’s trying hard to control himself, making sure he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. Bucky lets go of you quickly, letting you stand from the water just as fast as you went under. 

“That’s okay, Barnes,” you give him a cocky grin, “I still got the ball,” you wave it in your hand.

He gives you a smile and holds your chin up with his hand. He leans down and connects his lips to yours. You don’t even have a chance to worry about whether or not anyone is witnessing his display of PDA because he’s suddenly ripped away from you. 

Bucky lets out a loud oomph as Sam’s shoulder collides with his torso, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Bucky is surprised by the attack, but manages to overpower Sam rather quickly as you and Steve watch in amusement. Bucky gets Sam in a headlock and you can’t help but stare at the way his bicep bulges as he flexes it. You feel a pulse in your core when you think about Bucky’s arm wrapped around your own neck like that. 

“Say I’m the best,” Bucky taunts.

“Dick,” Sam struggles in Bucky’s grasp, but his efforts are futile. 

“Come on, punk,” Bucky chuckles. 

“Fine,” Sam admits defeat. “You’re the best.”

Bucky drops his arm and Sam stands, muttering curses.

Bucky makes his way over to you and plucks the ball from your fingers.

“Thought you guys weren’t gonna come,” he tosses the ball back and forth between his hands.

“We got bored,” Steve shrugs. “Why? Did we interrupt something?” he teases.

“Haha,” you laugh sarcastically and roll your eyes.

The next couple of hours are spent playing football - you get revenge on Bucky with your own tackle - and talking with your new friends. At one point when Sam is arguing with Steve and Bucky about whether you’re currently in the pacific or the atlantic ocean - Steve and Bucky are right - you decide to take a break from the water and lay on the beach to tan.

You straighten out your towel and lay back on your elbows. You find that you can’t take your eyes off of Bucky. You smile to yourself as you watch his brows furrow in utter disbelief and frustration at his friend - you idiot, do you know anything about geography?.

You’ve only known Bucky for three days and you’re scared of how strong your feelings are for him. Maybe it’s the fact that he makes you feel safe, maybe it’s the way he listens so intently anytime you talk, maybe it’s the way he and his friends have gladly taken you in when you were desperate for companionship, and maybe it’s just the amazing sex, but something has you falling nearly head over heels for this man you hardly know. And that scares you. You haven’t felt anything like this since Brock - and even that had been different. You really hope Bucky feels the same at least a little bit.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky’s honeyed comes from above you.

“Hey, Buck,” you look up at him, lifting your hand to block the sun.

He gives you an affectionate smile and chuckles at your squinted expression.

“So I was thinking,” he starts, “you said you wanted to go snorkeling. I thought maybe we could go together? I called this place nearby earlier and they’ve got room for us both today.”

Your eyes widen in excitement, “Oh my gosh, Bucky!” you revel in the grin your squeal draws from him. “That sounds perfect!”

“Okay, cool,” Bucky offers you a hand to help you up. “You wanna go grab a little something to eat before we head out?”

You nod and take his hand. The two of you get dressed and pack up your stuff. You say goodbye to Steve and Sam and leave them on the beach as you make your way back to the resort with Bucky, his arm slung over your shoulder. You and Bucky grab a small snack from the store in the resort, not wanting to fill up before snorkeling. Bucky arranges for a taxi and when it arrives, he opens the door for you and climbs in next to you. 

Once you reach the snorkeling place, a little hut on the beach, Bucky leads you inside. He makes his way to the counter and gives the worker his name. You feel a twinge of guilt when he reaches for his wallet to pay for the both of you. You tug on his arm and look up to him hesitantly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he places a kiss on your forehead before turning back to the receptionist. 

The woman at the counter gives you and Bucky an overview of what will happen - you will go out back to the dock and get your gear while you wait for the rest of the people in your group to show up before boarding the boat. 

Bucky thanks the lady and guides you outside with a hand on your lower back. You’re greeted by a couple of guys who look like they could be younger than you. They get you and Bucky situated with a snorkel, mask, and fins. You and Bucky put your clothes in your bag, leaving you clad in swimwear, before putting the bag in a locker for safe keeping. 

Eventually, the rest of your group shows up - a married couple and their two children - and the workers hand out their gear. Once everyone is ready, they board everyone onto the boat and wave goodbye, returning to the deck as the captain makes his way over to greet you.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” the man smiles brightly. “My name is Koa and I will be your guide today.” He goes over the rules and procedures for the trip.

After his run down, he unties the boat from the dock and makes his way to the captain’s chair. You and Bucky take a seat on one of the padded benches on the side of the boat and he places a hand on your thigh. You take in the gorgeous scenery as the boat’s motor hums and takes you into the clear, blue water. After about five minutes, the boat stops and Koa drops the anchor. 

You’re not far away from shore, the water is calm and shallow. Koa reminds everyone of the rules and makes sure they know how to properly use their gear. He tells you about the marine life you’ll see and points out what you should keep an eye out for.

“You guys are all set to explore,” he tells the group, “I’ll be here watching you guys if you need me. And remember, don’t stray too far from the boat.”

With that, everyone stands from their seats. The kids excitedly clamber down the ladder into the water, their mom rushing behind them yelling for them to slow down. The dad follows behind, shaking his head and smiling. Bucky goes in front of you and makes his way into the water. Once in, he reaches a hand out to hold your waist, steadying you as you climb down. 

For the most part, you and Bucky stay on one side of the boat and the family stays on the other. You see a lot of colorful fish and excitedly jab Bucky’s side to get his attention when you see a pufferfish. You swim around the area, staying close to Bucky most of the time. You make sure to keep near the boat and you ask Koa questions about the fish every so often. Once everyone has finished looking around the area and observing the wildlife, Koa calls everyone to climb back on so you can head toward the next snorkeling area. 

Once back on the boat, the kids excitedly chatter nonstop, jumping up and down as they talk about all the things they saw. You notice Bucky’s small smirk as he watches the children. He looks over to you and his face visibly heats when he notices he’d been caught. You use your thumb to wipe away a drop of water running down the side of his face. Bucky gently takes your hand and presses a kiss to it before holding it between his own in his lap. Thankfully, he turns to look into the water, so he doesn’t see the smile you subconsciously let spread across your lips at the feeling of your hand in his own. 

Koa anchors the boat near a coral reef when the boat stops for the second time. He explains that Hawaiian coral reefs house thousands of different kinds of creatures and algae.

“The water is deeper here,” he warns, “and we must be careful not to disturb the coral. We cannot get too close to the reefs, so I ask that you view them from a distance of several feet.” 

After his speech, everyone makes their way into the water again. The brief chill the water provides is a welcomed reprieve from the blazing sun, though you couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather. Bucky makes his way toward the reef and you follow him. You and Bucky swim around and observe the reef in awe, watching the way the plants flow with the water and seeing all the invertebrates crawl around in the sand. 

When you come back to the surface, you make conversation with the little kids as you wait for Bucky to finish exploring.

When Bucky emerges from the water, he shouts over to you and the rest of the group, “Hey guys, there’s a sea turtle over here!”

The kids scramble to swim over to where Bucky’s pointing, you and their parents following behind. Bucky warns the kids not to get too close so that they don’t scare the turtle away. Koa tells the group that Hawaiian sea turtles can weigh as much as 500 pounds. After everyone has seen the turtle, thankfully it didn’t get scared off, you all clamber back onto the boat.

“The snorkeling part of the tour is over, but I’ll continue the boat tour before we make our way back to shore,” Koa informs everyone.

You and Bucky get settled in on the bench, sitting opposite the rest of the group. He puts his arm around your shoulders and holds you into him. Koa tells you different fun facts about the island and the wild life. He takes you past different coves and beaches, laughing at his own terrible dad jokes frequently.

“This is stunning,” you almost whisper as you pass ginormous mountains and lush trees. 

“Yeah, doll,” Bucky replies, “It is.”

You turn to find him already looking at you. He places a finger under your chin and presses a kiss to your lips. You smile at him before returning your attention to the majestic blue of the ocean and realize that it’s the same color as Bucky’s eyes. 

All too soon, Koa is docking the boat and wishing everyone an amazing rest of their vacation. Once you and Bucky are off the boat, you grab your bag and dry off before getting dressed. Bucky calls for a taxi and soon enough you’re back at the hotel. Bucky walks you to your room.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower real quick,” you tell Bucky. “Would you- um, would you wanna join me?” you’re feeling bold, possibly because you’re still feeling the effects of what happened in the dressing room and you’re desperate for some release. 

Bucky must be able to tell how horny you are because he gives you a knowing grin, “Doll, I would love to, but I promised Sam and Steve that I would meet them at the bar after we got done,” he gives you a sad smile, “Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with you, but I want to make sure I’m still hanging out with them, you know?”

“Oh my gosh, Bucky, yeah. I’m sorry, you’re totally right.”

“Hey, darling,” Bucky makes eye contact with you, “Don’t apologize. If it was up to me I’d spend the rest of my vacation with just you. But hey, how about you come find us at the bar after your shower?”

“Deal. Only if you’ll let me buy you a drink, though,” you challenge.

“Doll, you know that’s not happening.” Bucky leans down until his mouth is level with your ear, “And don’t think about touching that pretty little pussy of yours if you want me to reward you tonight.”

Your mouth drops at the sudden warning. Bucky gives you a cocky grin in response to your reddened face. 

“Come down when you’re done, and leave your wallet,” with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you flustered and horny. 

You try not to think about the way that Bucky had eaten you out like a starving man last night and how he had used you to chase his own release earlier while you take a cold shower. You put on some shorts and your new Hawaiian shirt before making your way downstairs.

When you step outside, you glance around the bar area, searching for Bucky and his friends. You see Steve and Sam talking to each other at one end of the bar, but Bucky isn’t with them. After another scan, you find him. He’s leaning up against the bar with his back to you, but he’s not by his friends. He’s next to a gorgeous woman in a bikini. You falter for a second when you see Bucky turn to her, talking with a smile on his face. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation. You stop in your tracks when Bucky buys a beer and hands it to the woman. He laughs at something she said and you turn away. 

What the fuck?

It’s not like you two were exlcusive or anything, hell you’d only known each other for two days. You probably don’t have any right to feel jealous, but regardless, you feel a pang in your gut. His dick had just been in your mouth hours ago and now he’s buying drinks for someone who could be a supermodel?

You hold back your tears as you make your way back inside, heading for the indoor bar.

How could you be so stupid. Of course the connection wasn’t real. He was just using you to get his dick wet, and you had let him. 

You take a seat at the bar and order a double shot of whiskey, good thing you did end up bringing your wallet. You mentally scold yourself for believing there was ever a connection between you and Bucky as you down your drink. You order a second one and think about what you’ll do if he tries to talk to you again. If he tries to fuck you again. You won’t let him back in your pants, that’s for sure. You wonder if he’s looking at that woman like she’s the most important thing in the world, the way he had looked at you.

You don’t understand how guys manage to put on such a convincing gentleman act just to get laid. He had you fooled with his I don’t usually do this speech this morning. Part of you wants to believe that he hadn’t bought you stuff and opened doors for you just to get you to sleep with him, but you know better deep down. Why would anyone be interested in you like that? Brock had made it clear that you weren’t anything worth holding on to. You sometimes wish you aren’t as trusting as you are, it’s not the first time you’ve been hurt because of it.

You down the second drink and resign yourself to spending the next three days alone before heading home. You’ve got plenty of experience with being alone, though.

part three!

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added!) - @vicmc624 @distancedss @kandis-mom @cakesandtom @buckbuckybuckaroo @volleyballgirl2022 @sapphirebarnes @xobabygirl143 @sarah1barnes @ladyacrasia @charmedbysarge

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: weekends aren't for rest, they're for being sick and anxious so Monday will be a treat.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you enter, you try your best not to make too much noise. You set the bags down lightly and ease the inner door shut. You can hear your dad and the soft sound of puzzle pieces meeting the table.

“Ya know, thirty years almost, but I can see her just like yesterday,” he says.

Your heart clutches. You never heard him talk about your mom. When you were a kid and didn’t know better, he just ignored all your questions about her. When you got older, you stopped asking. You figured it’s easier for both of you to pretend she never was.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Leslie comforts, “you know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it over and over. It’s a wound you can’t heal.”

“Oh yeah,” he grits, “yeah, I’d say…”

You swallow and lean back on your foot, crinkling the bags behind you. You cringe as you hear sudden movement. You turn and work to slip off the white loafers. You pretend like you weren’t listening as Leslie’s shadow looms from the archway.

“You’re home,” she proclaims, “we didn’t think you’d be so early.”

“Me either,” you say as you face her. 

Her lashes flick and her mouth opens, “oh my, you look so good! Weren’t you working today?”

“Uh, did some work,” you lie, “I got a few hours off so I… did some running around.”

“Oh, gosh, come on, you have to show your dad,” she takes you by the wrist and tugs you around, “Charles, look at your girl.”

She presents you with her hands on your shoulders. You can’t even look at your dad as the couch creaks and he grunts at your appearance. He snorts and pushes another piece into the puzzle.

“What am I looking at?” He sneers.

“Charles, don’t be like that. Look at her hair, and this dress,” she touches your hips, “must be a nice job, huh?”

“It’s alright,” you shimmy out of her grasp, “I just… needed something more presentable–”

“Something shorter,” your father scoffs, “so when she’s bending to tidy the floors you can see right up.”

“Charles, that’s gross,” Leslie reprimands.

“Truth can be like that,” he snickers, “think some man’s buying her fancy clothes so she can sweep? We both know how she pays for you.”

“No… it’s not…” you shrug and give up, “I’m gonna put my stuff away and start dinner. If you want, you can head off early too.”

“Oh, I don’t mind sticking around,” Leslie says as she once more sits beside your dad, “let me know if you need any help with dinner. Don’t wanna get anything on that nice little dress.”

You nod and hesitate. You can’t tell what she means by that. For as much as she can call out your father, she often speaks with an edge of her own. Just like the cigarettes, she must assume his insults are your fault.

You leave the room and grab the bags. You carry them up the stairs to your room. You shut the door and sit on the end of the bed. You bend and cradle your head, trying to set it straight after the dizzying day.

👠

The bus provides a momentary break from your hostile world. There is no safe place for you. Home is barely that and work is… confusing. Your only escape is to focus on your tasks and get through them. Get through Mr. Laufeyson’s list then come home and the chores left untouched. 

Your look at the time on your phone and black the screen. You get a glimpse of your reflection off the glass as you do. You didn't do too bad with the makeup. It looks okay. You tried not to use too much as you recalled Eliana's instructions.

You shake off your doubts and airy feeling around your legs. You're not use to the skirt or the pretty fabrics. You feel overdressed and out-of-place, but the latter is so new to you.

Through the gate and along the edge of the drive, you hear your name flutter in the air. You stop short as you see Frigga strolling along the hedges, caressing the petals of a rose. She draws away and strides towards you, an ivory skirt paired with a golden brown blouse and nude heels.

“You do start early, don’t you?” She approaches and takes your hand, “come, let’s have tea.”

“Oh, uh, I…” you let her tug you along the walkway towards the front door, “the carpenter is coming today–”

“Ah yes, Loki mentioned you were working on restoring the gazebo. That’s lovely. We used to have tea there, me and… his wife. She was a laugh.”

“Mm,” you hum. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve been very special. You imagine a beautiful woman with silky hair and long legs like Frigga. She must’ve fit right in.

“I suppose if it was meant to be, it would be. I only hope my son can find happiness again,” she squeezes your hand before she lets you go. 

She opens the door and waves you in ahead of her. You slip out of your flats much easier than your usual lace-up sneakers. She steps out of her heels and sighs.

“That’s his problem, you know? He’s lonely but too proud to admit it,” she sidles around you and leads you down to the kitchen. You follow and watch as she goes to the counter and pours from the waiting teapot. “Though I haven’t seen him today. I suppose he’s sleeping in, it is the weekend.”

You tilt your head but don’t comment. For as long as you’ve worked for him, not very long at all, he’s never slept past your arrival. Well, not so far as you know.

“I do love this skirt,” she comes back around the counter and touches the tweed, “wonderful pairing,” she touches the blouse with the petal shaped cutouts around the high-collar, “you’re learning.”

“Um, yeah, all the clothes are so pretty,” you say.

“Please, have your tea. I’m sure you have time before the carpenter,” she urges.

“Right, er, I’ll just take my bag upstairs first,” you say, “out of the way.”

“Sure,” she accepts with a kind smile, “how about I take this out to the patio, we can enjoy the sun?”

“Alright,” you agree and hike up your bag, “thank you.”

You quickly flit off and head upstairs. You weren’t expecting her to be there. You just hadn’t thought of it. You only dreaded facing your unbendable boss and his persistent stare.

You go into the library and tuck your bag under the writing desk. You double check the schedule in your phone; Ronan, 10. You have an hour before he arrives.

Your mind is already on the gazebo as you scurry back into the hall. As you shut the door gently, you hear a groan. You peer down towards the unusual noise and blink at the slightly ajar door. The main bedroom. Mr. Laufeyson’s. It rises again before a drawn out exhale, his timbre rumbling low.

You quickly set back to your path and flee downstairs. Maybe he’s talking in his sleep, or more likely, stretching out a few kinks. Your curiosity quickly dissipates as you pass through the dining room and out into the patio.

Frigga sits with large pointed sunglasses over her eyes. She tilts her face up to the sunlight as you sit before the other cup of tea. You pull it close and look out at the yard. A streak of green catches your gaze.

You watch the hummingbird hover over fuchsia petals. You stare dreamily, lulled by the peace of the moment as Frigga merely sips and basks. This isn’t so bad. The bird zips between flowers before disappearing behind a tree. In his stead, the skittish chipmunk scrambles along the railing of the patio. You smile at his fluffy tail.

“I’ll be off tomorrow,” Frigga states, “my husband will be expecting me. Oh, but I’ll miss you, darling.”

“Is it very far?” You wonder.

“Four or five hours,” she answers, “not very far but enough. It’s so lovely up where we are. I wish you could see. Perhaps one day. When things are better.”

Before you can answer, there’s a subtle click behind you.

“Morning,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is unleashed onto the scene as the patio door swings inward, “mother,” he pauses before he enunciates your name, “beautiful day out.”

Your shoulders stiffen and nearly touch your ears as you sit straight. He pulls out the chair at your other elbow and sets down another teacup with a clink. He sits and smooths back his dark hair, tucking the spiralled ends behind his ears.

“Late morning,” his mother remarks, “any tea left?”

“Some, shall I–”

He puts his hands flat, moving to stand but she shoos him as she’s quicker to rise, “I’ll get it myself. And you darling,” she dips her chin in your direction, “more?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m still… working on mine. Thank you, Frigga,” you say, mindful of each syllable.

She leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. You stare at the brim of your cup, turning it slowly between your hands as Laufeyson raises his own to his lips. He drinks carefully before putting it down again.

He’s quiet. He shifts and plants an elbow on the table. He turns his attention to the yard and watches. You dare to look up as well, the chipmunk poking his head out from the bush where he hides. He ran away at Mr. Laufeyson’s arrival.

“Cute little fellow,” he remarks as he faces you again. You quickly lower your eyes.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Mmm,” he drones and taps his fingers on the porcelain teacup, “you… that’s a nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you lift your cup and drain most of it, gulping painfully as you put it back down, “I should go start. Ronan will be here shortly–”

“The carpenter?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I have him penned in–” You explain.

“And? He is a carpenter, he knows what he’s doing. I doubt he needs you watching over his shoulder.”

“I know, uh, but I should be there to let him in,” you slide your cup off the table.

“You’re not even done your tea.”

“I’ll finish on my way in–”

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused and you wince.

“What?”

“You’re running away? Why?” He challenges.

“I’m not, I– I have work to do.”

“Work I give you. I’m your boss, you may sit and finish. I’ll permit it.”

You falter and set the cup on the table. You lower yourself back to the seat and fold your hands. You look at your lap and push your shoulders back. He is back to his haughty demands, you find that part of him easier to handle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I wasn't running away.”

He scoffs thinly and his nostrils flare as he stares off at the hedges that edge the patio, “I wonder why you can be so quick to flee me when you sat and let my brother feel you up.”

“Huh?” You blanch, stuck by the accusation. “Mr. Laufeyson, I–”

“I know him well and I’m not as blind as my mother. I saw it. You didn’t say a word. You just let him do it,” he clucks, “why?”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. You nearly choke, the acidic flavour of the tea drying on your tongue. Was it that bad? You tried not to think about it, to let it affect you, even as the memories flashed in your head, you just tried not to feel anything about it.

“I didn’t… well… he’s your brother, Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t want to assume… to offend–” you stammer.

“So you let him do what he wants?” He snarlss as he turns his sights on you, a brow arch tritely. “You do not work for him, you work for me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” you sputter, confused by his anger. “I tried to…”

Your voice trails off. No, you didn’t try. You were too afraid too. He’s right, you let Thor keep touching you and you didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, you just froze up.

“It makes me wonder,” he cups his chin, leaning on his elbow, “how far would you let him get, hm?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you whimper, “I’m sorry–”

“Did you like how he touched you?”

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, no, of course not,” you plead.

“You do not want him to touch you?” He prompts.

“No, I… didn’t know how to say—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, lifting his chin from his hand and pressing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away to point at you, “I’ve a better question…” He reaches towards you and you flinch. You quiver as he traces the cutout along the top of your blouse, “how far would you let me go?”

You squirm as he hooks his finger inside the teardrop window in the fabric. His fingertip brushes you as he gives a slight tug, looming closer as he draws you towards him. He smirks as you stare dumbfounded. What is he doing?

“My brother will not touch you again,” his voice is low and rocky, “I will make sure of it.” He tickles you slightly and rescinds his hand, “and you will make sure to remember who you belong to.”

He sits back and hooks his fingers in the handle of the porcelain mug. As if on cue, the french doors open behind you and Frigga trills as she emerges, “oh, just enough tea,” she announces, “I added a dash of honey this time.”

She places the cup by her empty chair but does not sit. She twirls and paces around the patio, going to the flower boxes along the rail. She leans in to examine them.

“Perhaps the carpenter could have a look here, it’s crooked,” she declares. “And I dare say the guest room has a loose floorboard right near the bed.”

“Mm, perhaps, mother,” Laufeyson drawls as he once more raises his cup, his eyes stuck on you, “my house manager will be sure to ask, won’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you wisp out through your constricted throat, barely registering his command. 

You can only hear his previous words echoing, over and over; remember who you belong to. Belong to… No, you only work for him.

[jointherebellion215]

Worth

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: You're swept off your feet by one Major John C. Egan, and you love every second of it. Sequel to Birdie.

Word Count: 3.0k

Tags: female!reader, mechanic!reader, women™, period typical sexism & misogyny, fun date night, dude w/ a small dick gets rightfully called out, mostly just fun date stuff, tons of fluff

A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for the kind words on Birdie. I really appreciate everyone's comments, they warm my heart right up. I almost didn't write this, but the thought of having these two smooch it up was too good to pass up. I also completely headcanon that Bucky has the biggest sweet tooth, oops. As always, I'd be most gracious if you were to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog :)

Read the OC Version of this story on AO3!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, please don't copy, repost, or translate my writing without explicit prior permission. Don't even think about it, AI!

A knock at the door brings butterflies to your stomach.

“Oh, he’s here!” Irene shouts, which is immediately met with your shushing, as well as Teresa’s.

You nervously pat your hair and check over your outfit for the evening. You’re spending your second day’s leave on a date with Bucky Egan. He had approached you last night at the pub, asking if you wanted to grab dinner. Alone. 

You, of course, said yes.

Teresa and Irene go to answer the door while you gather your purse, stuffing it with your essentials. Your friends greet him at the same time, sounding like twins.

“Good evening, Major!”

“Good evening, Major!”

You hear his deep voice reply, only a small bit of surprise leaking into his voice.

“Good evening, ladies. Is Birdie around? We have dinner plans.”

“I’m here! Hi.” You step around the wall that hides you from the front door, taking a look at the man you’d been crushing on for months. He stands tall and confident in his neatly pressed uniform, hat covering most of his dark curls. His mouth gapes, giving you a once over and attempting to speak up.

“I- You-…Uh, wow. Y-you look…” But any sweet words he attempts to say are interrupted by Irene, who comes in hot with a manic smile.

“Did you know that my daddy taught me how to shoot when I was just a little girl? I’m real good at it. They call me Oakley, back home, cause of how great a marksman I am. Y’know, like Annie Oakley?” She stepped forward, puffing up her chest and giving a frightening grin to Major Egan. You and Teresa exchanged confused looks, not knowing quite where she was going with this.

“I’m not allowed a sidearm or a rifle over here, but I’m sure I could easily borrow one from any of the fellas on base should you break my best friend’s hea—”

“OKAY! We don’t wanna be late, all the tables might be taken soon. Gotta go. Love you. Bye!” You quickly shove past the blonde, stepping over the threshold. You take Bucky’s hand and practically drag his tall form down the hallway, away from your best friend’s attempt at a shovel talk.

You faintly hear Teresa’s well wishes to you amid the aggressively whispered conversation she has with Irene. The last words you hear before the elevator door closes in front of you are a heavily accented protest from Irene.

“What? I was just trying to..!”

The pair of you stand in the elevator in silence. A slight rocking indicates the starting motion of it, which snaps you back to reality. Looking down, you realize that you’re still holding hands with Bucky. You quickly separate your hand from his, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Your friends seem nice.”

Your head snaps to glance at Bucky, who is already looking at you. A sincere smile graces his face, not a hint of mocking in his eyes. 

“I’m glad you have them looking out for you.” 

You feel your face start to cool down, making you comfortable enough to respond. 

“They drive me nuts sometimes. But they’re the best friends I could ever ask for.” You mean every word. 

You see John nod, so you turn back to look to the elevator doors in front of you. An awkward pause.

“You look beautiful.”

Another pause. “What?”

“It’s what I meant to say earlier. That you look beautiful. Because you do.”

Heat quickly returns to your cheeks, spreading throughout your whole upper body. You give a bashful smile, peeking up at him through your lashes. You gaze into his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you, Johnny. You look quite handsome yourself.” The Major adjusts his hat, covering just the tips of his ears. He returns your gaze with an uncharacteristically nervous grin. The floor gives a slight rattle, elevator door and gate opening to reveal the lobby.

John straightens up, holding out his arm for you to take. You tentatively weave your hand within the crook of his elbow. He gently presses his arm in, bringing your body closer to his. 

You meet your other hand in its position and let Bucky lead you out of the hotel and into the evening air.

✨

“That was so delicious! I never knew that a roast could be so tender…”

The pair of you were walking arm-in-arm down a cobblestone street, just having finished dinner. It was a wonderful time. Bucky had been the perfect gentleman, but made his interest in you clear without being sleezy.

He was entirely focused on you the whole time. He asked questions and was genuinely invested in your answers. Conversation came to the two of you like a duck to water. After a shared glass of wine, his hand had slowly inched towards yours. Soon he had cradled it in his, like you were a precious commodity, until your meals arrived. You could hardly keep your eyes off of each other long enough to even promptly acknowledge the wait staff, which you were sure annoyed some and amused others.

Safe to say, John Egan was doing his best to sweep you off your feet.

You hadn’t discussed any other plans for after dinner, but the walk you’re on now is nice enough to give you reason to stick close together.

Bucky nods along, “And that fruit tart? Incredible.”

You laugh, leaning into your date, “I knew that would be your favorite part. You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?” 

Bucky holds his hands up with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Hey, I plead the fifth.” 

“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone so adamant on having some coffee with his sugar.” You continue to tease him. He nudges you playfully, giving a smooth grin in return.

“Hey, we’re in a war! If you see something sweet,” Bucky surprises you by picking you up and twirling you around, getting a full belly laugh from you as he sets you back on the ground.

“You gotta snatch it up and enjoy it while you can.”

You have a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about food. 

By that point, you’re leaning against his front, hands on both of his shoulders. The moment has shifted into something else. Something different. His eyes roam your face, eventually stopping on your lips. Just as he starts to lean in, the moment is shattered by the sound of instruments starting up nearby. Bucky flinches, cursing the ill-timed disruption. 

Oblivious to his turmoil, you gasp in delight and look around for the source of the music.

“Do you hear that? I think there’s a band playing!” 

You spot a few people walk into what looks like a club. It barely a stone’s throw from where you’re both currently standing. 

Bucky quickly recovers, “Should we grab a drink? Have a dance or two?”

You beam at him, and his heart stutters in his chest once more. After you give a nod, you place your hand in his arm and let him lead you into the club.

The two of you step into the establishment, and the energy is almost electric. There are mills of people walking about, drinking, talking, laughing. There’s a great score more on the dance floor, hopping and jiving along to the band you now knew you’d heard earlier. There weren’t a lot of uniforms present, but the ones that were were RAF.

Bucky guides you to the bar, hand on your back until you're both sat on a pair of stools. Your drinks are quickly ordered and served, so your night continues. You both allow yourselves to talk shop for a moment, so your conversation turns towards what you were working on before your leave. As you get to discussing the more intricate parts of your project, you hear a scoff from behind you.

John quickly looks over your shoulder, spotting the culprit.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

You turn around to find a uniformed man taking a sip of his whiskey, RAF logo plastered on the lapel. He mockingly shakes his head, placing the glass down on the bar.

“No, no problem at all.”

Bucky, ever the confrontationist, persists. “It seems like there’s a problem here.”

You gesture towards the man, silently indicating that he was welcome to speak his mind. 

“It’s not enough that you Yanks come over to our country, destroy our pubs and disrespect our women with your recklessness. But you can’t even keep your own women in check! She should be at home, away from the war, for God’s sake. Taking care of the house and the children. You know, doing feminine duties.”

You had heard all of this before, so it was no skin off your back to hear it again. You roll your eyes and decided to just ignore him. Then the man started to laugh, as if he was in on a private joke.

“I mean, a female mechanic? Between that and your daytime missions, it’s no wonder you’re all dropping like flies.”

You let out an exhale, letting the air stream out through your nose. In your periphery, you see Bucky start to stand— to, no doubt, escalate the situation. You stop him with a hand on his chest. He sits back down, looking between you and the man who had just insulted you. You set your glass down, hopping off the stool and giving a slow clap. 

“I’m so glad to know that some people still live in the Stone Age, where apparently all a woman is good for is cooking and giving birth! Thank you so much for showing us exactly what a lack of education and individual thought looks like! See where we are—over in modern times— women can do whatever the hell they want. That includes fixing your planes and jeeps, operating your radios, driving your trucks, and even training your allies to use machine artillery!”

The RAF soldier realizes what he’s gotten himself into but is backed into a corner of the bar as you pace forward with each scathing word that leaves your mouth.

“Never mind all the bullshit you just spouted about what a woman is fit to do. I think that women can decide for ourselves exactly what we can and cannot do. As for my countrymen, I’m proud to serve alongside them. They go up every day willing to sacrifice themselves so that the rest of us don’t have to. They’re gonna be remembered for their bravery and grit. They’re not cowardly enough to hem and haw and stick up their noses at the thought of a woman doing something other than popping out a kid and ironing their pleats.”

The music has dulled down, but you don’t have the complete attention of the club. That gives you the courage to say your final piece.

“Never you mind. I'm confident that the men I serve with, including the man I have with me tonight, aren’t anything like you. Thank God for that! They're not so…” You take an exaggerated glance towards the man’s crotch, scrunching up your nose. “…small-minded.”

Leaving the gaping man behind, you turn to Bucky and ask if he wants to go get some air. He picks his jaw up off the floor quick enough to nod and lead you back outside into the street.

Hey, hanging around Irene pays off sometimes.

As you step out into the night air, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel John step up behind you, voice carefully asking,

“Hey, are you okay? Birdie?”

You continue to stand with your eyes closed. You just needed a moment.

“I’ve come too far to let anyone’s opinion of me, or my career choices, effect me.”

You open your eyes and look over your shoulder at your date. He gives an understanding nod, stepping closer to you. He places his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. You lean back into him, closing your eyes once more, letting him comfort you for the time being.

“Sorry if I ruined the night.”

You can feel a rumble from Bucky’s chest as he chuckles. “Oh, this night’s far from ruined. In fact, that was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

One of your eyes pops open. You crane your neck to peek at him, “Even better than the time you told me about Curt knocking out an RAF officer in one punch?”

“Yep.”

“Winning that bet to get your bicycle?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Better than your fruit tart from dinner?”

His smile widens, “Okay, let’s not get crazy here. Maybe it was top ten.”

“Top ten?!” You playfully gasp, turning around to face him again. You rest your hands on your hips, “What’s a girl gotta do to rank above a fruit tart around here?”

“Well…” You scoff and shove Bucky at the cheeky smirk he gives you. You’re quickly distracted by the sound of the band inside starting up again. This time with a familiar tune.

“Oh, your song’s on, Johnny!”

Bucky tosses his hat to the side, steps back and gives a very unserious bow. He then sneers with a hyper-nasal impression of the RAF officer you’d just affronted.

“My lady.”

You roll your eyes and give a joking curtsy in return, taking his offered hand. He pulls you into a proper stance for a waltz, which is a complete offset to the jive song that reaches your ears. You both jokingly hop along in the awkward squared formation for a moment, giggling to yourselves. 

He gently pushes on your hip while outstretching his hand, so you take the cue and twirl until you’re both standing at each other’s fingertips. A quick grasp of your hand and a pull twirls you right back into his arms, bumping into his chest. The moment made you burst into laughter, leaning into your dance partner until the song ends. 

The next song is a much slower tune, giving Bucky the chance to pull you in close. You hum along to the band playing, sidling up to the Major’s chest. He places a hand in yours and loops the other around your waist. Your free arm gently drapes under his and over his shoulder, encouraging a lean into his firm body. You both give a slow sway, leading each other back and forth in the quiet echoes of the street. Closer than before.

“You know, I’ve been plucking up the courage to ask you to dinner for a while now.” 

You lay your head on the knuckles of your hand that rest on his shoulder, responding lowly. 

“Really?”

You continue to sway.

“Yeah.”

You’re curious, so you ask, “What made you finally do it?”

He thinks on the answer for a moment, almost chewing on his thoughts. John is not the kind of person to typically contemplate over an answer, so you gift him all the time in the world to respond. You recognize how important that is to him.

“I… I think that it was a lot of little things.” He pulls you in closer. “Your smile, your eyes, the way you talk about the things you love. Birdie, you are so personable with everyone you come into contact with and it’s so magnetic.” 

The flow of compliments shocks you, not expecting this barrage of details to come from the man in front of you. But you dance on anyways.

“But I really think what did me in was yesterday, at the pub. When you looked at me during your song.”

You remember. You know exactly what he was talking about. Whatever he must have felt, you know that you felt it too.

He continues to speak in an intimate tone as you sway along in the street.

“I felt my entire life click into place. It was like everything suddenly made sense. I didn’t have to wonder about what my life was going to be like in five, ten, fifteen years. Because I knew.”

He pulls back to look you in the eye, and the amount of vulnerability in his eyes floors you. 

“I’ll be honest, it scared the shit outta me. It terrified me.”

You understand what he meant. This is all new to him, as it is to you. You pull his forehead to touch yours, noses gently brushing one another, as you offer your best words of comfort in that moment.

“Sometimes, you have to do what scares you the most to find out what’s worth doing.” 

He cups your face, letting his lips ghost against yours. He made his intentions clear, but it was up to you to decide how you move forward.

So, you close your eyes and take the leap.

Your lips press into his, hands stroking the arms that were framing your face. He immediately responds in kind, lips moving in tandem with yours. You melt into him at the reciprocated motion. His arms soon move to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. Your arms reach around his neck, hands resting at the nape of his neck. As he deepens the kiss, you run your hands up, down, and through the dark curls on the back of his head, earning a groan from your partner.

A burst of warmth sparks from within your very being, traveling further and further through your body until you’re consumed by flames. Half of your mind is scrambling to make sense of reality, and the other half is completely consumed by passion.

After a moment, you reluctantly separate from one another, panting to catch your breath. It’s as if the world stopped spinning when you connected, and then started up again when you parted. 

Giving a nervous look to the man you just kissed, you’re elated when he gives you an ear-to-ear grin. He grasps one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. His other hand comes up to cup your face again, thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

You stay silent for the time being, letting the moment marinate. He brings up your joined hands to kiss the back of your palm. Your heart jumps with joy at the sight.

Bucky gives an exhale before breaking the silence.

“You are most definitely worth it.”

[hisunshiine]

—so break me off another night [4/7]

Part 4 of 7 of the Seven Days Series ↣ series masterlist

🗓️pairing: nurse!jungkook x teacher!reader 🗓️au/genre: non-idol au, brother’s friend au, fwb, age-gap(reader is older), f2l, fluff, angst, smut 🗓️rating: M 🗓️wc: 3,596 + text messages 🗓️warnings: emotionally constipated pairing, reader is older, adult worries, growing older, dating younger, time passing and not hitting milestones everyone else is, biological clock ticking woes, angsty argument, feelings of being emotionally cheated on despite being single, parents with toxic viewpoints, self doubt, again Kim Seokjin as the antagonist, explicit sexual content: fingering, unprotected sex, only one person orgasms, dirty talk  🗓️an: thank you once again to my amazing team of betas for reading this for me. @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @peachiilovesot7 you guys rock. obviously we are getting towards the end of the week, but I am still working on the last two chapters, so idk if i can manage a surprise drop this week like last week, but i am aiming for consistency. thank you for reading, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @sizzlingfestpeach @mochminnie @jungkooksmytype @kookslastbutton @taebangtanbabe (if joining the taglist, please think about reblogging with tags/leaving feedback!)

“Yoongi, darling, please put your phone away at the table,” your mom says as she reaches out towards his other hand. You share a look with him at the gesture and pet name, and he coughs to cover the awkwardness as you turn back to your cutlery, pretending to be invested wholeheartedly in the meal before you. Your dad sits on your mom’s right side, across the table from Yoongi’s fiancé, Leah, nose buried in a book and missing out on the conversation.

“Sorry, Mom. Just helping one of the guys out with some girl troubles.” Yoongi pockets his phone and smiles over at his fiancé, who sits to the left of him. “Thankfully, I don’t have those issues anymore.”

You know Yoongi doesn’t mean anything by his statement other than to bask in the love he shares with Leah, but you internally cringe because you know your mother. Three, two, one…

“You might not, dear, but your older sister’s biological clock is ticking. Speaking of your friends, is that one doctor, Seokjin, still single?” 

“Uh, I’m not sure, but he works a lot, Mom. He doesn’t really have time right now to date and stuff.” Yoongi looks over at you where you sit at the edge of the table on his right side, his eyes apologetic at opening up this can of worms.

“Now, honey, she’ll find someone when she’s ready. No need to rush, right, princess?” Your dad comes to your rescue, seeing the tension you’re clearly showcasing—tight smile, eyebrows raised, fists clenching around the silverware.

“But I want grandchildren! Healthy grandchildren at that! She is getting to an age where risks of certain disorders increase, and if she waits too much longer, she might not be able to survive a pregnancy, let alone the child,” she huffs, pouting about the scenarios she’s spewing. 

Your mom has always had a complete lack of regard for others’ feelings; it’s just one of her selfish qualities that you’ve all been subjected to over the years. Not that her wanting you to get married and have kids so she can have grandchildren isn’t selfish already, but now to demand that they have absolutely nothing ‘wrong’ with them—despite that not always being something a woman can control when carrying a child—just puts the icing on the cake. 

You make sure to time your response for when she picks up her wine glass. “Yes, Mother. I will be sure to tell the semen that gets ejaculated into me that it better not have any disorders.” 

The sounds of her sputtering the wine back into the glass fills you with satisfaction. Leah, Yoongi, and your dad all laugh to some degree, though your dad also displays wide eyes at the blunt nature of your words. 

Your mom says your full name once she regains her composure, but you’re too busy placing another bite into your mouth, the morsel melting on your tongue as you hum with contentment. 

“Young lady, I am speaking to you!”

“Oh? I’m sorry, I thought I was old and withering away, all my chances of giving you crotch goblins to dote on basically fluttering out the window.” You nod at the large window behind her. 

“Very funny. Seriously, you’re a true comedian. I’m just the villain in your life, because me wanting to make sure that you don’t squander your life away alone and without love is a bad thing to want for my daughter.” Her fake tears are building; voice warbling as if she’s getting choked up at her manipulated selflessness being misconstrued.

“Oh, give it a rest, Mom!” You raise your voice, fed up with her attempts at gaslighting. Especially with the way things have been between you and Jungkook lately, you’re a little more sensitive to her needling at you than usual. The rest of the table falls silent, not used to you responding to her like this. 

“Honey,” your dad tries to cut in, but you’re already set on being honest. 

“No, Dad, don’t try to change the topic. She wants to talk about this, so we will.” You turn to face her head on, hoping that you won’t see Yoongi’s reaction when he finds out the truth between you and Jungkook. “I’ve been seeing someone for awhile now, and I didn’t want to tell you about it because you like to push and push and scare people away. I didn’t want to tell anyone about it until it felt like it could be serious. So stop trying to pair me with Seokjin, or Namjoon, or any of Yoongi’s other friends, because I’m already seeing one of them. Jeon Jungkook.”

The room falls dead silent. 

“Wait, you’re…no way! You’re the one he’s been seeing?!” Yoongi’s incredulous tone has you swiveling to look at him. “I thought you guys were just like…best friends,” he finishes lamely. 

“Yes…why, what do you know?” Your interest piques as varying emotions cross Yoongi’s face. 

“Nothing, just that he’s been seeing someone for several months, and—actually, this is weird. I’m not talking to my sister about my friend.”

You sigh out, annoyance in every huff at the way he just decided to end the conversation. Especially since this means your mom now gets the chance to speak. 

“Jeon Jungkook? Is he that nurse friend of yours, Yoongi?”

He nods at her question, deciding to talk to her instead of you, as if it would be a safer territory. “Yeah, he works at the same hospital as Seokjin and Namjoon.”

“That’s a respectable job.” Your mom seems to be plotting, wheels turning behind her eyes. “How old is he again? Does he have any assets of his own?”

“Uhh, he’s twenty-six. And I’m not sure, I’m not his financial advisor. But he’s a good guy—works hard, is loyal to his friends, or so I thought, before I knew he was seeing my sister behind my back.”

You roll your eyes at him, about to speak up, when Leah beats you to it. 

“Yoongi, please do not tell me that you’re one of those guys who thinks that father’s and brother’s own the women in their families and that your older sister making her own relationship decisions is somehow something that needs to be run by you? And that it’s okay for you to be associated with him, but not for your sister?”

“I—no, I don’t think that way, I’m just shocked that the two of them kept it secret for so long, that’s all. That’s all, I promise!” He repeats it when Leah continues to glare at him, as if she is contemplating whether or not to proceed with their wedding at the end of the week. 

Your mom tries to direct the conversation back to your love life. “He’s twenty-six? Oh, no, he’s way too young for you! You’re thirty-two, darling, he’s not going to be ready to settle down with you at this point in his life! Why, he’s probably just now starting to enjoy his single life. At that age, men want to sow their seeds, not plant them for the rest of their life.”

Blinking at her, you feel dumbfounded at her words. As if twenty-six is so different from thirty—the age your brother is right now. You realize that there’s no arguing with her, nothing you do will be good enough for her. It stings to know that even if you were to get married and give her grandchildren, that they probably wouldn’t meet her expectations either. 

“Listen,” Leah breaks in, voice soothing as she reads the room. “I think it’s smart that you and Jungkook are keeping things quiet until you’re ready. Less room for others to try and break you up, and allows you to grow into love with each other without outside influences and doubt. He may be twenty-six, but you’ll know better than all of us what he’s ready for. Ages don’t have set milestones.”  

“Well said, Leah, thank you. Yoongi, have I told you that you did well choosing your future wife?” Your dad attempts to break the tension, and it works for the most part. The five of you resume eating lunch, and once it’s over, you bid your parents farewell under the guise of needing to finish preparing for your brother’s joint bachelor/bachelorette party that you’re graciously hosting. 

Unsurprisingly, Yoongi follows your lead, an excuse of last-minute wedding preparations rolling easily off his tongue so that he, too, can make an escape with Leah in tow. The three of you walk down the front steps into the summer humidity, and you wait patiently at the door of your car for Yoongi to gather his thoughts into words. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for what I said back there. I’m just surprised to find out about you and Jungkook because he’s talked to us about you before. I didn’t know it was you, and now that I do, I kind of wish I still didn’t,” he jokes with a gummy smile, easily settling your nerves, “but mostly, I want you to be happy.”

“Thanks, the only reason I didn’t tell you about Jungkook is because he’s your friend and I didn’t want to make it weird for you guys, especially if it wasn’t going to turn into anything. I still don’t know if it will, but Mom was pissing me off, and I just wanted to shut her up. It didn’t work, but, oh well.”

Yoongi looks at you with questions in his eyes. “Do you…you know, want you and Jungkook to turn into something?”

You ponder the question, blinking as you roll the thought across your mind. “I think—I…”

“Let me rephrase it. Maybe it will help you figure it out for yourself. How would you feel if Jungkook decided he did want more, and stopped whatever is going on with you to pursue it?”

Just hearing the thought that Jungkook would decide he wanted more and not deem you to be the person to pursue ‘more’ with…it brings a pang to your chest. Your face reveals it, and Yoongi just hums before asking another loaded question. 

“Would you be okay if Jungkook decided to bring someone with him to the wedding? Someone who isn’t you?”

This causes you to pause again. 

“What do you mean ‘if he brings someone with him to the wedding’? Like a date?” Your chest feels tighter, a string coiling itself inside of you making it hard to breathe. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything at first, lips hesitant to speak, but you must be looking at him as if you need something, anything, to be able to fill your lungs fully. 

“Look, I care about you both, so I’m not going to gossip or share anything that I’m told in confidence. That being said—if either of my questions made you feel some type of way, do something about it.”

Yoongi leaves you with those parting words, moving to the driver’s side of his car. Leah waves at you from the passenger seat, and you wave back as Yoongi reverses out of the driveway and disappears out of view. 

Your living room is freshly vacuumed, various board and card games stacked on your coffee table and bottles of liquor lining the kitchen counter. You load a case of beer into the fridge, waiting for Jungkook to show up with the food you ordered so you can set it out on the small dining room table.

A few decorations line the edges of the counter and dangle from the walls to celebrate the upcoming matrimony of your brother and his fiancé. You were able to change into a cute summer dress, possibly a little short but you were at home and could easily change if you needed, and just about everything was done. You check your phone again looking for a message from Jungkook, and it pops up when you unlock your phone. 

Slipping into your flats, you walk out your front door and watch as Jungkook’s car pulls up to the side of your street and parks. You walk the short distance to his vehicle and open the back passenger door to grab the tied plastic bags of hot food. 

Jungkook is still seated, the car’s music still playing despite being turned off. He’s grabbing his belongings, a black backpack, car keys, and cellphone, before grabbing the cardboard box from the passenger seat. 

“Thanks for grabbing this for me, Gguk. I was able to finish all the decorating and cleaning.”

You shut the door with your hip as Jungkook makes his way around the car, locking it with care as he balances the box in his hands. 

“Of course, it was on my way. Plus, we have thirty minutes to relax before people start showing up.”

Using your foot to open your front door wider, you allow Jungkook to enter first and then follow him in. Setting the hot food on a platter, you turn your oven on to warm so that everything stays fresh and ready to eat once the guests arrive. Jungkook sets the cake in your fridge above the case of beer, and you can hear him double check the front door is shut properly before he returns to join you in the living room.

You’re leaning over the far end of the couch, searching for your charger cord. “You know, I really should invest in one of those six-foot-long cords, this one is always disappearing.”

“You know, that dress is really short, babe.”

“Yeah, but I really like how it looks on me. If I start flashing people, let me know and I’ll put on some shorts or something.” You’ve almost got the charger in your grasp, satin-like cord slipping through your index and middle finger multiple times. The heat of Jungkook’s body pressing into you is both welcoming and pleasant, but one glance at the watch on your wrist and you know you don’t have a lot of time. “Jungkook!”

“C’mon, how am I supposed to resist this perfect ass when you’ve got it up in the air for me.” Jungkook leans back, replacing his body with his hands, firmly massaging your exposed cheeks. “I can be quick.”

“People will be here in like fifteen minutes, we don’t have enough time!” You move away from him, climbing off the couch and going to the kitchen counter. You’re sure you have another cord there that you can plug your phone into.

“What do you mean? That’s plenty of time for me to get you off.” Jungkook follows you, not giving you much space as you lean over the counter.

“And what about you?” you say as you turn to face him, finally having grasped a cord to plug your phone into, the connecting sound chiming off.

“What about me?” he says, leaning into you for a quick kiss. “I don’t have to cum right now, I know you’re good for it.” He ducks his head and kisses you again, this time pressing his body into you.

You return the kiss, and you don’t stop his hands as they travel up your thighs to get to your thong. He wastes no time in pulling it down, and once the waistband slackens he lets it fall the rest of the way to the floor, his fingers moving deftly to part your folds.

“Can’t believe you tried to act like you didn’t want me,” he mumbles against your lips about the way you’re already wet when his fingers make contact.

“‘Cause there isn’t a lot of time—”

He cuts you off with his mouth, kissing you hard until he feels you melt in his hold. You hear the rustling of his pants; the sound of the fabric and the distinct zip of his jeans as his free hand tackles his clothes. His fingers leave your core briefly, and you open your eyes as he pulls back from the kiss. Following his gaze, you take in the sight of his glistening fingers applying your slick essence to his shaft. 

“Turn around,” he orders, and you follow his instructions. You’re not prepped like he usually makes sure you are, but sometimes it’s fun this way, even feels good, the pain mixing with the pleasure as he splits you wide. You feel the head of his cock as it slips through your folds and then the pressure as he penetrates your opening, thick cock stretching you open.

“So tight, fuck,” Jungkook growls out, and he continues to push his hips into you until he bottoms out. You feel yourself clenching, walls contracting around the intrusion as you grow accustomed to his size. 

“Please, Ggukkie—move.”

Jungkook sighs with relief at your request, pulling out of you just to slam back in, fucking you hard into the counter. You grasp at the edges of the counter, searching for purchase as you slide along the cool countertop. He never lets up, only picking up speed as you leak more after he adds his fingers to the mix, index finger spelling something along your clit as he pounds you. 

Pressed up against the counter like this, you place your cheek flat to the surface, the cool temperature helping to calm your heated skin. Jungkook leans over you, and you welcome the closeness as he kisses at your neck, sucking lightly when you mewl at a sensitive spot.

“Fe-feels so good. Don’t stop.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, feeling the tightening coil building, and you’re so close now that he’s found the rhythm and is hitting your spot exactly how you like. “Kiss me.”

His lips find yours easily in the position, but the kiss is sloppy; Jungkook’s always liked it wet and messy. Likes you wet and messy. You’re close, and the sound of your doorbell ringing should make you freeze—should make you push Jungkook away from you so you can clean yourself up—but knowing someone is standing just outside your front door while Jungkook defiles you only a few steps away? 

“Fuck, babe, that’s it, cum all over my cock.”

Jungkook shivers as you stifle a moan, and as impatience rings your doorbell for a second time, he slips out of your warm core and pushes you towards your bedroom. 

“Coming!” Jungkook calls out, grabbing a paper towel to dry himself before tucking back into his pants. He sees your discarded panties at the last second and pockets them before opening the front door to let in one of his coworkers, Kim Namjoon. 

“Hey man, come on in!” he greets, holding the door open as the Fellowship Doctor steps through the entryway. “Just finishing the last touches, let me wash my hands real quick, I was in the kitchen.”

You appear just as Namjoon passes the counter to enter the living room, and Jungkook can’t help but notice all the ways he’s affected you. It just makes him want you more. He plans to have more of you later tonight, hence his backpack with a change of clothes for work in it. 

He can see you’ve fixed your hair, smoothed out your dress, but a small blossoming mark on your neck remains the only proof that he made you cum seconds before letting Namjoon into the room. The doorbell rings again, and you greet Leah and Yoongi graciously as you lead them into the main room. 

Jungkook eyes your legs, wondering if you had enough time and sense to put on a pair of undies—he’s hoping that you didn’t. 

As the room slowly fills with more guests, you and Jungkook orbit around each other, close enough to touch but avoiding contact for several reasons. His smirks and your desire-filled eyes speak loud enough for the both of you, though. 

Hours pass, and the group is buzzed and happy after a drinking card game. You find yourself sitting on Jungkook’s lap, as there isn’t enough sitting space for everyone to be comfortable. No one finds it weird though—you and Jungkook have been close since college and with the alcohol flowing, no one notices the too long touches or the way his hand sits high on your thigh as you joke with Seokjin and Hoseok. No one pays any attention when he finds out that you did not replace the underwear burning a hole in his pocket.

“Hyung, I finally have my outfit for Sunday,” Taehyung shares, calling across the living room to where Yoongi sits with Leah. 

“That’s good, I was worried you might show up naked.” 

Everyone laughs, and once it quiets down, Yoongi makes an announcement. 

“If any of you plan to bring a plus one, please let us know soon, so we can make sure our counts are right for Sunday.”

Murmurs go through the group, everyone confirming what they’ve already RSVP’d, but you stare at your brother. Your buzz disappears quickly as you wait for the man under you to agree that he’s not going with a plus one, but he shifts under you, not saying anything. 

“Can I let you know tomorrow?” 

Yoongi’s eyes move from you to Jungkook as he answers him.

“Yeah, that works. You deciding on bringing that girl you told us about?”

“Yeah, I’m sure SoHee’s waiting on a reply,” Seokjin chimes in. 

SoHee? As in school nurse SoHee? Your brother looks at you again as if to say ‘See? I told you so’.

“Shut up, Jin-Hyung. I only said I might invite her. I’ll text you tomorrow.” 

Everyone returns to their conversations, but a silence settles around your corner of the couch as both you and Jungkook read a little too much into what each other’s actions mean.

stay tuned for “i must be favored to know ya” coming 8-?-2023!

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2023. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Chapter 8: Future Stuff

Note: Hellooo! Thank you all once again so much for all of the love I'm getting on this story. Everyone is so sweet I could actually throw up so thank you. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. All of the reblogs, notes, comments, messages really motivate me, and I'm so thankful. It's so fun writing this. The only warnings are implied sexual content and strong language but MDNI fr fr. This story is not for the children. Alsooo, I think I figured out the tag list situation, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. So its down below, anyone else who would like to be added, please let me know <3

Taglist:

@th3h0nkz @yezzyyae@comeonatmebruh

Ian and Mickey stare forward at the TV as Lip continues to bounce his leg and blow a cloud of smoke into the air. Mickey irritably fans the air in front of him, cutting his eyes to Ian who silently pleads to him not to say anything. A few more seconds pass and the cheap couch continues to rattle and Mickey gets fed up.

“Fuck! Gallagher, go, don’t go, cheat, don’t cheat, we don’t fuckin’ care!” He yells, ignoring Ian’s glare. “I mean, I’ll fuckin’ tell the princess in a heartbeat, but you sittin’ hear, shittin’ your pants over a phone call is makin’ me wanna kill you.”

“Fuck off Mickey.”

Mickey turns to the blond, only to have his boyfriend place his hand on his chest, shoving him lightly into the other direction, gesturing for him to go upstairs. Ian huffs as Mickey flicks him off before storming up the steps to his room, taking his beer with him. 

The redhead sits back down next to his brother, sighing as he opens his own drink. “Are you gonna?”

Lip looks up, hand buried in his hair for probably the fiftieth time that night. “Gonna what?”

“Cheat. On Charlotte with that old bitch Helene.”

Lip shakes his head quietly, taking a drag from his blunt before passing it over to Ian. “No.” he sniffs. “And uh, Helene didn’t get me kicked out, alright?”

“Okay.” Ian shrugs, grabbing the blunt. “But she didn’t help.”

“Nah.” Lip nods, blue eyes surrounded by red, bloodshot from the lack of sleep he got over the past few days. “She didn’t. But uh, she didn’t say much on the phone. Just that she needs to talk to me. Figured I should see what it’s about. Not a big deal.”

“Is that why you’re pullin’ your hair out and hotboxin’ our living room?” Ian asks, releasing the smoke from his nose.  “Did you tell her?”

“No.” Lip sighs, scrubbing his hand down his face. He reaches over and snatches the blunt from Ian before he could take another pull. “And you won’t either, alright? It’s not a big deal and I’m just gonna tell her to fuck off. Don’t need to freak Bunny out for nothin’.”

Lip had been lamenting over Helene’s call for the past few days.He’d gone silent on the phone in shock when she confirmed it was her and was even more surprised when she asked to meet with him to discuss something. The last time he’d talked to her, she’d ended things and ignored him while he screamed and pleaded for her back outside of her house. It was fucking humiliating. He wanted to show her he was better now. He wanted to show he wasn’t some desperate loser and he didn’t fucking need her, her leaving didn’t fucking faze him. 

He knew he could do that and stay loyal to Charlotte. 

But apparently Ian and Mickey had no faith in him. He didn’t know why he fucking told them in the first place. 

Maybe because he’d hoped it would help get rid of the rock in his stomach he felt every time he spoke to Charlotte and didn’t tell her his sort’ve ex/professor had hit him up to meet.

Lip is used to the feeling of guilt and shame, it comes with the Gallagher territory. A low hum of those two feelings stay with them always. But this feeling was worse. It was loud and aggressive. It was pounding in his ears each time his girlfriend’s sweet voice came through the phone. So, he already felt like shit. He doesn’t need Ian and his cling-on fucking riding him.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s for nothin’ Seems like somethin’ she should know.” Ian shrugs, snatching it back.

“Yeah, just because you’re Mickey’s bitch, doesn’t mean I’m Charlotte’s. Alright? I’ve got it-”

“Fuck you.” Ian frowns, shoving his brother, looking affronted when he shoves him back. 

The two boys begin pushing and shoving at each other, standing from the couch to get into each other’s faces. Voices raising and carrying throughout the house. The front door swings open and a tired Fiona storms through, Liam in her arms, shoving between the two of them. “Uh uh, I just worked for 8 hours with no break while tryin’ to watch Liam. I do not come home to you fighting.” 

The older girl places Liam on the steps, patting his back and telling him to go upstairs and wait for her to tuck him in. She turns back to her other brothers, watching them glare at each other. “What the fuck is the issue?” Lip clenches his jaw irritably, looking away from his sister. He knows that Ian isn’t going to say anything and he does not feel like hearing Fiona bitch about Helene or make some smart ass comment about him already fucking up with Charlotte. “Fuck, fine, whatever. I don’t care what you have going on, Christmas is in two days, you’re not gonna fuck up the vibe in the house for Carl, Debbie and Liam. And make sure you have your shit together on the gift front.” 

Ian pushes past Lip, knocking his shoulder and heading toward the stairs, “I’ve got my shit covered.”

Fiona watches him go up the stairs before looking back to Lip with an expectant expression. “And you?”

The blond huffs out a breath, “I’m handling it.” 

And at the time, he really thought he was.

“It was really nice to see her.” Charlotte smiles, pouring water onto one of the plants on her parent’s patio before moving on to the next. The other side of the line is quiet and she pauses in her motion, pushing her phone closer to her ear. “Bub?”

“Huh?” there’s shuffling on the other end of the line for a few moments before the sound of her boyfriend returns. “That’s good, bunny.”

The woman rolls her eyes, setting down the watering can onto the table and pulling out a seat to sit in. “You’re not listening, Phillip.”

“Yeah I am.”

“Yeah? What’d I say.”

He hums for a moment before raising his voice lightly, attempting to mimic hers. “Phillip, I miss you so much, I can’t wait until I can see you again and climb on top of your big, hard-”

“Yeah, I don’t talk like that. That must be your other girlfriend.” She laughs. Charlotte waits to hear the deep chuckle that she’s grown to love and is only met with awkward silence. “Phillip?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve actually got to go.”

“Oh.” Charlotte frowns, biting at her thumbnail nervously. She doesn’t like the sound of his voice. He’d been being weird for the last couple of days and she didn’t know where it was coming from. Was it because of that one phone call? Was it too much? Too little? Did she do something wrong? The reasonable side of her told her that the distance might be just getting to him. Their relationship had started with her leaving for an undetermined amount of time. They began with a goodbye, it definitely was wearing on her, it would be reasonable for it to be affecting Lip as well. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later? And um, please remember to get the presents I got for everyone out of my room at V’s okay? S’not much-”

“Okay, so uh, you’re definitely not gonna be back for Christmas?” he asks. 

Charlotte sighs, leaning her chin on her hand and toying with the fabric of her shirt. “I dunno. M’sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ll call you later. Bye, baby.”

As the line goes dead Charlotte groans to herself. As much as she’s enjoyed being home with her parents, she was starting to get antsy. Putting aside how badly she misses Lip, she misses everyone else and her freedom too. Being back in her parents home made her feel like a child again, unable to make decisions about anything. What time to wake up, what to eat, what to wear. She needs a break from her break.

And honestly, she wants the chance to take her new relationship seriously. And she can’t do that while they’re however any miles apart. 

Settled into her new resolve, Charlotte pushes out of her seat and opens the screen door to her house. She looks around the lower level, finding that no one is there and heads up the stairs to look for her mother. She finds her mother in the office and knocks on the heavy wooden door before entering. “Hi, Mom.” 

Charlotte’s mother looks up from her laptop, pausing to push her glasses up on her nose. “Hi, honey, what’s up?”

“Um,” Charlotte shifts on her feet uneasily, running a finger along the paint on the door frame. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Lip takes a deep breath as he stands outside of the café, pocketing his phone as he weighs out the different ways this scenario can play out in his head. 

Best case scenario, he goes in there, Helene looks fuckin’ awful, he tells her where she can shove it and maybe throws in a picture of his new sexy ass girlfriend that he’s fucking obsessed with, conveniently leaving out that he’s unsure if she’s ever coming back to Chicago.

Worst case scenario, she looks amazing, he doesn’t even get to mention Charlotte and this was some kind of sick test that he failed by showing up. His girlfriend emerges from some back room or something and dumps him on the spot for even showing up to talk to his ex. And she…he doesn’t know, starts fucking Helene’s husband or something. 

That last part can’t happen. Lip is pretty sure he’d kill him.

Another minute passes by before he decides to finally go into the shop. Quiet, boring cafe music is softly playing and the smell of coffee fills his nostrils. 

“Lip, over here.” a voice calls over to him.

Lip follows the voice over to a table in the left corner of the restaurant and finds Helene, seated, already sipping a coffee, an untouched mug on the opposite side of the table. He makes his way over and slowly slides into the seat opposite of her. “Uh, hey.”

The older woman offers him a kind smile, drumming her fingers on her cup. Lip absently notices that her wedding ring is not on her finger. “Hi. How are you?”

He looks up, dragging his eyes away from her hand. “Fine, I uh, can’t complain. How have you been?”

“Overall I’ve been well.” Lip nods quietly at her response and starts scanning the room, looking everywhere but her. He hadn’t accounted for this being so weird. A couple beats pass before she speaks again. “Okay, well I think we’re a little too familiar for this to be so uncomfortable. That coffee is for you by the way. It’s black with no sugar the way you like it.”

“Actually,” Lip cuts in, glancing down at the cup. “I don’t take it like that anymore. I, uh, like it sweeter now.” 

Helene’s eyebrows shoot up, “Oh. Okay, we could send it back-”

“Nah, I’ll drink it.” He shrugs, trying to hide his grimace as the bitter liquid fills his mouth, briefly wondering how he used to chug this shit when he was with her. 

“Okay.” Helene shifts in her seat a little, leaning forward. “Tell me what else has changed since we last spoke.”

Lip licks his lips, looking around before letting his blue eyes land back on her. “I uh, left school, or they kicked me out for something…unrelated. So yeah, I’m working. Moved back to Southside.”

“Do you like what you do?” 

“It helps pay bills. Nothing in my field but, it works.” he shrugs again. “Are you, uh back at the school?”

Helene smoothes her left hand over her hair, and his eyes drift back to her empty ring finger. “Yes, I’ve returned as an adjunct, but they’re keeping a close watch on me so you can understand that’s a little bit awkward. But um, I’ve been working through some things since the last time I spoke to you-”

“Right, that was a contingency for you to get your job back, right? The therapy?” Lip bites. He doesn’t know where the comment comes from but he shocks himself and Helene.

“Yes…it was. And I think I owe you an apology.” she says softly.

Lip sits up straighter in his seat. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, I should have spoken to you, and allowed you to explain what happened. I requested for you to communicate and exhibit maturity throughout our relationship and didn’t extend the same respect to you.” Helene waits for Lip to react, to accept, say something, but all he offers her is another quiet nod. “I’ve learned I have a habit of having high expectations for what people should do for me and very low tolerance for error. It’s likely what caused this relationship to fail and certainly what ruined my marriage.”

The blond looks up at that, immediately alerted by the news she’d snuck into the conversation. She’s divorced. She’d gotten divorced. Despite the fact that he was refusing to acknowledge it, back when they were together he used to dream about it. The day she said fuck her husband and left him completely, chose him entirely. On darker days when he would watch her climb out of bed to go find her spouse, or see them kiss especially intimately in front of him, or she would leave to shower with him just after she and Lip had sex, he would think about how happy he’d be if the older man just disappeared. Went missing. Dropped dead, he didn’t fucking care. 

But the knowledge now that Helene was single brought Lip no feeling at all. He’s shocked at how numb he is to the news. “I’m uh, sorry.” he offers awkwardly. 

“I’ve made my peace with it. Now, I’m trying to make my peace with you.” she smiles, placing her hand on top of Lip’s across the table, smoothing her thumb on his knuckles. 

“Oh, shit-” he jolts, taking his hand back and feeling himself turn red as the table rattles at his jerky movement. “I actually have a girlfriend. And we’re…monogamous.” 

“Oh.” Helene sits back, seemingly startled by his very large reaction before adjusting herself. “I’m sorry, well congratulations. Who is it? That mousy girl who is fascinated with posting pictures of other people’s naked forms?” 

Lip doesn’t bother offering her a fake laugh, instead choosing to open his phone and show her his favorite picture of him and Charlotte together. It’s one that Ian had taken at the Alibi when Lip had been pretending to teach her how to play pool to both get close to her and piss off Kev as the girl bent over the table in front of him. The picture perfectly captures Charlotte’s pretty smile and reminds him of when she was close enough to touch. He holds his phone up for Helene to see and watches the woman’s expression. “This is Charlotte.”

Her face is unmoving as she looks at the girl. “Well, I suppose it’s double congratulations. She’s gorgeous. Is she in school?”

“Um,” Lip takes the phone back and pockets it, “No, she just moved here. She’s working at a restaurant for now, saving up money. I’d have brought her with me but she’s visiting family back where she’s from.”

“And where’s that?”

“Virginia.”

Helene hums, lifting her coffee to take a sip. “That’s far.”

“772 miles.” Lip sniffs, leaning back in his chair. “But she’ll be back.” As he says it his brain wonders if he’s telling Helene or reminding himself.

“I see. And it’s serious?” 

That question gives Lip pause. Because is it serious? He can acknowledge that when he first saw Charlotte he hadn’t hoped for much more than getting her prissy ass into bed and then doubling back once in a while, but not frequently enough for her to get attached. Her stubbornness and Mandy’s existence put a little wrench in his plans but he’d always liked a challenge. But after a while, it was more than that. He’d fucked around and learned things about her. Charlotte is sweet, kind, and funny. She makes him relax and feel less fucking irritated all of the time. She makes him feel needed without making him feel trapped. She cared about his interests, making him happy. His family. She’d made his life better in such a short period of time. 

“To me.” 

Helene nods, offering him a soft smile. “I can tell. It’s the look in your eyes. It’s different now. A good different.” she lets out a sigh and places her cup down again. “Well, I’m happy for you. Though I came here to tell you I miss you and apologize, I also wanted to make up for the part I played in your education ending early.”

“It was unrelated.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t help.” It’s good that she knows that, he thinks. “I want to offer you an internship, not with me, but with a research center I collaborate with. They were looking for someone with an interest and background in science and technology and I immediately thought of you.”

“You didn’t think of one of the hundreds of people majoring in that at the university?” Lip scoffs.

“I didn’t used to sleep with them.” she jokes, rolling her eyes when Lip appears unamused. “I’m kidding. I truly believe you’d be a good fit for this.” 

“Look um, like I told Youens, I can’t really afford to work for free right now, I understand you guys say it’ll lead to something-”

“It’s a paid internship, Lip.” Helene cuts in. She observes the young man, watching as the wheels turn in his brain as he tries to think up more excuses as to why he can’t accept this opportunity. She grabs her purse from where it is hanging on the back of her chair and pulls out a card, placing it down on the table. “Look, I have another meeting to get to, but this is a really good opportunity, if I were you I’d take it. Work in your field and make some decent money. Serious relationships aren’t as free as we’d like them to be, you know.” she says, nodding her head toward the pocket where he’d placed his phone. Helene stands, walking past, briefly placing her hand on Lip’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’d only have to see me around sometimes, we’d be in different departments.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” He says, grabbing the card.

“Good. Give my regards to Charlotte will you?”

Lip sits quietly as the older woman leaves the cafe, attempting to process what just happened. He looks down at the card one more time before shoving it in his pocket and standing to leave himself, mumbling under his breath, “‘Give my regards’ to my fuckin’ girlfriend. Like hell I will.”

“Okay, Liam, open this one next.”

Lip stands with his arm around Fiona as they watch Debbie help Liam open her present with a bright smile on her face. It’s tradition in the Gallagher household. For the whole month of December, the older three kids hide all of their money that they earn, same as usual, and put it toward the rent and bills. They work extra shifts at their jobs so that Carl and Debbie don’t have to chip in for the month, that way they can get each other and Liam presents. The older three also use anything they have left over to get each younger kid an additional gift. Finally, being the two older siblings they are, sometimes Fiona and Lip scrape together a little something extra to try and get something for Ian. This year, Mickey was here.

At first Lip had found the male Milkovich’s damn near constant presence in their home irritating, but he made Ian happy, and more stable so he tolerated it. As more time went by, Mickey became part of their routine, helping out, hanging out, pitching in money, and then Lip didn’t mind him. But now, watching the fucking thug who’d threatened to bash both his and Ian’s faces in not long ago for one reason or another roll his eyes and pretend to be in different as he offers a messily wrapped army knife to Lip’s younger brother, blushing as Ian pulls him into a brief kiss, Lip thinks he might not hate having him around. Maybe even likes it. 

“Who wants eggnog?” V calls as she carries the pitcher into the room, balancing a stack of empty cups in her other hand. 

“Me!” Carl calls trying to snatch a cup, groaning when the woman pulls it away. 

“Sorry, who’s grown and wants spiked eggnog?”

“Fuckin’ me.” Lip grunts, pouring a glass full and taking a long swig. He’d been in a shit mood all day. Watching his younger siblings open their gifts made him feel a little better, but he’d been hoping that Charlotte would be home by now. It’d been weeks since she’d left and he was starting (had been the whole fucking time) to worry that she wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t imagine that the short time they’d gotten together before she left was all he was gonna get. But then again, that was just his luck.

Fiona’s eyes land on V, a small smile on her face as she widens her eyes in silent communication. Her friend rolls her own in response, nodding exasperated, and nudges Kev. “Huh? Oh.” the man leans down and takes Liam from Debbie and lifts the boy’s bottom to his nose, sniffing his nose. “Um…Lip, man, I think Liam took a shit.”

The blond’s brows furrow as he takes another sip of eggnog. “So change him?”

“He’s uh, not my brother.”

“Oh, for christ sake,” Fiona snatches Liam back, smiling at the little boy’s giggle and shoving him into Lip’s arms. “Go change him will you?” 

Lip narrows his eyes at his sister before sighing out a ‘whatever’ and taking the boy, blowing raspberries against Liam’s cheek as he makes his way to the steps. 

As they get to Liam, Carl and Ian’s room Lip starts undoing Liam’s diaper, holding the clean one under his arm. “You having a good Christmas buddy? Huh? Is it fun? Should we play in the snow later?”

“Lip!” the boy claps, kicking his legs, antsy. 

Lip frowns in confusion as he finds a completely empty and clean diaper as he looks down at his brother. “The hell? What’re they talkin’ about? I knew you didn’t stink to me. Maybe it’s Kev, huh?” he coos, buttoning his brother back up. “Maybe he’s the one who took the shit.”

The blond fumbles around in his pocket and pulls out his phone, figuring hearing his girlfriend’s voice might put him in a better mood. “Should we call Charlotte? We miss her, don’t we buddy.”

“Lottie!” Liam screams, kicking more, giggling loudly. 

“Alright alright, keep your pants on, she’s my girlfriend, kid.” He jokes, dialing her number. The phone rings once before going to voicemail. “And I guess she’s busy. That’s okay, buddy, she’s probably just enjoying Christmas with her parents.” Lip reassures, unsure if it’s for Liam or himself. He grows even more irritated at the painful ache that forms in his chest at the thought that he won’t be hearing from her at all today. He’d called twice earlier too, only to be sent to voicemail twice. 

Hoisting the little boy up, Lip jogs back down the stairs, bouncing his brother as he goes, slowing to a halt when he enters the room and everyone seems like they just rushed back to their seat. “Why the fuck are you all being so weird? And he didn’t shit.” He says placing his little brother into Carl’s arms and going to sit again.

“Wait!” Fiona calls out, fighting back a grin. “Don’t sit down, you have to get your present now.”

“The fuck? You got me a present? Why? We could’ve used that on one of the kids-” Guilt floods him as he thinks about the fact that he hadn’t gotten Fiona anything.

“Will you stop being such a prick and go get your present? We left it in the kitchen.” Ian interrupts, kicking at Lip’s leg. “Go.” 

“What would you even get me-” Lip pauses as a thought crosses his mind. But no. No, that’s not it. It’s no fuckin’ way. He lets his eyes trail over to V who offers him a small shrug before nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen. “No fuckin’ way.” 

Lip all but sprints into the kitchen, ignoring his family’s laughter when he trips a little over the leg of the coffee table and again on one of Liam’s singing toys as he swings into the room.

“Hi, boyfriend.”

And there she is. In the flesh. Bouncing excitedly on her feet once, twice before squealing and jumping into Lip’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Lip catches her easily, wrapping his own arms around her waist and squeezing tightly as he buries his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Charlotte, what the fuck?”

“Merry Christmas.” she chirps, putting her legs down and pulling back slightly, Lip follows suit, holding his arms around her loosely but refusing to fully let go.

“Yeah it fuckin’ is.” he breathes, tugging her forward into a kiss. He feels like his eyes could fucking roll back in his head. It feels so good. Touching her. Feeling her touch him. Kissing her soft lips. When he finally lets her up for air he leans his forehead against hers, matching her smile with his own. “Merry Christmas, Bunny. Uh, thanks for coming back.”

“What?” the girl scoffs, reaching up and tugging the hair at the back of his head lightly, “Are you joking? I had to.” she leans forward, rubbing her nose against his. “You’re here.”

“Fuckin’ missed you, baby.” Lip connects their lips again, hand cupping her cheek to guide her into a deeper kiss as he walks them until her lower back hits the counter.

“Alright, lovebirds, enough of that, I only promised Fiona I’d give you two minutes, it’s been five and a quarter.” Kev calls from the other room. 

Lip pulls back again, letting Charlotte walk ahead of him as he rests his hands on her shoulders following not far behind as they re-enter the room. He watches as she greets all of his siblings, hugging Debbie tightly and kissing Carl on the cheek. Tickling Liam and placing him on her lap as she leans into an embrace from Ian before Mickey reaches over and pinches her cheek. 

She’s back. She’s actually back. Lip didn’t realize how little hope he’d had that she’d come back to him until she’d actually done it. She was here, in his living room, with his family. With him. And the room feels like it has oxygen in it again. He only lets the thought of how scary it is that he feels like he’s breathing for the first time in weeks pass through the front of his head for a moment, though it still rings pretty loudly as he pushes it to his subconscious. 

Hours later the two older Gallagher siblings are cleaning up after the holiday mess. Charlotte had offered to help the younger kids to get ready for bed while Ian and Mickey went to spend some time with Mandy so she wasn’t by herself on Christmas. Kev and V returned home after being over all day, Charlotte promising to spend all day the next day with them, and them giving in with very minimal complaint when she and Lip asserted that they’d be spending the night together. 

Fiona eyes her brother as she scrubs a dish clean, watching as he continuously looks over his shoulder up the stairs. “Just go. I’ve got it.”

“Huh?”

“Go be with her, I can handle clean up, if anything you’re slowing me down, checkin’ every two seconds to see if she’s comin’ down.” She laughs, wiping hair out of her face with her forearm. 

Lip chuckles too, putting down the drying towel and squeezing his sister;s shoulder. “Thanks, Fi.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t be loud, I don’t need any of the littles gettin’ traumatized on Christmas.” She says, placing a clean plate on the rack. Fiona turns to catch her brother before he heads up the steps. “Hey, she’s a good one. And this…this looks good on you so…don’t Gallagher it up.” 

Lip pauses, thinking back to the card in his jacket pocket and the call he’d made earlier that morning. “I won’t.”

Charlotte turns as the door to Lip’s room creaks open, a wide smile spreading across her face as her boyfriend enters the room. “Hi.” she whispers.

“Hey.” he repeats back softly, closing the door quietly so as to not stir his younger siblings. Lip glances down on the floor at the discarded clothes and mess, and tries to kick it aside as he makes his way over to where Charlotte is standing. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Neither can I, if it was up to my dad I would’ve never come back out here, but Mom took my side.” she meets him the rest of the way, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulls her in by her waist. “Missed you. But, it was good to see them. Any updates here?”

Lip has to force himself to look away from her big, brown, expectant eyes. He absently thinks to himself that he’d forgotten how hard it is to be a piece of shit when she’s aiming her soft, affectionate looks at him, as if he was something good. But despite the fact that this surprise was literally all that he’d wished for, he hadn’t had time to prepare to tell Charlotte about Helene or the job. He could already picture the doubt that would form on her face as he told her that he’d be working in somewhat proximity to his professor that he’d fucked for several months, convinced himself he was in love with, and briefly attempted to stalk. He can’t even picture admitting to her he’d gone to get coffee with her.

But the alternative isn’t much better. Having Charlotte look up at him with that wide-eyed, starry look, rose petal lips smiling brightly at him. Showing him that fuckin’ dimple. And all of that being fake? Lying to her face? He couldn’t imagine being able to sleep, sure he can lie on the phone, but holding her afterward is a whole different ball game. 

So Lip chose the only intelligent option. 

Half stories and fuckin’ deny, deny, deny.

“I uh, got a new job, a paid internship. I’ll get to work in science which is cool.” he says dismissively, moving down to kiss her when she stops him.

“What?” she squeaks, smile spreading even wider. “Phillip! That’s so great! M’so happy for you, bubba!” she says bouncing where she stands and clapping her hands together. “We have to celebrate! We…we should go out some night this week. Like, get dinner or go to a bar or…” Charlotte pauses, the look on her face changing. 

“Or…?”

The woman leans forward then, kissing Lip’s nose, cheek, and jaw before dragging her way to his neck. Lip groans, mumbling a ‘fuck’ under his breath as Charlotte presses open mouthed kisses down his neck, tugging aside the collar of his shirt as she moves to the top of his chest, rubbing her hands along his abs. 

It feels good. So good, her soft hands pushing his shirt out of the way. Her lips dragging along his skin. He was immediately hard, clenching his jaw in focus as he watches his sweet girl drop to her knees in front of him, looking up at him through her long dark lashes as she began to pull his belt from its buckle.

Lip’s dreamed of this shit. Hell, he came to this thought for almost all of the nights she’d been gone. 

But there’s this fucking nagging thought in his brain. Fucking telling him over and over how he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve his beautiful, sexy, kind, loving girlfriend. He doesn’t deserve her using her money she saved from her job to take him to the fucking Chicago Sciene Institute Museum. He doesn’t deserve her begging her parents to let her come back to this shithole so they can give their relationship a real try. He doesn’t deserve the way she looks at him. 

He damn sure does not deserve to have his dick that he used to put where the fuck ever in her mouth.

“Baby, baby, wait-fuck-” he hisses as her hand pauses as it wraps around him in his boxers. “Shit, um, I don’t think we should do this right now.”

Charlotte immediately retracts her hand from him, placing them both in her lap as she sits on the floor looking at him. “Oh. Okay, did I hurt you…or like…do something you didn’t like?”

“No, no you’re” Lip joins her on the ground, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing her palms repeatedly. “Perfect. You’re perfect. It’s me, I’m just…” he hesitates, wracking his brain for an excuse and also cursing himself for quite literally talking his way out of getting his dick wet. “Don’t wanna traumatize the kids on Christmas you know? Plus uh, we should probably wait for a time Carl isn’t home. Did you know he has a crush on you?”

Releasing a nervous breath Charlotte relaxes again, giggling. “Oh yeah, I kinda got that when I was walking up the street one day and he tried to get me to ride on the handlebars of his bike. He tried to push up on his tip toes and whisper ‘wait for me, baby girl’  in my ear.”

Lip chuckles, moving to sit on his butt slowly, silently willing his erection to go down and leaving his arms open for Charlotte to sit in his lap. “He’s a Gallagher, it comes with charm.” he pokes the dimple in her cheek, jolting her in his lap lightly when she snorts. “What you don’t think so?”

“Please, Ian and Liam are carrying the family name on their god damned backs.” she jokes, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “Mm and Fiona, she’s got game too. Pretty sexy.”

“Yeah? You think my sister’s hot, why don’t you go downstairs and sit on her lap, huh?” 

Charlotte turns a little to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “You think she’ll let me?”

Lip’s mouth falls open for a moment before he lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief. “Fuckin’ brat, okay, up you go.” he grabs Charlotte at her middle, pushing off of the floor and putting her over his shoulder before dropping her softly on to the bed, climbing over her and pinning her to it. “Went to Virginia and lost your fuckin’ mind. It’s funny?” he says lowly at her giggles, leaning down closer to her face. “You know what’s funny, Bunny? I still have your Christmas gift.”

Brown eyes go wide and immediately Charlotte is giggling out apologies. “Wait, wait, stop, m’sorryyy.” she hiccups as she continues to laugh, Lip’s fingers tickling her sides. “I want my gift!”

“Ask your girlfriend.” Lip jokes.

“She’s busy-” she whimpers, yelping when he intensifies his fingers movements. “You’re my boyfriend! Sorry! Please!” she laughs, kicking her legs. “Pleaseee” she pouts up at him between unhinged squeals and laughter. 

Lip stares down at the beautiful girl beneath him and can’t help put give her what she asks. Placing his hand loosely around her neck, he pulls her up to meet him halfway, pressing their lips together in a deep, brief kiss. “Need to remember who you belong to, brat.” 

He grunts as he pushes off of the bed and goes to his larger dresser, easily pushing the heavy furniture slightly away from the wall and opening what looked to be a small door to a non-functioning vent. Charlotte sits up on the bed, brows furrowing as she watches her boyfriend pull a huge jar from the opening in the wall behind his dresser, miscellaneous pieces of money, change and what appeared to be checks at the bottom. The jar wasn’t very full, only making it to the first little ridge at the bottom of the jar. As he moves closer, a serious look on his face, Charlotte immediately begins shaking her head. “Phillip you better not be trying to give me money.”

Lip places the jar on the floor in front of her before taking a deep breath and sitting next to her on the bed. “No, I’m not. Or, not really. You remember how my family has the Squirrel Fund that we hide from Frank, so we can pay our bills and eat and shit.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte says softly, eyeing the jar. “I told you before I left that I think I should kick some money in if I’m gonna sleep over.”

“Yeah, over my dead fuckin’ body.” He dismisses. “This is…uh, shit this is embarrassing. I didn’t think about that part, it’s fuckin’ stupid.”

Charlotte watches as her beautiful boyfriend turns a pretty shade of pink as he stares at the floor. She slides her arm under his, intertwining their fingers and grinning when he brings his always intense blue eyes up to her face. “Go ahead, bub, I’m not laughing.”

“Shit, fuck it, okay.” he sighs. “This is the Bunny Bank.”

Charlotte’s mouth opens and closes again as she struggles to follow. “Bunny like me, Bunny?”

“Uh, yeah. I um, started to set aside money to put in this jar I fuckin’ found when you started talking to me again after that Mandy shit because, I dunno, you said we’d start hanging out and I started thinkin’ I wanted to take you to nice places. You deserve to go to nice places.”

“You,” Charlotte tilts her head to look at him better. “You started saving money to take me on dates when I was still friendzoning you?”

“Yeah?” Lip shrugs, laughing to himself softly. “I knew that I was gonna keep trying and I guess I wanted to be ready when it started working. But uh, you beat me to the first date thing, huh?” he says, smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

“You deserve to go to nice places too.” she says in a small voice, leaning into his hand.

“Well, I started putting more in there over time, and uh, you know, one day I’m gonna fill it. And we can use it on dates. Or get you a nice gift like I dunno, a purse or somethin. Or we could…” Lip looks at her intently, scanning her face. “We could save it. Put it toward, you know, future stuff.”

He damn near cringes as he waits for her to pull away. Lip fully expects for Charlotte to recoil away from him, for her to wake up the second he mentions the future and remember that she’s way too fucking good for him. Hell, he’s never even thought beyond fucking a girl for a couple months outside of Karen, and even then, what he felt was nothing like this. She was like a toxic friend that he was sexually attracted to. And even with her he didn’t plan. She was satisfied with a couple of free beers and a quick fuck in the bathroom at the school. Lip knows that shit isn’t good enough for Charlotte. And he’s learned in his time with her that he wouldn’t want her to settle for that. 

He wants to be able to provide things for her, beyond a decent date once every couple of months. That’s why he started the pseudo bank and that’s why he has to lie to her so he can take this job. It’s for her. 

But he knows this is fast. Just because he can see a future with her and his feelings hit him like a fucking truck doesn’t mean she feels this way. She has a nice home away from here. She’s accustomed to nice things and guys who don’t have to take a chunk of their check and save it up to give them to her months later. She should know that she can do better, laugh at his pathetic attempt at romance and walk away. Tell him she’s not some chick from the hood he can impress with a free popsicle, his quick wit and good looks.

Lip is fully prepared to backtrack what he said, saying that any mention he made of the future was a fucking joke and distracting her by eating her out or something. But he doesn’t get the chance. 

He watches in awe as Charlotte reaches down her own shirt, digging in her own bra and producing what appeared to be two twenty dollar bills, folded up and warm from her skin. Manicured hands drop the money into the jar before the girl places her hand back in his, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Charlotte nudges Lip’s arm with her own, and looks at him as if he fucking hung the moon and stars. “I like the last thing. Let’s save it. For future stuff.”

Lip doesn’t even get a chance to stop it. He doesn’t know if it's the confirmation that she sees a future with him too, now matter how long that is. Or maybe it’s the pretty way she’s staring up at him or him still reeling from the fact that she’s here. Or the fact that his pretty little prissy thing literally just produced forty dollars from her bra for them to save as a couple. Hell, he thinks it's probably all of it. But it comes out like fuckin word vomit.

“I love you.” 

[spookyyew59]

very long text below the cut.

TW for discussing proshipping

(This is my personal opinion on watching the video because it seems like proshipper behavior to me. Please do not harass me over this if you have a different opinion. I do not know everything and I am not the smartest, I an a minor, so please correct me if I thought wrong.)

I don’t want to uh, get into anything controversial here, over someone I don’t know, but I saw this animation on YouTube and it’s about horror tale sans being aged down from his like, Idfk, older than 18 to be in a ship animation with ALIZA who’s CANONICALLY 12 but is “headcanoned” to be 16 in the animation.

The video goes along like this.

Aliza falls into the underground, usual stuff, meets Flowey and Toriel, but the moment they get to sans, she reaches for the hotdog on the sentry station and he pulls her into this extremely close embrace with a half lidded smile, with the axe to her neck with the lyric (with captions on for English translation),

“Hollowing you out, into an empty marionette of love. Chest aching? Can’t catch your breath? My dear, that’s how LOVE feels.”

afterwards, Aliza looks scared and runs off. Most likely feeling uncomfortable.m because I would too tbh.

in the description of the video, it is said

“For those who care about their age difference. Sans is 16 too and nothing else. After all, it’s a HEADCANON and I can change it however I want. So calm your burning asses and do something useful 😮‍💨”

in the animation, Aliza is 16, and Sans is 16 too. So I think that it’s proshipper-like of them to headcanon this so this ship works.

I’m NOT a proshipper myself, or know that much experience with them aside from the usual stuff about blocking and stuff, but I think that this is technically proshipping. Again, I don’t have much experience with interacting with them, so I wouldn’t know for sure, but to me, this seems like proshipper behavior.

I would like to have people’s Opinions on it please, because I don’t want to be in the wrong about this.

here is the original link to the video. Danganronpa blood in it for theirs a TW (Trigger warning) for that, along with the use of an axe.

Here is the other video with a proshipping-like feel to it. Flash warning for this one, strobe warning because it’s extremely bright as well.

the video consists of the same attributes, but minus the scene where Aliza falls down to the underground and (to me) goes around the fact that Horror is indeed IN LOVE with Aliza but also wants to eat her (as food).

Again, I would like everyone’s thoughts on this (comments or reblogs) because I don’t want to be supporting proshippers in any way possible. if enough research and information is provided to prove that this YouTube IS a pro shipper, then I would like to kindly ask everyone to reblog this so everyone can be wary of them. No ship is okay if you have to age down or age up a character. It would be very helpful if more information and a deeper analysis could be provided. Thank you./nf

[jedipoodoo]

Touch of Your Love (Sergeant Hunter x GN!Reader)

This one shot does not contain spoilers for Season Two. Please do not discuss spoilers in reblogs/comments.

Notes/Warnings: Asexual reader, no smut. Reader has fears and anxieties from previous relationships, candid discussion of consent. Hunter is whipped for his partner. NSFW only for mentions of sex.

"Hunter, I don't want to have sex."

You were alone on the Marauder, for the first time in a long time, and the tension and yearning were so palpable they lingered on your tongue like punch. Hunter's arm was around your shoulders, pulling you so close you were almost on his lap. You'd seen the look in his eye before and braced yourself. The last time you told your partner that you weren't interested in sex, they tore your shirt throwing you out of their apartment, calling you a tease and a million other names. Several of your friends turned on you after that.

You weren't an idiot. You knew how sex worked, and how your body worked, but you just weren't interested in it. As much as you loved being in a relationship, you always dreaded getting too close because one way or another, it led to this moment, this conversation, and every time your throat ran dry and your chest felt tight and your knees started shaking.

Something in you told you that you were being ridiculous, that Hunter was different. You knew Hunter. Hunter wasn't any other partner you had before. Hunter wouldn't care. But all of these were met with an insistent "What if?"

"Then show me," Hunter said.

You blinked, unable to make your eyes meet his. He drew back, giving you space, but brought his hand to delicately tilt your chin to look at him.

"Show me how to love you in the way that you want to be loved."

Air flooded your lungs like you'd died and been brought back to life.

"You...you mean it?" Your lips trembled, and your eyes were beginning to sting.

"Oh Cyare, what's wrong?" He asked, trying to wipe away your tears before they were shed.

"No-nothing," You said, trying to smile and prove it to him, "You're just the first person to ever say that to me."

Hunter's eyes went wide, and then narrowed as his face contorted into a scowl for a mere half-second before he pushed his murderous thoughts aside.

"Can I hold you?" He asked, opening his arms.

"Yes, please!" You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his scarf--oh how you loved his scarf.

Once you had pushed away your tears and taken a couple deep breaths, you turned to kiss his cheek.

"You deserve better," He murmured kissing your forehead.

"I have better--the force sent me you, didn't it?" You asked.

Hunter chuckled, "And I thank the force every day."

You both laughed, nestled in your embrace for a moment. The tension had cleared, banished by your admission and Hunter's reassurance.

"Can I be honest?" Hunter asked. His chin rested atop your head as he looked up at the ceiling. You nodded against his chest.

"I've never had sex before. Never had the chance to. Is that weird?"

"Absolutely not," You assured him. You sat up, and placed a kiss on his nose for added measure.

Hunter hummed with pleasure, "Well, good. I think I'll want to, eventually, when the time is right. But I'm not in a hurry to try it out."

You sighed with relief. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."

You both sat back on the bench, enjoying a bit of personal space while still maintaining a fond embrace.

"So, how do I do it?"

"Do what? Sex?" You asked him.

"No," Hunter rolled his eyes, and you gave him a little shove for his insubordination.

"Everyone and everything always says that love is all about having sex and stuff. So how else do I show you that I love you?"

That was a very good question, and you could stand to ask it of him as well.

"Well, spending time together is a big one."

"Uh-huh," He nodded, "Is there anything specific we should do together?"

"Well, conversations about stuff like this is important, but it doesn't always have to be big things. Complaining about Cid or your brothers works for me."

"Really?" Hunter's eyes went big, like he'd just won the jackpot.

"Absolutely," You nodded, and squeezed his hand that was caressing your shoulder, "I want to hear about what bothers you. It's important to me that you trust me enough to share that kind of stuff with me.

"We can also watch holo-films, and cook together, there's training together, but that's something we already do. So we know we work really well as a team."

Hunter nodded, watching you intently. "And the physical touching, where are the boundaries? I don't want to cross them."

You had never thought about that before. Well, not in a planning-ahead stage. You had never realized how uncomfortable you were with the way someone touched you until they were already touching you.

"Not my butt," You said at last. You expected Hunter to laugh at the childish word, but he didn't. He waited for you to continue.

"And nothing below that either," You said slowly, trying to think your way through things.

"But I like when you put your arm around my waist," You gently took his hand that was around your shoulders, bringing it down against your back. Hunter's fingers fell into place in a gentle caress against your side, acknowledging the gift you were giving him.

You took a deep breath, "And I like it when you scratch my back, but maybe not all the time."

"Yeah, I guess it can get distracting," He admitted. You giggled. He'd absently started scratching your back during one of your briefings with Cid, and you were nearly asleep on your feet by the time he finished.

"Not my front, but my shoulders," You guided him along, Hunter's arm submitting to your directions as you brought it across your shoulders and down your arm to your fingertips, which you entwined with his.

"And I like it when we hold hands."

"I like it too, baby," He said. You giggled.

"As for my face, I guess that's mostly for kisses, but..." You took his free hand, splaying his fingers to show him the touches you liked. Cupping your chin and cheeks, tapping your nose, and pushing your hair back from your face so you could see.

Hunter sighed, giving you a dreamy look.

"I love you," He whispered.

"And I love you too," You echoed back.

"Now show me," you placed your hands in his, "How do I show you that I love you?"

He breathed deeply and slowly as he thought, gently bringing your hand to his cheek. He brought it back to his hair, letting you run your fingers through a few knots for him.

"I don't usually like it when people play with my hair, but with you I guess I know you're always gentle with it," He murmured, and you nodded. His face was flushed, almost embarrassed. It was kind of sweet.

"I promise I'll always be gentle with you," You said softly, twirling a single curl between your fingers.

Hunter smiled, and guided your hands down his back, "I wouldn't mind a back massage or two, so long as you're okay with it."

You nodded, "I'd love to."

He blushed and had to look away, breathing deeply.

"Hunter?" You debated if scooting closer was warranted at the moment, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," He waved it off, "It just... How am I supposed to think straight when you say things like that?"

You bent over laughing, your forehead pressed into his shoulder. He littered the crown of your head with kisses, each one accompanied by a soft chuckle.

"What about your senses? How do you want me to show affection when you're overwhelmed?" You looked up at him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Hunter thought for a moment.

"If you haven't showered recently, it's a non starter."

"Understood." You gave him a firm nod.

He sighed, leaning his head on top of yours. "In reality, it varies from time to time. Sometimes I want to be held during an episode, sometimes that makes it worse."

"So just ask each time?"

Hunter nodded. "Ask. More often than not, I'll say yes."

"Good to know," You turned to yawn, so he couldn't smell your post-dinner breath.

"Sounds like it's time for bed. I'm sorry if talking about this exhausted you," Hunter murmured.

You shook your head, jaw locked in a spectacular yawn, "A little, but it's a good kind of exhaustion."

You quickly tapped his shoulder to hold his attention. "Speaking of which--cuddling during naps, yes or no?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Hunter smiled down at you, bringing your hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

"Thank you for telling me about this, and talking with me about it."

"It wasn't too weird?" you asked.

"No," He stood from the chairs to grab you a blanket, "Why would it be?"

He tossed the blanket up in the air like a pizza, letting a tiny breeze stir your hair as he settled it around your legs.

You scooted back in your chair to get comfortable. "I guess....this stuff always seemed to come naturally in my past relationships. I never thought to talk it out before."

"Well let's hope you won't have to again." Hunter said with finality. He stood up, walking towards his bunk.

"Won't? Wait, what do you mean by that? You hope we won't have to do this again?"

Hunter stopped, hanging off the ladder to his bed and gave you a heart-melting smile, "My plan, cyar’ika, is that I get to have you forever and ever, guarding all the secrets to your heart and getting to be the one who always knows how best to love you."

He climbed into bed. leaving you sitting on the chair with your heart beating rapidly, and a million dreams swirling in your head.

You sat back in your chair, bringing your legs curled into your stomach, and brushing your fingers over your lips.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Curtis and Honey Autumn This Or That 🍂

Week One: Dried Leaves or Lots of Candles

Summary- Short Drabble. Curtis x Plus!Sized Reader. You find out that you are more than just Curtis's girlfriend.

Warnings- small mention of possible future family.

This is an 18+ Only Blog

A/N- Thank you everyone for all the comments and shares on Lots of Candles, I hope this one also gets all those soft feels going. Please if you enjoy it, reblog it. It really is appreciated. Every Friday I will be placing up a poll, make sure you vote for which autumn-themed event will be shared, a This or That. Thank you! Happy Reading.

Curtis and Honey This or That Masterlist

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

Sophia raced ahead of Curtis while you and Ella were trying to scoop huge piles of dried-up leaves up into large bags designed like Halloween characters, the old tree sporting the fixer-upper treehouse in its large branches was littering the backyard with a multitude of leaf litter, a kaleidoscope of oranges, reds, and yellows floating lazily down to settle at your feet.

Curtis and Sophia kept crashing into the huge pile, the crackle of the leaves melding with the grunt of Curtis and the laughter of his niece as she landed on his chest, making an even bigger mess than before. Leaves clung to the two of them, dried bits that got stuck all over their clothes and hair. The leaves that burst into the air started to twirl back down in a dance, showing you yet again why this season was full of movement as well as color. 

“Gotchu!” Sophia straddled her uncle's chest, patting his bristled cheeks, which were also covered in bits of orange and red color. Like speckles of leaf confetti. 

“Kid, I got you. You were running away from me.” Curtis snorted, tickling her. She swatted at his hands, tumbling off into the massive pile and popping back up with her hands on her hips like she was about to lecture him. 

“Nu-uh, that was a trap.” 

Curtis rolled his eyes at Sophia, playfully pushing her to fall back into the leaves while he rose up to stand, sprinkling leaves all over her. “Okay Sophia Bear, guess that means that this time… I gotta get you!” 

The little girl squealed, scrambling as fast as she could out of the pile while Curtis pretended to just miss her. 

You and Ella paused, watching all this with amused grins while Ella was recording it from her phone. The leaves you two were trying to gather got half spread out again from them playing around. 

“I swear that man is a big kid himself.” Ella hit end on her phone, tapping the video into an Everett friends and family group chat that you were now officially a member of, the chat line a constant source of amusement for you. It wasn’t long till your phone was buzzing with the incoming video message. 

“Sophia does bring out that side in him.” You said in agreement, leaning down to grab another armful of leaves while Ella held the bag open for you to stuff them in. 

“He is gonna be way worse when it’s his own kids you know,” Ella said offhand, but you felt your cheeks heat up and an ache of what could be started. Something that you hoped would be in your future, but you hadn’t dared to think about it too much. 

“Um- well- of course he will be.” You said, assessing suddenly what you said and how you said it, you certainly couldn’t say you wanted that too, it wasn’t like you two had even talked about it. Not at any length except that both of you wanted kids someday, a conversation that was had at the very beginning of your relationship in an attempt to get to know one another.  

Ella seemed to sense your sudden nervousness cause she hip-checked you while tying the bag, giving you a look. “If it happens, it happens, right? Never know. Right now being Sophia’s Uncle is all he has gotta be. And well you get to be her Auntie.” 

That made you pause a moment, the rustling of leaves starting back up as they circled around, this time Sophia practically climbing up her uncle till he put her on his shoulders, the two of them oblivious to you and Ella’s conversation. 

“You think of me as Sophia’s aunt?” You questioned and Ella rolled her eyes at you, much like Curtis had done to Sophia earlier. 

“Of course! You and Curtis are serious, you love her and take care of her. You’re her Auntie Y/N and I will kick anyone's ass who dares question it. Ask Grey, he will agree with me.” Ella said with confidence, whipping open another bag and shouting towards Curtis. “You are seriously gonna leave your girlfriend and your cousin to do your damn yard and not even help?” 

Curtis trotted over with Sophia in tow, scowling at his cousin who scowled right back at him just as fiercly. “You offered to come do this, wasn’t it something about wanting to hang out? I told you what the plan was today.” 

“Well yeah, I thought it was gonna be hanging out with Y/N while you did all the hard work.” Ella shook her head as if disgusted. “Also why are we even doing this? Don’t you know wildlife needs the leaf litter to winter in?” She looked at you to confirm and you gave a nod that she was in fact right. 

“Then don’t do it.” He gave a shrug, a boyish look on his features as Sophia still on his shoulders mimicked him with her own shrug. 

“Yeah, don’t do it Ma.” The girl said while holding onto Curtis’s head to keep her balance on his broad shoulder. The two of them had just about as many leaves clinging to them as was spread on the ground. 

Ella huffed, letting go of her pumpkin colored bag to fall into the pile of leaves at her feet. “Fine! Y/N and me are going for wine then.” Before you could even say anything, she hooked her arm in yours and pulled you away. “You two can pick everything up!” 

You stumbled after Ella, glancing over your shoulder to catch Curtis’s gaze, his wink making you giggle, knowing full well he just played you both to leave the rest to him. 

[smutinlove]

You were my light (Part 3)

Carl Grimes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, reader says bad bad shit to carl, depressing stuff, mentions of killing (let me know what I missed)

☽ Author's note☾ Oh, God. This one is really messed up. And I think y'all will see why. There's also a few Taylor Swift references cause why the hell not? Anyway. Back to the messed up shit. SO. Uh, don't hate me but the messed up shit is yk really messed up. Oh god. I'm scared. DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are very much appreciated!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Summary - The daughter of the now dead Negan Smith is walking in the woods. She thought she was alone. But she wasn't.

❝ I didn't have it in myself to go with grace 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet ❞

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

And then they "detained" you for being violent. So, no. Your plan to kill Carl Grimes did not end well.

And, for everyone's safety, they moved you into a white room, far away from the Alexandrians, but still in Alexandria.

The bed was white, the floor was white, the chair was white, the table was white, the door was white—I think you understand what I mean.

Slowly, you were going insane. White, white, white.

You felt like you were going to have another panic attack. Which was not good.

Maybe you were dreaming. Maybe you were imagining it all. Carl, Rick, the saviors, your dad, Alexandria—all of it was just a dream. But it wasn't.

And you knew that.

The truth sucks, doesn't it?

"Knock, knock. It's me, sweetheart." The door opened, and you saw your least favorite person, Carl fucking Grimes, holding a plate of food.

It was dinner already, huh? Time flies when you're fucking stupid enough to get captured by the 'enemy.'

"Can you stop calling me... that?"

He laughed. "No, I don't think I will. And I like making you all mad and pissed off, sweetheart."

He placed the plate of food on the table and sat down on your bed. "Fuck, this is so comfy! I might just sleep here," he joked.

"Can you stop?"

"Can you loosen up a little? I'm messin' with ya, babe." It was sickening. 'Babe.' What is this? 2010? It might as well be.

"Just leave," you muttered. "Oh, but where's the fun in that, huh?" He got up from your bed.

He walked over to you. "My, you are so beautiful, darling," he complimented. Carl planted a kiss on your cheek. "You like that, don't you? You like my touch. You secretly adore me, baby. I just know it!"

Don't give in. Or... maybe. No!

You slapped him. "What the fuck!" You heard.

He was taken aback. "You fucking bitch! You slapped me!"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, wait, I did? Oh, Carl! I am so sorry. Do you want me to do it again?" You snickered. That motherless son of a bitch deserved it. He had been horrible to you. He fed you dog food!

"You deserve it. I hate you! You think you're so fucking cool. But you're not, Carl. Go... kill yourself or... whatever."

Without another word, Carl quietly left. And then you realized what you'd said. "Oh, my God."

You did not mean that. Sure, you wanted to kill Carl. You hated him. But telling him to kill himself was messed up. "Fuck, fuck..." You whispered as a tear slipped down your cheek.

"I'm—" You couldn't even form a proper sentence. "God, what have I done?"

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

"Carl!" Rick called out. "Carl!"

"Get back here!" Rick shouted. Carl finally stopped and turned around. "What?"

Rick looked at him in surprise. "Carl, are you—you're not. Son..." He brought Carl into a hug, and he sobbed into his father's shoulder.

"Dad..." He cried out. "I know, son. I know."

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Carl never came back. It was always Rick, Daryl, or a woman named Rosita. Sometimes, you'd just glare at the plate of food they'd bring you.

It was better than dog food, but you missed Carl, his stupid jokes, his gorgeous face, and his taunting smile, but you would never admit that. Never.

"You hurt him a lot, Y/N," You heard a woman say. It wasn't the Hispanic woman, and it sure as hell wasn't Rick or Daryl. You had seen her before, during the war. But you never heard her speak, and you barely saw her.

The woman in front of you had a sweet smile on her face. "What?" You finally said.

"Carl. You hurt him a lot. I don't know what happened between you too, but that was a horrible thing to say, you know?" She explained.

You scoffed, but it was true—it was horrible. What you said was cruel and stupid. "What? Are you his mom or something?" You laughed.

"Don't," she warned. "I'm gonna bring you to him. And I want you to apologize for whatever you said, okay?" The woman said sweetly.

"No."

"It wasn't a question. You will apologize to Carl. But first, eat," she ordered. The woman stared at you. She was waiting for you to pick up the spoon and eat.

And you did just that.

You finished eating. "Happy?"

The woman chuckled. "Very."

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

She let you out of the room, and it felt great to finally leave. You looked up at the blue sky. You missed this life. Alexandria felt like a dream. It was so magical. It was like the old world, but it also wasn't. It was different.

The people here were scarred and broken, but they hid those scars with happy smiles and went on with their day like everything was normal. That no one died.

Pathetic.

The house with the yellow door. You were dying to see how this would end.

You stared at the door. "Knock," she ordered. You sighed and knocked on the door. "I'm Carol, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Carol." You smiled.

She left, leaving you standing on the porch of the house with a yellow door. The door opened. "Hey—what?" Cold.

Torture. Love. Warn.

"I'm—" You put on a brave face and stared into Carl's eyes, well, eye. "I'm sorry, Carl. I was horrible, and what I said was not acceptable, and—"

"I've heard enough."

"Carl, I am sorry. I—"

"I know. Go," he demanded.

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Some of the Alexandrians, one of whom was Rick, were starting to lose hope in you. But Carol vouched for you. She begged Rick to let you stay.

Now, you could walk freely in the streets of Alexandria. A part of you wanted to run away. Alexandria was weird. People pretending to be okay.

You pretended to be okay.

Look. Dream. See.

Thing. Crash. Look. Style. Walk.

Dreamt. Crashed. Watched. Stunned. Walked.

Okay...

Fine.

Free.

The safety of Alexandria was something you wouldn't take for granted. But after being out there for so long, you just wanted to run. Run away from everything.

Carl avoided you. But it seemed like there was another reason why he was avoiding you. But hell, you couldn't just march up to him and ask, "Hey, why are you avoiding me?" You could not do that. You would not.

Sweet smile. So right. Arms. December night.

...

Part 4?

[vintageaustin]

i've got my eye on you

pairing: austin x reader

summeray; uh reader is getting hate and becomes suicidal austin heps them trough it uh yea

trigger wanrnings: mentions of hate, suicide depresion swearing

authors note; i wrote this from a very persoal pov so if you have any hate keep it to yourself and dont read it please

It wasn’t easy for Austin to see his girlfriend being hated on, no matter what you did it was never good enough for his fans. i mean you were a singer and he was an actor.. the two of you'd been dating for quite sometime now and the hate kept coming but…

In full honesty it shouldn’t matter right? He thought to himself. But that was easier said then done, he loved you and you loved him and that’s all that should matter. 

But lately he started to notice his girlfriend giving away things she liked, not even liked, love it could differ from it being your favorite lipstick. To your favorite dress, it was mostly to your friends but… 

That didn’t mean he didn’t have his mind on it. If he was honest with himself he saw you losing that twinkle in your eyes. As if you were losing your love for life and he just.. he couldn’t let his baby, his precious girl slip through his fingers like that.

He couldn't have it all gone,  after his day off filming he decided to pick up a bouquet of your favorite flowers, sure it was a small gesture but it’s gotta count for something…right? he questioned himself.  when he finally got back to you’re shared apartment,  he found you sobbing on the couch,  

his heart broke at the sound of your sobbing. There you were the love of his life his Everything. Was sitting on the couch wearing her favorite hoodie. And was crying her eyes out, reading all the hate his own God fans posted on internet.

He told her every time again not to look at it. That they weren’t true but she couldn’t help it they haunted her down if they needed to, on to tell her stuff like “you are so fucking ugly” or “Austin deserves so much better”, “I don’t know what he sees in her she’s so talentless”.

To be honest the list went on and on about how much they hated his girl. But what people don’t understand is that words and actions hurt and my god was his girl going. Trough it  he gently made his way over to the couch and. Got on his knees in front of you “baby..” he said gently as ever. In a thick southern accent he had due to getting the honors to play the king of rock n roll. In the upcoming biopic Elvis,

“Hey c’mon honey look at me.. show me that pretty face please.” He said gently trying to keep his voice from cracking as his heart was breaking. You looked up at him as you managed to say trough your tears “I-I c-can’t do it anymore aus.. they hate me you ha-“ you cried as he cut you off before you could even finish that sentence.

“Don’t even dare say that I hate you baby. You know I love you… please don’t cry they don’t know what their talking about their dumb, and please don’t say that baby, you’re so strong I know you are darling we can get trough it” he said as he gently grabbed you’re face and placed his lips on yours. Finally letting his tears run over his cheeks, 

He looked at her as she let out a soft sigh.  It took him a while to speak up again, “ please princess please promise me you won’t … you won’t hurt yourself!” He asked and you looked at him for a moment. “I-….I promise”. You sobbed as he pulled you in a hug and climbed on the couch with you so he could cuddle you. he hate how he saw you lose joy in life,  you started to  lose joy in making music, you started to lose your passion for singing, the list went on and on.

and austin had only one mission really, that was to make you fall back in love with life

heyyy guys i uh was hopefull to say i'm back fully but i dont think i am since i just posted this while crying, but one day i'll be back you just wait and see

thank you for everyone liking/reblogging my posts it means A LOT as always i love you my munchkins

forever yours j x

[woundlingus]

Sabriel in the 70s conversation pit (my second most recent reblogged post)

In news I’m sure will horrify you as requester and everyone else who knows me for my horny niche, I actually made fluff with feelings- they get a fade to black tho so know in your heart that they fuck gross and nasty

Short sabriel fluff, misunderstandings and feelings under the cut ❤️

“Welp, this is me.”

Sam hovered just behind as Gabriel slipped a key into a lock that looked like it was just about ready to rust and fall apart, sure he was going to have to kick the door in and give the neighbours all something to call the cops about, but by some miracle the key still turned within and clicked the old thing open, sending the door creaking itself open on uneven hinges.

“Make yourself… comfortable, I guess,” Gabriel told him, hovering in the doorway as he watched a world he no longer lived in come to life with the flick of the lights.

Faded orange carpet, green walls, a fucking disco ball. Movie posters on the wall for some obscenely sexualised horror movie with the final girl splayed out in the monsters arms, and a boxy tv on one of those rounded tables.

It was seventies in a way Sam had never been old enough or rich enough to experience firsthand, his encounter with it was mostly floral wallpapers in motels, and the playboy magazine that used to be Dean’s that he’d stolen, which might have even been John’s that Dean had stolen first, which was… a lot grosser now that he was old enough to think about it.

The tables were red, the counter tops were red, the chair seats were red- none of it worked together, which in its own gauche way seemed to work. If Sam had to conjure an image of where the trickster might reside, he might very well conjure this very image. It was enough to make him want to laugh, at the predictability, at the cliche, at the almost vulgar way Gabriel had set up an apartment to look like a set he could picture tall and tan oiled men pushing over blonde babysitters in what looked like a ‘sex pit’ of a living space sunken into the floor, all to the tune of Girls On Film.

It would be very funny, if that person still existed.

This had been a home, and yet Gabriel wandered around the furniture as though he were a stranger, afraid to touch any of it too much. He stuck out like a sore thumb in a space he would have blended in just a few years ago, instead he cringed away from the performance of fun and sexuality. Despite being a man of small stature Gabriel had always taken up a lot of space with a big presence, but here among relics of things he didn’t want or need anymore he just seemed so much more impossibly small; perhaps it was the way he refused to look up from his shoes, like if he raised his head to look at the world he used to fit into he might fall apart and he’d just managed to get himself together after so long, he’d only just gotten brave enough to let Sam drive him here and open up a time capsule from a life pre-hell.

“Thanks for doing this, by the way,” he called back to Sam as he wandered around barstools to get to the kitchen. “There shouldn’t be much to pack.”

“You want me to get started anywhere in particular-“ Sam started, watching Gabriel swing the fridge door open and then immediately slam it shut with absolute disgust. “We’re not bringing the fridge, huh?”

“Absolutely not, don’t open that if you value your life.”

He wandered off down toward a hallway, presumably where he’d find the bedroom and most of Gabriel’s personal possessions that he’d care about keeping, but the guy appeared right in front of him to cut him off from going any further.

“You uh, don’t wanna go in the bedroom until I clear some stuff out first either.”

Sam, with the roll of his eyes, “Gabriel, I’m a grown up. I don’t care if you have sex toys, just tell me which drawer and I’ll leave it alone.”

“It’s cute you think it’s a drawer. Don’t go in there.”

He didn’t know if it was better or worse not to know, not knowing saved him the potential trauma of seeing something he was not prepared to know about his only very recently offical boyfriend, but the not knowing left his mind running rampant with ideas that were probably a lot more dramatic than the reality hidden behind the door- he just thought he deserved a heads up beforehand if Gabriel needed to put him in a little cage with a tail in his ass in order to get off.

“Well, is there anything I can touch?”

He hadn’t meant to, but it had been a long drive and he was tired, and it left an air of shortness to his question. He was tired, Gabriel had asked him to come all the way out here and now he wasn’t even allowed to touch- it almost always felt like Gabriel didn’t want to make space for him, and that wasn’t entirely fair to say when he knew this was hard, but it was hard too to be guarded away from bubble wrapping lava lamps like it was all sacred ground of a better life before he was stuck with Sam.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

And it’s all over just like that, before it can even start. With the mighty archangel Gabriel, pulling at his fingers, lip wobbling like he was waiting to be yelled at. Punished. Put in his place.

Again, frustrating, especially when neither of them were wrong, and neither of them could help it.

He throws his hands up in defeat, and follows the stairs down into the sunken lounge space to find a seat to bide his time, “Fine. Let me know when you’re done.”

“I don’t know what I did,” Gabriel said, following him down like a little mouse. “If I did something wrong you have to tell me.”

It felt silly trying to find the words to lay it out so bare and plain, that surrounded by gaudy riches Sam felt insecure. Insecure about the kind of life he could provide someone like Gabriel- something like Gabriel. An archangel; a god; a playboy. What could a poor man who was too scared of loud noises and had a bad back provide for the likes of him when what Gabriel enjoyed most was luxury in excess and being the center of a party? How many others had passed through the door, how many lovers had he shared a bedspace Sam wasn’t allowed to enter? What kind of a life was it for a social butterfly to live buried under the earth with Sam and his only friends- his older brother, and Gabriel’s brother; who were basically obligated to be his friend based on principle. Sam wasn’t fun, his idea of fun was being left alone for a solid fifteen hours to get a really good sleep and maybe jerk off without having to wonder if Dean was going to kick in the motel door at any moment. That’s who Gabriel was saddling himself with, a man who was thirty seven and still needed to sleep with his big brother in the room lest he have bad dreams, he couldn’t even give him a motel room to fuck in.

But Gabriel could do all those things if he really wanted to now that he’d gained a little more strength back, and if it’s what made him happy then it’s what would make Sam happy, because what really made him happy was Gabriel! But hadn’t, not even once, tried to allow Sam into any part of his life. It was all grand tales of mighty conquests and high speed chases, and none of the actual living- at least, not with Sam. Maybe Gabriel had another boyfriend, a better one that he saw on weekends when Sam was away hunting with Dean. One that was cool, and funny, and liked all of the things Gabriel liked…

Okay… now he’s just spinning out, so he has to say something before he creates a whole pretend man to get angry at.

“Why don’t you want me involved in your life?”

Gabriel stared at him hard for a good long minute, long enough for Sam to flush a deep shade of red with embarrassment.

“Never mind-“

“You are my life.”

Gabriel says it so matter of factly that it’s now Sam’s turn to sit there gobsmacked and staring, and while it makes his heart swell a little he isn’t quite sure he believes fully that Gabriel wasn’t saying that just to shut him up.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying-“ Sam stopped and gestured at all of Gabriel’s things, “-This. Your life. Who you are. You never let me be a part of it, you never let me in.”

“This isn’t my life,” Gabriel said, an echo of exhaustion to his tone and the way he slumped into the tacky printed pillows. “This was a thing I did. I don’t let you be a part of it because I’m embarrassed. For whatever reason you’ve decided that you see something of worth in me, and I don’t want you free roaming my past and remembering I’m some kind of scumbag.”

“I don’t care that you were… very… sexually active, Gabriel.”

“This is about more than just the sex- this isn’t me! This life isn’t something I want to associate with you!”

A line of tension forms in Sam’s jaw as he snaps his mouth shut, but before he can glare and storm out, Gabriel continues.

“I’m building something new, something better with you. All of this is buried under a mountain of shit with Loki and what happened that I don’t want to begin to unpack, I just want to go! I don’t want you in here becoming tangled up with everything that feels so bad when you’re the only good thing I’ve got!”

Well, now he just feels stupid.

The shame must be visible all over his face because Gabriel scoots across the lounge to drag him in close, closing the distance first for Sam to the be able to put his arm around him.

“Right… sorry.”

Gabriel shrugged, “I don’t know what there is to be insecure about, it’s not like any of this was ever real.”

“It was though, even if it’s all tainted and bad now this was your life, and I can- I want to help you pack what you still love and bring it home. Pretending it’s not real isn’t going to fix anything, let me help you do this right. Say goodbye.”

There was a deep sigh from under Sam’s arm as Gabriel relented, whether he believed Sam’s quack science or not was up in the air but he’d do it anyway.

“Fine. You want to say goodbye to the house? I feel like the only appropriate way to say goodbye is the same way I said hello. To bring it full circle.”

“Sure,” Sam agreed before he knew what that meant, because all he heard was what sounded like Gabriel making healthy choices, and it wasn’t until the angel had straddled his lap that he understood just how he’d christened the house. “How many people have you screwed on this couch?”

“I mean, they call it the conversation lounge for the great many guests you can have all at once… I don’t know that we were doing much talking though.”

“Oh god…” Sam sighed and scrunched his nose up, trying not to focus too hard on the couch and if he felt any stiff spots beneath where he was sitting.

“Oh no, Sam. God was definitely not in the room when that was happening.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sam groaned and leaned in to kiss Gabriel before he could open his mouth with another disgusting comment, grinning into Gabriel’s throat at the playful shriek out his mouth as Sam toppled them over into the pillows, to give Gabriel a touch of something sweet to remember a chunk of his life by.

[littlegodzilla]

Hiii!! Here I am with another chapter! Our guys left the farm and now they need to find other place where they can be safe and Lori could have her baby. So... let's to see what's happen!

Thanks for reading, the comments and reblogs I'm really happy that you liked the story!

Enjoy this part too!

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Our Story.

Daryl Dixon x Wife/ Daryl Dixon x Reader.

Part 9.

Masterlist.

Warnings: TWD tense moments and violence. Fluff stuff.

Words: 3.400

Summary: You found the prison, you have a new home, but not everything is so easy.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Chapter 9. Prison.

You have lost count of how long you have been wandering without stopping for even two seconds to sleep. Lori is getting bigger and bigger, each time the urgency to find a safe place weighs on all of you like a burden. Time is running out on your account.

God, you would have even eaten from that can of dog food Carl found in the last house you unsuccessfully tried to shelter in. Daryl has managed to catch an owl, but it didn't have much meat on it either. You are now standing in your cars, some of them are still running, which is almost like a miracle, Lori is catching her breath, running and walking for a long time is already proving to be a hard task for her.

"I'm gonna see if I can find somethin' else to eat." Daryl says looking at Rick.

"I'm coming with you." He nods with his knife, following the archer.

The rest of you stay behind to secure the perimeter. Carl and Sophia are with Carol and Lori, they're hungry, but hanging on as best they can, as is everyone else. You sigh, picking up your arrows and counting them. You don't have many left, in a little while you should look for new branches and make more, in the last escape you left too many on the way. You grab your knife picking up several branches from the ground and start sharpening the tip of each one.

"I'm hungry..." Sophia murmurs.

"I know, honey, but you have to hang in there for a bit, Daryl and Rick have gone to get more food." Attempts to cheer up her and her mother.

"Can we practice?" she asks again, looking at you.

"Sure, let's aim for those trees over there." You point to some trees near the road.

You don't need to go very far, just a few yards, it's not much but it will keep the kids distracted, at least for the time Rick and Daryl are away. In those months they have improved a lot, both Sophia and Carl, even Carol is more skilled with her own bow, Carl is still more comfortable with the gun his father gave him, but he knows how to defend himself with both, Sophia for her part has perfected the technique and like you, carries a knife in her belt in case she runs out of arrows. They are still children, but they have learned fast and have taken on the role of being one more in the group, their childhood is being left behind, forced to grow up too fast.

"Uh, that was a close one." Sophia protests when her arrow falls a little short of yours.

"That wasn't bad at all." You smile flatteringly to keep her from getting discouraged. Suddenly your arrow flies through the air, you turn and see Daryl and Rick emerge from the trees. "You owe me an arrow." You reproach him and he twists his head, as if it doesn't go with him.

"We bring news." Rick says, gaining everyone's attention. "We've found a place..."

*****************

If at any other time in your life you had been told that the safest place to live was going to be inside a prison, you would have laughed, very hard too. But now, it's as rational as it gets. It won't be easy to get in, Rick explains the plan, how he wants to divide the group to enter and attack the dead. The main idea is to close the gates, occupy the entire garden, at least there with the watchtowers you would have a roof in case the weather in Georgia should change again. Maybe little by little you could try to get in.

You all know your place and your mission. Beth along with Maggie and Lori stand on one side of the fence drawing the attention of the dead. You make a hole so you can enter, Carl and Sophia along with Carol, Glenn, Rick, Daryl and you advance down the outside corridor heading towards the main gates where the front yard you want to occupy is.

"Ready?" Rick asks in a whisper.

You all nod as he opens one of the doors. The first shot is yours. From the position, along with Sophia, you clear the way for Carol and Daryl who run to one of the watchtowers to shoot from there, giving Rick a clear path as he runs to the other door to close it, preventing the Walkers from getting out. Leaving all that space for you.

It is immense, a free place, without danger, you have checked that none of the fences have any holes that you could regret. Nothing. Everything is yours. You are exhausted, but happy, you no longer need to keep running, you can set up camp there, rest at last.

You can't help it but as you enter the safe zone, you drop down on the growing grass, throwing your bow, spreading your legs and arms in a star shape, smiling broadly, laughing. Carl and Sophia mimic you by throwing themselves right next to you, you hear Carol get excited at the amount of space you have and your laughter grows louder. A figure blocks the sun in front of you, you open your eyes to discover Daryl looking down at you from above, head cocked to one side.

"Enjoyin' a sunny day, Majesty?" he jokes raising an eyebrow, stretching a hand toward you.

"You're not going to depress me, not today, Dixon." You joke with him, but accept his hand and let him lift you up. "It's a huge place."

"And it's all ours...come on, we still have to move the bodies out of the way."

You accept his orders, you're in too good a mood for some zombie bodies to dampen your spirits. Together you pile up the bodies, bring the cars and the rest of your supplies into the same place, manage to unlock the main doors so you can close the corridor and the door to the courtyard. Again you have that feeling of calm surrounding you. It is true that from afar you can still hear the panting and grunting of the rest of the Walkers in the place, but Rick already seems to be looking for a solution for that. 

"We'll take different shifts on watch tonight." Rick says as you leave the cars and everything ready to set up the small camp. 

"I'll take the first shift tonight." Daryl says. "The rest of ya can rest."

"You need rest too." Carol tells him in a soft tone and you watch their interaction curiously.

Daryl and Carol are forging a bond, you can feel it, something between them is starting to appear and you smile once again. You're glad, he told you he missed your sister, that it hurt, but you also think Daryl has a right to feel something for someone new. Not to hold on to a memory. If he's chosen Carol, you're happy for them, because you like the couple they make and Sophia, though respectfully, is curious about the archer.

"You look very happy." Beth comments and you smile again.

"Yeah, something tells me we're starting a new life, don't you think? Looks like things are finally going to change..." You shrug feeling your heart hammer hard in your rib cage.

"Uhm, yeah, I guess..." She smiles a little too.

"You'll see how things get better." You want to cheer her up again and you hug her.

Night falls, but you are no longer afraid, the group prepare a fire, with what you still have left and have found, you prepare everything, divide the rations, giving the biggest ration to Lori, for her baby. You all are enjoying a quiet night, when you see Carol walk away from the group to the bus where Daryl is standing guard. A new smile breaks out on your face as you see her carrying a bowl of food for him. It's cute and cuddly, from your distance you see them talking, they seem to be joking, Daryl massages her shoulder, she has used one of the rifles to stop several Walkers, she looks exhausted, but holds on. You look away to give them privacy returning your focus to the group, Beth breaks into song and it warms your heart, Rick returns from inspecting the fence once more, Daryl and Carol appear shortly after.

Daryl walks over to you, sits down next to you and hands you his poncho, you look at him confused, but he just shakes his shoulders, like so many other times and pulls it over your head and you settle under the thick, warm fabric, looking up at him gratefully as he closes his leather jacket to keep his own warmth in.

"It's still gonna be cold tonight, and the fire might not hold much. I dunno where ya left yer damn jacket..."

"I lost it on purpose so you'd give me this." You joke and he rolls his eyes.

"I figured as much." He squeezes your shoulder and leans you against him. "Try to sleep."

"I can't, my shift on watch starts now." You laugh and let go of him slowly, getting up. "But I'm taking this with me." You wink at him pressing the poncho against you and grab the bow before heading towards the bus.

The night is quiet, dark, you've never noticed how dense it could be without all the light pollution, you like it, it's beautiful in its own way and the sky is covered with stars, even the moon seems bigger.

"Have ya fallen asleep already?" Daryl's voice startles you for a moment and you see him climb onto the roof of the bus where you are.

"What are you doing here?" you ask with a frown. "Don't you know what sleep means?"

"Nope. Ya?"

"It's my turn, I don't need to sleep."

"We all need sleep... What do y'think of Rick's plan?"

"Risky, but if like he says we can get our hands on one of those blocks, with supplies, infirmary even some shower... that would be wonderful. Especially the shower thing." You hear Daryl snort in amusement.

"I've smelled worse, y'ain't that bad." He taunts you and you open your mouth wide, smacking him on the arm.

"I can't say the same for you! How do you do it? You rub dead squirrels all over yourself?"

"It's the special essence of the hunter."

You both laugh loudly as you wrinkle your nose in a gesture of complete disgust getting him to laugh louder, even for you it's impressive to hear him laugh like that.

"I've seen your... your thing with Carol."

"My thing with Carol? I dun have a thing with Carol, what are ya talkin' about?"

You smile, but shake your head without saying anything, leaving Daryl more confused if possible. He appreciates Carol, she's becoming a good friend, he feels safe talking to her, plus she also seems to be more confident talking to him than others in the group. But that doesn't mean they have something, maybe they do, since when did he feel so lost in this? Thinking back your sister was always the one who took the reins, since they were eight years old, but he thought he had learned to read how it all worked.

Maybe he's wrong.

He watches you silently, distracted, watching the sky with a small smile, always holding on to your bow, something that always gives you stability. Your knife and gun are in your belt, Daryl doesn't remember a single time you've used that gun, but you always carry it with you as plan C. He notices you've changed your hair, now you wear it loose, holding just a few strands at the back of your head, some strands moving in the soft night breeze, messing it up, crossing in front of your eyes. Daryl licks his lips and reaches over to tuck that unruly lock behind your ear. You don't pull away, it's not the first such gesture Daryl has had with you, he's always been a person who avoids contact except with people he feels confident with, you learned that many years ago. You look at him and smile, thankful that he is there with you, that you have talked things out and now things are moving at a good pace again. The months you've spent away, going back and forth has given you the time to talk and catch up on your lives and everything in general. You know it's not the same, but you feel that the tension that was between you at the first meeting, as if you were strangers, is gone.

"Seriously, what do ya mean with Carol?" 

"Never mind, come on, go get some sleep. You need it." You urge him, he doesn't seem to want to leave, but in the end he leaves you alone on the roof of the bus.

**********************

When the sun rises again, you all get going, grab the last of your leftovers and put Rick's plan into action. The kids with Carol, Lori, Beth and Hershel stay on one side of the fence to get the attention of the dead again, so you can get inside, you form a huddle, no one separates, backs together so you have all flanks covered. You stay a little behind, shoot some arrows, Daryl does the same when you have to reload, you cover his back, when he has to reload the crossbow. Without many, but between all of you you clean the courtyard fast, you are approaching the back where there is another group, but you can close the door and think about what to do with them later.

"Watch out!" You warn them as several Police Walkers appear, wearing special equipment.

Arrows are no good for them, they bounce off helmets and bulletproof vests, but Maggie manages to find a hole under one of the helmets and you all do the same.

It's an anxious few minutes, but you finally manage to clear the whole area you had planned according to Rick.

"We'll check that the block is secure and move on."

"If ya come with us ya'll have to use yer gun." Daryl tells you as you prepare to enter through the dark corridors.

"I can use my bow."

"It'll be darker, and there won't be as much room to reload, y'know that." 

"Then I'll use my knife."

"That's more dangerous..."

"Daryl..."

"We could use more people, now is not the time to argue about that, we need to secure as much of the perimeter as possible." Interferes Rick in your discussion.

"I'll use the knife." You insist and join the group.

"God, yer stubborn."

"We already have something in common." You joke putting yourself next to Maggie who also goes with you.

You use the knife, a lot to tell the truth, you have been caught in a mousetrap, the dead have started to appear everywhere, cornering you, forcing you to back up and look for an alternative way out until Hershel has been bitten in the leg, of course you don't leave him there, as you make your way you reach another wide room and close the doors at full speed. Rick shouts your name. You run up to him, holding Hershel while the sheriff cuts off his leg to prevent the infection from spreading. It's a drastic measure, more so in that situation, but neither of you want to lose the man. You take off your jacket and quickly cover the leg to stop the bleeding, Hershel is knocked unconscious from the pain, but that's not the worst of it. When you look up you discover that there are several prisoners locked up there, looking at you with surprise and confusion.

"Open the door!" shouts Rick, you go ahead, arranging one of the beds in the cell before they enter with Hershel in your arms.

"Lay him down here!" you shout also kneeling down to uncover the leg and take care of it. "We need to stop the bleeding, find something to burn the wound... we need bandages, alcohol... "You start to list.

"We haven't found the infirmary, now we have another problem outside."

"I'll try to clean him up as best I can, but we need to find it now. Carol, Lori, help me." You ask them and the three of you stay in the cell taking care of Hershel.

Things with the prisoners remain tense, they are not willing to leave the place, but you don't trust them to stay with you either. Rick tries to make a deal with them, half the rations for you and half for them, they will have to find another block to live in and not try to go to yours at any time. But you are busy, you have gone with Carl in search of the infirmary, you can't wait for them to decide what to do with the rest of the ward, Hershel needs immediate help.

"Stay close to me." You say to Carl, tightening your bow in search of any dangerous movement or noise. Carl moves to your side, walking slowly right behind you.

All the corridors are dark, in this part of the corridor there are isolation cells, luckily the doors are locked, if there is any threat, you won't be able to get out on your own. You advance down the corridor finding a small library and at the end of the same corridor, the infirmary. You sigh in relief, patting Carl's head.

"Let's grab everything we can and head back to the cell."

"Okay." He nods and tries to go in, but you stop him.

"Wait, I'll go in first, in case there's a threat." You warn him by opening the door to the infirmary and give a few knocks.

You hear gasps inside, something stirs on the gurney and from behind a bulkhead a nurse emerges in a consumed state. You quickly load the bow and shoot the woman in the head, Carl stirs behind you and peers over the gurney, shooting the guy lying there.

"Carl!" you whisper his name. "I told you to wait!" You scold him between whispers so as not to draw any more attention to yourself.

"He's on the stretcher strapped down, he can't do anything." He defends himself and you growl with a frown.

"I don't care, you came here without telling your mother, if anything happens to you..."

"I know how to defend myself, I'm not a child." He snorts angrily.

"Stop arguing; let's get everything we can and go back to the cell with Hershel. Come on."

Between the two of you you fill the bag with everything you need, some suturing tools and get back as fast as you can to the cell where Lori and Carol are still keeping an eye on Hershel who is still unconscious.

"We're here." You say opening the bag again to take out some bandages and the disinfectant.

"Where did you guys get all that stuff?" Lori looks at you in surprise.

"We went to the infirmary." Carl smiles proudly.

"You went to the infirmary?" Lori asks and then looks at you. "You took him with you without telling me?"

"I'm sorry, Lori, I didn't..."

"Are you not aware of what just happened to Hershel! How dare you put my son in danger?"

"She didn't put me in danger!" interjects Carl looking at his mother angrily. "I decided to go!"

"Carl, listen to me..." Lori tries to reason with him.

"Leave me alone! I'm not a kid anymore!" He yells again and storms out of the cell.

"You go with him, I'll stay with Carol taking care of Hershel." You tell Lori, she seems hesitant, but gets up and leaves you two alone.

"Are you okay?" Carol asks you as you continue to examine the leg of the man who is still unconscious.

"Yes, she's right, I should have told Carl to go back to the cells, I shouldn't have let him come with me. It's normal for her to be angry." You shrug, carefully stitching up some parts of the stump to make it easier for it to heal.

"Kids aren't kids anymore, we can't leave them out, they like being part of this."

"I know, but they are not my children, I can't make certain decisions." Carol rubs your back trying to give you some encouragement, but you're not down, just worried about Hershel coming out of this.

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To be Continued...

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Hope you liked it!!

See you in the next chapters!

Taglist: @green-eyedladywrites @minervadashwood @livingdeadblondequeen @bringinsexybackk69

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just the Two of Us: Table for Two

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you meet someone you never expect at the grocery store.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“It’s not exactly coffee,” Steve says as he sits across from you, setting down a cup before you. “Pumpkin cream, special delivery.” 

“Oh, sorry, I guess I should’ve mentioned. I don’t do much caffeine. It makes me jittery,” you explain. 

“That’s fine. I don’t have it very often. Don’t really need it...” he flicks the side of his own cup. “The serum, you know.” 

“Serum...” you say. 

“Oh, uh, it was the stuff they gave me to make me the way I am,” he sits back, pressing his palm against the cup. 

“Right, right, sorry. I guess I forgot.” 

“Forgot?” He echoes. 

“Yeah, I mean, just that... I mean yeah, you’re Captain America but I just... I guess...” you can’t quite organize your thoughts. “Also, you’re Steve, the guy who is sworn enemies with self-checkout machines.” 

“Wow, we’re already joking about that?” His brows arch. 

“No, no, I’m not joking,” you say with a sly bat of your lashes. 

“Huh, you’re not as nice as you look, are you?” He clucks. 

“I have been taught to respect my elders so I’ll just agree,” you say. 

He stares at you and for a moment, you think you’ve gone too far. His blue eyes stick to you, pale yet vibrant, and his jaw is chiseled and perfect. You gulp. 

He laughs before you can apologise, He shakes his head, “you got me. If you hadn’t swooped in to help this geriatric, I’d still be fighting that scanner.” 

“Well, I got a leg up. I used to stand behind one of those daily. I’m sure if I was given a shield, I couldn’t do much with it,” you grin. 

You lift your cup and blow over it, taking a sip of the cream. Mm. The spices aren’t too strong or anything. 

“Maybe not but there’s all sorts of ways to save people. To help them,” he says. 

“I guess,” you agree and look around. “This place is nice. You been here before?” 

“Nope. Gotta be honest, I try to keep to myself. Public places aren’t exactly--” 

“Oh my god, I knew it!” A shrill squawk makes you flinch. A girl appears in a pair of thick-framed glasses like cat eyes, tugging along another by her wrist. They look about your age but colourful. She sports a rainbow jacket as her friend wears a polka dot dress. Their accessories are all novelties from various nostalgic sci-fi shows. 

“Captain,” the woman salutes. She is an adult after all, yet you feel she’s a bit childish in the way she stands agog of the man across from you. 

“Hi,” the other waves shyly. 

You hide behind your cup. You feel like an intruder on the moment. And you can tell by the tic in Steve’s cheek that he’s uncomfortable. Still, he turns to them and smiles. 

“Hello, how are you?” He asks. 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” the girl in the rainbow jacket fans herself, “we’re like your biggest fans. I can’t believe you’re here.” 

The other one giggles. 

“Would you like me to sign something--” 

“Can we get a picture? She blusters over him.  

He keeps his picturesque smile and nods. He stands as the girl looks at you, “hey, you, do you wanna like, take our photo?” 

You blanch but get up. Steve glances at you with a glint of concern, “you don’t have to--” 

“I don’t mind,” you assure him as she hands over her cell. “Everyone squeeze in.” 

You step away from the table and aim the lens at the them. The unicorn horn on the phone case makes it difficult to angle. Steve stands between them as they flutter with joy. 

“Now say cheese,” you say. You click a few frames and lower the phone, “here, think I got some good ones.” 

You give the woman back her phone and she greedily checks the pictures. She squeals and shows the other. Steve sits as you go to join him at the table. 

“So, like, are you dating her?” The rainbow-adorned woman bats her eyes behind her lenses. “Because I heard you were with Sharon Carter and you two broke up on your last mission.” 

“Jamie,” the other girl whispers. 

“Sharon’s a work colleague. And a professional,” Steve insists, kind but blunt. “You two have a great day. It was nice to meet you.” 

“I don’t believe you,” she insists. 

He dips his chin and shrugs, “well, then I’m sure I can’t say much to convince you.” 

“So, you were dating,” she accuses. 

“Excuse me,” you intone. “Hi,” you give a small wave from your side of the table, “I’m not trying to be rude but we were in the middle of a conversation.” 

Steve says your name quietly, “you don’t gotta--” 

The girl raises her phone and snaps a picture of you before you can say anything else. Then she takes a step back and takes one of both of you. You frown as Steve stands. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” 

“No one ever told me you were an asshole,” she sneers. “And a liar. I’m going to put this all over Tiktok. And Insta.” 

Your heart races as you stare at her phone case. That was so strange and uncalled for. “Can you please delete that?” 

Your voice is drowned out by her rant about her socials. Steve crosses his arms, “I’m telling you to leave, right now.” 

“Oh, Captain, what are you going to do?” She sticks her tongue out. 

“Please delete it,” you say again, still unheard. 

“Now,” he growls. 

The girl’s taunting smirk falls from her lips. Her friend yanks on her arm and they both flee. You stare after them, mortified. You hide behind your hands as you measure your breaths. It’s fine. A long shot. You’re just paranoid. 

“You okay? I’m so sorry. I shoulda warned you,” he says. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just... I don’t really... go online. Like I don’t share my picture,” you lower your hands slowly. “She didn’t even ask.” 

“I’m sure she has all of five followers,” he scoffs, “hey,” he reaches across the table. “You sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t--” you exhale and rein in your nerves. “That happen a lot?” 

He shrugs. 

“Wow. I couldn’t do that. I already knew you were brave but that is a lot. And you were so nice, despite that attitude,” you shake your head. Suddenly you realise why he was so uptight when you recognised him earlier. 

“Thanks for trying to help,” he says, “it’s a habit of yours, isn’t it?” 

“Big help I was,” you tut. 

“Well, if you weren’t here, it would’ve been awful but it’s not so bad.” He smiles as he considers you, “you told them to go away so nicely and you didn’t have to.” 

“Yeah, I’m not one for confrontation but that was pretty intense.” You say. 

“I should keep you around,” he chirps. “Like a bodyguard or something.” 

You laugh, “okay, now you’re making fun of me.”