#he throws caution to the wind. grabs his angel and kisses him. tells him he wants him even tho he knows its wrong.

[samiferboy]

i am not immune to the idea of s1-2 samifer

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

ALSO ::: @blkkizzat got me all inspired and shit with her cute little mdni banners. So this one kind of models Kali's? Even though they really don't look that similar. I still wanted to give her credit for the inspo! I love inadvertent inspo the mostest. Thanks, Kali!

A/N ::: This came to me way too long ago in my Ask box. And Istg, I can't remember the last time I couldn't dislodge my head from my ass to write something. It's not that I don't want to write it, because I love the idea and very much wanted to write this for one of my moots. So here I am, throwing caution to the wind, spitting into the breeze, pissing at the hurricane and hoping for the best. I'm down on my knees, praying that I can finally belt this out. Just kidding. I'm on my knees suckin' Draken's huge cock. Duh.

C/W ::: Adult Draken x F.reader, "sexercise", sex as a form of exercise. You know when you wake up the next morning and you're sore from the amazing sex you had the night before? THAT is working toward THIS.

WC ::: 1,954

Here you go mack

MNDI under the cut

"What the hell are you laughing at." Draken stared you down with his dark eyes, waiting for you to say one more stupid thing about this new thing he's implemented into his workout routine.

"I- aheh - I'm laughing ... because it's fucking ridiculous, Ken. Like, I respect you for being so dedicated to working out and stuff. But sexercise? You can't believe that'll be a thing." You walked over to him and ran your hands up the front of his shirt, stopping to admire the firmness that pushed back against your palms.

You cocked your eyebrow and rubbed his pecs, "Have you - have you always been this ... hard?"

He bent down and whispered into your ear, "Why don't you let me show you a few different exercises, princess? If all else fails, at least you'll have a good time." Draken kissed his way from your neck up to your lips. You felt his hand creep up your thigh, stopping just short of where you wanted to feel him the most.

You moaned softly into his mouth and tugged at his hair, "You're so fucking dirty, Ken. Ok, fine. You can show me a couple of these ... 'exercises'. But don't count on me doing anything more than bouncing on youahh!" He bent over and hooked your waist over his shoulder and carried you off to the bedroom. "You mean to tell me that there's no equipment that's needed for this shit?" You laughed, "I should've kept my sex-pectations low!" You laughed again, harder this time.

Draken's hand came down hard on your ass. "There's equipment alright. Heavy, hard, big equipment." After he smacked you, he squeezed the cheek he punished. It made your cunt clench in anticipation.

He dropped you onto the bed and immediately started pulling his shirt off, revealing his tattoos and toned muscles. He was so hot that it was almost unreal. You couldn't believe this was the man that wanted to show you some ... interesting new exercises. You started pulling off your own clothes, eager to have his skin pressed against yours.

He pushed you back onto the bed and crawled over you, his cock hard and pressing against your leg. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs. You couldn't wait to see what he had in store for you.

"Now, you're gonna lay here and watch me do some pushups," he grinned at you, "Don't move a muscle." He pulled the bottle of lube out of the nightstand and situated himself at the end of the bed and started lowering himself to the floor, then back up. He wasn't even breathing irregularly. The bastard. You could see his muscles flexing as he lowered and lifted himself.

"Not moving is kinda my thing." You watched him do a few repetitions, admiring how hard his cock was when he did them. You couldn't help but rub your fingers over your clit, teasing yourself.

He jumped up and pushed your hand away, "I said ... no moving, princess. That means no touching, too. Ok, angel?" He grabbed your hips and pulled you down to the foot of the bed, so your feet were on the edge. "Ok, lift your hips up and hold them there." Draken helped guide you so you were alligned with his cock. "You ready? Tell me if you need to stop." He stroked himself a couple more times for good measure and got a decent coating of lube.

You scoffed. "Hhh, yeah, okay. I'll be sure to let you know when I'm tired of you fucking me. Also, what the hell happened to foreplay?" And then, almost as if it was completely out of your control, your eyes rolled.

"You happened, brat. I'm - I'm serious. I am just now getting to a point where I'm not really sore the next day, an' I've been doin' this for about a month."

You sat up immediately, your feet hit the floor with a loud thump. "Who the fuck you been doing this with!?" He dodged the swipe of your hand at his stomach.

"You, brat. Only you. You haven't noticed the weird positions lately?" Draken bent over and kissed you. "If your pretty little head wasn't screwed on ... I don't know what would happen to you. Ok, you ready now?" He smiled at you and half of the tension in your body melted away from just one look from him. The effect he had on you was ridiulous.

He pushed into you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. He felt so good that it almost hurt. Your pussy clenched around him, making him groan. "Fuck, you're so tight, princess. Y-you gotta relax or I'm not gonna be able to - I'm not gonna be able to move, heh." He said, brushing his hair from his face.

You moaned softly as he bottomed out, stretching you so good that you weren't sure how you were ever able to fit him in before. "Fuck, Ken. You're so big." You felt your body relax around him as he started to thrust in and out of you, slowly at first, then picking up the pace. "So, what you're gonna need to do is sorta rest on your shoulders. And then ... you ... fuck ... me." His thumbs ran small circles over the plush of your thighs, some harder than others.

"Wow, this - I mean, I'm going to be toned in no time! Ok, so I just fuck you? Can do." You positioned yourself so you were resting on your shoulders and started to raise and lower your hips to do just what he said. It wasn't 20 seconds later that you were whining.

Not because it felt good, but because it was fucking hard to maintain this position. "I, ow! K-Ken help! My thighs are going to spontaneously combust! Get ... get out!" You started laughing hysterically. "JESUS!"

Draken pulled out, leaving you feeling empty. "What are you doing, you ... Oh my God, ha! Are you ok?" He joined you in laughing, but not nearly as hard as you were. Tears ran down your face.

You whined, trying to pull him back to you. "Ok, so, maybe it's not as easy as it looks. Show me something else! Something that doesn't require me being like ... like that."

Draken grinned and flipped you over, so you were on your hands and knees. He grabbed a pillow and put it under your hips to prop you up. "Ok, now you just ... lift your ass up and down. Like, it's kind of like a squat, but ... you know what? Just do whatever you want, you'll get it eventually. You're a smart girl."

You turned your head to look at him, "Aww, Ken. You really think so?"

He bent over and kissed your cheek, "Of course, baby. Now, let me give you a demonstration. And then you can join me. Deal?" He positioned himself behind you, his cock still glistening with your juices.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, "Deal, but only because you're so fucking sexy, Ken. And I don't think I've ever been so wet in my life."

Draken took hold of your hips and pulled you back onto his cock. The sound of your ass slapping against his thighs made you moan. He started thrusting in and out of you, filling you up over and over again. He bent over and kissed your back, leaving a trail of small love bites up your spine, leading up to your shoulder blades. He kissed your ear and growled through his teeth, "Yeah? Does my princess like this? You like how I fuck you?"

"Yes! Yes, Ken! Fuck, don't stop! I'm gonna cum!" Your thighs clenched as you came around him, your body shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

Draken moaned and pulled out, his cock covered in your cum. "You wanna taste yourself, baby? Yeah? Well me too. You taste so good, I want some." He pulled you up and pushed you back onto the bed, then started to lick your clit. He sucked and licked and teased you until you were crying out, begging him to stop.

He pulled away and smiled, "You ready for another exercise?" He moved up to your mouth and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

You whined, "Yes, yes, I'm ready! I can do this!" You said a little too enthusiastically.

He grinned and laid down next to you. "Ok, this one is called ... the blowjob. It's pretty self-explanatory, but ... you just gotta suck me off. Can you do that, baby?"

You slapped him on the thigh. "I've never heard of that one. Why don't you walk me through it? I don't wanna fuck it up, y'know." He smiled that dark smile he has and grabbed a handful of hair on the back of your head, guiding your mouth to his cock.

He helped you line up, and then you just opened your mouth and let him push in. You could taste your own cum mixed with the salty taste of his. You looked up at him as you bobbed your head, watching his face contort in pleasure. "Fuck, you're doing so good, baby." You did that for a while until you could feel him getting close to cumming. "Hey, wanna try a new position? Get on top of me, yeah?" He pushed you off of him and positioned himself on the bed, his cock standing straight up.

"Ok, just straddle me and slide down, and then you can go at your own pace." You did as he said, sliding down his cock. "Just like that, princess. Now, lean forward and put your hands on my chest, and just move up and down. Use your thighs ... you know how to do this. You do it all the time." He was right, you did know how to do this. You started rocking back and forth, his cock hitting all the right places inside of you.

You moaned, "Oh god, Ken. You're so deep. You're so fucking deep! I c- ... any-, please! I want to cum!" Draken groaned and bucked his hips up into you, meeting you halfway.

"Just so you know, this is cheating. Me, helping you do this exercise, it's cheating. Technically, you're supposed to do everythi-"

"KEN! Shut up!" You yelled.

"Right, right. Sorry, angel." He grabbed you by the hips and began to thrust into you harder, bringing you both closer to the edge.

"Faster, please! Just a little bit faster! Ohhhh myyy fuck - yes!" You felt your orgasm rip through you as you collapsed on top of him. He came a few seconds later, filling you with his hot cum.

"Ok, so ... I guess this isn't what you call sexercise. More like, just regular sex." You giggled and laid on top of him, his cock still buried inside of you.

He smiled and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, "Sexercise? God, princess. What a silly word. Let's never use it again." He pulled you in for a kiss, and you melted into his touch. "You're so weird, y/n. Please don't ever change."

You smiled back at him, "Same."

He rolled his eyes and pushed you off of him, "Shut up. You're getting sappy." You giggled and cuddled into his side. "Now, I think it's time for a cool down in a minute, ok?"

"Oh god, there's more?!" You buried your face in his neck. "What could that possibly consist of?"

He rolled out from under you and got you situated before he trailed his lips all the way down to your hips. His mouth was so hot you could feel the tickle of arousal stirring in you again.

"I'm so glad you asked ..."

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @viburnt @darkstarlight82

[spnae]

Chapter 25 Oh What a Night: Part 1

Earlier that evening before they set out for the club; Giles grinned a little sheepishly as he watched Angel close the door and go back down stairs to join the others. As far as he was concerned, the hulking, sulking vampire deserved a night out. Especially after the successful return of the Minch child. Just as much as he deserved a night in with Zara.

It was true they had known each other years ago at university. He had been a closer friend to her husband, then boyfriend, than her really but he had still gotten to know her fairly well. She had been more prim back then, or so he thought. With a pang of retroactive guilt he remembered the drunken night he had tried to kiss her at a party while his friend had been on a liquor run. He recalled how he had drunkenly put out a cigarette and grabbed her roughly, throwing caution to the wind and giving in to his baser instincts. He had wrapped his fingers in that ebony hair and held her soft form to him with a strong hand to her back. For a moment she had melted into him, returning the kiss. Just for a moment. She had pulled back from him realizing with a jolt that it wasn’t her boyfriend kissing her. She’d slapped him of course, and they never spoke of it again.

However that night had played back in his mind from time to time. He had always kept in touch with the couple throughout his watcher career. He had been devastated when he found out her husband, his friend, had died suddenly the same year he had moved to America. He felt almost like it was some sort of sacred duty to keep an eye on his friend’s wife and daughter, no matter how distant. He kept in touch with a phone call here and there, usually birthdays and what not. He had forged a long distance friendship with her, not really realizing the significance of it.

He never gave too much thought to it really. Until he’d found out about the castle. He and Willow had discovered several properties that would have made a perfectly suitable headquarters for them. But when he realized this one with its spacious rooms and seemingly perfect proximity to the town he knew his friend and her daughter resided in; it seemed clear this was the right choice.

When he had first called to inform her of his move, he had been surprised when she invited him to the shop for tea. He hadn’t seen her in years. Emotionally he knew those years hadn’t all been kind, and prepared for the worst. But when he saw her for the first time in many long years he had discovered that she was still beautiful, sexy and confident. What was more, she was embracing her independence in a way he had never seen her before. He suddenly felt like that dumb kid who had tried to kiss his friend’s girlfriend all those years ago. Except that this time she was free.

They had grown close over the past year or so. However it was only recently that they had decided to take the step from friends to the possibility of lovers. He wasn’t really sure what that meant for them really. Should he tell her about the school, the girls, what his role really was? Would she even understand? It always seemed to come out in the wash in the end except that this time it hadn’t yet. But how long would that last?

This broken leg had given him an excuse to invite her over instead of always going to her shop to spend time together. He hadn’t felt right going to her house with her daughter still living at home. Despite the fact that said daughter was at least the same age as Buffy.

He certainly had his reservations about inviting her to the castle even now but justified that they would be staying in his private quarters and all of the Level four and most of the level three girls were legally adults. He found his thoughts to be a messy cycle of contradictions where she was concerned. Yet he found himself thinking about her in ways he had never imagined.

They kissed on a number of occasions now and flirted heavily. They’d even flirted a little in front of Buffy and Spike. Heaven only knew what they and Faith thought was going on between them. If Buffy, the most important person in his life, already thought he was sleeping with Zara and who’s biggest objection was an ick-factor based on a somewhat juvenile view of his love life. Then why hadn’t he acted? Especially when the exceptionally lovely lady in question had dropped a number of heavy hints that she was interested in taking their relationship to the next stage. Then what was he waiting for? He decided he was done waiting. Zara had eagerly accepted his invitation, if she was willing then so was he.

He would deal with Buffy later if it came to it. He could only assume that his hesitation sprung from the fact that it had been exceedingly awkward when Buffy had found out about the magically induced tryst between himself and her mother. Joyce had been a wonderful lover. Unbeknownst to Buffy, the band candy incident hadn’t actually been their only time together. However ill advised they both knew it was, they had on very rare occasions, turned to each other since then. They were only human after all.

In many small ways he really had loved Joyce. He regretted not telling her so before she passed. He had been too worried about what Buffy would say or how it would affect their relationship. Joyce’s death had been a hard blow to him even though they had stopped seeking each other out long before her death.

The phone rang, bringing him out of his thoughts and Giles picked it up. After a brief conversation with Zara letting him know she was leaving for the castle. He turned off the record player and reset the needle. He gave his tidy room one more furtive look before making his way down to the next floor. He made his way through the training room and out to the hall before taking the elevator down to the entryway. He knew without a doubt that the girls, his girls, were off for a night of fun with the two vampires. An oddly comforting thought.

Giles stood with the door open, breathing in the night air while he waited for Zara. It was a beautiful, clear night. If he didn’t think it would be anything other than awkward with his crutches, he might seriously consider asking her on a night time stroll. Perhaps the roof? The elevator went to the fifth floor after all. He had planned on simply spending the night in his suite with the record player, but it seemed like a crime to waste such a beautiful night indoors. He eyed the large red blanket they kept by the door for Spike’s daytime use. He pulled it down and folded it carefully while balancing on one foot. He could always make the suggestion.

While he waited for Zara to arrive, Ursula and Addison came in through the entryway.

“Oh hello, good evening girls. I hum, I thought you might be out tonight.”

The girls looked at each other and back at Giles, “Maybe later.”

“We thought maybe a movie or two and then maybe go patrol. It's a really nice night.”

“That it is,” Giles felt the color in his cheeks as he remembered Zara wouldn’t be far off. He didn’t think he would mind her coming over while the girls were otherwise occupied. But, he wasn’t sure if he was too keen on the idea of them knowing he had a friend of the romantic variety over for an overnight visit. Fortunately the two girls didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. The girls went into the kitchen, grabbing sodas and popcorn and settled down in the living room per usual. Giles was relieved when he heard the movie start just before he saw Zara’s headlights come towards the castle.

He certainly wasn’t ashamed of his relationship with Zara. He found her to be a fascinating woman. She knew more about music than he did, which was saying something. He could talk to her for hours on that and many other subjects.

He opened the door wider, smiling as Zara got out of her car wearing a bright blue ankle length fitted sundress that nearly matched the blue streak in her glossy black hair, which was pulled up in an elegant bun with a single bejeweled hair stick sticking out of it. The racer back of the dress showed off the record player tattoo on her shoulder that he found so alluring.

She greeted him with a smile, “A bit anxious are we?”

“Much better now you’re here.”

“You’re normally so guarded, I was surprised you asked me over.”

“Yes well Buffy and Faith are out. They have a friend in from out of town and thought they’d show him around a bit before he has to leave. The girls have the night off of course and I’m rather on my own so I thought perhaps tonight was as good a time as any.”

“I’m glad that you called. I’ve been looking forward to it. So Rupert, what exactly did you have planned for me now that you have me all to yourself?” she asked in a sultry tone as she stepped towards him. She placed a kiss on his lips.

Giles cleared his throat, “Oh yes, well something along those lines to be sure.”

Zara laughed, “Are you a naughty librarian?“

He smiled, “Yes well, I haven’t been a librarian for several years now.”

“Might be able to take a librarian out of the library but he’s still there. I can see him,” she ran a hand over his chest, “Still amazes me that the same boy I knew in university became an American librarian. How in heaven's name did that happen?”

“Life does tend to take its twists and turns doesn’t it?” he smiled at her a little nervously. Giles picked the blanket up from the small bench by the door, “I thought perhaps we would venture up to the roof. Do a little stargazing; if you like.”

Zara eyed the blanket and looked back at him, “Well aren’t you a romantic old fool?”

Giles smiled a little, “I did have other plans but I figured it’s such a beautiful night why waste it? A little stargazing, then see how the night goes,” he said in a hushed tone.

Zara pressed into him carefully, being sure not to throw him off balance and gave him a kiss, “I think that sounds like a wonderful evening and you’re right, it is a lovely night you can see the stars quite wonderfully out here. And it works nicely with the surprise I brought with me,” she held up a bag, “I brought wine. I even have a corkscrew. Now, you can either tell me where the glasses are or we can just say sod it and drink straight from the bottle like we used to when we were kids. What do you say?”

“Sod the glasses “

“Alright then I’m liking this plan. How’s the leg feeling?”

“Quite well actually. Won’t be allowed to put any weight on, but at least the elevator goes up to the fifth floor and then it’s only a short distance to the roof. Shouldn’t be a bother.”

“Shall we then?” she asked, taking the blanket from him.

Zara pushed him gently up against the wall of the birdcage elevator kissing him tenderly. It was slow and sweet and Giles kept his hands on his crutches studying himself as they reached the top of the castle. They headed down a short hallway past the door leading to the level four girls bedroom. Giles pressed a finger to his lips indicating that she should be quiet as they passed by as Zari and Wendy were most likely to be asleep. Giles opened the heavy door leading out to the roof, closing it behind them. The view from here was breathtaking and the stars shining above them made it even more so.

They found a spot where they could look out over the battlements and Zara laid the blanket down on one of the flatter surfaces. Giles fumbled with his crutches as he clumsily managed to sit down on the blanket. Zara sat next to him and pulled the wine from the bag she had brought. Giles took it from her along with the corkscrew and opened the bottle.

He tilted it towards her, “Lady’s first?”

She took a swig from the bottle, “You can be so stuffy sometimes.”

“So I am told. Often multiple times a day,” he accepted the bottle from her and took a drink.

“Rupert, what is the matter with you? You seem a bit on edge tonight. Are you worried about the girls?”

“I suppose it’s more vain than that. I’m afraid of not living up to this professional persona I’ve built for myself,” he said honestly.

Zara nodded while taking another drink, “I know a little about that. You’re the first man I’ve seriously thought about being with since Jonathan passed. I’ve been worried about what sort of message I’d be sending Gemma. Which is ridiculous, I know. She is her own woman and has had a few lovers of her own now and yet here I am,” she placed a hand on his bicep, “Are you worried about what Buffy and Faith would say? Buffy seemed, perhaps a little put off but not completely opposed to the idea of you moving on.”

“I should have known you’d be so understanding. I- the truth is, Zara… Buffy’s mother and I were— well we—“

“Were never actually married?” He looked at her a little mystified. She continued, “Joyce Summers. The name of the school… you’re a bit traditional Rupert. But you did love her, that much I can tell by the way you never talk about her.”

“I humm, well, yes. She was an amazing woman. Incredibly smart, beautiful, funny, a quick wit. Buffy is very like her,” he accepted the bottle back and took a drink.

“A ‘class-act’ I believe Spike said?”

“She really was.”

Zara leaned back onto her elbows and threw her head back to look at the stars, “He’s a bit of an enigma isn’t he? Spike.”

“More than you know. He loves her, he makes her very happy,” he took another drink.

“Oh aye, you can see it with blind eyes.”

Giles coughed, “Yes, I’m quite sure.”

She thumped him on the back, taking the bottle from him and taking a long drink, “Then what is still bothering you? Are you worried about the girls being out at the club tonight?”

“Oh heavens no. No, those girls can certainly take care of themselves and besides they are with Spike and Angel. They’ll be more than fine.”

“Here, take the bottle for a bit.”

“Thank you my, dear,” he said, taking it from her and drinking.

“Rather odd nicknames. They aren’t part of some gang or some such are they?”

“Heavens no. In fact Angel is a Private Investigator. Spike worked with him before coming here to be with Buffy.”

They paused looking at the stars and they each took another drink. Zara set what was left of the wine down next to the blanket and pointed towards a shooting star. Giles laid down next to her and she curled into him. She reached out to him, pulling him in for a kiss, before saying, “He’s going to ask her to marry him, you know. It might not be for a good long time but you can see it etched on him.”

“He’s practically my son-in-law as it is.”

They watched the stars a moment before Giles leaned into her for another kiss. He rolled over on to her as the kiss deepened and suddenly he felt like his teenage self again. Until his cast clunked heavily on the roof and sent a shock of pain up his body.

“Bloody hell!” Giles hissed with a grimace.

“Oh! Rupert!” She tried not to laugh. It had hurt she knew. She placed her hands on either side of his face, soothingly. He kissed her as she began running those thin strong fingers slowly down his neck and shoulders. She added gentle pressure as she settled him back down onto his back, “Allow me, you silly fool,” she murmured as she pressed a firm but tender kiss to his mouth.

Zara ran a hand through his graying hair as she inched a leg over him. Her movements were slow and tender but decisive. She didn’t show any signs of hesitation, just gentleness allowing him to pull back if he wished. He didn’t. Giles let out a little huff of frustration as he pulled at the bejeweled hair stick that sent her silky long hair falling around them. The scent of her shampoo rolled over him like strawberries and jasmine. He wanted to drink her in.

“Rupert?” she asked as she pulled back slightly.

He reached up to push her blue and black hair out of her face, “Yes, my dear?”

Her dark eyes searched his face, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” she smiled and crashed back down to him. Her kisses and her movements growing more bold. Something clicked in Giles’s brain as he realized that this was really about to happen. Right here on the roof of the castle. Just like a couple of randy university kids. He gasped as she nipped lightly at his ear.

He pushed up the thin fabric of her sundress looking for panties but only found soft skin. Making Zara chuckle, “I thought you might need some convincing.”

“You cheeky little…”

Zara laughed a little, “Shall I then?” She asked rocking back a little to remove his pants.

“I think perhaps you’d better,” he murmured.

She smiled as she freed him from the confines of his trousers and settled over him slowly, “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“I’ve been afraid of doing this for almost thirty years.”

“I remember,” she grinned, “You’re a better kisser now,” she whispered into his ear as she slowly worked herself down onto him. Giles started to moan and Zara caught the sound with her mouth. She straightened one leg and rolled smoothly so Giles would be laying on his left side with his broken leg laying on the firm surface beneath them. She kept one leg wrapped around him allowing him to move within her and gasped.

Giles moved his hands tenderly under her dress, feeling her soft skin under his fingers. Calluses from years of playing guitar scratched lightly on her smooth skin. The two of them worked together. Rocking, gliding, loving every inch of each other under the stars.

They laid back looking up at the diamond studded sky panting as they caught their breath. Giles suddenly wished he had a cigarette but settled for reaching for the bottle of wine. He sat up a little to take a drink.

Zara grinned up at him, “I could go for a nip after a shag like that,” she came up onto her elbow and reached for the bottle taking a long pull. The bottle was nearly empty now. She frowned at it, “Maybe I should have brought two bottles.”

Giles chuckled, “I take it you’re not done with me yet?”

“I’m hoping you got another one like that in you.”

“Probably do better if it weren’t for this ruddy thing,” he said, gesturing to the cast on his leg.

“Perhaps a change of venue?”

“Roof is a bit hard on the hip, this blanket doesn’t do much.”

Zara sighed as she took another drink and passed the bottle back to him, “That’s the last of it.”

Giles downed the last sip and looked at the bottle, “I’m fairly certain Buffy has a few bottles in the kitchen. There is scotch in my suite. Lady’s choice.”

“Buffy wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ll replace it.”

Zara grinned, “ And here I thought I was bringing out the rebel in you,” she teased.

“Didn’t think you much cared for my rebellious side.”

“It's all about balance. Besides, I think I got a little on the defensive side after that night we kissed. I think maybe you got a little bit more under my skin than I wanted to admit.”

“I certainly never would’ve guessed you didn’t really seem to want much to do with me after that. Not that I could blame you. I knew it was impulsive.”

“You were drunk.”

Giles suddenly looked very guilty, “Not that drunk if I’m being honest. Got blitzed after you slapped me.”

“Rupert! I don’t believe you,” she chuckled almost angrily.

“I knew he was about to propose. I figured I’d never get the chance otherwise. I was almost relieved when you smacked me. Probably wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I’d hurt Johnny. As it was, the way I saw it, I did him a favor; making sure the girl he was about to marry really loved him. At least that’s what I told myself after.”

“We were engaged less than two weeks after. I did love Jonathan.”

“I know. I was a cad for pulling a stunt like that.”

“You were a great snog.”

“Nice to know,” he grinned.

“Better now.”

“That right?”

“Ready to get that wine and try it again in comfort?” She asked as she stood up. Her dress fell back into place and she extended her hand to help him up.

“I’m definitely up for another go,”

He fixed his clothing and they gathered up the blanket and the empty wine bottle before heading back downstairs to the kitchen. Giles hung Spike’s blanket back on the hook with a smug grin. ‘Nearly got shagged’, my arse, you berk, he thought with a smug grin. It was extremely petty, juvenile really and he knew it. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the love of a beautiful woman, but he was feeling a bit reckless.

It wasn’t long before they managed to make their way up to Giles’s room. Zara sat the bottle of wine down on the coffee table in his little sitting area next to the couch Angel had been sleeping on during the day. She noticed the extra pillow and blanket laying there along with Angel’s bag.

“That friend of the girls staying in here?”

“He is, but he’s out with the girls and I doubt he will be back until tomorrow morning. He’s a bit of a creature of the night, if you will.” Giles propped his crutches against the end of the bed where he normally put them while he slept.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience your guest.”

“Not at all, he’ll be gone all night and he already said he planned on staying downstairs tonight,” he held out a hand towards Zara. She stepped towards him several paces and took his hand.

Steading himself against the bed with the back of his good leg, he pulled her towards him eliciting a little squeal from her. Zara kissed him with a smile on her lips. The second bottle of wine sat forgotten on the table as they relinquished themselves to the heat growing between them.

***********************

Outside the club, Faith handed Spike her car keys, “I’m going home with Callum, he’s going to bring me home tomorrow. I think we’re in for some serious alone time after that little grope-fest.”

“Look Faith, I’m really sorry about the whole—“ Angel started.

“So you copped a feel, under a spell. Please, don’t make a big deal out of it. That would just be weird man. Like hugging.”

“I can do that.”

Callum came out of the club, “There you are, Lass.”

“Yeah we figured we’d better clear out. Everything good with those two?”

“Ehh yeah… I think so… Eddie is a little embarrassed but I assured her I kept prying eyes away from her and Marcus. Marcus said if they conceive after this they’ll name the kid after me,” his laugh was laced with embarrassment for his friends. “Not exactly the night I expected, hoping we can get back on track.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Faith said as she pulled herself into him.

“Glad to hear it, wasn’t sure after all that.”

“It’s fairly standard stuff, you’ll get used to it or you’ll get out,” Angel said flatly.

Callum narrowed his eyes a little, “Don’t plan on being scared off so easy, and if I get an honorary niece or nephew out of the deal it’ll be more than worth it,” he said, pulling Faith a little closer to him.

Angel gave a little smile, “Ok then. I was a little afraid I scared you with the whole grrr arggg,” he added pointing to his own face.

“Might have been nice to have that little disclaimer,” he eyed Faith.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I sort of thought Spike had covered that one.”

“Don’t put that on me,” Spike said, holding up his hands and Faith’s keys.

“I don’t know about you guys but I’m ready to get back to the castle.”

Spike jingled the keys a little, “In you get, Pet. Angel?”

“I ehhh… Giles was…”

Spike raised an eyebrow, “Was what, mate?”

“He was listening to Pink Floyd and waiting for his ehh ‘friend’ to come over. He was setting up candles—”

Spike laughed, “Oh so that’s why you came out with us! That’s bloody brilliant,” he actually had tears in his eyes from laughing, “Got to hand it to Giles, haven’t had a proper shag until you do it to ‘The Dark Side of The Moon’, sodding revolutionary. Didn’t know watcher boy had it in ‘em,” he laughed.

“Was that the rainbow one, you played that one time?”

Spike sobered up giving Buffy a mild glare, “God help me. Yes, that’s the rainbow one. You know, just for that; I’m puttin’ it on tonight. Wash out this techno bullocks and put it to you right.”

Buffy grinned, “Might have to put it on a loop.”

**************

Angel watched as Spike opened the door to Faith’s car for Buffy. She shook her head laughing, “Not hating the undead chivalry thing.”

“Not done with you yet, Sweetheart,” he purred into her ear.

Buffy slid into the car and Spike went around to the other side, “Oi, you coming, Peaches?”

“I’m driving.”

“Sorry, Mate. Girl gave me the keys, makes me the responsible party, and you the backseat bitch,” he jeered.

Buffy peeked her head out of the car window, “Strong but tiny woman, here. I can get in the back. It’s no big, kinda like me,” she offered.

“No, you stay there, I’ll be fine.”

“That’s a good boy now,” Spike intoned jovially.

Angel growled, “Shut it Spike.”

“Not until you get in,” he smirked.

Angel hesitated. He really didn’t want to get in the car, he wasn’t really sure if he even wanted to go back to the castle. He sighed and climbed into the cramped backseat of the little blue car. It definitely hadn’t been built with anyone over six feet tall in mind. He huffed indignantly as he tried to make himself comfortable.

Spike watched him with amusement before slipping in behind the wheel and turning on the radio. A commercial came on identifying Faith’s favorite rock station and Alice Cooper’s ‘Poison’ came on as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Spike sang along and drummed to the beat,

“Your mouth, so hot

Your web, I'm caught

Your skin, so wet

Black lace, on sweat

I hear you calling and it's needles and pins

I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name…” he sang, stealing a glance at Buffy with a sly grin plastered to his face.

Buffy relaxed back in her seat listening and watching him as he continued. He could be such a kid at times, but in a good way. So good. The words of the song washed over her and she imagined doing those things with Spike. The song reminded her of the best parts of their first “relationship” after she had come back from the dead.

As unhealthy and twisted as it had been, it hadn’t been all horrible. Parts of it had been downright fun at times. She couldn’t wait to get him alone.

“Do you have to do that?” Angel complained.

Spike turned up the radio and grinned at Buffy. He wasn’t about to let the older vampire put a damper on his night.

Angel scoffed and sat further back in his seat. He could smell the slightest hint of Buffy’s arousal in the confines of the car and it hurt knowing it wasn’t for him. He wound down his window to let in the night air. This definitely rated in the top ten worst trips he had ever taken.

The next song that came on the radio was Billy Squire’s ‘My Kinda Lover’. Spike’s grin widened uncontrollably, “Hear that, Pet? Sounds like they’re playing our soundtrack tonight, first Cooper, now Squire. Not sure I’m feeling Floyd tonight. You don’t like the stuff I normally listen to.”

“I told you I’m warming up to the Ramones a little… a few songs… and I liked some of The Buzzcocks songs you made me listen to. Still not a fan of the Sex Pistols, sorry.”

“You said ‘Pretty Vacant’ was alright.”

Buffy hesitated, “For the Sex Pistols— I so did not say I liked it. I’m just saying that we don’t always have to go with classic rock, it’s just sort of middle ground-ish…”

“Just broadening your horizons, Pet.”

Angel turned his face so he was nearly sticking his nose out of the window. As the two of them continued talking about music. The conversation rolled easily. Spike must have said something funny because the next time Angel looked up Buffy was laughing so hard she had started wiping away tears.

Once she had controlled herself, Buffy cast a furtive look towards the backseat and then turned back to Spike. She placed her hand on his and pushed her thoughts towards him, Babe, we all get it. You are the big bad sex-god, Alpha-male, sooo getting some seriously crazy sexy-time tonight. Lay off Angel. He did us a solid. He didn’t have to help us, and he’ll be gone soon. Just play nice a little longer.

Spike squeezed her hand and turned down the radio, but still continued to sing along to the next song.

Buffy turned to look at Angel again, she didn’t really know what to say but figured she should probably make an effort. “Thanks for helping out with the Minch problem.”

Angel glanced up, “No sweat. Glad I could help,” he turned back towards the window. It was a remarkably clear night.

He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. It was taking all of his self control not to lay into Spike after their fight earlier and yet he knew he had a point. He really just wanted to beat the shit out of the bleached little twerp and take Buffy for himself, just like the old days with Drusilla. No wonder Spike hated him. He hated himself for even thinking it. Especially since Buffy would probably drop him from the roof into the bright sunshine just for the thought.

Angel caught another whiff of her scent. He glanced towards them to realize she and Spike had their fingers locked together, resting near the gearshift. It was a perfectly innocent gesture and yet the looks on their faces told him a different story. Spike’s face was set in a look of satisfaction as he continued to hum and occasionally sing along to the radio. Buffy for her part sat relaxed in her seat watching Spike with lust filled eyes and a little grin on her sweet face he’d never seen before. It hit him like an aluminum bat to the skull as he remembered what Spike said about the link that had been forged between them.

Angel cleared his throat when he saw the sign for The White Rabbit. He knew it was the pub Callum lived over. And also where he was probably doing things with Faith that he really, really didn’t want to think about.

“Hey humm, the castle isn’t far from here right?” He finally spoke up.

Buffy glanced instinctively in the rear view mirror, not surprised when she didn’t see Angel there. She rolled her eyes anyway and turned in her seat, “Just down the street and to the right down the lane. Why?”

He nodded, “I think I’ll get out here, clear my head.”

“Sewers intersect with the tunnels if you get caught out.”

“Be back by sunup Sonny-Boy,” Spike said, stopping the car outside of the pub.

“Your concern is overwhelming.”

****************

Faith flopped down on the couch in Callum’s living room, “Sorry about Angel… he can be seriously intense. I should have warned you about the vamp-face thing.”

“No use rehashing all that, Lass. He’s definitely intense though. What’s his problem with having fun?”

“Ahh yeah… that’s sort of part of his whole deal. See, where as Spike went on some soul quest to get his soul. Angel was cursed. I mean like he pissed off the wrong people and they put his soul back in by force. If he finds true happiness he loses his soul and out comes freaking Angelus and we have to call our mega witch to put it back in. So he doesn’t go all kill happy or try to end the world. Hence the reason he is Buffy’s ex.”

Callum handed her a glass of whiskey, “Interesting friend.”

“If you can get past the crazy intense-ness, he’s not so bad. He’s a good friend.”

Callum shrugged and sat down next to her, “Everybody needs those. I imagine in your line of work having good friends is what makes the difference between getting home and getting you dead.”

“Sometimes. Yeah.”

“Although, I wasn’t too keen about bumping into his hand under your dress.”

“Humm yeah, one to many hands up there for me too. Until tonight I would have told you that would have never happened. Definitely the spell.”

He chuckled, “I can’t help but notice a certain physical resemblance between us, Lass. You sure that’s all?”

“Oh I’m like 150% sure. Truth is that I’m a sucker for those blue eyes and that smile of yours. Besides, Angel comes with way too much drama for me. I come with my own drama, I don’t need all that noise too.”

“Everyones got drama, Lass. It’s called family,” he said, sipping his drink.

“I might not mind trying that kind of drama on for size. Probably better than the whole monster of the week hullabaloo at least.”

“Dunno, I haven’t been around for any of the wipe-out-the-world stuff you talked about but I have survived a few Ross Clan Christmases. Sometimes those can be pretty intense,” he grinned.

“So not the same.”

“No, I imagine it’s not. I’m just—“

“Trying to relate?”

“Clumsily.”

Faith drained her glass and set it down on the coffee table, “Hey I seriously can’t say one way or another. Demons I can handle, people not so much. Be my luck I’d be halfway through dinner before I started wishing I had a freaking demon to stab.”

He laughed, “Good heavens, the thought that that could actually happen,” he gave a shudder, “Gives new meaning to; careful what you wish for.”

“No kidding.”

“Who would have thought a wish could have done all that tonight?”

Faith rolled a shoulder and shifted to her knees moving closer to him on the couch, “Could have been worse.”

Callum spread his arms across the back of the couch still holding his drink in one hand. He watched her as she straddled his lap, “Suppose that’s true. I certainly didn’t mind what you were doing just before Angel broke us up,” he grinned.

“Goes double for me.”

Callum arched an eyebrow, “Sorry, I only got the two hands.”

Faith chuckled, “Those two hands have more magic in them than any spell.”

“That so?”

“Humm, huhh…” she murmured as she leaned in for a kiss.

Callum brought his free hand up to the small of her back holding her firmly in place. Faith grabbed a handful of his thick dark hair and pulled his head back roughly. Callum groaned into her mouth and deepened the kiss, wrapping his tongue around hers. Faith bit his bottom lip and pulled a little as she settled back from him. Callum gasped as he tried to close the distance between them again but she held him in place with the hand she still held in his hair.

“This mean I’m in for a rough night?” he breathed.

“Only if you want it.”

“You know I do.”

Faith reached out to take his whiskey glass, “You going to drink this?”

“Was planning on it,” he pulled it back from her and downed it, “Like a refill, Lass?”

“Humm… could just taste it on you,” she arched back to set the glass down, giving him an eyeful as she did so. She straightened up slowly leaning into him for another deep kiss, “Humm, that’s good.”

“God, yes,” he grabbed her thighs, squeezing roughly.

Faith let out a little moan, “You’re not going to break me. Give me what you got, boy.”

Callum’s eyes flew open burning with desire. He squeezed into her hips, digging his fingers into her soft skin. Faith rocked into him, she gasped as his fingers pressed into her sending little electrical pulses through her. He continued to massage roughly as he worked his way up her dress and around to her lower back making her scream in delight.

“See, magic hands,” she gasped.

“Need that drink, Love?”

“Later. I just want you.”

“Good answer,” he said as he untied the strings that criss-crossed across her back. The top of the dress fell down exposing her breast. He dipped his head, taking one into his mouth, biting slightly as he resumed kneading the taught muscles along her spine and her shoulder blades.

Faith writhed, grinding into him, “Oh God. Yes, Cal! Yes!” she screamed.

She let go of his hair and grabbed his shirt. She tore at it, sending buttons flying. Callum growled, released her breast and moved up to her shoulder. Biting and kissing a line up her neck and back over to her mouth. Faith brought her hands back to his shoulders forcing his shirt down. He let go of her long enough to free his arms from his shirt. Faith grabbed his hands pushing them up above his head. He moved his hips up and twisted his body in a snapping sort of motion to fall hard back onto the couch, taking her with him.

Faith broke the kiss, “That was hot.”

He grinned, “I’ve got cuffs, if you don’t want to hold me down. Not that I’m complaining,” he said, nipping hard at her neck making her quiver.

“Cuffs? You are a naughty boy aren’t you?”

“They’re in the bottom of my sock drawer if you’re interested,” he said a little breathlessly.

Faith let him go and sat up. Grinning, she reached for Callum’s discarded shirt. “I would, but I’m seriously impatient. Big character flaw,” She said as she wrapped it around his wrist, securing it with a knot and pushed his arms above his head again. His muscles bulged as he adjusted himself a little.

She pushed herself up and off of him, her dress practically fell off as she stood up. She glanced down coyly at her nearly naked body. Then she started stripping Callum. He let out a gruff moan as she stripped him. When she was satisfied, she stood back up making a show of removing her little red panties as she slipped them down over her hips.

She sauntered a little moving closer to his head, and pushed a finger down between her legs, between her folds. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you have a taste.”

“And if I’m not?”

She straddled him again, making sure she was poisoned so his erection was pinned between her hot center and his own abdomen. She ran a hand down to rub her fingers over herself rapidly as she made him watch. She let out a little moan and worked her hips, rubbing against him.

“You’re trying to send me round the bend, Lass.”

At that she simply bent down to kiss him. Hard. Callum brought his bound hands down over her head pulling her into the kiss. He bit her lip, pulling slightly. Faith let out a sigh and rolled her hips against him smoothly. Faith forced his hands back up, giving herself space to move. She reached down between her legs again this time taking his hard member in her hand. He let out a small whimper while she stroked him a few times. As much fun as it was to tease him, she was growing more desperate too.

She adjusted herself atop him, pushing her hips down in one strong fluid motion taking him in fully all at once. She didn’t even bother giving herself time to adjust to his considerable girth before she started establishing a strong rhythm. She screamed as she did. Callum sat up smoothly, stomach muscles rippling and his hands still bound. He brought his arms up and down over Faith, working them down over her waist. She pulled her arms through, grabbing his hair in one hand and clawing at his back with the other. Callum let out a throaty yell.

Even bound as he was, he still managed to twist and press his arms down around her creating tension around her waist and hips. He bit into her shoulder and trailed his tongue across to the hollow of her throat dragging his teeth. Faith screamed his name as he pushed his hips up into her as hard as he possibly could. Faith continued to ride, pushing and pulling. She crashed her mouth down onto his neck and down his tattooed chest trailing her lips and tongue over his salty skin. He groaned onto her shoulder again.

He flexed his arms around her hard, the movement sent a shock through her and Faith felt her inner muscles latch down onto him. Pulling him in deeper. He bit the space between neck and shoulder sending her over the edge and rolling into wave after wave of pleasure and pain as he continued to nip at her pale skin and thrust deep into her. Her inner walls shuddered one more time and Callum released himself into her, filling her up and making her scream his name. She buckled under the pressure that was suddenly released. They continued to kiss as they pulsed together, neither one of them wanting to break contact. Faith pushed him down so they were both lying flat on the couch.

“Damn boy, even with both hands tied you get the job done.”

“I like a challenge. That was seriously fun.”

“I think I’ll take that drink now.”

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 11

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,696

Warnings: Unprotected Sex (non explicit) 

A/N: And finally... Just a word before, and it’s important, I wanted to put the explicit between two ‘*’ but I settled for one at the end because explicit means different things to different people. So whenever it starts to get too steamy for you, skip to the *. Thank you for reading, I appreciate your support!

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post. 

Bucky moved behind the kitchen counter when he heard the door close. You and your guests were in the hallway where you took their coats and asked them to remove their shoes. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He had to stay calm, you depended on him tonight.

“It smells nice in here. What did y-”

Bucky straightened himself up and tried to keep a casual, friendly smile on his face as he came face-to-face with Okoye. He had seen enough pictures of your siblings to recognize them.

She looked surprised to find someone else there. He raised his hand and waved, and she frowned at him in confusion. The rest of the guests stopped short when they saw him waving like a dork. You pushed through them and came to his side.

“Guys, this is my friend, Bucky,” you said. “He’s the one who invited you.”

“Thanks for the invite. I hope you like wine,” Scott said, extending his hand as he walked over to Bucky.

“I sure do.”

Then he shook Wanda and Okoye’s hands, telling them how good it was to finally meet them. Your sisters introduced him to their partners, W’Kabi and Edwin who preferred to be called ‘Viz’.

You led them to the living room while Bucky prepared the drinks. W’Kabi decided to stay behind and help Bucky carry the drinks to the living room. He praised Bucky for having such a nice home.

The conversation seemed to flow easily between your siblings, though as Bucky arrived with your drink, he couldn’t help but notice that you were not participating. You took the glass from his hand, smiled then went back to staring at the coffee table. He sat next to you and rubbed soothing strokes on your arm before he reached for his drink.

Okoye was telling everyone that she had decided to return to New York after King T’Chaka’s passing. His son carried the mantle of the Black Panther, surrounding himself with his father’s Dora Milaje, but Okoye wanted to live closer to her own family.

She was a Dora Milaje, loyal to her king, but she was also a sister, loyal to her family. She felt like there were no good choices, and it ate away at her until her king found a solution to her problem. His little sister, Shuri, was starting her own business in the United States and needed her own bodyguards. Okoye accepted and W’Kabi followed her.

Scott didn’t share much. He showed everyone pictures of his little girl, Cassie, and said he was now working at Baskin-Robbins.

Wanda was evasive about her life and whereabouts. She told everyone that she’d been backpacking across Europe and met Viz, a wealthy businessman, on a beautiful sunny day in Berlin. They’d been attached at the hip ever since.

“And of course, you’re all invited to the wedding,” Wanda said while Okoye admired the ring. “It’s going to be a small wedding. I just need my family.”

“Excuse-me,” you said, standing up abruptly. “I think something’s burning.”

Bucky watched you disappear into the kitchen. He glanced at the group again, no one was paying attention so he followed you into the kitchen.

He found you leaning back against the counter, your arms crossed over your chest, staring into nothing. He walked over to you and pulled you into a one-armed hug that you accepted with a pleased sigh.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you said, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Is it a code ‘flamingo’?”

“No,” you chuckled, pulling away. You took a deep breath and leaned back against the counter again. “It’s just...”

You huffed, unable to find the words and grabbed him by the waist, seeking his warmth again. Bucky let out a surprised laugh as you squeezed him tightly. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pressed you against his chest.

“I know it’s hard,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “It’ll be over soon, angel.”

Bucky rocked you side to side in a slow, soothing rhythm until you were practically melting against him. He felt you take a deep breath, your nose buried in his chest. He didn’t want the moment to end, but you’d been gone for several minutes now, and the others would barge in the kitchen soon.

He pressed a long kiss to your forehead and gently pushed you away, his arm falling to your waist. You smoothed out the wrinkles you had made in his shirt without looking him in the eye.

He could tell you were thinking about something but before he could ask what was on your mind, you kissed the slight cleft in his chin and quickly moved away from him.

He smiled to himself, his heart beating a little faster.

You were transferring the dinner rolls from the pan to the basket when Scott poked his head into the kitchen. Bucky was still smiling to himself like a lovesick idiot.

“Everything okay?” Scott asked, taking a step closer to you. You turned to him and nodded. “It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Seeing each other again after all this time.” He leaned his forearm on the counter next to you and smelled the bread. “Baby Wanda’s getting married. Did you know they flew me first class? And the hotel is incredible. I feel like a prince.”

“Viz seems very nice.”

“I can’t believe Wanda backpacked through Europe,” Scott scoffed. “She hates camping.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Bucky watched as Scott leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “Listen, I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me and for Cassie-” Bucky quietly left the two of you alone. It was a private conversation and he didn’t want to impose himself.

He finished setting the table, and soon everyone joined in. Bucky was sitting with his back to the kitchen, W’Kabi sitting next to him. You took a seat across from him, Wanda sitting next to you. Okoye sat next to Wanda, facing Scott, and Viz took a seat at the end of the table.

The food was good, and everyone complimented Bucky on his cooking skills. He said that you had helped him a lot, but you refused to take credit for chopping up a bunch of vegetables. You gushed about his cooking skills and his delicious recipes. It made them salivate just thinking about it.

“And your house is amazing,” Scott said with a dreamy look on his face. “A place like that...” he sighed, “that must have cost you an arm and a leg.” The whole room fell silent, and something that sounded like a foot hitting a shin made the table jump. “Ouch, why did yo- oh.”

Okoye was looking at him with the widest pair of eyes Bucky had ever seen. She looked furious and exasperated at the same time. The others stared at their plates as the uncomfortable silence grew.

Bucky glanced at you, not surprised to find you smirking. You knew he lived for moments like these, and you knew he already had the perfect comeback. As he watched you bit your lip, trying to contain a little giggle, he couldn’t help but love you even more.

“It was the original price but I’m a good negotiator,” Bucky said. “Only cost me an arm.”

W’Kabi was the first to laugh at his joke, then the whole table broke into fits of laughter. Scott looked equally amused and relieved.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“No problem,” Bucky cut him off.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” Okoye said with a smile and a shake of her head. She turned to Bucky as everyone calmed down. “So, Bucky, strange name, uh? What do you do for a living?”

“My name is James, Bucky’s just a nickname.” He wiped his mouth and set the napkin down. “I’m a writer.”

“A pretty good one, judging by your apartment.”

“I’m all right.” He shrugged. “Literally.” Scott snickered at the joke.

“He’s too modest,” you said. “His books are best sellers. They’re autobiographical, he’s very sincere and honest and funny. He has a way of making you laugh about things that are pretty awful.”

“Yeah, we saw that,” Wanda said with a grin. “Are you working on anything at the moment?”

Bucky shifted a little in his seat. “Yeah, it’s uh,” he cleared his throat. “It’s a very important one. I don’t really want to talk about it. Don’t wanna jinx it.”

He wasn’t going to tell your family that he was writing a book about how he fell in love with you. That’d be pretty awkward.

“I understand,” Okoye nodded, then looked at you. “You’ve been really quiet tonight.” You shrugged. “I thought you were still living with Natasha. Do you still work at the hotel? Where is it again? Chelsea? That’s one hell of a commute from Brooklyn.”

“I wasn’t exactly living with Natasha,” you said. “I was crashing on her sofa. And no, I quit six months ago. I’m a full time artist now.”

“That’s great,” Scott said, raising his glass toward you in a silent toast. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Not too bad. Bucky’s friend is a professional photographer. He helped me set up my website. The pictures he took are amazing. I sold a few pieces online but I’m struggling to find gallery representation.”

“Hey, as long as it pays the bills.”

“I don’t really have to worry about bills these days.”

“What do you mean?”

The room got quiet again, and Bucky could feel the tension in the air, buzzing like static electricity. All eyes were suddenly on you, waiting for an explanation. Bucky knew you were not going to lie to them. He locked eyes with you, and braced himself for impact.

You set your fork down and folded your hands in your lap.

“Well, Bucky and I have an arrangement.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Scott cut you off.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush and I’m not going to use pretty words to make it sounds more appealing,” you continued as if you hadn’t heard him. “He’s my sugar daddy.”

“You’re joking. Please, tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope,” you replied smugly, popping the ‘p’.

A chorus of voices rose in protest. Okoye and Scott were shouting while the others kept glancing around wondering what had just happened. Wanda was strangely quiet next to you.

“Oh, shut up!” you shouted. “You left me alone. All of you. We were all grieving our brother but it doesn’t give you the right to fuck off when things get tough. Do you know how fucking terrifying it was when mom started to lose her memories? Or when the police drove her home at three in the morning after one of her spells? No, you don’t know because you weren’t there.”

Bucky had never seen you so upset before, and he didn’t quite know what to do but he felt like you needed to get it off your chest.

“I didn’t have friends or boyfriends. I went to class, then got home, hoping mom hadn’t set the house on fire. I took the first decent job I could find because she needed a new home and professional help. Without Natasha I would have been homeless.” You turned to Bucky. “I’m so sorry, I’ve ruined dinner. You’ve worked so hard.”

“It’s okay,” he replied immediately. “I’m with you.”

“God, you’re so nice,” you sighed, then turned to your siblings. “See? That’s the kind of person he is. I was lonely and lost, and I found him and he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He’s kind and sweet, he’s selfless and generous, and you have no right to criticize our relationship.”

Bucky stared at you, his mouth hanging open a little. Slowly he shook himself out of his trance and reached for your hand on the table. He had no idea you thought so highly of him.

“We needed each other,” you continued. “And I don’t care what you think.”

Dinner was officially ruined but Bucky didn’t care. He smiled at you, soft and reassuring, and let go of your hand when you smiled back. He was proud of you for speaking up, for standing up for yourself.

Bucky noticed Wanda and Viz exchanging looks.

“Okay so, since we’re sharing truth bombs,” Wanda said, shifting a bit in her seat. “I wasn’t really traveling through Europe. I went to Sokovia and after that, everything’s kind of a blur. I did things I’m not proud of. I wanted to forget,” she paused and sighed, “everything. I hit rock bottom, pretty hard, and checked myself into a psychiatric hospital. That’s where I met Viz. He helped me send you those postcards. I screwed up, real bad, but I couldn’t tell you guys the truth. I’m not really proud of myself.”

“I got fired from Baskin-Robbins for yelling at a costumer.”

“Okay!” Okoye exclaimed in her big sister voice. “Enough truth bombs.” She pointed at you. “I’m sorry you had to do this alone, it wasn’t right but we’re here now and we won’t let you down. As for the sugar daddy thing... well you’re a grown woman, you can do whatever you want. Bucky seems like a nice guy.” She turned to Wanda. “We are all dealing with our pain in our own way. I’m not judging you. We’re here for you, Wanda.”

“I know,” Wanda said, sniffing.

“And Scott, stop yelling at people.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Bucky turned to W’Kabi and Viz who looked proud of their girls, albeit a little uncomfortable with the whole situation. Someone started chuckling, he couldn’t tell who it was, but suddenly the whole table broke into a fit of laughter.

“How about some dessert,” he said. “Then you guys can fill me in on some childhood secrets.”

As he walked away from the table, he heard you warn your siblings to keep their mouths shut. They laughed in response, which made Bucky smile. Surely it’d take more than one outburst at a family dinner to fix your broken bond but it was a good start.

During dessert, he learned that everyone called you ‘Splotchy’ because you painted on the living room walls as a child. He learned that you always wanted to play board games with Okoye. Your favourite one was Mystery Date.

“She had a crush on Tyler, the beach date.”

“No, that’s not true, don’t listen to them.”

When they finally left, you spent a few extra moments hugging everyone. Promises were made, and Bucky couldn’t help but smile as he watched you wave goodbye to your siblings.

It was just the two of you again, and the mountain of dirty dishes and silverware. He told you not to worry about the dishes, but you knew if he went to bed he wouldn't be able to sleep, not when the kitchen was such a mess so you cleaned together.

He loved these moments with you. There was something very peaceful about the night; the dark skies, the soft lights, the quiet apartment, knowing people all around town where getting ready for bed. It used to make him feel tiny and isolated but now, with you, the night didn’t seem so frightening anymore.

A few weeks went by, and things were changing a bit. You spent your Saturday mornings with your sisters, bonding, and facetimed with Scott at least once a week.

Bucky also noticed a subtle change in Sam’s behaviour. He seemed happier and he wondered if his friend had already forgotten Natasha.

It was almost June, and the building’s swimming pool reopened as the weather got warmer. Despite living there for several years, he had never gone near that swimming pool until you dragged him out one scorching afternoon.

The rooftop was surprisingly calm, apart for the group of children playing in the pool. There were people sunbathing around the pool, enjoying a good book, socializing. You dropped your bag on the floor and laid out your towel on the reclining chair.

Bucky had never seen you in a bathing suit before and it caught him completely off guard, but what made him literally growl was seeing the little pendant of your necklace rest against your skin. He didn’t know why but it awoke something in him.

You both slathered on sunscreen before you went for a swim. Bucky recognized a few neighbours, and while they all knew he only had one arm, they had never seen him shirtless before. Bucky didn’t mind their inquisitiveness, as long as you were beside him.

“Do you think the kids peed in the water?” you asked as you rested against the edge of the pool.

“Probably,” Bucky cringed. “When I was a kid, my mom told me that there were chemicals that turned the water a different color when someone pees.”

“Ew,” you laughed.

After a while, he lay out in the sun, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin. He could still hear you playing water polo with the kids when a shadow passed over him. With a frown, he pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead.

“It’s nice to see you, James,” his neighbour beamed, taking a seat on your unoccupied chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out here.”

“Hi.” He wasn’t surprised when his voice came out hoarse since he had been on the verge of falling asleep. With the grace of a walrus, he propped himself into a sitting position. “Yes, well, swimming pools are more fun when you’re not alone.”

His neighbour turned to look at you. “Congratulations, by the way. I didn’t know you were seeing someone. Must have been serious if you two moved in together. How long has it been since she moved in? Six months?”

“Seven.”

He knew he should have corrected her, you weren’t his girlfriend, but it felt good. It was just a harmless little lie.

“Does she make you happy?”

“I’m the happiest man on earth,” he replied with a bright smile, then slid his sunglasses back on his face.

His neighbour chuckled quietly. “I can see that!”

When you returned to your seat, his neighbour was gone. You hummed to yourself as you settled into your seat, big droplets of water running down your body. Bucky tilted his head down and peered at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Where did you get that popsicle?”

“Jealous?” You licked your treat without looking at him. “The kids’ mom gave me one as a thank you for looking after her kids.”

“That looks good.”

“So good.”

“Mind sharing it with me?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, then held out your popsicle. As Bucky leaned closer, you pulled it away and jumped to your feet. The look he gave you was one of pure betrayal.

“Oh, angel, you should have never done that.”

He grinned to himself when he saw a shiver run through you. When he stood up, you took a step back. He strutted toward you, his grin predatory. The floor was slippery so you couldn’t go very far.

“Are you ready to share now?”

“No!”  

The popsicle melted down your hand, creating a mess. You turned your arm and licked the drops of popsicle juice from the inside of your wrist. It distracted you long enough for Bucky to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you against him. You squealed and grabbed him around the neck to keep from falling while also trying not to smush the popsicle against his chest.

You waved the treat in front of his face and he tried to bite off the tip of your popsicle. It made you laugh, your body sagging against him. His face was close to yours. He was so close he could smell the artificial orange scent of your popsicle.

Your laughter died down and your breath caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you. Without thinking, he went for it. He felt your fingers flex against his skin, urging him closer.

His lips were barely a breath away from yours when one of the kids repeatedly slapped your thigh, obviously oblivious to what the two grownups were about to do.

“Come back! We haven’t finished the game,” the kid whined. “Come on!”

Reluctantly, you let go of Bucky and took a step back. Your exhale came out shaky, and in your almost-kiss-induced trance you handed him the popsicle without saying anything before you followed the kid.

You turned back to look at him, one hand sprawled across your stomach, the other across your chest. He knew you were feeling it too: the butterflies, the racing heartbeat, that pleasant heat going through your body.

The difference between like and love.

A week later, he came home to an empty apartment. He climbed the stairs to your studio but you weren’t there. Instead, he found a canvas stretched out smooth and tight on the floor, and several bowls of paint arranged in a semi-circle around it.

He knew you were home, you wouldn’t leave without your phone or bag. Out of curiosity, he went up on the roof and let out a relieved breath when he found you.

You were sitting on the edge of the rooftop with your knees up to your chin and your arms wrapped loosely around your shins. You looked so beautiful in the golden hue of the setting sun.

He stood there, watching you as if he was looking at a painting in a museum. Entranced. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and a quick glance around the roof told him you were alone.  

Slowly, he made his way to you and took in your appearance: a short sleeve white shirt and a pair of denim overalls. The shirt was surprisingly spotless but the overalls were covered in dried paint splatters of different colours.

“I looked everywhere for you,” he spoke softly, trying not to disturb you.

“Did you?”

You straightened up a little but kept your eyes trained on the horizon. Bucky sat close to your feet and let his hand slip under the hem of your jeans to close around your ankle. A sigh slipped past your lips, and he let his fingertips linger for a moment on your smooth skin.

He knew you had a meeting today, and judging by the resigned look on your face, it didn’t go well.

“What’s on your mind, angel?” he said, caressing the top of your foot.

“I was thinking about the night we met. God, I was so nervous,” you said, laughing softly. “I told you that agreeing to meet you was like choosing between a pack of wolves and jumping off a cliff.”

“I remember,” he chuckled.

“I never told you how glad I am that I jumped off that cliff,” you said. “I’d never jumped head first into something, not knowing what was going to happen. Now I think I’m addicted to it. Before I met you, I was living for others. Everything single decision was thoroughly analysed. There was no mystery, fun, or impulsiveness. I put my entire life on hold, and now I see that I can’t do that anymore.”

“What are you going to do?”

You paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t know if I want to turn my passion into a career. Painting is my safe-place, and right now it’s giving me so much anxiety. I haven’t had the inspiration to paint in weeks.” You looked at him and pressed your lips together tightly. “And, if I don’t want to become a full time artist, then I guess our deal is off.”

Bucky stared at you, mouth agape. He really hadn’t seen it coming.

“Please, don’t be angry,” you pleaded. “I don’t want to stop seeing you. When he didn’t answer, you leaned forward and touched his face.

“I could never be angry with you, angel,” he said, kissing the inside of your palm. “I understand, and I’ll help you however I can.”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m still thinking about it.” You looked away from him and stared at the sky. “Do you know that feeling when you stand in a high place and you think about jumping? You don’t want to jump and you don’t do it, but there’s that urge.”

“I think I do.”

“It’s called ‘call of the void’. People say that it’s an affirmation of our will to live. That knowing we’re going to die one day makes us appreciate life even more.” You looked at him. “I want to jump but I can’t. I’m scared.” You lowered your voice. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“You’re scaring me a little. You can’t talk about jumping when we’re sitting on the edge of the roof.”

You chuckled under your breath. “It’s a metaphor.”

“Let’s go home. We’ll make dinner together, put on some music and pretend we’re in a movie.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to you. “Please.”

You took his hand and let him lead you to the staircase.

Once you were inside the apartment, he removed his shoes and you removed yours. Silence settled between the two of you as you entered the kitchen. Bucky moved behind the counter while you stood close to the dining table.

When he chanced a glance at you, he saw you staring into nothing while you played with the charm on your necklace, rolling it back and forth on its chain. You often did that when you were daydreaming.

Bucky walked over to you and placed his hand on top of yours, halting your movements. You let go of the pendant and held his hand instead. He ran his thumb soothingly over your fingers.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he spoke softly.

“If I say it, it’s going to change everything.”

He pressed your joined hands against his chest, over his heart. “No, it’ll make it real.”

He let go of your hand and cupped the side of your face. You leaned closer until you were only inches apart. His thumb traced your cheekbone, then moved to trace the outline of your bottom lip.

He let you come to him, let you take that first step, and when your lips brushed against his, he closed his eyes and sighed. He kissed your parted lips; once, twice, three times, tiny little kisses against your trembling lips.

His kiss grew bolder, turning into something so intimate, so passionate and intense that tears gathered in his eyes. He pressed his mouth more firmly against yours, his large hand still cupping the side of your face. His bad shoulder jutted forward as if his missing arm wanted to touch you.

He let out a groan, frustrated that he only had one hand to finally explore your skin. Sensing his inner turmoil, you held onto his bad shoulder and pulled him against you.

His tongue swept into your mouth, moving in a slow and deliberate rhythm. A growl escaped him and he deepened the kiss, tasting, sliding, retreating and entering again. He poured everything he had into the kiss.

“Bucky,” you moaned after your broke the kiss, breathless.

Hearing his name fall from your lips, your voice hoarse with desire, sparked something inside him. He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip, feeling the softness and collecting the moisture that had gathered there.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking positively entranced. “My pretty angel.”

You pulled him in for another kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck, your slightly cold hands felt amazing against his heated skin. He pressed himself against you, letting you feel the rise and fall of his chest, the desperation in the jerky thrust of his hips.

He needed more but he wasn’t going to force you into anything. He was more than happy to stand here and kiss you for hours. He cupped the back of your neck and rubbed the sensitive skin behind your ear with his thumb.

“I’m yours,” he spoke against your lips, his eyes screwed shut.  

You pulled back to look him in the eye, searching his face. He opened his eyes and you saw nothing but honesty in the depth of his eyes.

You untangled yourself from him and took his hand. Slowly, you took a step back, then another, his hand still in yours. His eyebrows lifted slightly when you bit your bottom lip and gave him a coy look.

He nearly growled again, the wolf inside him eager to touch you, feel you, claim you. He stood taller, his chest puffed out and breathing fast.

You led him up the stairs to the second floor and turned on the light in the corridor. You slowly made your way down the corridor with him behind you.

But instead of turning left towards his bedroom, you turned right into your studio, and it changed everything. Your studio was your sanctuary, your safe place, and knowing that you were about to bare your soul and body to him tamed his inner wolf.

You hesitated at the threshold of the room and glanced over your shoulder to look at him. Bucky squeezed your hand to encourage you.

“I bought some body paint on my way home,” you said, letting go of his hand to step into the room. “I wanted to try something different, something more personal. I wanted to use my body to express my emotions, to create something raw and messy. My interpretation of somatic art therapy.”

You moved around the darkened room; bent down to adjust the canvas on the floor and made sure the bowls of paint were still full.

“I sat there and thought of my mom and Pietro,” you continued, barefoot on the canvas. “I only feel sadness and anger, and I don’t want to create something that makes me feel sad. And I realized the only thing that keeps me inspired is hope.”

Turning to face him, you held your hand out, palm up, and his eyes widened at your silent request. Without thinking twice, he joined you on the canvas. It was both soft and scratchy under his feet.

Bucky watched as you unbuckled the right strap of your overalls and slipped the second strap off your shoulder. You tugged your jeans down your legs and tossed them aside, leaving you in your underwear and white shirt.

Swallowing thickly, Bucky let his eyes travel up and down your body. He had seen you in your bathing suit before but this was different. Then he reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head, baring his strong chest, hard abdomen and marred skin.

The room was dark; the pastel sky, visible from your studio thanks to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, didn’t provide much light. The light was still on in the corridor, casting a faint golden glow over the room.

You took a step forward to examine his scars more carefully and Bucky took that opportunity to kiss you again, slowly, intimately. He peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck, then went down on his knees in front of you and continued his journey down your body, pressing soft kisses to your stomach.

He accidentally knocked over two bowls of paint; the dark colours spilled out onto the canvas, chasing each other. His kisses made you light up with desire, your moans music to his ears as your hands came down on the back of his head.

When it all became too much, you gently pushed him into a lying position and helped him out of his jeans. His belt buckle made a faint clink when you pulled it open, and Bucky swore out loud when you planted a wet open-mouthed kiss right below his navel.

In the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t going to survive the night. He let his head fall back against the canvas and closed his eyes shut. Your talented mouth sent sharp jolts of pleasure through him, making it difficult to breathe.

He could feel the paint stick to his back, creating the shape of his upper body on the canvas. It was strangely exciting.

He moaned, arching his back, and slammed his fist down on the canvas. His fist landed in one of the bowls of paint. It splashed paint everywhere. He looked down at you and saw tiny flecks of paint splayed like freckles on one side of your face.

It made you both giggle. As he pushed himself up into a sitting position, Bucky left a print of his forearm on the canvas. You climbed into his lap, straddling him, then removed your shirt and bra. You wrapped your legs around him, one hand on his upper arm, the other hugging his neck.

Bucky was sitting on the canvas with his legs outstretched and slightly bent at the knees. He held you against his chest, rocking back and forth, his arm around the small of your back. You sighed together, sharing the same breath.

“You have the prettiest nose.” You let your index finger run down the length of his nose, your finger wet with paint. “So pretty.”

Laughing softly, he brushed his nose against yours and kissed you. He changed the angle of his thrusts, catching you by surprise.

“Does that feel good, angel?” he asked, lightly biting your jaw. You answered with a short cry. “Look at me.” You slowly opened your eyes, your movements faltered a little. “You’re so beautiful like this. You drive me crazy, y’know that?”

“Bucky,” you cried out.

He felt you shiver when he moved his hand from your back to your face. He cupped the side of your face and you immediately pressed yourself closer to him, craving the warmth of his touch.

He stopped your movements and looked you in the eye. “I’d do anything for you. Anything. You’re my one and only.”

He laid you down as gently and safely as he could, and once you were lying flat on your back, he sprawled between your thighs. He supported his weight on his forearm, careful not to crush you. Your hands slid up his sides, and as your thumb traced over his ribcage, a violent shiver went through his body.

He had never seen anything more beautiful than watching you come apart; your eyebrows furrowed, your lips parted in a silent ‘o’, the way your body shook in little spams. Absolutely stunning.

Exhausted, he collapsed on top of you and hid his face in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around him and slowly caressed his back.

After he kissed his way down the side of your neck, he straightened himself up into a kneeling position and looked down at you. Your naked body was on display, covered in paint and glistening under the moonlight. He wished he could take a picture, immortalize this memory.

*

He helped you up, and after another passionate kiss he led you to his bathroom, the two of you leaving colourful footprints all over the clean floor.

The bathroom's bright fluorescent light was harsh and unforgiving as you looked at each other in the mirror. Yet you were both glowing, streaks and dots of paint covering your bodies. Bucky turned on the water and waited for it to get hot.

He wrapped his arm around you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. “We look like we blew up a rainbow,” he said, smiling wide when it made you chuckle.

In the shower, you took turns washing each other, laughing and kissing until the water turned cold. You pushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled sweetly at him.

“We’re going to catch a cold if we stay here.”

“Mhh,” he replied, kissing your temple. “You’re right. There are clean towels on the shelf. Go, I’ll be right behind you, I still need to take care of my scar.”

“Can I help you?”

Asking for help wasn’t something he was comfortable with, especially after years of being babied by his ex-girlfriend, friends and family. After his accident, he couldn’t do anything on his own. He had to rely on others and it made him feel like a burden, like he was incapable of taking care of himself.

He knew it was all in his head but he couldn’t help it.

“It’s not exactly sexy,” he said.

“I don’t care. I want to help. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

Patiently he guided you step by step through the process of cleaning his stump. You inspected his skin thoroughly, looking for irritation or any signs of infection, then washed it with a mild soap.

He had to admit that watching the woman he loved take such good care of his scar made his stomach fill with butterflies. You looked so focused, so attentive, that he could help but smile and try to kiss you.

“Bucky,” you complained, turning your head away, avoiding his kiss. “This is serious business, stop fooling around.”

He almost said it. I love you. But something was holding him back. He didn’t know what would happen next and it scared him. He didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, but he also realized that things were moving too fast.

“Okay, now you’re shivering,” he said, holding you close, trying to share his body heat with you. “Let’s get out of here.”

He wrapped you in a fluffy bathrobe and patted you dry. Then you carefully dried his scar and applied corticosteroid cream to his shoulder, massaging it gently into his skin. He slipped on his robe and you loosely tied the belt at his waist.

“We should talk about what just happened,” you said, playing with the belt. “What does it mean? What are we going to do? Can we-mph”

He cut you off with a kiss, long and hard and filled with passion. You smiled against his lips and finally pulled away.

“Is that how you’re going to shut me up from now on?” you asked with a grin.

“We’ll talk,” he said, pressing his forehead against yours. “But not tonight.”

“When then?”

“Tomorrow, I promise.”

You looked down at your hands on his belt and nodded. He tilted your head up and lowered his mouth to yours.

“Don’t avoid me tomorrow. Please.”

Your words felt like a knife in his heart, and it left him momentarily speechless. He took one of your hands and pressed it against his heart. “No matter what we decide to do, you’re my angel and I’m yours.”

You shared a long, silent hug before you both decided to call it a night. Once he saw the footprints in the corridor, Bucky felt the urge to clean them. He tried to resist but he knew if he didn't clean he wouldn't be able to sleep.

You understood –you always understood. That’s why he felt so comfortable with you.

Once it was clean, he joined you in the kitchen and made you breakfast for dinner, opening the cupboard and pulling out a couple boxes of cereal you didn’t even know he had.

He told you that he was keeping them for a special occasion. He remembered you telling him that it was your favourite meal as a kid, watching TV with your siblings every Sunday night, eating cereals.

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you said, tears in your eyes.

The two of you sat on your bed, sharing random thoughts and spoonfuls of cereal. You giggled as milk dribbled down his chin and stained his robe. You wiped at the spot on his chin with your thumb and gave him a chaste kiss.

Your lips tasted sweet. Bucky pulled you in for another kiss, discarding the dirty dishes on your bedside table. You helped each other undress, then slid under the covers where you laid your head on Bucky’s chest.

“Bucky,” your voice cut through the quiet. “Do you mind-”

“Don’t worry, my angel, I’ll wait until you fall asleep.”

“Thank you.”

Part 12

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Caution to the Wind

Pairing: yoongi x reader  

Warnings: fluff, angst, tension, first kiss, solo masturbation (f), mentions of erections, mentions of virginity and losing it (friendship pact)

*AUTHORS NOTE: Warnings will update per chapter as things get steamier*

Permanent Tag List: @mochilicious-yoongi​  @heyimtavia​

Rating: 18 and over

January:

This was fine. You were fine. Min Yoongi was NOT your boyfriend. He was your childhood friend, who you experienced your first everything with. You both new that your fun experiments were all in preparation for this moment right here, a college party. You swallowed back the amber liquid in your cup, watching him laugh and flirt with a random girl who wasn’t you. You nodded to yourself and turned away. The sting of tears burning, so desperate to reveal themselves. You’re fine! You kept telling yourself. You look over at him again to see the girl tugging at the lapel of his flannel shirt. You squeal internally, dying inside, wanting so badly to interrupt. You promised each other you wouldn’t let feelings get involved. You would only fool around so not to be the only virgins at college but this, this was so hard. You drop your red solo cup on a side table and walk over to him. “I’m headed back to the dorms ok. Have fun.” You nod and walk off past him. You sniffle back the tears that threaten once again. How did you get here? How did this happen? Fucking morning wood that’s how! You think back, racing out of the frat house to hail a cab.

June:

It was normal for you and Yoongi to sleep over each other's houses. Although you were both normally at your place since your mom was laxer. You had both fallen asleep watching a movie, the sun rise now peeking through your curtains. You grumbled, rolling over to find Yoongi lying on his back, soft snores escaping his slightly parted lips. You waved your hand over his face to see if he was really sleeping or just pretending. No movement. You smile to yourself, enjoying watching your best friend sleep. The angelic way he looked, the calm way his chest moved up and down, how he rested his hand on his tummy. You shifted the covers down from your over warm bodies, running your hand over his, gasping to yourself at the sight of his erection. You looked up at his face again and find him still fast asleep. You had heard of morning wood before. Your female friends had talked about it. They said it was a natural, normal reaction men had. Some of them even told you it was the best erection to have sex with. You swallow back the lustful lump in your throat, waving your hand over his face again. No movement.

You bite your lower lip, your hand hovering over his morning wood, desperate to touch it. Yoongi suddenly takes in a deep breath rolling away from you and nuzzling into the pillow. You release the breath you had been holding, turning your back to him, tucking a pillow between your legs. You gently and carefully begin to hump it, tucking your lips into your teeth to hold back your moans. That’s when that warm feeling begins to build, fireworks soon exploding in your brain. You can’t help but whimper, soft cries leaving your now open mouth. You still, your high dissipating, gasping when Yoongi rolls over and wraps his arm around your waist. “Shh. It’s ok Y/N, you're just having a nightmare. I’m here with you.” He mumbles into your ear, his soft snores soon following. You rest your arm over his, intertwining your fingers, falling back to sleep.  

A few hours later, you make your way down to your kitchen to find your mother and Yoongi deep in conversation. “Good morning Y/N,” Your mother greets, “How’d you sleep?” “She had a nightmare last night.” Yoongi chuckles, sipping his coffee. “I did not.” You scoff, grabbing a mug. “You did so, you should’ve heard her Ms. Y/L/N whimpering like a puppy. It was cute.” Your mother rubs your shoulder while your face turns beet red. “You having nightmares sweetheart?” “I’m fine mom. Yoongi’s just teasing me like always.” “Well, you two, time to buckle down and get some dorm shopping done. I’m really excited about you two going off and having the whole college experience. I’ll come by after work and pick you both up and we can head to Ikea. Yes?” You both nod, your mother kissing your head as she heads out. “Yoongi call your parents and let them know you’re here please, so they don’t freak. Have a good day and don’t spend it all on the couch!” She hollers back at you both.

“Why did you lie about having a nightmare?” Yoongi asks, eyeing you suspiciously. “Maybe because I didn’t have one.” “I heard you.” “You misheard.” “I didn’t mishear anything. You were practically crying in your sleep.” “I was not. So, drop it.” “Look you even woke up grumpy. It’s ok to have nightmares. We all do sometimes. It’s normal. That’s what you get honestly for watching those stupid horror films.” “Yoongi, please, just shush.” ��OK grumpy.” He smiles, sipping his coffee. “What do you want to grab at Ikea today?” You ask him, taking a seat at the table with him, coffee and toast in tow. “You know they say stress can cause nightmares. Are you stressed about moving out of your moms house and into the dorms?” “I didn’t have a nightmare ok! I was masturbating! Now will you just lay off me!” You finally shout. “I knew it! I knew I felt you humping! Oh my God, you dirty little birdie! With me in the bed!” Yoongi starts laughing, holding his tummy. “Shut up ok,” you shout, tossing a corner of your toast at him, “if it wasn’t for your morning wood, I wouldn’t have gotten so worked up.” You word vomit, covering your mouth immediately in shock. Yoongi stills across from you, his eyes wide.  

“Are you saying... I… made you… horny?” Yoongi inquires confused. “More like your dick ok, so don’t get all worked up and full of yourself.” You snip, sipping your coffee to keep the flush in your cheeks from becoming visible. Yoongi smiles wide, his gums exposed before giving you a shit eating grin. “Hey, it happens right? I mean we’ve been friends since we were kids. We sleep in the same bed. We were bound to rub against one another at some point. I’d be lying if I said I never rubbed one out after you shoved your ass into me.” He shrugs. “Really?” “Yeah. You’re a beautiful girl. Any guy would react the same.” He smiles. “Except no guy ever has which is why I am going to go to college a complete virgin!” You huff. “Who cares? I’m going to college a complete virgin also, it's not a big deal.” “You’re a guy. It's different for you.” “How so?” “Guys think of taking a girls virginity as some sick conquest. There’s no care or concern towards their feelings. Girls aren't the same with guys. We find it endearing when a guy is still a virgin.” “Yeah right! Girls think a guy is an inexperienced loser if he’s still a virgin.” “Well, if we are still virgins when we hit our second year, let's just sleep together and put each other out of this misery.” You laugh, standing to bring your dirty dishes to the sink. “That’s really funny. I may hold you to that! I'm going to shower.” Yoongi declares, standing and hurrying off to the bedroom.  

You both spend the day lounging, watching TV, and making shopping lists for your Ikea trip. By the time your mother arrives back home, Yoongi is fast asleep on the couch. “Long day?” She asks, nodding at your curled up bestie. “Too much dorm planning.” You reply, nudging him gently. He peeks at you with one eye, soon stretching his whole body. “Is your mom home?” He inquires. “I am. Now let’s get a move on. I wanna avoid traffic.” Yoongi pops up quickly and you all head out. “Are your parents sad to have you moving into the dorms?” Your mom asks Yoongi. “Well, I practically live at your place, so I imagine it’s no different for them.” He chuckles. “I don’t think his parents notice he’s gone.” You chime in. “Of course they do Y/N. We parents notice everything. Maybe we don’t say it out loud, but we notice.” Yoongi just nods, deciding not to give input. You know the truth; his parents are strict. They never cared for his interest in music and were not happy to find out he was pursuing it full time in college. They hadn’t been speaking for a while, but it didn’t bother Yoongi much. He just breezed by counting the time till move day.  

When you all arrive at Ikea you immediately suggest separate carts, knowing you’re going to fill one up with everything you have in mind. You decide to separate and browse and then meet somewhere in the middle. Yoongi heads off on his own while you and your mom walk through the aisles. “So, how’s he holding up?” She whispers to you. “He’s good. You know Yoongi, he’s super private sometimes. He seems good, normal even. Like nothing is going on at home.” “He’s been at the house a lot. I was worried they kicked him out.” “God no! He just prefers our place.” “Ok, just wondering. Speaking of an inquiring mind. Have you two ever? I mean you’d tell me, right?” “Mom! He’s my best friend!!” “Okay. Okay. I was just asking. It’s not a big deal if you have. I just wanted to know.” “Mom, please. Just stop.” “Ok. OK. Let’s move on. Oh, look at the throws. I love them. What do you think?” “They are nice, but I have so many already.” Two hours pass before you are all done with your shopping, but you feel comfortable with your purchases. “How’d you fair?” You ask Yoongi when you all link up again. “Good. You?” “Really good!” You walk over to the registers and your mom ushers both carts to the check out. “Oh no! Please Ms. Y/L/N, I’ll pay for it.” Yoongi begs, watching your mother wave him away. “My gift to you for making it into college.” She smiles, swiping her card. Yoongi sighs, giving you a pained look. “I’ll pay her back.” “Oh hush. You know she doesn’t mind. She loves you Yoons. Just smile and say thank you.” He nods, walking over and hugging your mother from behind. “Oh! You’re welcome Yoongi.”

“Do you wanna stay at my place tonight? My parents want me to come home. I’d enjoy your company.” Yoongi asks you in the car, showing you a text from his mom. “Yeah sure.” He smiles, chewing at his fingers nervously. “Mom can you drop us off at Yoongi’s tonight?” “No problem.” You head home and drop off all your things, packing an overnight bag quickly and hopping back into the car to Yoongi’s house. You mother waves you off and you both head inside. Yoongi’s mother is in the kitchen prepping for dinner. She looks up briefly at you both, giving you a small smile, that drops when she locks eyes with Yoongi. She nods at him, then turns to go back to what she was doing. “You head up. I’m just going to talk to her.” Yoongi whispers. You nod and take your bag and some of the things Yoongi bought up to his room. You sit on his bed and begin to scroll through your phone when you hear them begin to yell at one another. Your heart pounds in your chest and you move towards the door. She calls him selfish for choosing music over something more sustainable. Then they switch to speaking in Korean. You sigh, feeling your heart break for Yoongi.  

You plop down on his bed, hearing his footsteps stomp away at the stairs as he makes his way up to the room. He slams the door when he enters causing you to jump. You drop you phone beside you and look up at him. “Hey you ok?” He shakes his head, making his way toward you. You outstretched your arms, and he falls into your embrace, wrapping his arms around your body. He rests his head on your chest and you run your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry Yoons. I wish she was more understanding.” “It’s almost over. I’m almost free.” He sniffles. It pains you to see him this way and you wish you had more than words for him.  

Before you know it, you are awoken to the sound of Yoongi playing music from his laptop. You stretch your body and look over at him. “What time is it? When did I pass out?” “It’s 3am. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” “It’s ok. How are you feeling?” “I’m fine. Sorry you had to listen to us fight.” “Please, don’t apologize! How many times have you been around for my mom and I fighting?” He laughs with a small nod. “Still, it’s rude,” He whispers, “Anyway, I was thinking. About what you said earlier. And I… uh… well… we should. Just do it you know.” Your brow furrows trying to decipher what Yoongi is talking about. “Do what Yoons?” “Be each other’s first…. well…. everything. We’ve known each other forever and we trust each other. I think we should get all the awkward stuff out of the way before we start college that way there's no need to worry when we meet people.” Your eyes pop open as you realize Yoongi is asking you to be his first. “Um, I was kidding.” You blurt out nervously. “I mean, I know at first but maybe it can be for real. No strings attached Y/N. We take it slow, one thing at a time and if it's super weird then we stop.” “It’s going to be weird Yoongi, we are like siblings!” You shout. “Get the fuck out of here! We are not! You literally masturbated to my hard on this morning, please tell me how many siblings do that? Ok, look, just forget I said anything. I'm sorry.” He huffs, putting his headphones back on and turning up his music. You sigh, lying back, mulling the idea over in your head. He is right, you trust him more than any random guy you'd ever meet. It isn't like Yoongi wasn’t hot, you just never thought he would take your offer serious. You turn on your side watching him shake his leg frantically. You wave your hand to get his attention. He looks over at you, tugging his headphones off. “Why don't you come lie down? You can tell me more about the arraignment you had in mind.” He stares at you, completely stoic, before closing his laptop. “We don't have to do anything. I was just, I don't know, overthinking. It was stupid.” He shrugs. You simply tap the bed beside you.  

He sighs, pushing away from the desk to make his way to the bed. He lies down facing you, taking your hand in his. You both stare at each other for a minute and you feel your heart flutter. “Kiss me.” You whisper, your body heating from the instant turn on mixed with embarrassment. “What?” He chuckles. “Maybe your idea isn't as crazy as it sounds. I trust you more than anyone. We can start small and work our way up based on how we feel. If it gets weird or uncomfortable then we stop. No strings attached. No emotional involvement. Just two friends helping each other out.” You state plainly, staring at your intertwined hands rather than Yoongi's wide eyes. “You’re serious?” He swallows, his cheeks reddening. “Yeah, only if you want to.” “I mean, yeah, if you want to, I do.” He shyly responds. “Then stop talking and kiss me. We'll start there. We can be each other’s first kiss.” You don’t know why but you both instinctively lick your lips. Yoongi looks down at your mouth, seemingly mesmerized. He swallows hard, the bounce of his Adam's apple making your core burn.  

“Here goes nothing.” He smiles, leaning towards you, the smell of his body wash invading your senses. He licks his lips again, rubbing them together right before he presses them gently against yours. You immediately melt into the kiss, your head prickling, heart racing, and it takes you a minute to close your eyes as Yoongi has. Your mind begins to race. How long do we stay like this? Should I pull away? Why does this feel so good? Is he enjoying it? You finally pull away, eyeing Yoongi’s calm face, his eyes still closed as if in a state of bliss. “What? I mean, was it ok?” You ask. He nods. “I was just savoring it. My first kiss.” He chuckles. “Do we keep going?” You ask nervously. His eyes widen. “Do you want to?” “Is that weird?” He shakes his head quickly. “No, I kind of want to also.” This time you lean forward and press your lips to his, raising your hand up to rest at his neck. You think of every movie you’ve ever seen and push your tongue out of your mouth, rubbing it against his lower lip. You swear you feel it right between your thighs, moaning at the sensation. Yoongi moans as well, opening his mouth to grant you access.  

You press your tongue against his, realizing that you have no clue what to do next but are completely unable to stop. It’s then that Yoongi impresses you, completely taking over the kiss. He tilts his head a bit, rotating his tongue slowly around yours before removing his appendage from your mouth to suckle on your top lip. Just when you think you have a moment to breathe, he returns his tongue to your mouth, swirling faster, making what can only be described as love to your mouth. You can't stop the soft moans leaving your throat, or how the way Yoongi devours them has you completely soaked. Of all the times you’ve ever touched yourself, you don’t think you’ve ever been as wet as you are now. Curiosity takes over and you reach your hand down from Yoongi’s neck to the front of his pajama pants, dying to see if he is at all affected by this. You pull away from the kiss with a gasp at the feel of his massive erection. “I’m sorry.” You pant, embarrassed that you just grabbed at his hard on. “It's ok Y/N, you can touch it if you want.” He grants in a low lustful tone you’ve never heard before. You heart begins to race and panic hits. “Maybe it's too much. Maybe we should chill for now.” You say quickly, placing your hand flat on his chest.  

He nods at your statement, lowering his hand to adjust himself. “I’m sorry. Of course, we can stop. I want to go at your pace. I don’t want to freak you out or make you uncomfortable ever.” “Thank you Yoongi. Honestly, I really enjoyed the kissing. I just want to take our time. It’s my fault I shouldn’t have reached for you.” “Don't apologize. Its ok. I'm ok. I want to go slow too.” He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Let’s get some sleep.” He whispers, pulling a pillow down from the top of the bed to rest in his lap before pulling you into his arms. “Safety first.” He teases and you both laugh out loud. You bite your lower lip to keep from squealing like a little kid. Your first kiss and who better to have it with then Yoongi. You nuzzle softly into your pillow, whispering goodnight to Yoongi before falling asleep in his arms.  

[justthehiddleswrites]

Should… | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Emma Masters) | Chapter 3 | ... I Let This Happen?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Emma Masters

Summary: Five years ago, Emma Masters just landed her first big acting gig on a soap opera. While it is not much, it is an opportunity to grow. While out celebrating, she meets up with a fellow actor, Tom Hiddleston. While she doesn’t recognize any of his work, the two hit it off. Before they know, they are getting hot and heavy in the elevator up to Tom’s room. Like ships passing in the night, the two never manage to meet again.Now five years later, Emma is a heavy hitter in the prime time drama world and Tom is a Golden Globe winning movie star. Their paths cross again but things have changed. Will they do what they should or fall to their deepest desires?

This Chapter:  Emma gets to the restaurant and realizes her mistake. Should she let this happen or tell the Tom the truth? And what will be the consequences?

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, fingering, drunk sex, oral sex, cheating, unhealthly relationships

-

Once the car pulled up to Casa Vega, Emma realized her mistake.

“Maybe we should just call it a night?” Emma offered. “I’m sure you’re exhausted from the auditions all day.”

Tom grinned back to her.

“Nonsense. We are here to celebrate. Besides,” Tom rubbed his hand on Emma’s thigh. “I am dying to catch up with you.” Emma feigned a smile. In her mind, the right thing to do was to go home, but her heart said to throw caution to the wind.

As Tom opened the door and held his hand out to her, Emma’s heart won out. What harm ever came from dinner?

The greeter sat the two of them in a small booth in the back, far from the prying eyes of the other patrons. Tom took the opportunity, sliding right next to Emma. His heat radiated through his jeans and straight onto Emma’s thigh. She felt her cheeks flush.

“Is it hot in here?” she asked, shaking her shirt to create a breeze.

“Feel fine to me. Perhaps you just need something to drink.”

As if on cue, the waiter appeared.

“Bulleit Whiskey, neat. Please.” Tom ordered.

“I… I will take a seltzer with lime.” Emma responded. What she really wanted was a margarita. Maybe two to get through the night.

Tom grimaced at Emma.

“That doesn’t sound like the girl I met five years ago. I half expected you to order one of those fishbowl margaritas.”

Emma chuckled at the thought of drinking half a bottle of tequila as she sipped her water.

“Tequila is off limits. Makes me bloat.”

“Says who?” Tom countered, his brows knitted above his nose. Emma changed from the girl he met in New York.

“My trainer.” she snapped back. “He keeps my nutrition pretty dialed in.”

Emma hated the diet Bryce kept her on. No gluten, no dairy, no refined sugar, no alcohol, and no fun. She realized the importance to keep in shape for roles but every so often she wanted to let loose and eat a cupcake.

“That sounds dreadful.” Tom scrunched his nose up at restricting a diet.

Emma shrugged.

“It’s not bad once you get used to it.” She lied. She never got used to it.

“I can’t imagine going through life without eating a cookie once in a while.”

Emma chuckled at the memory of Tom and Cookie Monster. “Me want cookie.” she giggled.

“Precisely. We all need to live a little.”

The waiter appeared with the drinks. Emma looked over to Tom who held his glass up. She turned to the waiter.

“On second thought, can I get a white wine sangria?”

The waiter nodded and took off to fetch the drink. Tom nudged Emma with his shoulder.

“That’s my girl. A toast…” Emma held up her first drink as Tom continued, “… to the beginning of a beautiful work relationship and rekindling an old friendship.” The two of them clinked glasses and Emma took a sip as did Tom.

“So…” Emma started, “what’s new with you?” Emma dropped her head. What a stupid question! “I didn’t mean… Obviously… you are doing the movie.” She huffed. “I’ll shut up now.”

Tom’s head fell back in laughter.

“Are you nervous, Em?” Tom rubbed her shoulders. “Why on earth are you nervous? It’s not like I haven’t already seen you naked.”

Emma gave a nervous chuckle. Why on earth was she nervous? It’s dinner with an old friend, nothing more. “You’re right. I don’t know what is wrong with me.” She took a big swig of her sangria and felt her nerves melt away.

“Right.” Tom said as he rubbed her knee. “Silver Sable, you must be proud.”

Emma smiled at the mention of her character. “I am. She is the best character I ever played.”

“I appreciate the feeling. If you ever need help with those daggers...” Tom flipped his silverware for effect.

Emma giggled. “You will be my first call, promise.”

With that, the two of them ordered food and continued talking. Tom’s hand worked its way from her knee to lower thigh. He gave a playful squeeze during the conversation every so often, each time sparking something inside Emma. Why is he so handsome?

Once the food arrived, both dug in with gusto. When the waiter cleared the plates, and Tom paid the bill, Emma lingered in the booth. She didn’t want the evening to end. Tom slid out of the booth and offered his hand to her, which she gladly took. When they stepped out, a blast of night chill hit them. Emma shivered. She did not pack a jacket, not expecting such a late evening.

“Cold?” Tom questioned.

“A touch.”

“Let’s see if we can’t warm you up.”

Tom rubbed Emma’s arm with vigor. She felt warmth emanate from the palms of his hands. She gave a small smile as he looked up at him. Tom tilted his head and before Emma said a word, Tom pressed his lips to hers. Warmth flowed from her lips through her entire body and against her better judgment, she flung her arms over Tom’s neck and pulled him in deeper.

This is wrong! a small voice in her head screamed. But her need to be wanted and desired drowned out the voices of her better angels. Tom pulled away.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” Emma breathed. “Um… I need to get home.”

Tom looked at his watch. “Shit! Me too. Big day tomorrow. I’m not just the male lead, but also an executive producer.” Tom led her back to the car. During the ride back to the studio, the two of them didn’t make much conversation. Tom focused on the road and Emma went over the whole scene in her mind again and again. They arrived at the studio and Tom parked the car.

“I had a great time, Tom.”

Tom rubbed the back of his fingers on Emma’s arm. Those damn shivers again. “Me too. That kiss back there, sorry if I was being forward.”

“No, it’s fine.” Emma retorted back, opening the door. “You have a big day tomorrow as so do I. Thank you again.” Emma turned to leave but Tom grabbed her wrist. With a flick, he snapped her back around, and he kissed her again. “I’ll call you.”

Emma nodded. “I look forward to it.”

Emma walked to her car in shock. Why did she say that? The drive home was quick but not so quick Emma couldn’t replay the entire evening in her head over and over. She tried to determine where she went wrong or whether she wanted to change anything that happened.

By the time Emma got home, it was dark. There were no lights on when Emma entered the front door of her home. “Bryce?” she called into the void.

Silence.

She peeked into the bedroom and saw Bryce’s head peeking out from underneath the covers. She changed into pajamas and slid into bed without waking up Bryce, letting sleep take over.

-

The California sun streaming in through Emma’s windows was a rude wake up call. She stretched and found the other side of the bed cold. She sat up and headed into the bathroom before tugging on a robe. Upon entering the living area, the sound of a high-speed blender greeted Emma going. Just what she needed this particular morning.

“Morning, babe.”

Emma saw Bryce in the kitchen, wearing only his boxers, shoving spinach into the blender.

“Morning.” Emma mumbled as she turned on the coffee machine. Caffeine was a necessity at this point.

“Late night? You weren’t home by the time I fell asleep.” Bryce placed a wet kiss on Emma’s cheek as he chugged his shake.

“Yeah…” Emma started, choosing her words with care, “I went out with an old friend.”

She rationalized it was not a lie.

“Anyone I know?” Bryce pressed as he finished up the shake and began doing push-ups on the kitchen floor.

“I don’t think so.”

Still not a lie.

“Where did you go?”

“What’s with all the questions?” Emma protested.

Bryce looked up at her. “I’m just wondering. Do you not want to tell me because you cheated?”

Emma’s face reddened.

Bryce hopped up. “I knew it!”

“Bryce I can…” Emma started as tears pricked her eyes.

“Babe,” he interrupted, “You know how important your diet is. We can’t have you getting fat.”

He pinched her side at non-existent pudge. “I guessed you looked a little bloated. Let me guess, Mexican food with a margarita.”

Emma blinked back the tears. She nodded. “Sangria.”

Bryce slammed his palms against the island counter. “Well, it’s a good thing we have the home gym. An extra 30 minutes of cardio should do it.”

Emma continued to stare in disbelief. She smiled and nodded. “Of course, babe.”

Bryce gave her another sloppy kiss. “I got to meet Dustin and Nick at Gold’s. Are we still on for dinner at Craig’s?”

Emma gripped the counter. “You bet.”

Bryce grinned and slapped her ass as he headed off to the bedroom to get ready. Emma dropped her head and appreciated the cool marble against her forehead.

The rest of the day flew by. Emma received a call from her agent offering her the part in the new movie. She pretended to act surprised. They already set her up for meetings on the project the next day. Emma spent the day running errands, making phone calls, and yes, working out. She changed out of pajamas and slipped on a nice dress to meet Bryce, who texted and said to just meet at the restaurant.

-

At 6 p.m., she met Bryce at Craig’s. Bryce was waiting outside, having changed out of gym clothes and wearing a knit polo and slacks. The polo hugged Bryce’s biceps and abs. Emma told him the shirts were too tight but Bryce insisted the best advertising for his personal training business was his own body. Bryce spun Emma before kissing her cheek, making sure the photographers got a good shot. Emma would have preferred something more low-key but Bryce picked it for date night. She suspected Bryce picked the more high profile places for the publicity, the fact Bryce never wanted to take the back entrance heightened this suspicion. It was Emma’s least favorite part of the business, the paparazzi and the gossip magazines.

They sat down right away, at a table in the middle of everything at Bryce’s request. Emma felt eyes staring at the two of them. She wanted to melt into the floor. Bryce took her hand and rubbed her knuckles. She pulled her hand but Bryce held tight.

“What’s wrong babe?” Bryce rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand.

She hated that and moved away from the motion. “Nothing. I’m tired.”

“You’ll feel better once you eat.”

The waiter came by to get drink orders.

“A Scotch and water and water with lemon for the lady.”

Emma gave the waiter a strained nod. Emma looked around the room. The dim light made it hard to make out faces. But she heard a voice ring out and made her blood chill. At that moment, Emma swore to only order take-out.

“Em!”

Emma turned and saw Tom making a beeline to her table.

“Tom!”

Emma rose in a daze as Tom pulled her into a bear hug.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Emma managed a nervous laugh. This was her personal hell.

“I’m sorry. How rude of me. I’m Tom, Emma’s new co-star and you are…”

Bryce stood too. Tom towered a good six inches about him. Bryce puffed his chest out.

“Bryce…”

“… ah yes, the personal trainer.” Tom finished.

“And boyfriend.” Bryce added.

Tom’s face fell for an instant. Bryce didn’t catch it as he looked down at Emma, but Emma caught it as she stared at Tom. How was this happening? she panicked. Tom gave a chuckle.

“Of course, mate.” Tom clapped Bryce on the shoulder. “I won’t keep you.”

Bryce pulled out one of the chairs. “Nah, man. A friend of Emma’s is a friend of mine.”

“Now, Bryce, I’m sure Tom has people to get back to…” Emma waved off Tom.

“…I imagine they can manage without me for a bit.” Tom smirked as he took the seat.

Emma’s eyes narrowed at Tom who continued to smirk. Emma opened her mouth to shoo Tom away.

“Can I get your order?” the waiter walked up, bewildered by a third person.

“Oh, he is not staying,” Bryce gestured at Tom. “I’ll take the New York strip with the mac and cheese. And the lady will have Tuscan Kale salad, no cheese, no nuts, and the dressing on the side. Oh, and a side of sauteed spinach, no butter.”

Emma gave a strained smile to the waiter and nodded. Tom sat silent. Emma rose from her seat. Tom rose, while Bryce stayed seated, drinking his whiskey.

“Excuse me boys, but I need to freshen up.”

Tom’s eyes followed her out of sight. He received a shove as he sat back down.

“She is something, huh?”

“Yes, she is. So Bryce…”

“Call me Bry.”

Tom swallowed hard. “Okay, Bry. Emma told me you are a personal trainer.”

Bryce’s face lit up. He stood up. And lifted his shirt.

“Feel my abs.”

“I’d rather not.”

“No, dude, touch my abs.” Bryce pulled at Tom’s arm but he wrenched free of his grasp.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

= “Okay, bro. Listen, so what is this new project you and Em…” Bryce’s voice trailed off as a girl, no more than twenty walked by in a miniskirt so short the whole outfit should be an obscenity violation and her fake boobs cinched to her chin. Tom cleared his throat.

“Tom, bro, did you see that fine piece of ass walk by?”

He shook his head no, desperate to get away. Emma made her reappearance.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Just a little bro bonding.” Bryce interjected, punching Tom in the shoulder.

Tom laughed and rubbed his neck.

“I must be going. Emma, always a pleasure. Bryce, uh Bry, it has been an experience.”

Tom hugged Emma squeezing her tight before extending his hand to Bryce. Bryce took the chance to pull Tom into a bear hug. Tom took off for his table but not before Bryce slipped him a business card and suggested Tom check out his “Insta”. Tom turned around one more time before ducking out of view. He watched Emma laugh at something Bryce said. Inside his heart shattered.

-

Emma arrived at the studio early this time. It took her some time to find the right building for the meeting. She found the right room and stepped in. Tom gathered around the table with a few men in suits. Tom’s face darkened at the sight of her.

“Emma, a word.” Tom grabbed her by the crook of the elbow.

Tom led her out of the room, down the hallway and into another room. He said nothing the entire way, instead staring forward with laser intensity.

“What is it, Tom?” she rubbed her elbow once he released her.

“How long have you been with Bryce?”

Emma furrowed her brow.

“About a year and a half.”

“You shouldn’t be dating him. He is not the right guy for you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

[fantasymusing]

Happy Birthday to You

Oct 28 is Lee Gon’s birthday. I wrote this story because I’m a glutton for pain and my TKEM withdrawal is real.  

PC: Ctto

October 28, 2020 | Republic of Korea

It was a sleepless night.

She tossed and turned until she decided to get up, put on a hoodie and jeans, grabbed her coat and car key, then tiptoed away from her apartment.

1:00 a.m.

She drove in the quiet of the night and got there in a breeze.

The phone booth was the first thing she saw. She went inside and caressed the buttons and the handset. At several points of a different timeline, he was here. She lingered, with the hope that sharing the same space would somehow lessen the pain.

She was wrong. The yearning had only gotten stronger.

She walked on, deeper into the bamboo forest, in the dead of night, against everything she would advise young women as a police officer.

Do the same stars shine on both their worlds?

If she would wish upon one of them in earnest, would it carry her birthday wish to him?

She stopped at the spot where the obelisks stood, where he had crossed into her world.

“Happy birthday, Lee Gon.” She spoke into the sky. “The moon and the stars above as my witness, saranghae… I will always love you!”

Her tears took over, making her choke on her words.

“Please come back… please come back… I’m waiting, every day I’m waiting.”

She didn’t think her prayer would be answered tonight. It hadn’t been for six months. But she pleaded with God just the same – figured her persistence might move even fate and destiny someday.

She didn’t know how long she had been standing there. Her face was icy from the chilled fall air and her heart ached from imagining him running through the portal toward her.

She couldn’t hear the crashing of their bodies or feel the warmth of their embrace.

“Is this what Hell is like?” A rhetorical question she knew too well the answer to. She had been in her personal hell.

…

She showed up at the police station early to avoid her father’s questions.

Work had been her refuge even if she was only biding time.

And time had been mostly a curse that passed too slow and passed too fast.

Just like today.

She followed some evidence of her current case, she filed a few reports, she interacted with the squad like any regular day – yet she still had time to sob in the bathroom.

When it was finally time to leave work, she sat patiently in the packed afternoon traffic and arrived around sunset.

The glass encasing the phone booth reflected the bright orange light of the lowering sun and cloaked its surrounding in beautiful golden hue. The colour of the MSD she would have made for him to toast his birthday. Yes, she had planned his birthday – it would have included a day off from work, fried chicken, a walk along the Han river, the swanky hotel he loved and unhurried love-making.

The only thing missing from her plan for today – him.

She had no logical reason to be back at the bamboo forest so soon. But like she had been possessed, she stood once again by what she knew to be the entrance to the portal.

She was hoping against hope that fate wouldn’t be so cruel today, of all days.

“You are thirty-four now, take care of yourself for me. Don’t catch a cold.”  She whispered into the wind as the sky turned dark. “Happy birthday, my heart…” Tae-eul reached up to touch her necklace as another lone tear fell.

 October 28, 2020 | Kingdom of Corea

The fall was always beautiful in the Kingdom and people everywhere were taking advantage of the start of the three holidays in honour of the King’s birthday.

Lee Gon had vehemently opposed to any public celebrations for his birthday this year. Head Court Lady Noh and the senior staff had attempted to object but they knew better.

The King had been different the last few months. He was burdened with something that snuffed the sparkles in his eyes. He had been attending to his duties during the first half of each week but had consistently been “inside his study working on a complex mathematic problem” the other half of the time.

“I would be in my studies during the holidays and over the weekend.” He had informed Lady Noh.

“That’s no way to spend your birthday, Pyeha. You should be going out meeting beautiful ladies.”

“That’s what I have been doing. You’d know when I’ve found the right one.” Lady Noh thought he was teasing her and she couldn’t understand the hint of sadness in his tone.

He had indeed been meeting beautiful ladies – all those different versions of Jeong Tae-eul: all beautiful, all bright, all seemed happy – but all not her.

None of them recognized him. None of them was balm to his soul.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He should let himself do whatever he wanted on his birthday, even if it were to tinker with the time axis of the portal.

He had not perfected his calculations and the trial-and-error attempts through different doors and universes had been painfully disappointing.

He was sure he had found the old timeline and the right door to his Tae-eul before the reset. He just didn’t know exactly what date or time he would cross into.

He had brought with him flowers, his favorite ones, to give her. He knew what he had to say to her – he had said those things to her every night, when he had pretended she was there by his side.

He just needed to see her.

The Taekwondo centre, the tea place and the courtyard all looked welcoming as he approached. Then he had to stop and took several deep breaths to steel himself when he caught sight of her standing in front of the big window watering the seeds she brought from the Kingdom. He could feel the sting of tears in his eyes.

He had found his beautiful lady, even if this would all just be temporary.

He stood staring, couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked up, saw him, and ran out the door.

He was scared to walk up to her, to touch her, afraid she might disappear.

She looked like an angel in front of him, pure and most beautiful. His heart ached from how much love he felt for her.

He finally took the steps toward her.

“Hey.

“Have you been well?”

She nodded with tears in her eyes. “It took you, a while this time.”

He couldn’t tell her what was to come. He couldn’t tell her how much pain he was in. But he could tell her she was everything that mattered.

“Because I had to come from far away.” He looked down at the flowers he was carrying.

“I realized… that I never gave you a single flower. That’s why…

“I crossed the universe for you.”

She moved forward, then stepped back, instinctively recognizing he was not the same Lee Gon who left a few weeks ago.

He understood her hesitation. But he had no time to waste.

He got closer and put the bouquet of flowers in her hands. “But the thing is,

“I have to go back now.” He could hardly finish the sentence.

She had liked the idea of him leaving less and less, so she grabbed his hand. “Going back?” She questioned like a plea.

He stifled a sob that was threatening to escape. “Right.”

What if he would decide to throw caution to the wind and stay with her? He wanted to, badly.

“I also realized I never told you this.”

He slowly gathered enough courage to look up at her, letting her perfect face sink deep into his memory. This memory would have to last him until he was able to find the right her again.

“Saranghae.”

“I am deeply…

“in love with you.”

His gaze was soft, sincere yet most sorrowful. She was moved, elated and scared out of her mind. He was telling her like he would not have another chance to ever again.

He bent down to kiss her, as deeply as he possibly could.

His tears fell.

She reached up, held onto his hand like she had always done while kissing him back just as deeply.

Her tears fell.

He had wished the kiss could last their lifetime but he knew he couldn’t stay. He made himself walk away but not before telling her, “There will come a moment when it seems I’ve disappeared.

I don’t want you to worry too much when that happens.

It just means… I’m walking through the frozen moments in time.”

He had made the decision to leave her, to go back in time to stop Lee Lim before he could wreak havoc to both worlds, because she had given him strength. In the days and months they had fallen in love with each other, she had shown him what it meant to not be alone, to have a soul mate who would be there no matter how dire the circumstances were, and to have a lover who would love him for him. He would forever be thankful for having her in his life and he would always love her with everything he had.

But he had doubts nowadays, about whether the wrongs he had righted were worth the prospect of living out his life without her, the only person who inspired him every day with the joy of life.

Why he missed her utterly on his birthday.

She had told him the larger the fate, the more he needed to walk to reach his destination and that they just hadn’t reached their destination yet.

So he walked, back toward the portal, back to the Kingdom – leaving behind the old timeline, leaving behind the Tae-eul he fell so deeply in love with, in search for the one waiting for him in her new timeline.

He would get back on Maximus, he would go through more doors, more universes.

And he would pray for that tomorrow when he would find where he left his heart and his soul.

Maybe his next birthday would be different.

He closed his eyes, made his wish, as another lone tear fell.

Notes:

Sorry this is so painful. Based on canon timeline, October 28, 2020 is a sad birthday for Lee Gon and for Tae-eul.

Promise the next chapter (of year 2021) will be all fluff.

You can find this story also on AO3.

................

Watch Lee Min-ho and Kim Go-eun’s superb performance in this scene. Their sadness is palpable. His pauses and pacing tell the story.

[beni-draw-ikemen-please]

KINTSUGI - REPAIRING WITH GOLD CHAPTER 1

Ikemen Vampire Canon x OC

K I N T S U G I 

Chapter 1 - Don’t tell anyone. 

Word Count 2064

Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci x Seiya Amanogawa x Comte Saint Germain

Tags/TW: Graphic Depictions of sex, intercourse, smut (you name it), angst, mentions of death and suicide. Please proceed with caution.

A/N: This is a work of fiction. 

If you don't like OC+Canon fanfiction, this might not be the fic for you.

If you don't like OC+Canon fanfiction, this might not be the fic for you.

If you don't like OC+Canon fanfiction, this might not be the fic for you.

If you don't like OC+Canon fanfiction, this might not be the fic for you.

This is fan fiction for Ikemen Vampire, character designs are owned by Cybird. My story however, features my own OC/MC Seiya Amanogawa who is from Modern Japan/Europe, who travelled to the Louvre for inspiration.

Seiya is female so I will be using she/her as her pronouns. I will also be describing her accordingly. I designed Seiya and she is my Original Character. 

If you don't like OC+Canon fanfiction, this might not be the fic for you.

This work is intended for mature readers. No minors please. Graphic Depictions of sex, intercourse, smut (you name it), angst, mentions of death and suicide. Please proceed with caution.

K I N T S U G I 

Chapter 1 - Don’t tell anyone. 

His golden locks fell beautifully in place, like a masterpiece set within the confines of an ornate golden frame. Right there, in the middle of the museum. The spotlight is carefully placed to highlight the gold that accentuated the piece. And there, in front of it all, with just the right amount of distance, is a lone bench. 

That’s how Seiya saw him. A figure to be admired from afar. A treasure, so valuable and so bright, she steps back, almost instinctively, it made her feel smaller and smaller. 

She would open her leather-bound book. And very carefully, she would write short letters. They weren’t really addressed to anyone in particular. Maybe they were addressed to her future self, who knows? But she wrote them, every single day. It wasn’t her journal either - no - it was far more complex than that. 

Seiya knew in her heart, she wouldn’t be able to bear it, if he ever found out. How much she loved sitting just by the balcony of Vincent’s room during afternoon tea time, so she has the perfect view of the his hands as he gracefully pours tea into the day’s chosen china. 

Viridian, with golden leaves and soft speckles of purple, almost white. She knew they were one of his favourites. Wedgewood. She took mental notes every time Sebastian gave her a pointer not to miss, especially when it came to afternoon tea. 

She would duck her head, ever so slightly, and she would catch a glimpse of his lips, almost looking like they were kissing the fine things and smiling, so perfectly, complimenting the blend Sebastian had carefully prepared. 

It was one of her guilty pleasures. And, it was only after she had shown Vincent what she really drew in her sketchbook that the angel allowed her to use his balcony. 

Vincent noticed her when she first arrived. She was this scared, trembling frail little creature, and he wanted to make her feel more at home. Which turned out easier than expected. She spoke modern Dutch, at the very least the sounds were similar to the older variant.. Sometimes she would hear him speak words that made her head tilt in confusion. 

But she enjoyed his company. And Vincent felt the same. 

They would often draw together. Vincent with his easel and brushes, and his apron that’s stubbornly stained with paint, and her ink and paper. 

She told him how she hated it when her hands stained of charcoal, or anything, so she stuck with inks. She would often grumble, how she missed modern pens and this thing called a brush pen. And Vincent wondered about it often. 

They threw the case towards the makers of the mansion, first, Isaac - who felt comfortable around her, enough to actually draw and fiddle with objects around so vulnerably. Isaac asked for more time, maybe even more materials to create different prototypes. Then, the trio approached Leonardo. And they were able to make something similar to the modern brush pen in about a week’s time. 

And so she drew more and more and more with the brush pen. Funny how she thought, she was using another man’s present to draw another man. And those two men happened to be best of friends. For over a century. Maybe, even more. 

Seiya kept her notebook to herself. The red leather stood out, so she would often wrap it with a soft lace handkerchief that was too big to be folded and tucked into her pocket. She would keep it in her tray whenever she assembled the residents’ meals or changed sheets. Her notebook never leaves her sight. Vincent grew curiouser and curiouser every time he would catch a glimpse of the red leather peeking through the black lace. For someone who looked like her, her choice of colour would almost be too bold for a maiden in 19th century Paris. Always black, she would say. Or, if black wasn’t an option, wine red. Or the darkest violet possible.

Vincent remembered the first time he accompanied her to shop for a new dress with Leonardo. They picked up a white dress, made from the finest leavers lace, that she wore with a frown on her face. She covered herself with her arms and asked to change immediately. 

“It’s too bright for me…” she said, and Vincent couldn’t make out if she softly cursed in Dutch, or in Japanese, or a mixture of the two. She would, however, hum in satisfaction whenever she saw black velvet chokers, or black leather gloves, and thinking of that contrast made him smile. 

He noticed how intently she would spend on each of her drawings. And Vincent would hear the silent flicks of her brush. It would be a long steady stroke for a while, and then flicks of texture. And then she would stop, and sigh, wait for the ink to dry and she would close her sketchbook ever so quietly. 

“What are you drawing, Seiya?” he wouldn’t be so bold as to peek over her shoulder as she worked, unlike how Arthur had attempted so many times. 

Seiya didn’t say much and it was rare to hear her raise her voice even just for a bit, but when it came to her sketchbook, she was vocal and protective. 

Arthur attempted many times to uncover the mystery of that book, but Seiya never let anyone, not even Vincent take a peek inside. 

Maybe it’s her diary? He thought about this many times. Maybe it’s some sort of visual diary where she draws her feelings instead of writing them down. Thinking about it like that, Vincent stopped asking her and instead, just enjoyed the tranquility and meditative togetherness of their afternoon painting sessions. 

The only person he thought knew about the notebook’s contents would be Leonardo. They spend an awful lot of time together, after all. 

Comte had assigned the man to be Seiya’s caretaker, and Leonardo took that duty to heart, sometimes too seriously. 

Sometimes, during their drawing afternoons, Leonardo would suddenly just pop out of nowhere, grab her notebook and throw it in the grass. The first time he did that, Vincent was so shocked his hands stopped painting, his paintbrush falling on the grass unnoticed. 

There was only the sound of the wind, and the shifting of fabric as Seiya smoothed her skirt and walked towards her notebook. She would have a pained expression on her face, and she would wipe her book clean with the hem of her skirt. And Leonardo would just stand there, puffing his cigarrillo in, and blowing it all out with a heavy sigh. 

“Fanculo…” she whispered. And Vincent froze. His neck slowly guided his eyes toward Leonardo, who now looked more annoyed than when he first walked in. 

Vincent usually did not know how to respond to situations like these. Their silence made it impossible for him to intervene. Leonardo was not violent, no, and he wasn’t the type to insult women. But Seiya didn’t like it when someone ordered her around. 

Dealing with Theo at first proved to be one of the hurdles she had to overcome before making the mansion her home too. Vincent would always remember the face she made when Theo called her a ‘hondje’. And the long road it took for them to actually make an effort to sit down, have an actual conversation and eventually get to know each other. 

But with Leonardo, it was something different. 

Seiya was composed, and usually calm - at least Vincent thought so - he always felt relaxed whenever they were together. Seiya would often say something and he would apologise for not listening carefully to what she had to say. In the end though, they both agreed that it was more that she spoke too softly, rather than him spacing out and not listening. 

Vincent knew that feeling too well. And maybe, it was one of the reasons why they enjoyed each other’s company. Soft souls, his little brother called them. 

But with Leonardo, it was different. 

Seiya acted more like a child around him. She would pout, call him names and he would let her. And then they would retreat to his room. Sometimes the library. Sometimes, her room, very late into the night. 

“I told you. You should stop these silly doodles.” When Leonardo finally spoke, it sounded more like a request than actual lecturing. Seiya would look away, and she would hold her dear treasure closer to her chest. 

Vincent, without a word, held out his hands to both of them, as if trying to stop the eruption that was about to happen. Seiya would whisper, that it was none of his business. That made Vincent realise that her notebook was something more valuable than they all deem it to be. And that it was very personal. And, for whatever reason and content it held, Leonardo was against it. 

He hated it. Vincent could see it. Enough for him to go out of his way to get it off her hands and into the dirt. 

This would happen every now and then, and oddly enough, Vincent knew he should get used to it. 

In the evening, Vincent brought her a pot of flowers. Hoping she would calm down. Vincent knew his friend did not like cut flowers so whenever he wanted to cheer her up, he would pick a small pot from their growing collection, and walk it to her room. 

That day, he could remember she argued with Leonardo again. She was upset that he did what he did during their “good days”. Vincent felt great earlier in the day and wanted to paint, and she too, felt inspiration course through her hands. And Leonardo just shattered that moment. 

Vincent frowned a bit as he leaned against the wall a little further away from the door of Seiya’s room. He could now understand why she was so upset and his heart ached for her. But what he didn’t understand was why Leonardo hated her notebook. Did he dislike that she drew? He couldn’t put his mind around it. 

Seiya stormed out, and ran to the opposite direction in tears. After a while, he found her behind the lush greens of the Gazebo. Almost how a little kid would hide themselves after a fight with a another kid after an afternoon at the sandbox. He remembered how quietly she cried. And how warm her hand was when he helped her out of the grass. 

They sat underneath the stars, just by a bench near the gate of the mansion. And there, she showed him. He didn’t really say anything, no, Vincent just sat with her. Hoping his presence would alleviate the stress and agitation she felt. Seiya felt like she needed to tell Vincent what was happening. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Her voice was always soft, like a silent prayer you hear inside a church. You should make out the words, but they would always sound like some foreign incantation made to sound familiar.

Vincent would often lean in and apologise. Asking her to repeat herself one more time, for his sake. Seiya would chuckle a bit and she would take a deep breath and would speak a little louder. 

“Do you dislike Leonardo?” He asked her one time. And she looked at him with the strangest expression on her face. It was as if it was obvious that she did, but she also looked like she was shocked to hear him ask this question. It was hard for Vincent to understand her, most of the time.

 Seiya did not say anything, but she gave him her notebook. Vincent’s eyes widened with interest and curiosity. He was excited and Seiya chuckled when she saw the eagerness in his blue eyes. 

“Are you sure?” He asked just to be sure. It was dark, but he could still see the pink on Seiya’s cheeks. Her hair looked like starlight illuminating her from the nipping dark of dusk. 

Vincent never felt like this before. The build up curiosity all stemming from the enigma that was her notebook, made the first look inside the pages of this mysterious book all the more exciting. He felt like a pirate, opening the treasure chest, seeing the valuable contents for the very first time. 

And then, he stopped. 

“You can’t tell anyone. Please?” 

To be continued. 

MORE A/N:

I’ve been wanting to write this for so so so so so so so long.  I’m currenlty writing a very self-indulgent longfic for Twisted Wonderland and my OC so I had no excuse not to write this one. The title came very naturally and I felt like that’s when the chapters really took off in my head. At first there were just notes, or screaming/typing I shared with friends. But I felt I needed to do baby Seiya right and write her story out. 

I hope you like my IkeVamp writing attempt! I also posted this on Ao3 (onibeni). In the days I can’t draw for Kinktober, I’ll write (at least I’ll try). So this will be good practice oho~ 

Thank you for reading! ♡

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 9

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,257

Warnings: mention of accident, mention of blood

A/N: I’m sorry this took longer than usual but it’s pretty long so yay! I hope you’ll like this chapter. We’re slowly getting there :’) Thank you for the feedback, I truly appreciate all of you! Also 1 marvel quote and several Bob Ross quotes that I obv don’t own.

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Good luck on your interview xx

Bucky had just hit ‘send’ when Sam cleared his throat noisily, drawing Bucky’s attention away from his phone. His friends were frowning crossly at him, their glasses raised in a silent toast. He set his phone face-down on the table and picked up his glass.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

Sam shot Steve a ‘see?’ look and Steve replied with a shrug and a little smile. They looked like two sassy grandmothers judging their only grandson. Bucky checked his phone again, and out of his peripheral vision, he could see his grandmothers share another look.

“What?” he barked, annoyed.

“Nothin,” they both answered at the same time before they took a synchronized sip of orange juice.

Smacking his lips together, Sam opened the menu and began to skim through the choices. A waiter suddenly came out of nowhere to take their order. Bucky ordered a cranberry rosemary scone, smoked bacon, an eggplant sandwich, and a plate of lemon-ricotta pancakes.

“Excuse-me,” Sam called out to the waiter. “Could you make his pancakes in the shape of an angel?” he asked, ignoring Bucky who was openly glaring at him.

The waiter, albeit a little surprised, kept a smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bucky told him, handing him the menu. “Thank you.”

Without another look to his friends, he grabbed his phone and checked his messages for the third time in less than two minutes. Steve snatched his phone up and sat back in his seat, waving the phone at Bucky.

“Enough! Live in the moment.” He pocketed the phone and gave Bucky a pointed stare. “You’ll get it back later.”

“What the hell? You’re not my father, give it back!” Bucky snapped, extending his hand, the palm facing up. Steve shook his head. “Give it back, you fucking meatball.”

He got up and tried to reach inside Steve’s pocket for his phone but Steve kept shifting in his seat. They wrestled like that for a minute while Sam watched them, eating a breadstick and looking mildly entertained.

“Okay, fine,” Bucky panted, pushing himself away from Steve. “You leave me no choice, Rogers.” He cleared his throat like an actor about to jump on stage. “Give me back my phone, Steve!” he said, raising his voice. “Do you enjoy stealing from disabled people?”

He nearly shouted the last two words, and to Steve’s horror, the buzz of conversation around them had died. He could feel people staring at him. Cursing softly under his breath, he reached into his pocket and dropped the phone into Bucky’s awaiting hand.

“It’s okay, we’re friends,” Steve said to the people sitting behind him. They looked at him with a disapproving glare. “Jesus, Bucky, you’re making me look like an asshole.”

An amused expression crossed Bucky’s face as he sat back in his seat. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

It was quiet while he checked his messages. Slowly, those around them returned to their own conversations. Sam pointed his half-eaten breadstick at Steve.

“Do you think the waiter will spit in your omelette?” he said the last word with an exaggerated French accent. Steve glared at him.

Their waiter arrived a moment later carrying a large tray with their brunch. Steve poked at his omelet with a suspicious frown, then looked over at Bucky who was still on his phone. Sam stole a slice of bacon from Bucky’s plate and gave it to Steve.

“I hear you’ve got a date tonight,” Sam said, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just looking for something casual. I’m leaving in two days.”

“Where’re you going this time?”

“South Africa,” Steve replied, stealing another slice of bacon. “What about you? What’s that big emergency?”

Sam glanced at Bucky who was grinning like an idiot at his phone. “Not now. Let’s eat first.” He took the plate of bacon, took what he wanted then handed it to Steve. “Want another?”

Steve kept looking over at Bucky while they finished his bacon but Bucky didn’t seem to acknowledge their presence. He was in his own little bubble.

“It’s like we don’t even exist,” Steve remarked out loud.

“I know, it’s amazing. Look!” Sam straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat. “Bucky Barnes is the biggest idiot on the planet, and he can eat my farts.” Bucky was hunched over his phone, his thumb typing away. “See?”

“Impressive.”

“That’s the angel effect,” Sam said.

With a happy little sigh, Bucky pocketed his phone and turned his attention to his friends. He frowned at the amused look they shared.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Steve’s first date in two years.” Sam turned to Steve. “You must be nervous.”

“Strangely, no.” Steve broke off a small piece of omelet with his fork. “I actually know him. He’s an old friend from college.”

“Nice,” Sam said.

“He’s a fashion photographer now.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky’s brows pinched in confusion as he stared at Steve.

Undeterred, Steve continued. “We’ve been facetiming a lot lately.” He shot Bucky a glance. “Why do you think I go to bed at 8?”

“But I thought-”

“You thought I had a date with your girl,” Steve said with a warm smile. “Listen, man, I like her. She’s cute, funny, talented. She’s a real sweetheart. But I like her because she brought back that light in your eyes. You look happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you. You had to go through so much crap, Buck. You deserve this.”

Bucky looked down at his pancakes, feeling tears pool in his eyes. He blinked them back and sniffed quietly. “So you were never going to ask her out.”

“I was until you called her ‘angel’,” Steve replied with a shrug. “You kept saying you were okay with this but, I mean, I’m not that dense.”

“Why do you keep going out with her then?” Bucky grumbled.

“Jeez, Mother Gothel, I didn’t know Rapunzel wasn’t allowed to leave the tower,” Steve exclaimed. “We were bored. You’re in your office all day. It was fun to mess with you though. You’re a grumpy Gus when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous, okay. I was annoyed. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky looked over at Sam who had been strangely quiet throughout this whole exchange. He loved teasing Bucky, and he always had something to say about Bucky’s love life. Sam wasn’t looking at Bucky, he just pushed his food around with his fork, his lips pinched shut. He met Bucky’s eyes, then lowered his head again.

Bucky had a feeling something bad was about to happen.

“What’s the big emergency?” he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Sam set his fork down beside his plate and leaned back against his chair with a sigh. He trained his gaze on the front door, seemingly deep in thought.

“I’m moving to D.C.” He paused to let the information sink in. “They’re transferring me to the D.C. office. I’m their new chief financial officer.”

“Congrats, man!” Steve exclaimed. “You deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“So why the long face?”

“I’m a little anxious to leave New York. What will Barnes do without me? Without his mentor? Without someone to look up to?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll be all right.” He hesitated before he asked, “Did you tell her?”

“Tell who?” Steve inquired, polishing off the last of his omelet.

Bucky felt the wave of long-held sadness his Sam’s eyes. “I’ll tell her tonight.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look. They weren’t sure how Steve would react.

The word sugar daddy held a pejorative connotation. Every single one of those relationships featured a powerful, rich man and a poor, vulnerable man or woman. There was a clear power imbalance here that never appealed to Bucky, and he was pretty sure it never appealed to Sam either.

Whether it was a no-strings-attached service or an emotional service, it was still a hole in your resume. One that would be hard to explain to your future employers. He was afraid people would call you names, treat you differently or harass you if they knew.

He often wondered if he had unintentionally ruined your life.

Deep down he knew Steve would never call you a whore or treat you differently but he was still trying to protect your reputation. He believed that Sam had Natasha’s best interest at heart too.

Sam told Steve everything. He remembered the day he had met Natasha, their instant chemistry, the subtle flirting, the arrangement, their first night out, their first kiss, their first time together, their new arrangement. Steve listened attentively. When Sam told him that you were Natasha’s best friend, Bucky interrupted him and told his own story.

“Wow,” Steve deadpanned, leaning forward to take one of Sam’s poached egg and avocado toast. Sam slapped his hand away. “Is that a thing now? Sugar daddies, I mean?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yeah.” Steve sipped his mimosa with a bored look on his face. “You’re both not ready for the real conversation, so I’m just making small talk.”

Sam and Bucky exchanged confused looks. “What real conversation?”

“Sam, you just got an amazing promotion, you’re going to be the Prince of D.C. and you’re sitting here like someone kicked your puppy,” Steve replied, then turned to Bucky. “And you, well... I’ve been living with you for the past two weeks and you’ve gone all Alpha male on me, Buck. Cut the shit. You’re both in love with your sugar babies. Companions, or whatever the fuck you want to call them.”

Sam and Bucky sat in silence with their heads hung low. Steve opened his arms wide like a lawyer in a bad TV show saying ‘I rest my case’.  When he spoke again, his voice was soft.

“Look, as maybe the world's leading authority on waiting too long, don't,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen, um?”

It made Bucky think. Best-case scenario, you loved him too and life was a breeze for the next fifty years. Bad-case scenario, you didn’t share his feelings. Worst-case scenario, you shared his feelings but couldn’t make the transition from sugar baby to girlfriend.

Yeah, worst-case scenario sucked...

He came home around three in the afternoon, and smiled when he saw your shoes and coat. Knowing you were home always put him in a good mood, but his heart was heavy. He felt conflicted. He didn’t know if it was better to tell you how he felt now or to just keep living in this little bubble with you until it’d inevitably burst.

And to make things worse, Sam was going to end his contract with Natasha tonight. He made Bucky promise not to tell you about it. Bucky felt sorry for Natasha, he wondered if she had feelings for Sam. He wondered if she had a backup plan.

He found you in your studio, sitting on the floor, huddled against the wall, with one knee drawn up to your chest and your arms loosely wrapped around your leg. You were staring at the painting you’d just made, the still wet paint glistened under the artificial lights.

This painting was different from your usual landscapes and occasional portraits. There were various shades of blue and grey intertwined, and five big splotches of dark red paint layered on top of the canvas.

Bucky knew just by looking at you that something was wrong. You looked defeated, sad, upset. He reasoned that your interview didn’t go as planned. Quietly, he stepped into the room and sat down on the floor next to you, his left shoulder brushing your own.

“I just got home,” he said.

“Where’s Steve?”

“He said he had some errands to run. He’ll be back later.”

You nodded, still staring straight ahead. “Okay. I bet you can’t wait to have some time to yourself. I asked Natasha if I could stay with her, but she’s going out with Sam tonight. I’ll stay in my room, I won’t bother you.”

Bucky felt his heart drop, his breath caught in his throat. He had made the woman he loved feel unwelcome. God, he wanted to kick his own ass.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting his head to look at you but you were stubborn and refused to meet his eye. “I thought you were going out with Steve and I- I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay with me.”

“I’m not interested in Steve. I told you that.”

“I know.” He moved so that he could see your face. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you, and for the way I treated Steve. It won’t happen again. I promise. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Bucky,” you huffed.

He saw your chin quiver slightly and your eyes glaze over with unshed tears. You looked utterly broken. He reached up and wiped a stray tear from your cheek.

“Sorry, I had a difficult day,” you said.

His palm cupped the side of your face, his thumb stroking a caress across your cheek. You met his eyes for the first time and he smiled softly at you.

“My angel.”

His words made you cry even harder, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. With his hand still cupping the side of your face, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against your other cheek. You closed your eyes and basked in his affection.

He could feel the warmth of your tears, could taste the salt on his lips as they streamed down your cheek to his mouth. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at you, a smile forming on his lips when he saw a fleck of dried blue paint above your eyebrows.

“Painter Smurf,” he teased, wiping it off. You let out a huff of air that sounded like a laugh. “I’m here for you, angel, whatever you need.” He pulled you against his side and you rested your head on his chest.

“My interview didn’t go very well,” you said after a long moment of silence. “She said that I’m really talented, that my technique is perfect. But my work is too figurative. It’s not what she’s looking for.” You paused to wipe your nose on your sleeve. “It’s just- It wasn’t my first meeting. They all tell me the same thing: I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, kissing your hair. “Your work is unique. It’s raw and beautiful. If they can’t see that then they’re morons.”

“She told me that if I had been a white man in the nineteenth century, people would still talk about me today.” You sighed. “I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe I should work on something more abstract.”

Bucky tilted his head to one side as he looked at your painting. “Is that why you painted this?”

“Mhhh,” you hummed. “She told me to play with the textures, the forms, the lines, the colours. Suggest rather than show. Let the painting tell its own story.”

“Yeah, I think you did it.”

“You think it’s good?”

“I don’t think those adjectives apply here. Not with modern art. It’s in the eye of the beholder,” he said, running his fingers along your shoulder. “Abstract art isn’t supposed to be beautiful, it’s supposed to make you feel something, right?”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Unsettled, sad.”

You straightened up and sat shoulder to shoulder. “My brother died in a hit-and-run.” You let the information sink in for a minute. “I was with Okoye, we got a call from our mom but by the time we got to the hospital, he was already dead.”

Your voice was surprisingly calm and controlled. Bucky wanted to reach out to you but he was unable to move. He listened attentively, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

“He was wearing some kind of compression shirt, grey-blue with two white stripes, and it was covered in blood. When I close my eyes and think of that day, all I remember is that shirt and the blood.” You tilted your head and gave him a little smile. “That’s what I painted.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Sorry,” you let out a small laugh. “I had a shitty meeting and then I came home and basically relived one of the worst days of my life to put it on a canvas. Now it’s staring at me and all I want is to shred it to pieces.”

Bucky noticed that your hand was close to one of your palette knives. Your fingers brushed against the handle, debating whether you should pick it up and slash the canvas. He laid his hand on top of yours.

“It won’t help,” he said. “Trust me. I can put the painting somewhere else if you want. You won’t have to look at it again. I promise.”

“Yes, please.”

“C’mon, beautiful, let’s go downstairs. I know someone who can help you.” He got to his feet and extended his hand to you. You frowned up at him, a silent question in your eyes. “His name is Bob and he paints happy little trees.”

A bright, wide smile spread until it lit up your whole face, and Bucky’s heart melted at the sight. He grinned at you and pulled you to your feet.

“I love Bob Ross,” you said, and Bucky gave your hand a little squeeze.

In the living room, you sat down on the sofa, crossing your legs under you and grabbed a blanket while Bucky connected his YouTube account to the TV. He sat down beside you, propping his feet up on the coffee table and adjusting the blanket in his lap.

“Hi, welcome back. Certainly glad you could join me today.” The show started and you melted against Bucky’s chest, pulling the blanket up to your neck. “Thought today we could do a fantastic little painting-”

You were pressed against his bad side, but Bucky didn’t mind. As the show progressed, you slid further into his lap until your head rested on the armrest of the sofa, close to Bucky’s right hand.

“People know when you’re happy. They can look at your paintings and tell how you were happy. They reflect your moods. Paintings are a reflection of your innermost feelings.”

He gave your head a little massage while you both watched Bob Ross create a stunning lake view painting.

“Cuz in your world, you can create any kind of illusion that you want. I spent half my life in the military, and I had to live in somebody else’s world all the time. Painting offered me freedom, I’d come home after all day of playing soldier and I could paint the kind of world that I wanted. It was clean, it was sparkling, shiny, beautiful-”

You shifted a little, and Bucky wondered if those words resonated with what you had been through. Being adopted, losing a brother, taking care of your sick mother when your siblings left, graduating, making ends meet... Those experiences had shaped you into the woman you would be for the rest of your life. A kind and strong woman who never really got to live or enjoy life.

He understood how important painting was to you. He was an artist too. He wasn’t a painter, but writing offered him a kind of freedom he had lost a long time ago.

“We should paint along,” you said, tilting your head up to look at him. “Then I’ll sell yours. I bet people would pay a lot of money to own an original Grant Thomas painting.”

Bucky chuckled. He knew you were teasing him, the slight curl of your lips said as much. “I’ll sign it James Barnes. It’ll be worthless.”

“It’s not worthless to me,” you said.

“Would you hang it in your room?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, okay, I’ll paint along with you.”

When the episode ended, you decided to eat dinner first and paint later. You were sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of leftover pasta from the night before, when Steve came home.

“Hey guys,” he greeted, throwing a plastic bag on the kitchen island before he made his way to his bedroom.

“I’m so fucking late. I still need to take a shower and get dressed.” Steve came out of his room, shirtless, and working his belt buckle open. “Hey, Buck, can I borrow some clothes?”

“I swear to fuckin’ God, Rogers, if you undress in the middle of the kitchen I’ll make you eat your jeans.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He rushed to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A minute later, Bucky heard the shower running.

Later, you went upstairs to gather canvases, paint brushes and paint while Bucky helped Steve pick out an outfit.

Steve was too excited about his date to remind Bucky that he was an idiot, and Bucky was happy that for once they didn’t talk about his feelings for you. He teased Steve and watched as Steve squirmed, the tip of his ears bright red. Just like old times.

Then they met you downstairs where you had two easels set up in front of the television. Steve stood in front of you, visibly nervous and agitated, while you looked at him from head to toe.

“How do I look?”

“Like you’re wearing clothes two sizes too small for you, which makes you look even bigger than you normally are so... pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

You chuckled. “You look great, Steve.”

Steve responded with a relieved sigh and a little bashful smile. Bucky liked that look on Steve, it reminded him of their childhood when Steve awkwardly flirted his way through Brooklyn.

Bucky jerked back to the present when Steve turned to him for confirmation. He gave him a firm nod and a thumbs-up, then walked him to the kitchen. They talked about Steve’s plans for the night while Steve gathered up his things.

Bucky was walking back to the living room when Steve called out his name and threw something to him. Bucky caught it in mid-air, then looked down at his hand. A shiny looking condom wrapper was nestled in the palm of his hand. He scowled at Steve.

“Just in case,” Steve said with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re a dead man.”

Steve’s laughter echoed down the corridor as he left the apartment.

Blowing out a breath, Bucky pocketed the foil packet and joined you in the living room. You were sitting at your easel, blobs of paint arranged in a semicircle on a palette. There was another easel next to yours, with a palette resting on a stool to make things easier for him.

You selected the lake view episode you had watched earlier, thinking that it would make things easier. Bucky was in awe of you, you made painting look so effortless and beautiful. You added your own trees and clouds, shifting things around to create your own world.

Bucky followed Bob Ross’ instructions closely but, in his opinion, it looked like someone had made it with their feet. You laughed at his comment and told him that you would still hang it in your room. It boosted his ego a bit.

When you both finished your painting, Bucky looked up at the clock. It was close to midnight which made him do a double take.

“Time for me to hit the hay,” he said, yawning. “This is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Mhh,” you mused, turning the TV off.

“You okay?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I- uh, I was kind of hoping we’d do this all night,” you said, playing with a mostly dried paintbrush. You looked at him from under your lashes. “But it’s fine. I understand, you’re tired. I think I’ll wait for Steve.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained expression. He could tell something was bothering you. He placed his index finger under your chin and tilted your head up. “Angel, I don’t think Steve is coming home tonight.” You pinched your lips together and nodded. “Talk to me. I want to help.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your words hit him like a punch in the chest, leaving him momentarily breathless. He pulled you close and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. You clung to him for dear life, your warmth and familiar scent made his heart ache.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled against your skin, then pulled back a little so he could look you in the eye. “Let’s change into something more comfortable, um? Then we’ll catch some shut-eye. I have an idea, the first person to fall asleep has to make breakfast tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“You’re right. I’m exhausted, I’ll fall asleep first,” he said, shaking his head. “New rule, last person to fall asleep has to make breakfast.”

You snorted. “No, I meant... are we going to sleep in the same bed?”

“I promise I’ll stay on my side. But if it makes you uncomfortable, there’s a bunk bed in Steve’s room.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to wash my face first. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Bucky tried to play it cool but his heart was pounding. He kept seeing flashes of his dreams in his mind: skin against skin, steady puffs of air brushing against his skin, the smell of sweat and something uniquely you surrounding him.

He was absolutely terrified.

He went upstairs, took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and changed into his pyjamas. His night-time regimen took longer than he had anticipated so he wasn’t surprised when he found you sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone, looking so calm and peaceful.

You were wearing your pyjama bottoms and a fluffy sweatshirt stained with blue paint and tomato soup. He felt his stomach flip when you raised your head and smiled at him. A chill ran through his spine, and made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He’d never seen you look more beautiful.

“Hey,” you said, placing your phone on the nightstand. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“The side you’re sitting on.” You rolled to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers making him laugh. “You didn’t have to move.”

“It’s fine. I prefer this side.” You looked around the room. “I like your room. It’s very you.”

“Ah?”

“Yeah, neat, organized, lots of books, a cosy armchair, stormy blue comforter. It looks intimidating but it’s actually really soft. Like you.”

He suppressed a laugh. “Thanks.”

Bucky climbed into bed beside you, turned off the light and drew the blanket over him trying to get warm. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling. He was so stiff and nervous, he forced himself to breathe normally. You turned onto your side and slid one of your hands under your pillow.

“Do you usually read before you go to sleep?” you whispered, afraid to disturb the silence.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” There was a moment’s silence before you spoke again. “I’ve started reading your book.”

“Oh, Christ,” he let out a small laugh and turned his head to look at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. “I hope I didn’t traumatize you.”

“You have a very dark sense of humour,” you said. “But I already knew that.”

“I’ve always had a dark sense of humor, but trust me, when I lost my arm I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Therapy helped a lot. Besides, laughing is good for your health, right? My books are very personal, I don’t censor myself.”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting it to be so honest.” You shifted a little and looked away from him. “I don’t know if I’ll finish it, I feel like I’m intruding.”

“I understand.” He shifted slightly so he was lying on his left side, facing you. “I wrote it like a diary. Talking isn’t my strong suit. I don’t know, I think I’m trying too hard and I just end up being rude or not making sense. When I write, I take my time, I find the right words. It’s easier when I don’t have to look anyone in the eye.”

He knew his book was a little rough. He focused on his depression, his rehabilitation, relearning basically everything. He talked about rediscovering his body, intimately. He talked about his friends, his family, strangers, therapy, dating.

“Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

He swallowed hard, his throat raw and tight. “Yes.” In fact, he was in love right now. “Once. I don’t trust easily.”

“I know I read what happened between you and your girlfriend.”

She had been his first girlfriend since the accident. She was kind, patient, a little over excited but he found it cute. In a way, she reminded him of himself before the accident. She wasn’t afraid to touch him, and God, he needed to be touched.

Sam had witnessed little things that irked him but Bucky had ignored him, refusing to see the warning signs. He wanted to be happy again. But then he couldn’t bury his head in the sand anymore.

She treated him like a child in front of their friends, and her friends praised her for taking such good care of a man like him. A man who, in their mind, was high maintenance. She cut his meat for him even though he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. She helped him dress, tied his shoes, zipped up his coat, etc... He felt infantilized, humiliated.

He didn’t think she was a bad person though. It was just her personality.

“How’s Natasha?” he asked suddenly.

A puff of air caressed his face as you snorted out a laugh. “Why do you ask? You don’t like her.”

“I like her a lot,” he argued. “She seems wary of me, which I understand, but she’s great.”

“Yeah, she is.” You considered his words. “She’s doing well. She went on work date with Sam.”

Despite his promise to Sam, he couldn’t bear the thought of keeping things from you. “I have to tell you something about Sam and Nat.” You waited for him to continue. “Sam got promoted, he’s moving to D.C. He broke things off with Natasha tonight. I mean, their arrangement.”

“I know,” you said. “She texted me while you were in the bathroom. I’m going to spend the night at her place tomorrow. It’s been a while since we had a girls’ night, and we both really need it.”

“Good.” He cupped the side of your face, let his thumb brush your jaw. “I’m going out with the boys tomorrow. Steve’s leaving soon.” He pulled his hand back. “We should try to get some sleep.”

“No, please,” you said, shifting closer to him. “Not yet.”

“Angel, we can’t stay awake all night.”

“I don’t want to be alone in the dark.”

“I’m right here with you,” he spoke gently.

“But once you fall asleep I’ll be alone.”

Bucky raised his head and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. When he pulled back, he rested his hand on your forearm and let his warmth seep into your skin. His thumb caressed the inside of your wrist, stroked over your racing pulse point.

“I’ll wait until you fall asleep,” he said.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled and let your index finger run down the length of his nose. “Does it hurt when you sleep on your left side?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Most of the time it’s just weird. It feels like my phantom limb hangs down through the bed. Like my arm is invisible and just goes through the bed.”

“What do you miss the most?”

He let out a long exhale. “Not much. Hugs. Proper hugs... I guess. Holding someone close and wrapping myself around them. Squeezing someone against my chest, making them feel protected. I used to be a great hugger. Now I give bro hugs.”

“I love bro hugs.”

His chuckled dissolved into a grin, and you both stayed quiet for a moment. He knew you weren’t asleep, he could hear you thinking. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

“I was wondering,” you started, then trailed off. “One day we’ll have to end this arrangement. Do you think it’ll end well, or is it going to be messy?”

It took him a minute to respond.

“Y’know, one of the things I learned in therapy was to stop worrying about things I can’t control,” he said. “That’s in the future, for future-you and future-me. I don’t know how it’ll end but I can promise you one thing: I’ll always be there for you. Arrangement or not.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out. “Right-now-me is a lucky bitch.”

You both laughed softly, then fell into a contemplative silence. There was something so peaceful about lying in bed with you, his hand loosely wrapped around your wrist, sharing warmth. He didn’t want to fall asleep.

For the next hour you talked about your families, your childhood, your friends, your likes and your dislikes. You told him about being an adopted child and living with other adopted kids. He could tell you were holding back when you talked about your siblings.

The only one you gushed about was Okoye. You were evasive when you talked about Scott and Wanda, though you did tell him that you had agreed to meet Wanda.

“What’s your favorite comfort food?”

“Breakfast for dinner.” Your voice was soft and small, he knew you were falling asleep. “When I was a kid, we had breakfast for dinner every Sunday night. We’d grab a bowl of our favourite cereal and eat together in front of the TV. I miss those days.” Your face was half buried in your pillow. “What’s yours?”

“Easy, pancakes.”

You smiled, your eyes were closed. “I like pancakes too.”

He watched you fall asleep and made a mental note to make some pancakes for breakfast. Your breathing evened out, and he waited a few more minutes to make sure you were asleep before he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

Bucky woke up to the sound of rain striking against the window. He opened his eyes and noted that the room seemed brighter than usual. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him that it was already a little past eight.

He stretched, sighing contentedly, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his closed fist. He tilted his head to look at you, still sleeping next to him. You lay on your stomach with your face turned away from him and your arms hugging your pillow. He adjusted the covers around your shoulders and stealthy slipped out of bed.

He went to the window and fixed the shades to make sure they didn’t let any light in. Then he made his way downstairs where he found Steve cracking eggs into a bowl. He was still wearing Bucky’s clothes, but his hair was a mess. Still he looked positively glowing.

“Mornin’,” Steve greeted with a wide smile.

“Hey, man.” Bucky took a seat at the kitchen island. “When did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago. Long enough to notice that your angel hasn’t slept in her room last night. Wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bucky said with a shrug. “She didn’t want to be alone.”

“So you slept with her.”

“We slept in the same bed. Nuance.”

“I’m gonna nuance your face with my fist if you don’t talk to her soon,” Steve exclaimed. “She’s not going to stay single forever, Buck. Things are gonna change, one way or another.”

“I know.”

Steve set the bowl aside and held the edge of the counter behind him. He sighed, exasperated. “If I were you, I’d talk to her before something happens and takes your choices away from you.”

Bucky pinched his lips together, hard, and looked down at the counter. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I- I don’t know how to talk to her,” he said, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He met Steve’s eyes. “I physically can’t talk to her. It hurts. It’s stuck here-” he aggressively grabbed his stomach “-all the time. And it hurts, Steve, you have no idea how painful it is.”

“That’s love,” Steve replied, smiling at him like he, too, knew how it felt.

“Well, it fucking sucks.”

Bucky wiped the back of his hand against his runny nose. Steve stood there in silence.

“This book I’m writing,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “It’s about her. Just her.” He paused. “I can’t back down now, my publicist’s too invested in our story. I know it’s an eccentric way of telling someone you fell in love with them but... writing’s easier than talking.”

Steve nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. “It’s like a long love letter.”

“Something like that.” Bucky climbed off the stool and rounded the kitchen island. “Now, I’m going to make breakfast. I promised her pancakes.”

Steve smiled and watched him move around the kitchen. “I hope it works out for you, Bucky. I really do.”

Part 10

[caracalfeather]

WARNING- Cats and Birds is a mob AU fanfiction of the Arcana game, and is not meant for young audiences and is not meant to offend anyone. Some writing choices were made so characters are out of their canon way of acting and thinking. Please do not be offended by character choices made by the authors and content creators, this story was made for fun and in the way we wanted it to be. The story was not hijacked by any of the authors to make any ships or characters overshadow any other. All content contained in this story has been agreed upon and accepted by all parties in it’s creation.

TW- Cats and Birds contains scenes that may not be suitable with some readers, including themes of violence, smoking/drug use, sex, cursing and various other strong themes. Special warnings for scenes will be posted with chapters. Proceed with caution and Reader’s discretion is advised.

23

Months past, and after everything was said and done Lyra called Rose from out in the park which separated the shop from her apartment.

“I figured you’d call.” Rose chuckled. She was in a car, music playing behind her.

Lyra laughed on the other end, “how did you know it was me?”

“I have your number saved in my phone.” She smiled “What’s up?”

“Well...I thought you’d like to know that Julian and I are getting married.” She smiled, “I wanted to invite you to the wedding. If you have the time.”

“I'm actually going to spain…” Rose sighed “So i don't think i can...”

“Really?” She frowned, “that’s a shame, Julian really wanted you to come.”

“I know…Alright. I'll try to make it.” Rose chuckled

“You better.” Lyra chuckled,”otherwise Madeve is going to throw a fit”

Rose laughed “Noted. I have to go.. Be Careful….okay?”

“I will.” She sighed, “have fun in Spain, oh and if you visit France….please don’t look me up.”

Rose Laughed “Trust me. Neither of us wants to go that deep in history. I'll see you later lyra.” with a chuckle, she hung up.

Lyra smiled and looked up at the clouds coming in. She retreated back into her apartment and sat out on the fire escape with Madeve.

A few more weeks passed, and surprisingly, Rose showed up. She stood at the back during the beautiful ceremony, trying to look a little happy for them.

Lyra and Julian were both in tears. They could hardly say their vows without breaking down. They had both wanted this to happen for so long and now that it was. It was just so surreal. The park between their home and their little shop was the perfect place to host it. They couldn’t have asked for better weather. As the vows were said and the official kiss was shared Julian and Lyra turned to their friends, new and old. Lyra caught sight of Rose first and her smile got brighter as she waved to her slightly, just before Julian swept her off her feet and down the aisle.

Rose couldny help but chuckle at the sight. He was finally happy, thank the gods. She followed the crowd to the reception, staying back to watch everyone party. She hadn't planned on staying long, she had business to take care of.

Julian stood next to her, “you made it after all.”

“Yeah. Lyra called and convinced me to think about everything. So I decided to show up.’’ She looked at the beautiful bride and leaned against the wall “...Finally made the right choice on who to marry.”

Julian shook his head. “I should’ve done it 7 years ago.” He turned to her, “you never answered my question...so I’m going to ask again. Are you pregnant?”

She sighed and glanced at him “...I was.” She left it at that, turning away.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “oh gods Rose I’m so sorry.”

“Don't pity me.” Rose moved his hand away and looked at him “And...only one died, if that's what you thought.”

Julian’s eyes flashed, “one? Oh wow….if there’s anything that Lyra and I can do...we would be more than happy to help.”

“I'll remember that.. But for right now, you need to focus on being a good husband for her.” Rose looked at him “You were shitty to me. And I was shitty to you. Do not hide shit from her ilya, it only hurts people. And she doesn't deserve to be treated the way I was.”

“You’re right.” Julian sighed, “still it’s exciting knowing that I’m a father. Anyways...you deserve happiness Rose. I hope you’re finding it in Spain, and with our child.”

Lyra came running over, practically tripping over her skirts, she laughed and opened her arms to hug Rose. “I’m so glad you could come!!”

“I'm glad i could too! You're so beautiful.” Rose hugged her back and sighed “I'm afraid I can't stay long, I have business to attend to outside town.”

“Well thank you for coming regardless!” She smiled, Soren, one of the men in Julian’s mob who was now living life in Spain, ran over to Lyra seeing her trip. He grabbed her by the shoulder and examined her, “Lyra Honey! Are you ok?!? Your hem didn’t tear did it? Your hair looks good,” he circled her muttering to himself before approving Lyra with a nod. “You’re fine sweetie. Pretty as a Princess.” Swing Rose his smile changed to a smirk as he flared out his cape. “Well, Well...long time no see Kitten.”

“Don't make me cut your throat Soren. You know not to call me that.” Rose huffed and crossed her arms “...Plume says hello by the way. He figured you’d be here.”

“Of course I’m here honey.” Sorren smiled, gesturing to Julian and Lyra with a proud smile, “who else was going to make these two look fabulous on their big day. And for the last time.”

Lyra blushes and Julian laughed. Before returning to the guests Soren frowned at Rose. “Hey if you see that asshole of a brother of mine anytime soon tell him to come see me. I miss seeing my stupid twin’s dark himbo face everyday.”

Rose laughed and nodded “Will do. He’s pretty happy from what I hear.” She looked after Lyra and Julian with a soft sigh “Well.. I have to go.” Without a goodbye, she disappeared. She had things to do.

Later that night, a storm had started, making the rain pour hard. Outside, someone buzzed the newlywed’s apartment, camouflaged in the night rain. No one could have guessed that the cat was still there. After one final look at the bundle, she ran off.

After a few long hours of lovemaking the storm rolled in. Lyra was cowering against Julian as the storm raged on he lifted his head from the fort he constructed in the bedroom.

“Who the hell is out in this weather?”

Lyra clung to him, “please don’t leave.”

He hushed her and kissed her forehead. “I’ll only be a minute my sapphire.”

Actually putting on some pants he went out the building, searching the doorway for whoever interrupted their night of peace.

The basket was barely noticeable in the night, all you could see was the dark green bundle, holding a tiny whining little girl and the note on her blanket. The wind howled with her whines.

Julian cursed under his breath, he picked up the note and opened it. Sitting down on the steps as he pulled the little angel close.

“Ilya. No child should have to live the life we did. Please. Take care of our little girl. Her name is Vela. After the stars.~ R” it read. Vela nuzzled into his warm chest. She looked exactly like ilya, with a mix of light auburn curls.

He looked down at her with a smile, “Rose you sly cat. She is perfect.” Julian stood up and went back to his home.

Lyra was very excited to have Vela. Rose gave her the one thing she could never have. As soon as Julian explained Lyra welcomed Vela into her arms as if she were her own. And the storm...didn’t bother her for the rest of the night. They just sat in silence, the three of them, today had been the greatest day of their lives. It was only the beginning of the great future The Raven and his Songbird always wanted.

End

Years later

Spain was peaceful compared to the streets of LA. Rose sat on a balcony, sipping some coffee as one of her men, Vice, came to stand next to her. “So. We have the plan set in motion. We just need someone who can do the job.” Rose sighed, setting down her cup “Well i cant call plume, and Naga is busy…” Vice handed her a piece of paper “If i may… We could always employ him again.” Rose was quiet, examining the text and photo in hands before smiling “Vice. Get my phone. We have a bird to find.”

Miles away, out of sight and out of mind. The cell phone of an old friend rang. Looking over his shoulder at his wife he ducked into the kitchen.

“Whatever you want, it doesn’t concern me. The Black Raven is out of commission.”

Rose chucked into the receiver “Oh come on old friend. Is that any way to greet The Queen of spain?” she shited the phone slightly, sitting down “But really…. We need the Raven back. Immediately.”

[theaetherhealerffxiv]

FFXIV Write - Week One - Prompt 7  - Forgiven

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

—-

FFXIV Oneshot: OC Based Fanfiction [Wol-verse]

Rating: Rated M because of mental trauma. 

Pairings: Wol oc x Thancred

Summary: Thancred begs forgiveness for the wrongs he did to them while under Lahabrea’s control, and Swath tries to calm him. 

Word Count: 1805

He was sobbing, and all I could do was watch. While the other Scions ran around dealing with the aftermath that the Omega Weapon had created, I was here with Thancred, who was finally awake from being unconscious. I had carried him out of the Castrum, my body was heavy and I was still bleeding and bruised, and he was sobbing. There was nothing I could do. 

“I am sorry,” I heard his soft voice mutter, it was broken and rough. He had been repeating it so often now. His hands where grabbing at the Ascian cloak he still wore, we had not been able to return to the Waking Sands because of our conditions, otherwise I would have gone to get him a change of clothing. My body, exhausted and wounded, and his much of the same, except his mind was broken. He had been taken by the enemy, and had been used against me. The one person he had pledged to protect, and stand by. His Angel. I held my head, my white hair drenched in sweat and mud. “I am sorry,” I heard his weary voice again. I wished nothing more than to heave myself up and collapse around him, pulling him down into a warm embrace. To sleep together in a bed like we had been doing for months now - that is up until he had been possessed. When he had avoided me, avoided our room, avoided touching me. I frowned, was he apologizing because he attacked us and was a puppet? Or because he thinks he hurt me? I lifted my head to see him digging his fingers deeper into the fabric, and the sound of ripping echoed through the room. 

“Thancred!” I called out willing my exhausted form to move from where I sat. Then suddenly I was by him, turning him to me and prying his hands off of his shoulders. He was shaking his head, tears falling down and intermingling with the dirt and blood, his usually calm eyes wild as he realized who held him. I opened my mouth and he tried to pull away, it was futile, while I was exhausted, I at the moment was still stronger than he. I imagine his strength had been sapped from him, all used up in the attacks that Lahabrea had used against me. 

“No!” He groaned, “I -” I clicked my tongue and pulled him into me. His body slumped in my embrace, and I once more  heard broken sobbing. “Did I hurt anyone?” Thancred moaned, “Did I hurt you?” He grabbed fists of my shirt and forced his face further into my shoulder. “I, I remember most of it until the very last. I struggled, I struggled to keep conscious. But he forced me into submission, I did not have a choice, Twelve.” I could only imagine how wild his eyes must still be, he was trying to remember memories that were not there. Trying to come to terms with his body being stolen from him, and being used against those he loved. “I hurt you,” I heard, and then realized he was feeling the bandages all over my body. I cursed to myself, I should have thought through my actions. “Twelve I hurt you!” He began to struggle against me then, feebly, but still trying to get away from me. As if he would lose his mind again and Lahabrea would appear once more to strike at me. I winced as he pushed against various tended to wounds, before he realized that his flailing was hurting me. He shivered and hung his head against my shoulder. I stilled, I did not want to set him off again, perhaps moving him away from me would help.

I pulled him back and his green eyes, puffy from crying looked at me in shock. “Thancred,” I began but was cut off by his hysterics once again, I winced to myself. I, for all my heroics could not even tend to the one who needed me most.

“Gods, I hurt you, Swath I, I am so sorry, I cannot, I,” He looked frantically around us. “Gods, Swath,” Thancreds body was getting tense: he was looking for a chance to run from me. I frowned debating my actions, then throwing caution to the wind. I forced him back into a hug, trapping him. It probably was panic inducing to him, I knew this. But I could not think of anything better at the moment. I wanted to keep him here with me, I was selfish. 

“I forgive yah,” I whispered. “I forgive everything ya hav’ done, yah did not hurt us, bu’ I forgive yah.” He shivered, it was not a good shiver like I was used too. It was not because I whispered loving words into his ear. I held him tighter and continued. “I love yah Thancred, I love yah. I love yah, and,” By the twelve I realized as I spoke tears came from my eyes as well. As the hot liquid hit Thancreds cheek I felt him wrap his arms around me. Now I was shaking. “I was so damn scared.” I sobbed. “I’h thought, I was gunna lose yah, I thought I’h was gunna have to kill yah.” I hiccuped and pulled the man closer. He held me as we both cried. “Yah, ar’ safe I’h aint gunna let them get to yah again.” I rasped. In my arms the man cried hard, I crumpled, my legs giving out as the last of my strength faded. I was turning this into myself, Thancred needed me and I was being reduced into a blubbering mess.

Now, Thancred was holding onto me, gently helping me sit down on the ground. He pulled away and I let him. I had a feeling he was not going to run from me anymore. Lifting his hands up he tore at the cloak, freeing himself from it. Now, wadding it up in his hands he threw it to the side, with as much angry strength as he could muster. The clothes he wore under it were torn and dirty, clearly not spared from our fight. I reached back out to him and was surprised when he came forward and pressed a kiss against my lips. It was frantic, painful, bruising, as it was clear he could not control himself. As if having his body back was forigen to him, and I guess it was. He had not been in control of his body for so long now. I kissed back, pressing a palm against his cheek before he fell to his knees breathing heavily holding my hand to his face. 

“I am sorry,” He said again and I shook my head.

“Enough sorry’s love. Is’ over. If yah feel sorry make up to it tah me by stayin by mah side.” I ran my thumb over a dainty scratch that spanned from the bottom to his lip to the top. His green eyes looked at me, still clearly panicked, but it was clear he was coming down from the anxiety high. Thancred frowned and took in a shaky breath. I watched him carefully, I did not know how to help him. How to heal him from this, all I could do was ask him to remain by my side. So that we could share the trauma of this event together. I could only hope it would heal both of us in time.

“Marry me then,” He chuckled. “I, meant to ask before I, before this.. I,” I could tell he was at a loss for words again, or, perhaps it was my shocked face. I had heard from Minfilia before all of this, that Thancred had been looking at bands. She had told me that she was so happy he and I had found something together, that she couldn't wait for us to be official. Then it happened, he went away on a solo mission, and came back, different. Tears sprang to my eyes as he asked. I wanted him to repeat the words over and over again, I knew that it was likely in desperation. That his words were something that he wanted to get out in case something happened to us again. In truth something likely would, our fates wherever bound to Eorzea as a whole. But we could take something back maybe, together, by binding our souls to each other.

“I’h will happily bound mahself to yah.” I whispered then, fighting back the tears. I watched as his shoulders sagged in relief. 

“I promise to never leave you.” Thancred smiled, and I leaned my head back shivering. He sat next to me and sighed. Laying his head against my shoulder, still holding my hand. The floor was hard, but we were so tired it did not truly register. “Did,” He sighed again and frowned beside me. “How much did Lahabrea hurt you?” He finally asked. I did not want him to fall back into his panicked state, but at the same time he seemed to be relaxing and I did not want to hide anything from him. Hiding the truth would hurt him more.

I nuzzled into his dirty hair and shrugged. “It was chaotic love. “ I pressed a kiss to the top of his head and squeezed his hand. “I imagine nah more than the Omega Weapon an’ Gaius.” I paused and shifted so I was closer to him. “Think nah more of it. We gotta gather our energy ta get up an’ announce ta tha others tha yah are.. Better.” 

I heard a shaky laugh and he pressed himself further into my side. “Allow me to stay like this a little longer. I am suddenly so very tired.” I was lying to both of us and he knew it. We where not okay, he was not okay. He was broken, hurt, and withdrawing. I could feel it and there was nothing I could do. Would he be the same tomorrow as today? Would he be different? Did I truly care? He was my Thancred, and nothing would change that. No trauma, no hurt, nothing could tear me from him. He would likely curse this eventually, but for now I would take solace in knowing he was here with me. That we could share this moment together.

I hummed, “Aye, course love.” 

“Angel.” Thancred muttered, I hummed again in response but he just shook his head. “You really are an Angel.” 

I felt him relax into my shoulder and shiver once more, before being pulled into an unwilling sleep. I would watch over him, like the Angel he needed. Choking back a sob I pressed a kiss to his head and tried to ignore my own pain in favor of being a pillow for the man I loved.

[guksthighs]

Bump In The Night || pjm

TRICK

Pairing: JIMIN X READER

Excerpt: ‘ Jimin was becoming increasingly tempted to jump out now, but he grit his teeth as he internally chanted the code they were all meant to learn, “a demon is for one person and only one person may see the demon."’

Genre: fluff, demon!au

Length: 0.9k

A/N: i would be okay if jimin was hiding under my bed

W A R N I N G S!! mentions of rape

The bed above Jimin creaked as you climbed into it, but this was not a normal night as he listened to you giggle with your boyfriend. He watched as your hookup’s feet left the floor and the mattress dipped. Jimin imagined him pushing you into the mattress with his kisses, and without thinking he stuck a finger into the mattress, a smirk spreading as you let out a yelp.

However the giggles soon morphed into moans, and Jimin realized why this station had been left vacant or caused other demons to quit; people having sex on the bed you were scaring was the worst experience of many a demon could face.

Jimin was becoming increasingly tempted to jump out now, but he grit his teeth as he internally chanted the code they were all meant to learn, "a demon is for one person and only one person may see the demon.” It wasn’t the catchiest of the codes they had been forced to memorize but it was the most important and had been drilled into his brain until he was sure he was whispering it in his sleep.

“Can you stop?” He heard your voice break the moaning, silence filled the room followed by laughter by what he assumed was your partner,

“I came all this way and you’re not going to fuck?” Jimin was getting angry, he was worried about where this was going and although his code permitted him from being seen as you continued to murmur no even between the sounds of kissing and moaning from your partner, he was edging closer to throwing all caution to the wind.

Then a pair of trousers hit the floor and he heard a struggle, the sound of a hand hitting skin and then silence. You no longer whispered ‘no’ or 'stop it’ and Jimin decided this had gone on long enough and that you obviously weren’t strong enough to fight against what seemed to be happening.

Slowly he crawled out from under the bed, his nails elongating as he gripped into the wooden floor beneath him. Then with a fluid movement, he pulled his entire body out from underneath the bed and leapt up to grab the boy by his collar and throw him away from you and onto the floor.

Jimin knew what he looked like, amber eyes glowing in the partial darkness, two short curled horns coming out from his head and black talons as he snarled at the boy who was letting out a high pitched scream, “What the fuck is that? Am I going to die?”

Slowly he nodded his head, “If you take one step closer to her, you will. Get out.” The boy scrambled to get up, he slipped on the floor and slammed into the side of the door but with a parting glance at the figure behind Jimin he ran off without another word.

When Jimin turned he was shocked to see you already tucked into your bed, the blankets were pulled up to your chin as you watched him through tired eyes, “You okay?” Jimin whispered, slowly walking towards you as he allowed his nails to shorten and tried to make his form a little easier for your mind to understand but as his horns began to disappear into his hair, you arm shot out from the covers.

“Can I touch them?” Jimin smiled and quirked his head slightly, before coming to kneel beside the bed next to you and bowing his head. At first, he winced when your fingers stroked the horns, and as he looked up to see you smiling in wonder he couldn’t help but smile as well.

Eventually, you fulfilled your desire to touch them and your hand dropped onto the bed as you let out a small laugh, “They’re very pretty,” you looked at Jimin who was watching you with interest, “Thank you for saving me from that dick, you’re like my guardian angel.”

Jimin laughed slightly, before stroking your hair with a small smile at the irony, “Actually I was stationed under your bed,” you raised an eyebrow in slight confusion, “I’m the demon under your bed to scare you at night but after witnessing that experience,  I’m unsure I could scare you so how about I protect you instead?”

You sleepily nodded, your hand moving across the covers and holding Jimin’s that you squeezed slightly before letting out a long yawn, “stay here for the night,” he watched your eyes begin to drift shut and flattened your bedhead with his hand and just before you fell asleep you managed to mutter, “something else went bump in the night tonight.”

As your breaths became heavier indicating you were asleep, Jimin wondered if the reason all the other demons had left were because of the constant sex or because they were unsure of how to be gentle, to provide comfort instead of making someone cry. Jimin was different in that way, he had once been a human this was his eternal punishment, but as a small smile appeared on your face when your grip tightened on his hand, he knew this was no punishment.

And tell me your thoughts in the comments/ask box <3

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[punk-is-notdead]

Fic title: First Dates Can Be Dangerous, by tfw_cas

Rating: Mature (for language)

Tags: Jensen Ackles Misha Collins First Date First Kiss

Summary: When Jensen says yes to getting something to eat with Misha he has no idea what he's letting himself in for. Jensen finds that a little danger can be a good thing, and nothing will ever be quite the same again.

Inspired by Jensen's story at HonCon about the first time he and Misha went out to eat together.

AO3

Jensen had never thought of himself as reckless; sure, it was true that he had left home at a young age to become an actor. To follow the bright lights of Tinseltown and become a star, despite his shyness. But compared to this strange situation he now found himself in, he considered all of that to be quite… whatever the opposite of reckless was.

Jensen had been getting ready to make his way home when the new guy - Misha - had strolled over and asked if he’d like to go and grab something to eat with him. He wanted to be friendly and get to know the guy, so of course he said yes, but instantly began to question that decision when he saw where Misha was taking them.

It was some new-age type place that sold weird food - at least, from what little Jensen had seen of the menu it was - and as if that wasn’t bad enough, Misha had done one of the strangest things Jensen had ever witnessed. He’d removed the laminated card from Jensen’s hand, turned to the waitress, and said sweetly ‘we’ll have the three least ordered items on the menu’.

Wait… what? Jensen had wanted to protest, ‘what kind of crazy is this’?

“Er… are you sure?” The waitress looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and Jensen could sympathise. He was just as thrown by this odd request as she was. She didn’t write anything on the pad in her hand, she just held it and stared at Jensen, obviously waiting for him to confirm or deny Misha’s order.

Jensen nodded and smiled - he couldn’t very well say no, could he? - and the waitress went back off to the kitchen. Presumably to tell the other people who worked there what Misha had just done, while shaking her head in confusion.

Jensen turned back to Misha, who had a strange little smile on his face and a devilish twinkle in his eye. The thought occurred to Jensen that maybe Misha would have been just as good at playing a demon as he was at playing an angel. “First of all… what ? What was that? Do you always do this when you go out to eat? And second, why three items? There’s only two of us. I doubt I could eat too much of… whatever the hell they give us.”

Misha chuckled as he stared at Jensen just a little too long with his bluer-than-blue eyes, in that way he often did. “I like to live a little dangerously… be surprised. And besides, it can be fun. Did you see the waitress's face? She won’t forget this anytime soon.”

“Yeah, I saw. The poor thing.” Jensen had to agree that this was probably one of the more interesting experiences she’d had in this job.

“I like the randomness of it - wondering what we’ll get to eat. Sometimes you just have to give the control to someone else and just roll with it, you know?” Misha looked expectantly at Jensen, who had the feeling that they weren’t discussing food or menus anymore. But this idea of not choosing, and letting someone else take the reins was suddenly very interesting to him. Best not to think about that too closely.

Jensen coughed as he shifted a little in his seat, and asked again. “And the three items?”

“Oh, that’s in case one of the dishes is awful. It’s best to be prepared in cases like this.”

Jensen laughed out loud, and Misha joined in. He’d thought that Misha was just throwing total caution to the wind, but the fact that even he had a back-up plan was too funny. He was finding more and more that he couldn’t help but like the guy.

There had been a few actors who had been regular guests on the show, like Jeffrey and Jim, but none of them had been anything like Misha. In fact, it was safe to say that Jensen had never met anyone quite like Misha. He was intense, and he stared… a lot, and he wore really weird clothes, and he did that thing with his voice, which had shocked the hell out of Jensen, and now this, with the food. He was beginning to feel that incidents like this might well become the new normal.

“So, how do you like working on the show? Is it what you expected?” Inexplicably, Jensen felt a little nervous, and he fiddled with his cutlery as he spoke.

“It’s great… everyone’s been so nice. The atmosphere makes it feel like a family.”

“Yeah. It’s just as well… Jared likes to play pranks, and he wouldn’t get away with half of what he does on some other sets.” Jensen gave a little laugh as he remembered some of Jared’s antics.

“Oh, I heard about Jared and his pranks. I guess as I’m only here for a few episodes he’s giving me a pass.”

For some reason, thinking about that made Jensen sad. He and Misha had only recorded two episodes together, but it already felt like they had made a connection. “Do you have anything else lined up when you’re finished on the show?”

“No, sadly not. You know what it’s like when you’re trying to find that perfect role… you and Jared are very lucky.” There was a wistfulness to Misha’s words, and Jensen really hoped that he would find something quickly. “Still, like I said, I like to live dangerously.” There was that glint in his eyes again, and Jensen felt he could easily get lost in them.

Oh. This was suddenly feeling very dangerous. It was like Misha was a magnet, and Jensen was finding it increasingly difficult to pull away. And the thing was, he realised he didn’t want to. Misha placed his hand on the table, fingertips just far enough away from Jensen’s that they weren’t quite touching. It sent a thrill through him knowing that they were just out of reach - if he inched his hand forward they would be touching. Oh fuck.

The staring was becoming more intense, and Jensen was aware that his breathing had become shallow. He swallowed in an effort to get control of himself, and he noticed Misha lick his lower lip. Aaaaand now that was all he could focus on… those plush pink lips.

Just then, as Jensen wondered if they were going to lose all control and start making out in public, the waitress appeared with their food. Three plates of... what the fuck? Startled, Jensen jumped backwards, nearly toppling his chair over. Misha let out a dark chuckle, then beamed up at the waitress as she placed the plates onto the table.

“Hi,” she said nervously. “Would you like me to tell you what you have?”

“No thanks. We like to guess.” Misha was charming as fuck, and the waitress's face reddened before she rushed away.

“We like to guess. Really?” Jensen raised a quizzical eyebrow at Misha, who shrugged.

“We wouldn’t want her thinking this is our first time, would we?”

Jesus. What the fuck was happening here? Jensen had never felt so unsure of… well, everything. What on Earth did Misha mean by ‘our first time’? He looked down at the food and decided to concentrate on that instead of Misha’s… Misha.

Misha pointed at one of the plates. “Well, this is obviously brains. And this, I’ve had before. It’s sweetbread.” He gestured towards another one.

“And sweetbread is?” Jensen wasn’t putting anything in his mouth without knowing what it was.

“It’s fried glands.” Misha glanced at Jensen, looking for his reaction.

“Mmmm, brains and glands. Yummy. And what’s this one?” Jensen knew he was being sarcastic, but he couldn’t help it.

“I, er… don’t actually know.” Misha suddenly looked hesitant and timid, thinking he had fucked up.

“Okay, well then what are we waiting for? Brains, glands and I don’t know. Sounds delicious.” Jensen clapped his hands together and gave Misha his goofiest grin.

The smile that appeared on Misha’s face then was simply breathtaking, and the knowledge that he was the cause of that gave Jensen a curious feeling in his stomach.

While they ate Jensen treated Misha to his full range of facial expressions, from devastated to overjoyed - a different one for each mouthful - and Misha was in stitches.

In return Misha did an impression of Castiel’s reaction to the food. “Dean. I do not understand why we are eating brains. It will not make us any more intelligent.” That gravelly voice of Misha’s did things to Jensen, and he was glad that he was able to cover up his unwanted physical reaction with laughter.

By the time they had finished eating Jensen knew that they had developed a real friendship, and he mused a little on how crazy it would sound if he ever told anyone this story. “Y’know, I kind of hated you for a moment there when you did that thing with the food.” They were walking back outside, towards Jensen’s car.

Misha stopped and stared at him, mischief written all over his face. “You hated me?”

“Yeah. No, not really. It was when I saw the food, that’s when I realised I hated you.”

They were both laughing like idiots now, and didn’t stop until they reached the car. As the hilarity subsided they stood gazing into each other's eyes. Yet again, Jensen found he couldn't look away, and he fumbled for something to say to break the tension.

“Thanks Misha. I can’t remember the last time going for a meal was so much fun… or so dangerous.” Jensen blushed, but maintained eye contact with his new friend.

Misha stepped closer to him, crowding into his personal space just like the angel. If he did the head tilt Jensen couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

“Thank you Jensen.” Misha seemed to be doing his Cas voice now...  well, he might not be doing an impression of Cas, but his voice had certainly dropped a few octaves for some reason. “Thank you for coming with me, and for not running out screaming when I ordered the food.”

Jensen wanted to say that he wouldn’t have missed this evening for the world, but he found he couldn’t speak. Not with Misha so close, and practically growling at him. His breathing had become shallow again, like earlier, and he could see Misha’s had too. When he unconsciously licked his lips Misha mirrored the action. His eyes flicked down to Jensen’s lips, and Jensen couldn’t hold back any longer; he grabbed hold of Misha’s shirt and yanked him forwards. He just had time to see Misha’s eyes widen in surprise before he crushed their lips together.

Fuck. It felt so good; the way they moved to slot their mouths together perfectly, Misha’s tongue in his mouth, Misha pressing him into the car with his body. Jensen reached his hand behind Misha’s head and ran it through that gorgeous hair, taking the opportunity to pull them closer together.

It was one of the most amazing kisses Jensen had ever experienced, and when Misha eventually pulled back he immediately tried to drag him back in for more. Misha was panting and his eyes were glazed over with lust.

“Woah, slow down cowboy. I didn’t expect you to-”

“Maybe I need some danger in my life.”

“Yeah, you do…” Misha growled as he moved in for another searing kiss.

Jensen’s last coherent thought was that nothing would ever be quite the same again. He knew this was reckless, but that was a good thing.

[selenityshiroi]

Post Canon Slightly Crack Ficlet

Lucy was somewhat regretting her recent life choices.

It wasn't that she hated their current mission. Even if none of their team had realised just how BORING a One Hundred Year Quest could be when the reason it was considered so difficult was because no one before them could work out what was causing the problem or how to fix it.

It also wasn't that, after several weeks of sleeping outside, she had insisted on them staying in lodgings with proper walls and a roof for at least three days. Which had merely resulted in having to fend off several pillows to the face when Natsu and Gray had started a fight, trying to sleep through the snores that no one could quite believe came out of Wendy's mouth (until they remembered that she had super powered lungs), and trying to wriggle out of the dogpile of futons that her team had squirmed into overnight. She was still coughing up fur and she wasn't sure if it was Happy's or Carla's.

Nor was it the way that, when the long trek between destinations got too monotonous, her gaze would wander to the way Natsu strolled casually ahead of the group with his hands clasped together behind his head and the muscles in his back shifting with his every step. Knowing that the memories of throwing her arms around him just before this journey started and the way those muscles had felt under her hands was the cause of an almost permanent blush painting her cheeks.

No. The reason for her frustration at herself was exclusively down to her ridiculous, romantic imagination. Her desire to see one of the people she cared about most in the world get a moment of happiness.

She knew that she wouldn't have Angel...no-Sorano...teasing her and asking awkward questions about her spirits, in a way that felt more like an older sister affectionately taunting a sibling than the expected animosity from a former enemy, if she hadn't muttered the fateful words: 'Maybe we should ask Crime Sorciére about the clues we got at the last village'.

Of course, it had actually been a sensible suggestion. Despite their Royal pardon, the Independent Guild was still doing the work they felt they needed to do for their own piece of mind and road to redemption. And their last communications had put them not too far out of the way, so it was likely that Jellal, at least, would have some useful insights into the local area and the mystery they were trying to solve.

Her primary objective, however, was to let Erza and Jellal spend some time together.

She wasn't sure if literally getting her pigtails pulled was worth the polite distance and slight stammering she was currently witnessing. She was pretty sure Erza and Jellal hadn't actually managed to meet each other's gaze for 90% of the conversation, either.

It was rather frustrating to watch and she couldn't help but wish one of them would get the confidence to just throw caution to the wind and grab the other into some sort of passionate embrace.

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that she was a hypocrite and she had to stop herself from glancing over to where Natsu had gotten into some sort of friendly spar with Erik. Well, as friendly as a fiery poisonous battle could be.

But, still, Erza was always so calm and confident in the face of a challenge. And even though she didn't know Jellal all that well (except for that space of time after Acnologia's defeat when Magnolia had, for a few weeks, been a hive of reconstruction work-slash-parties for everyone involved in the war, and they had spent one particularly interesting afternoon discussing the different ways their magic used the power of the stars) she always thought of him as the sort of man who could stand tall in the face of adversity and face any problems boldly. (Such as when his attempt to teach her meteor had resulted in them apologising profusely to the Master over the build she had levelled by crashing through the walls).

Watching two of the most powerful wizards in Fiore make a hash over reuniting after several months of hushed lacrima calls and moments of desperate longing was almost heartbreaking. Everytime Lucy watched Erza brush her hair with that soft, yearning smile that spoke of just how much Erza missed the man she loved she wanted to cry a little.

And it wasn't like anyone was a stranger to Erza and Jellal's feelings for each other.

Richard was also watching over them with a soft smile on his face and he kept uttering things like ‘Ah, true love!’. And Gray kept sneaking glances at them and then absolutely didn’t start gently fingering the woven bracelet Juvia had given him before he left with a wistful look on his face. Meredy seemed to simultaneously be trying to keep the conversation between Erza and Jellal going whilst also trying to remove herself from it. And Sawyer and Macbeth seemed to be keeping some kind of score based on how many times Jellal stopped himself from touching Erza or how many times she stopped talking, blushed and then looked away.

‘Little Miss Princess, you have a devious look on your face.’ Sorano’s voice cut through her musing and she was decided.

‘Fuck it!’

Muttering the curse word was definitely worth the look on her previous nemesis’s face and she took the resulting jolt of pride and turned it into the confidence she needed to stride across the clearing to where the two star-crossed lovers were still slightly pink cheeked and avoiding full eye contact.

But her confidence crumbled into ash when the light, gentle push she placed on Erza’s back that was supposed to cause her to softly fall into Jellal’s chest (and, hopefully, embrace) instead caused her two unfortunate targets to lose their balance and tumble down the hillside. Lucy definitely had not noticed how steep it was on this side of the clearing.

She was still wide eyed with shock and wondering if she could convince Happy to fly her far, far away from Erza’s grasp when she realised that Sorano was cackling beside her, having rushed over to see where Erza and Jellal had fallen to. The rest of the group had gathered, too, even Natsu and Erik having stopped their brawl to see what had caused Erza to shriek like that.

‘Lucy, what did you do?’ Gray sounded astonished, like he couldn’t believe she’d had the nerve to just push Erza down a hillside. Which she very clearly didn’t have as she was this close to hyperventilating because Erza was going to KILL HER.

‘I just...I mean...’ She was pretty sure that her life was flashing before her eyes. ‘I just wanted them to have one nice, romantic moment together. Don’t they deserve that?’ She could tell she was starting to sound pretty manic and she was wondering if hiding behind Wendy would help. Both Erza and Jellal seemed to have a soft spot for Wendy.

But she’d barely had time to look around for Wendy before Happy drew her attention.

‘OOOOO...they liiiiiiiike each other!!!’

She wasn’t ashamed to admit that her gaze swung back down towards where Jellal had landed atop Erza at the bottom of the hill. Especially since every other pair of eyes had also zoomed in on the pile of limbs that, now that she thought about it, were slightly more entangled than she expected.

Even Sorano’s friendly pat on her back and the whispered ‘finally’ from Meredy didn’t make her tear her gaze away from the way she could see Erza’s hand clutching the back of Jellal’s head. Or the way they tilted their heads to deepen the kiss that she was very definitely going to turn away from right now. This very minute. As soon as was appropriate. At least before Erza’s other hand strayed any further downwards.

Still, she couldn’t help the fearful whisper that she directed to the rest of her team, all stood closely enough in order to gape over the side of the hill at the sight below that they could catch her hushed words. ‘Do you think she might be in a good enough mood after this to not murder me in my sleep?’

[katdvs]

Lucas Friar moved back to Texas at 17, now he’s running for Mayor of Rosewood Springs so best friend Zay and little sister Gigi decide he needs a little help from a political consultant.

Riley Matthews found her calling, she found a fiancé, but she never expected to find herself here, of all places.

Cross-posted to FF.net | Soundtrack | Past Chapters

Author Note: Can you guys believe he pulled her into the bed with him while he was sleeping? How badly do you just want to shake them up until now?

-it happens all the time-

His lips brushed against the bare skin of her shoulder, his body electrified by need and desire for the angel of his dreams. He continues to kiss her as his hand slips under her tank top, sighing with satisfaction that she’s bra-less as he massages her breast.

A moan of pleasure escapes her lips when she feels his fingertips brush against her nipple in a slow circular fashion.

That sound, the reality of it causes Lucas to open his eyes to see Riley in his arms. A smile on her lips as he touches her.

How did she get in his bed?

Slowly he pulls away, trying to remember. She left to spend the night with Dave. He drank to forget her. He took a shower and got into bed naked.

How did she end up next to him?

She reaches for his hand as she misses his touch.

Lucas realizes she’s still asleep.

She takes his hand pulling it back to her breast. He can’t help but smirk as he thinks of how to wake her.

“Don’t stop Lucas” her voice needy, desperate as she replaces his hand where she wants it.

She said his name, not Dave’s. Was it possible? Did he still have something to hope for?

He studied her, dressed in her pajamas and part of him wanted to throw caution to the wind and explore her body, hear her moans, her pleads for him to touch her.

He nestled close to her, willing his body to calm down, not get excited because he was sure there wasn’t enough cold water in the world to help him deal with that.

“Riley, wake up sweetheart.” God, it felt so perfect to say, so right to wake up with her in his arms, this should be their every morning from here until they died.

“No” she muttered as her body snuggled closer to his.

Lucas was sure he was going to die as he felt her ass rubbing up against the erection his was fighting. “Babe, you have to tell me why you’re in my bed.” He was fighting the urge to nibble on her earlobe, to let his tongue trace down her neck.

Her sleepy eyes slowly opened to Lucas over her, his green ones curious as she herself looked around. “Wait, why is your hand on my breast?”

“Well” he looked down, “I tried to remove it but you put it back.”

“Oh” She lifted his hand from her, immediately missing his touch.

Lucas laid on his side, resting his head on his hand, his elbow propping him up as he looked to her, “So, how did you get in my bed? Were you craving me and couldn’t take it anymore, you needed me? All you have to do Riley is say the word and you get me.”

“Just what I need a one-night stand.” She tried to scoot away and took the bedding with her, revealing that Lucas was naked. She couldn’t speak, his body the kind great sculptures tried to duplicate in stone.

How could she not get it, she would never be a one-night stand. She would be his every night, his every morning, she was already his every other thought. “So, tell me how you ended up in my bed.”

She closed her eyes, but the image of his naked body was burned in her soul. “I um, I got back, and you made me promise to let you know when I did, and um, I came in here, you were talking in your sleep and you pulled me into the bed. I wasn’t sure how to wake you up, if I should, if it was like a sleepwalking thing. I was waiting for a chance to get out and I must’ve fallen asleep.” She wouldn’t admit that the few hours she slept in his arms were the best, most restful sleep she’d had in she didn’t even know how long.

Lucas made no move to cover himself, he was watching the way she reacted. “What was I dreaming about.”

She slipped out of the bed the rest of the way, crossing her arms over her chest, “Me, you wanted me to come back to bed.” Her eyes moved over the room, seeing the note on his nightstand the empty glass next to it.

“What did I say Riley?” he could tell she was holding back, she was always holding back with him, except when she was angry.

“Lucas it was a dream, it doesn’t matter.” She ran her fingers over her face.

He stood up from the bed moving towards her, “I’ll tell you what I dreamed.”

“Ok” she was lost as she locked with his green eyes. “What did you dream?”

He reached out caressing her cheek, watching as she tried to resist giving into his touch, “I was with you in Las Vegas, we were going to married.”

Riley closed her eyes, trying to remind herself to breathe. “Dreams are funny things.”

“They are, what’s that old line, dreams are a wish your heart makes?”

“Not all wishes come true Lucas.” She took a step back, but he moved with her, each step she took until she realized her back was pressed against the door.

He felt his heart racing, his hands running along her neck, “I want to make your wishes come true.”

“We missed our chance Lucas.” She gasped feeling his thumb over her lips, and her body shivered with anticipation.

“This is our chance, here and now.” He kissed her, hard and needy, pleading with her to feel what he was feeling. His fingertips teased her hairline as his body pressed against hers.

Riley sighed as the kiss deepened, her hands on his arms. Her body leaning into his, feeling the hardness of his chest against her, the pressure and heat of his need against her. Her mind was a whirlwind, everything was dizzy with years of desire and unfulfilled needs swirling through her.

Her lips were the gateway to heaven. He was sure of it as he felt her body against his. His hands slipped down his thumbs looping under the straps of her tank top as he moved his lips down her neck, her moans and sighs the only soundtrack he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

His hands moved lower, his fingers pulling on the elastic of her pajama bottoms.

“Stop” she cried, and he immediately backed away. “We cannot do this. We can’t make this kind of mistake Lucas, I can pretend to be your girlfriend in public, but we can’t get lost in this fantasy when we’re alone.”

“It doesn’t have to be a fantasy.” He pleaded.

“In November, this all ends Lucas, I go back to New York and I marry Dave. You’ll be here, you’ll be the mayor, and you will do some good for this town, maybe you’ll finally meet the girl you’re meant to marry.” She was sure she would throw up if she had to think of him marrying someone else.

Lucas closed his eyes as he backed away from her, “Why is this the way things are?”

She pulled the straps of her tank top up as she looked at him, seeing something she hadn’t seen before. “We have to live with the choices we made.”

“We still have choices to make Riley.”

“You’re right that we do Lucas, and right now I’m choosing not to get lost in this . . . fantasy. I’m going to take a shower, I’m going to message my fiancé, and then I’m going shopping with your sister for her birthday. I’ll see you tonight for the dance.” She opened the door, slipping into the hallway before he could reach out and stop her. She knew if she felt his touch again she wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer, for her own preservation she had to get out.

Lucas picked up the glass on his nightstand and threw it at the wall, the sound of the glass shattering sobering him to the reality of what was happening.

Gigi watched Riley as they moved through the different racks of dresses as they moved around the boutique in Austin. “You okay, did you and Dave have an argument?”

“No, Dave and I didn’t argue.” Riley pulled out a blue dress studying it before she put it back.

Gigi pulled out white cocktail dress, with a short skirt and cap sleeves, “Then why the sour mood? Wait what did Luc do now?”

“He dreamed about me last night.” Riley studied the red dress in front of her, it would be tight, revealing, she would feel sexy wearing it, but then she’d felt sexy that morning as Lucas touched her.

“You would look amazing in that.” Gigi told her, “And Lucas dreams about you all the time, he talks in his sleep.”

“I’m aware.” Riley sighed, “He asked me to let him know when I got back from being with Dave, and um, he was talking in his sleep.”

Gigi raised an eyebrow as she looked at the older woman, “So you had sex with Dave and then you came home to my brother, do you realize how weird this situation is?”

“I didn’t have sex with Dave.” Riley wasn’t sure why she confessed that, “And yes this situation is weird, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to last.”

“The second Dixie thinks Lucas is single she’s going to stop at nothing to get him.” Gigi looked at the dress that Riley was holding, “he’ll lose the election, you can’t leave until after, please Riley, find a way for you and Lucas to survive whatever this mess is.”

“Public I can do, it’s when your brother and I are alone that things get muddy.”

Gigi took a moment trying to compose her thoughts, “Is it muddy, or is it that when you’re alone with my brother you’re so close to having everything you want you’re terrified to give in.”

“It’s muddy.” Riley grabbed the red dress and went to the changing room to try it on, it fit perfectly, and even though she thought maybe it might be a bit much with the red sequins, and maybe a little short she knew it felt good.

She tried to ignore the vision in her mind of Lucas undressing her. The vision of his fingers unzipping her dress, pushing it to the floor.

She dressed again in her jeans and t-shirt before deciding that yes this was the dress for tonight.

Zay couldn’t take it anymore, why the hell had someone been vacuuming for so long? He rubbed eyes as he got out of bed, following the sound across the hall to Lucas’ room, the door open as Lucas who wearing just basketball shorts vacuumed the wood floor.

Lucas turned the vacuum off when he saw Zay, “Hey, did I wake you?”

“You’ve been vacuuming for like twenty minutes, why?”

Lucas ran his hand through his hair, “I got mad, threw a glass at the wall, trying to get all the glass up.”

“What happened with Riley?”

“I woke up with her in my arms.” Lucas told him, as he thought back to just how perfect and right it had been to have her there.

“Wait how, how did that happen?” Had she broken up with Dave, no Maya would’ve sent him a message about that, wouldn’t she?

“She came to tell me that she was back from spending the night with him, and I was asleep, dreaming about her, apparently, I pulled her into bed with me and wouldn’t let her go.”

“And she didn’t wake you up?” Zay found that odd.

Lucas sighed as he went to pull a t-shirt from the dresser, “She was afraid it was like a sleepwalking thing, where you don’t want to wake them up. She fell asleep waiting for a moment she could get out.”

“I don’t see where that leads to a broken glass.”

Lucas pulled the t-shirt on, “I was naked, we were kissing, we were so close, and then she pulled away.”

Zay got it now, and then he saw the note on the nightstand, he crossed to pick it up, “Why do you have this after all this time?”

“I don’t know, so I wouldn’t think I was insane when I woke up in that bed alone. So, I knew something happened, someone had been there.” Lucas took it from Zay, “Last night I dreamed it was Riley, that we were going to get married afterwards. But Riley wouldn’t walk away from me with just a note.”

“You’re right she wouldn’t walk away from you with just a note.” Zay was torn did he tell him, “Dreams are funny things Lucas.”

“I’m going to go check in with the ranch hands, and then get changed to drop by the office and check on Daisy before sending her home. I’ll be back later before the dance, you tagging along with me, Gigi, and Riley?”

“Yeah, of course.” Zay watched Lucas put the note in his Bible, wondering why his friend wouldn’t just open it, wondering why Riley wouldn’t just tell him it was her. He shook his head as he went back to his room, wondering if all of this he’d set up with Maya and Farkle was worth it, so far all he’d seen were Riley and Lucas hurting each other and themselves.

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 8

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 3,734

Warnings: none

A/N: If this chapter had a name it would be “me, you, and steve’. Also I know how infuriating they are, so oblivious and dumb but isn’t it the point of pining ;) Thanks for your patience!

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

Bucky’s cab pulled over to the curb in front of his building. He tugged on the lapels of his coat, pulling it tighter around him, and braced himself for the blast of cold air waiting for him on the other side.

He hated the cold, hated winter. It reminded him of the day he lost his arm, alone on that godforsaken mountain until Steve found him. But he could deal with the cold if it meant he’d find you on the other side of that door.

He knew you were home, you had texted him about an hour ago telling him that you had a surprise for him. It had made him smile. He’d hurried home, desperate to see you even though he’d seen you that morning.

He had it bad.

He’d been restless since the gala, unable to sleep without dreaming of you, your velvet dress in a heap on his bedroom floor, your scent lingering on his bed sheets. He would wake up bathed in sweat, on the edge of coming.

He would deal with it with an ice cold shower.

Bucky had accepted the fact that his feelings for you weren’t as innocent as they once were. He had always thought you were strong, full of life and a little awkward, but lately he’d been wanting to kiss you, touch you, feel your warmth against him.

He wanted it so badly it hurt.

He wouldn’t say he loved you. He certainly felt something for you but love was something foreign to him. Sometimes he wondered if his feelings were even real. He’d gone from living an extremely solitary life to spending every single day with you. It could have easily been a product of his loneliness and your soft spoken demeanour.

He had stopped counting the number of times he’d almost kissed you on the lips. The urge was always there, eating away at him, but he always caught himself at the last moment, his lips landing on your forehead, your cheek or your temple instead.  

“I’m home,” he shouted, closing the door behind him. He bent to untie his shoes and kicked them off while he unzipped his coat. “What’s the big surprise? Is it something we can eat?”

He hung his coat next to yours on the hook and walked down the short corridor that led to the kitchen. As he walked, he became suspicious of the silence that hung in the air. Slowly he peeked into the kitchen and found you in the company of someone he thought he’d never see again.

“Steve?”

“Not edible, sorry, Buck.”

Bucky’s face broke out into an instant smile, ear to ear and ecstatic. “Fuckin’ hell, Rogers, you look like a yeti.”

Steve barked out a laugh as he stepped forward and hugged him. He wrapped both his arms around Bucky, almost lifting him off the ground despite knowing how uncomfortable hugs made him feel. Chuckling, Bucky returned his hug with one arm; the only kind of hug he could give.

“I’m happy to see you.” Steve pulled back and held him at arm's length.

Bucky looked over Steve’s shoulder at you who were standing behind the kitchen counter, grinning at them. “Is that my surprise?” You nodded. “Ugh, I was kind of hoping for pizza honestly.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m joking, man.”

Steve returned to his seat and Bucky followed. You grabbed a mug from the cupboard and fixed Bucky a cup of coffee. He gave you a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with this punk on your own,” Bucky told you. “Did he give you a hard time?”

“Nah,” you said. “He was pretty sheepish. Also, I almost gave him a heart attack.”

Bucky burst out laughing as Steve’s face and neck flushed red. You told Bucky the story of how you and Steve met outside his apartment building. Bucky doubled over laughing when you made a pretty spot-on impression of Steve’s confused face. Steve rolled his eyes at your theatrics, a smile on his lips.

“In my defense, no stranger has ever screamed my name like that.”

“Oh, if the alley behind the church could talk, it’d call you a fucking liar, Steve.”

“First, shut up!” Steve jokingly pushed Bucky off his seat. “Second, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” That sobered you both up faster than a cold shower. Steve caught a furtive sideways glance between you and Bucky. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you replied with a smile. “I’m his, uh-” you trailed off and looked to Bucky for help but he was unable to speak. “I’m his roommate.”

“Oooh! Okay.”

Was that relief on Steve’s face? Bucky’s stare hardened. A muscle in his jaw jumped when Steve engaged you in a conversation. He asked you how long you’d been living with Bucky and if you liked the apartment. His tone was conversational but Bucky knew him like the back of his hand, he knew Steve was flirting with you.

“Are you staying for dinner?” you asked Steve. Bucky’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. You picked up the laminated meal plan from on the counter. “Creamed spinach and baked eggs.”

“Sounds great,” Steve agreed.

“You don’t like spinach,” Bucky grumbled under his breath.

“I’m not twelve anymore,” Steve countered with an arched brow. It made you laugh. “Besides I haven’t eaten a homemade meal in... wow, probably years.” Steve turned to you. “I don’t know if Bucky told you but I’m a landscape photographer. I live in the wild most of the year. It’s kinda like travelling by foot on an endless backpacking trip. It’s amazing but the food is disgusting.”

“Yikes!” You grimaced in sympathy. “Well, Bucky’s an amazing chef. I keep telling him we should open a restaurant together.”

You walked over to Steve and mock-whispered in his ear. “If we ask nicely, he’ll probably make us some garlic bread.”

That made Bucky smile. His first instinct was to answer with his usual ‘I’d do anything for you, angel’ but he couldn’t say that in front of Steve so he bit his tongue. He saw the disappointment in your eyes, as if you were expecting that usual answer too.

“I should go upstairs,” you said. “I have a painting to finish. Have fun, boys.”

Steve watched you go, then he shook his head and heaved out a sigh. He waited until he was sure you were out of earshot before he turned to Bucky.

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” he said. “So, are you two...”

“We’re friends,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Is she single?”

“As far as I know.”

Bucky’s jaw was clenched hard, the tendons in his neck looked like they were about to snap. He loved Steve like a brother but, goddammit, he wanted him to leave and never return. He balled his hand into a fist, feeling a visceral urge to punch something.

Yet, Steve seemed completely oblivious to Bucky’s turmoil. After living in the wild for several years, he was having trouble picking up on social cues.

“Do you think I should ask her out? I’m a bit rusty.” He ran his hand through his long hair, tugging at the strands. “I should get a trim first, right?”

“And a fucking shower,” Bucky grumbled to himself.

Steve didn’t hear him, he was too busy glaring at his hair in the big mirror on the wall.

Bucky tried to push away that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was becoming harder to pretend this was all innocent. Not when he had to physically restrain himself from punching his oldest friend in the teeth. Steve was allowed to ask you out, Bucky had no right to be jealous.

And yet...

“How long are you stayin’?” he asked, eyeing Steve’s backpack. It wasn’t unusual for him to take Steve in when he was between assignments, but things were different now.

“A few weeks. Is it going to be a problem?”

“Listen, if it were just me, I’d let you stay,” Bucky replied. “But I’m not alone anymore. She doesn’t know you, you’re basically a stranger, and you’re already thinking of hitting on her. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable. This is her home.”

Steve blushed. “No, of course. I understand. I would never-”

“All I’m sayin’ is, she has the final say,” Bucky cut him off. “If she lets you stay, you can take the kids’ room.”

“You sure? It’s right next to her room. I could take the room upstairs, the one above the living room.”

“No, you can’t,” Bucky sighed. “It’s her painting studio.”

Steve stared at him with a suspicious frown. “Are you sure there’s nothing between you and her?”

“Yup, she’s just a friend.”

He tried not to fidget as he forced himself to hold Steve’s gaze. He kept his head high and acted as composed as he could even though his heart was jackhammering in his chest.

“Okay,” Steve drawled out, not entirely convinced. “If you say so.”

As Bucky expected, you allowed Steve to take the guest room, the one with the bunk-bed, though Steve told you that it wouldn’t be a problem. It also meant that he would be sharing your bathroom, and while it didn’t seem to bother you, it made Bucky really uncomfortable.

That evening, he sat down with you and Steve at the dinner table. He made sure Steve was seated at one end of the table, thinking that if you didn’t have him in front of you, you’d interact less. Bucky’s plan backfired pretty quickly. Steve had so many ‘I-lived-in-the-wild-for-ages’ stories that he monopolized the discussion –and your attention.

Bucky spent most of the night lost in his own thoughts, daydreaming, and only smiled when he caught your gaze. He snapped out of his haze when he noticed that he was alone at the dinner table. You and Steve were washing the dishes, talking and laughing.

He felt a pang of envy at the sight before him; it was supposed to be him and it scared him that someone could take you away from him. Then it hit him. He wasn’t special, you were kind and sweet with everyone. It was what had attracted him to you in the first place; your kindness, your fortitude and loyalty.

He couldn’t blame Steve for falling for you, too.

“Guys, I’m going to bed,” he said, standing on the landing between the two rooms.

You turned around mid-laugh and smiled warmly at him. “Good night, Bucky.”

“Sweet dreams, angel.” It slipped out. He didn’t even realize what he’d said, but Steve did.

Steve cocked a brow at his best friend’s retreating figure before he hung his head and let out a brief chuckle.

Over the next few days, Bucky’s mood didn’t improve. He was holding back, unable to reach out to you the way he used to. Steve was always there. Always.

In the morning Steve would come back from a run, sweaty and hungry, and wearing a shirt that was two sizes too small for him. He really laid it on thick, even by his standards, but you didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, you would often go out with Steve when Bucky was working on his new book. He took you to art shows, introduced you to important people and you visited art supply stores together, which annoyed Bucky more than he thought possible.

He felt stuck in a Garfunkel and Oates song, praying for Steve to go away.

I could've wished a thousand wishes for Steve to disappear.

Worst of all, Bucky was snappy with you. Especially after he inadvertently overheard you and Natasha talking about Steve. You painted a vivid picture of Steve’s ass. Figuratively of course, though Bucky couldn’t be certain that you didn’t have hundreds of notebooks filled with drawings of Steve’s ass.

“Hey, stranger.”

He looked up when you walked into his study carrying a tray with his breakfast –coffee and two slices of toasted white bread with butter and jam. You left the tray on a pile of papers and closed the door behind you.

“I was wondering about you, since you didn’t show up for breakfast.” You stood behind him and worked your fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and let you massage his scalp, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”

Bucky was so relaxed that his filter was non-existent. “Yeah, Steve’s bothering me. He stole my angel.”

“He can’t steal a mythical creature.”

“You’re my angel,” he half-moaned when you applied pressure to his scalp.

“I haven’t been feeling like your angel lately,” you said, giving him another squeeze before you let go of his head. You took a seat on the armchair close to his desk. “You’re... I don’t know. You’re moody and irritated, and I don’t know how to help you. I know you don’t like surprises, and Steve showing up out of nowhere and staying here was a pretty huge surprise. It’s difficult to cope with change but I think you’re acting a little weird. I swear, Bucky, sometimes you look at Steve like you want to kill him. Is it because we spend time without you?”

Bucky straightened up in his seat and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I guess. You two are having fun and I’m stuck here, alone.”

“You feel left out.”

“A bit,” he replied earnestly. “But if you like him, you should go for it. He’s a good-looking guy, he’s nice. He’s also a dumbass but that’s part of his charm.”

You laughed. “What? Why are you telling me this?”

“I heard you and Natasha,” Bucky explained, blushing. “You said, and I quote: ‘he's got an ass you can bounce quarters off of.’”

You burst out laughing. “Oh, Bucky.”

“What? I’m just sayin’ if that’s what you wanna do... I’ll give you a bunch of quarters.”

“No, thanks,” you laughed. “I’m good. I keep my quarters for something else.”

Bucky speared you with a suspicious look. “So you don’t think his ass is like a juicy peach.” He blinked. “Also a direct quote.”

“Oh, no, I stand by what I said. His ass is so-” you lifted your hands and made a squeezing motion “-tight.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he rushed to say. “It’s not that impressive. Anyone can do squats. I do squats.”

“Fishing for compliments?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. You looked at him with a fond smile. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He reached for a slice of bread and bit into it, focusing his attention on his laptop screen. You got to your feet and walked to the door.

“Oh, um, by the way, how much of that conversation did you hear?” you asked, leaning against the half-open door.

“Not much, I left after the juicy peach thing.”

You hummed while nodding, your eyes cast down. When you looked up at him, a glint of something mischievous shone in your eyes. “You should have stayed a little longer,” you said enigmatically, your eyes roaming shamelessly over his body.

You raised your eyebrows and closed the door behind you, leaving Bucky speechless and confused. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” he shouted, hoping you could hear him through the closed door. “Angel? Come back!”

Needless to say he didn’t write much after that.

Bucky made a conscious effort to stop being an asshat. A week later, he was in a better mood, and only glared at Steve twice –the first time when Steve put his hand on your knee and the second when he made a vaguely flirtatious remark.  

You let Steve and Bucky handle the dirty dishes, and Bucky was sure you did it on purpose. Your little smug smile said as much. Steve didn’t seem happy, he had never liked household chores and probably only did the dishes to spend time with you.

Bucky remembered Steve’s childhood bedroom; shades always down, his bed perpetually unmade, and a monster pile of clean and dirty clothes on his desk chair. He remembered Sarah’s exasperated sigh whenever she entered her son’s bedroom. It made him laugh.

Bucky had always been a neat person, something his mom always took pride in. ‘Look at my son who does his own laundry and sets the table without being asked. Look how well I raised him!’ After his accident, cleaning became an obsession, a way of controlling something that was uncontrollable.

“Did you get Sam’s text?” Steve asked, tossing the now-wet towel on the counter. “Emergency brunch tomorrow at 10.”

“Yeah, I know. Sam has a loose understanding of the word ‘emergency’. Last time he wanted to know if he could pull off a goatee. Not exactly an emergency.”

“Mhh,” Steve replied, thinking. “Are you coming?”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky chucked, “I wanna know what this new emergency is.”

Steve cast him a sideways glance while leaning his back against the kitchen counter. He mulled over something as he watched his friend clean the sink.

“So, um,” Steve started awkwardly. “I have a date tomorrow.”

Bucky’s hand faltered a bit. “Ah? With who?”

Steve looked toward your bedroom door and let out a very loud sigh. “A real-life angel, Buck.”

Bucky let go of the sponge and straightened up abruptly. He glared at Steve, hoping he’d heard him wrong. “What did you just say?”

“I have a date tomorrow night so you’ll have the place to yourself.” Steve smiled to his friend, blissfully unbothered. “I think I’ve been invading your personal space. You always look upset so I thought this would be a great idea. And I’ve been alone for so long, I need... relief you know.”

“Awesome,” Bucky replied, gritting his teeth.

“Great, I’m glad you see it that way,” Steve said, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “See you tomorrow, Buck.”

He watched Steve walk to his bedroom and close the door behind him. Something inside him cracked, and he felt the overwhelming urge to throw something, watch it break into tiny pieces.

He took a deep breath and went in search of you instead. He found you upstairs in your studio, kneeling in front of a canvas, the handle of a pair of pliers in your mouth. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge his presence, and Bucky grinned when you let out a little shocked gasp.

“Did you have fun washing the dishes with Steve?” you teased, taking the pliers out of your mouth.

“I think we need a dishwasher.” He walked into the room and squatted down on his haunches next to you. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m removing the staples on the stretcher bars so I can roll up the canvas and put it in a tube,” you said. “This way they’re protected and I can carry them pretty easily. I have a meeting with a gallerist tomorrow. Apparently Steve knows her well. He mentioned my name and she wants to see my work.”

“That’s amazing, angel,” Bucky exclaimed. “How can I help?”

“I’m almost done. I just need to finish this one. Can you grab that sheet of plastic on the desk? We’ll wrap it in it and then we’ll use a piece of canvas for extra protection.”

He followed your instructions and made sure not to ruin your hard work. Once the canvas was in the tube, you placed it against the wall next to two similar tubes. Then you cleaned up and put away your tools.

“I don’t know if Steve told you but-”

“Yes, I know,” Bucky cut you off. “The date. It’s great. Honestly.”

“Yeah.” You lowered your gaze and studied your shaking hands, unable to meet his eyes. “Listen, I was thinki-”

“I really need some time to myself anyway,” he talked over you. “So it’s great, y’know? We all get what we want.”

“I guess,” you replied. “It’s getting late, I should go to bed.”

“Getting up bright and early tomorrow, uh?” The jovial tone in his voice sounded forced, even to his ears. You nodded mechanically. “Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

You both stood unmoving, staring at each other. Your eyes were asking for something, pleading with him, but he was too lost to understand. He was lost in his own feelings, remembering something Sam had said a while ago.

There’s an entire world between like and love.

And it was true.

Like was doing the dishes with you. It was laughing and screaming while you chased each other around the living room, using fairy lights as lassos. Like was booping your nose when you watched him cook dinner. It was speaking gibberish after watching a foreign film.

Love was that sweet agony that made him feel more alive than he had ever felt. It was letting you hold his hand and play with his fingers even though his nose felt itchy. Love was seeing you wrap his bow tie around your wrist like a bracelet. It was walking around a deserted planetarium with you.

Love was the colour of your favourite lipstick; Carter Red.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, interrupting his train of thought.

“My pleasure.” He tried to smile but it hurt.

Everything made sense now. His crankiness and irritability, his sudden aversion to his oldest friend, the one who had saved his life. The one who had asked you out on a date –or so it seemed.

“Sweet dreams...” he paused, considering, then used your name instead of your usual pet name.

He had no right to call you ‘angel’ anymore. Steve had asked you out first, he had asked Bucky multiple times if he was okay with that, and Bucky’s answers had always been a gritted ‘yes’.

The truth was, his epiphany didn’t change anything. He wouldn’t have asked you out because there was too much at stake: your friendship, your livelihood, your career, the well-being of your family. He couldn’t put you in an uncomfortable position, couldn’t ruin your hard work.

And he was terrified of these feelings. They were too new, too raw.

You pinched your lips together and nodded, avoiding his eyes. He clenched his jaw hard, hating the resigned look on your face. Why did you look so defeated? Without saying anything, you walked past him and left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Part 9