#i think Will makes sure to lock the door when they have guests

[nightlark100]

Consequences (Pt 8)

Thank you for everyone who voted on what the next part should be :)

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After they got Grace situated at the Lauter house, which Steph fortunately still had access to after a lot of hours spent with her father's lawyer Gary, Peter headed back to his apartment. Ted and Charlotte's on again off again relationship was currently going through an on again phase so he knew his brother likely wouldn't be there. In fact, he probably wouldn't be around much until Charlotte decided once again to try and focus on working things out with her husband and the whole cycle started again. Still, it meant that, as long as Peter sent texts to check in, he would be left to his own devices. In the past he would have stayed with Richie, and more recently with Steph (she wasn't handling the empty house too well. Even if her father and her hadn't been close, she was still used to his presence), but he needed some time to try and sort his head out. He felt bad for leaving Steph alone with an emotionally distraught Grace but with everything that had happened, he was at his limit.

So he went home.

He ate a chocolate bar and then took a shower, mentally sorting through his DVDs to pick one he could happily doze off to. He knew that the Lords in Black would want an answer from him at some point but he was pretty sure they couldn't just appear without being summoned. Well... hoped.

Unfortunately, the same rules didn't apply to Wiley, as he found out when he left the bathroom. The man was perched on the foot of his bed, the picture of ease.

"Gah!" Peter tried to cover his chest while also holding onto the towel around his waist. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd pop in and say hello."

"Hello. Goodbye."

"Now there's no need to be rude Petey."

"Don't call me that." Wiley only chuckled in response, his green eyes fixed on Peter as the boy gathered his clothes and headed back towards the bathroom. Peter paused in the doorway. “You'll stay in here until I'm done?”

“Don't you trust me to behave myself?”

“Would you trust you?” Wiley laughed and inclined his head in agreement. Peter slipped back into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Even though he was fairly certain it wouldn't inhibit his uninvited guest in anyway, it made him feel a little bit safer at least.

Once he was dressed in sweatpants and one of Ted's old tees, he reluctantly returned to his bedroom. Wiley was in the exact spot he'd been left in and as Peter tentatively approached, the man stretched, eyes slitted. There was something strangely feline about his movements, and Peter was reminded of a trip to the zoo he'd once gone on. The jungle cats, the graceful strength that they exuded in every languid movement. And just like a jungle cat, Peter was positive Wiley could tear him apart if he wanted to.

“Feeling a little less… vulnerable?” He asked, raking his gaze over Peter and patting the spot beside him on the bed.

“Can't say I do…” Peter muttered, taking the offered seat. “Is this about that… offer?”

“Smart boy”

“I'm still not entirely sure about… well, everything. I'm not making a decision if I don't know the details of what I'm agreeing to.”

“Ask your questions. Let's see if I can assuage some of your doubts.”

"Why us? Why drag Steph and me into this?”

“Partly punishment. They don't take kindly to people trying to cheat them. And while that was mainly Grace's fault, you two are still a bit of a sore spot.”

“But why can't Grace be the prophet?”

“Well for one thing, I think people are more likely to listen to Miss Lauter than they are Miss Chasity. Just better marketing. And for another…” he smirked to himself. “I'm not sure how long little Gracie will be around for once the baby is born.”

“What…why?”

“That child has a little bit of all of them in it. Including the great devourer. Nibblenephim. Do the math.” He snapped his teeth in a mock bite. Peter felt bile rise in his throat and had to take a few minutes to push back the desire to vomit. “Now that little tidbit? That stays between us. No point in scaring the little lady.”

Peter wanted to protest but he could tell by the look in Wiley's eyes it wouldn't do any good.

“What's the difference between what they want Steph to do and what they want me to do?”

“They want Stephanie to be their prophet. They want you to be their disciple. A prophet is the mouth. A disciple is more like the hands. Or at least that's the way it is on the surface. The true difference is want. Deep down all the prophets want one thing, a thing that they crave but can never quite grasp. For some it's love. For others it's adoration. For your little Steph-A-nie it's belonging. Family. Prophets are all about temptation and desire, it draws them in and sinks hooks deep into their soul. A disciple, well that's something very special. A disciple can want, yes, but it's all secondary. They get to witness the raw power of the lords… they bask in their majesty… and crave its presence.” His voice had grown hushed as he spoke and a hand snaked up Peter's arm, brushing over his shoulder and coming to rest on the curve of his neck. “Every beat of their heart is granted to them by the lords. Every second they are not reduced to atoms is a delight and a mercy. A disciple is beyond life and death, beyond earthly desires. They are merely an extension of something greater. Stripped down to the raw clay and remade by the hands of Gods.” His hand grasped the back of Peter's neck, drawing the boy closer so their foreheads rested against one another. “You will see. You'll have everything you could desire and you'll want none of it.”

“You're insane.” Peter whispered.

The effect was immediate. The hand, once firm but gentle on the back of his neck, grasped at his flesh painfully and he was tugged backwards. With a shove, Peter found himself lying on his back on the floor with Wiley standing over him. Before he had a chance to scramble back to his feet Wiley had knelt down, resting one knee on Peter's chest.

“You really don't wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna fuck with me Petey.” He pressed down, his knee digging in and cutting off the boy's oxygen. “I was a colonel in another life”

Peter pushed weakly at the man's leg but the movement only prompted him to catch both wrists in one hand and hold them still.

“You should be grateful for this opportunity. Without it, you'd spend the rest of eternity in the bastard box enduring your worst nightmares, fears and memories over and over again. You'd go mad before the first cycle was over. Instead you could be part of something so much bigger than yourself…” Wiley moved so he was straddling Peter instead of kneeling on him. Peter sucked in a grateful desperate breath as Wiley fisted his free hand in the boy's hair, pulling up so that Peter was forced to awkwardly arch his back. “All you gotta do is open yourself up to their love…”

“Get off me!”

To his surprise, Wiley did as he asked but instead of fully releasing him, Peter found himself trapped with his back against the man's denim clad chest. One hand still grasped his hair, positioning his head on Wiley's shoulder, while the other arm was wrapped tight around his waist to keep him still.

“Do you see him?” Wiley's voice was soft and husky, his breath warm against Peter's ear.

“Do you see him?”

The room seemed to throb around him, fading into a pulsating blackness that grew with each beat of his heart.

“Do you see him?”

Peter felt like he was drifting in a cold empty seat and despite his fear of the other man, he found himself clinging to the arm at his waist. It was the only thing that felt real, that existed in the strange emptiness that was seeping in.

“Do you see him?”

In the darkness two brilliant spotlights appeared and Peter found himself under the gaze of something monstrous and ancient.

He saw.

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

Me: Wiley, behave yourself

Wiley: proceeds to punt Pete across the room and climb all over him

Consequences (pt1)

In which the Lords in Black aren't fully satisfied with Grace's sacrifice (or, the pitfalls of an abstinence only sex education)

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She hadn't wanted to kill them, Grace thought numbly as she stared down at her dirt streaked hands, unable to shake the image of her latest victims from her mind. Yes, she believed that the behaviour she'd witnessed from the young couple, drunk and making out in the park, was dirty and perverse but she didn't want to kill them. And yet when she had gotten near, it was as though she was seized by a terrible hunger and she just couldn't stop herself.

She slipped to the ground, resting her head against the side of her bed and felt tears burning her eyes. It had been a few months since everything with Max... since she had given in to the primal temptations and sacrificed her chastity to send him to hell. She should feel... something. Relief? But her insides felt like they were rotting. She'd done so many terrible things and she didn't even have her unwavering faith to fall back on anymore, not after what she'd seen in the school gym. She didn't know if the colourful figures had been demons or if they truly were gods but it felt like jagged claws had slashed apart the fabric of her soul, leaving jagged doubts behind. Doubts and hunger.

At first she'd been able to ignore it but it had gotten stronger. It would rise in waves, crescendoing down onto her when they peaked and leaving her scrabbling for purchase as her mind crumbled.

Even the brief moments of peace she usually got between the waves had been lost to her now as she found herself battling daily with nausea, sometimes barely making it from her bed to the bathroom in time. She had tried to hide it as best she could but she knew her parents were concerned, had heard them whispering while she lingered in doorways. If it continued much longer they'd want to take her to the doctor, but she knew medicine couldn't help her. Her soul was sick, that was the cause. She would just have to pray harder. Maybe she could ask Stephie and Petey for help? Surely her friends would agree to pray with her when they saw how bad things had gotten.

Struggling to her feet, feeling her stomach twist painfully as she did so, she retrieved her phone from her bedside and sent Steph a text asking to meet up.

Her friends would help. They had to.

[j4degoyl]

also if you’re will‘s friend - at this point there are two spare rooms in the reckless appartement & they will literally always let you crash there. usually he‘ll prepare jacob’s bedroom, because he rarely needs it anyway. their mother‘s former bedroom is a more touchy subject tho. will wants to give it a new purpose, perhaps as an actual guest room, but they couldn‘t bring themself to change anything in there yet.

[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[shrimpybbq]

season 4 pt2 with rafe, his wife and their kids

sarah who comes over to see rafe, only to be met at the door by high school gf-turned wifey, little charlie tangled between her legs as he peeks up at the unexpected guest

charlie’s eyes brighten as he lets out a squeal of “Aunty Sarah!” before suddenly throwing himself against her, giggling as sarah picks him up and cuddles him. she missed her nephew so much, and she had only managed to meet emmy once, so she’s pleased to see the kids even if it’s alongside another less pleasant task

high school gf had been walking down the main road in kildare when she stumbled across sarah and john b a few months back, charlie holding his mother’s hand as she carried a smaller emmy in a chest wrap. the estranged family had sat together at a cafe as she took a sleeping emmy out of the wrap, allowing sarah to hold her niece for the first time.

“She’s so little - so perfect,” Sarah had whispered, eyes fixated on the little human before her, “I can’t believe she came from my brother.”

The older girl laughed at Sarah, before looking at her sadly. “He wants to reconnect with you, Sar. He’s just scared.”

“I just don’t think I’m ready for that. To be honest, I don’t know if I ever will,” Sarah admitted. She had watched as her sister-in-law sighed, before wrapping her in a side hug.

“I know, and I don’t blame you. What he did wasn’t right. But he regrets it, and you should at least know that. He feels bad about it every single day,” high school gf stated.

high school gf brings sarah out to the balcony, only for them to see emmy resting on rafe’s lap as he works. she knows rafe needs to be alone when he talks to his sister so she gently takes her from him, but not before placing a quick kiss on his lips,

“You can do this, baby. Just be calm.”

when sarah waves to the baby at the property hearing, it’s 100% high school gf and emmy. rafe had no interest in attending the hearing, but his wife wanted to go and support his sister so she attended

when sarah finds out she’s pregnant, she feels like she truly understands high school gf more. sarah was so scared to be pregnant and to be a mom, and yet high school gf was even younger when she got pregnant (and she had a drugged up rafe as a boyfriend). she thinks about how alone her sister-in-law must have felt and her heart hurts for her

high school gf gets a text from sarah one evening and the next day, the younger girl is secretly around at the cameron house again. rafe was out on business but the two women talk, with sarah getting advice on what to do and how to tell john b. she ends up crying into her sister-in-law’s chest, scared but knowing she wouldn’t be alone (she gets the best, most rational advice ever too, something she knows is a skill developed from living with rafe)

rafe’s already proposed, so before he leaves he’s having a heartfelt goodbye with his wife

“I’m just gonna be gone for a little while, ok baby? Groff screwed me and we need that money to set us up, set the kids up. A few weeks tops. And I’m gonna call as much as I can once I get to Morocco, so make sure you keep your phone on you, ok?”

“Just promise me you’ll be safe?”

“You know it. I ain’t gon’ do shit that could keep me away from you, you know that. And look, if you really need help while I’m gone, you know you can call Barry,” Rafe said.

“Barry is the absolute last resort,” she mumbled back, “but ok.”

Rafe leaned in and placed a heady kiss against her lips before wrapping her in his embrace. He inhaled deeply, committing to memory the scent of her perfume and the shampoo she used.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

when rafe is locked in the room on the ship just stewing over the events that led to his temporary imprisonment, he’s so angry. he grows angrier when he thinks about leaving his family to try and do something nice only to end up this way

he totally says to sarah that high school gf wouldn’t approve of the way she’s treating him, trying to guilt her to letting him go (she just rolls her eyes and walks out)

when he finds out about sarah’s pregnancy, he’s thinking of his family. the one he lost and the one he built. he wants his sister back in his life, and he wants to know his niece or nephew, the same way she got to know charlie - he’s just so hurt and misguided still

oh you know he’s trying to be helpful and bond with sarah again by giving pregnancy tips - everyone is shocked until they remember that he has a family

“You need to drink some ginger or peppermint tea. It’ll help balance out the acids in your stomach. Chuck a cracker or two in there as well.”

The pogues turned to look at Rafe curiously. He froze as all eyes landed on him.

“I’ve got kids, alright? I’ve dealt with this shit before - you think you’re the first pregnant woman to feel sick?”

he’s in essaouira when he first calls home, his wife so relieved to hear from him. he doesn’t have a lot of time so he promises to speak to his kids later, but for now he needs help finding groff. rafe doesn’t end the call without saying i love you though, no matter how rushed he is

sarah casually tells rafe that his wife knows of her pregnancy, and he just huffs and rolls his eyes. “Of course she does,” he grumbles

groff taunts rafe with his family when he’s stuck in the well - she hasn’t betrayed him yet, he mocks. the way he speaks about high school gf is vile, insinuating she’s a gold digger and only wants him for his name. he even resorts to suggesting she will run away with their children, leaving him alone (which is actually a deep seated fear of rafe’s, though it’s lessened). unfortunately for groff, he failed to do any research on rafe and his wife, so his words don’t reach him in the intended way, rolling off of his shoulders. he knows his wife and he knows their past, now more comfortable in his relationship than ever before

during the rafe and sarah reunion, he’s so emotional and confused. even though he’s comfortable in his marriage, to him, sarah is the one person he thinks could turn his wife against him

“No, you’re just gonna screw me like everyone else in my life. I know you will- I- I know you will. I’ve only got one person left in this world who cares about me, and what- are you going to try take her too, huh?”

Sarah pleaded, “No, no- because I’m all you’ve got! And you’re the only real family I have left - you built your family and so did I, but we’re the only ones left from our old lives. I want us to be happy, and you know that she wants that too. I want us all to be together.”

rafe doesn’t manage to call home again until after the death of jj, but when he does, he’s so desperate to hear their voices - all of them. he’s just watched someone he thought was invincible die, and he just wants to know his family is safe. he uses up almost half of his phone battery on the call, but it’s worth it to him

rafe doesn’t know what the pogues are planning, but he’s adamant that he will support them. his only condition is that he will do so from kildare, refusing to be away from his family for any longer

honestly not a lot to work with for s4 part 2 but I’ve done my best so please enjoy a lot of rafe introspection

click here for pre-season 1 rafe, gf & their unborn son

click here for season 1 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 2 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 3 rafe, gf & their son

click here for the 18 month gap before season 4 rafe, gf & their son

click here for season 4 part 1 rafe, gf & their son

[henneseyhoe]

Just One More.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT SCENES(nun too serious)!!! HEAVY breeding kink(i couldn’t help myself), Wife!reader, pregnancy, Dad!Lewis, Lewis being a hornball, some fluff here and there,SHORT! UNEDITED FOR RN! I think that’s it!

SUMMARY: After having twin boys, Lewis begs his beloved wife for one more baby, hoping this time it’d be a girl.

|2|3|4|

✮✮✮✮

“You said one more, right? Just one more”

He smirks as he bounces you his arms, your body helplessly following with the flow as you couldn’t do anything with your legs folded how they were anyhow.

“One more” You whimper with a nod of your head, your brain not even coming close to calculating what you had gotten yourself into.

“One more, baby” He confirms with an innocent tone like he wasn’t currently folding his wife like a lawn chair, running the risk of waking your twins up even though they were down the hall.

Days passed and you couldn’t get his hands off of you, the man giving not one moment to allow you to collect yourself after a simple agreement that you’d stop taking your birth control. At the time you hadn’t even stopped yet, but he was still prevalent with his ‘you never know’, hoping somehow you’d still get pregnant.

You’d get home from work and before you were able to take your heels off he’d be warning you that the kids were asleep now so you’d have to keep it down and only asked about your day in between kisses and ripping off your shirt, the answers being halted as soon as you were bent over the arm of your couch and fucked from behind by your eager husband, the grip he had on your hips enough to bruise.

It was clear that Lewis wanted nothing more than a daughter. Of course he loved his two hard headed boys, but a daughter? She was a dream he’s had for a while now. He felt he needed a girl to soften him up after raising two little boys for five years, and he was determined to get one out of you. Lewis was ready to be surrounded by princesses, glitter, pink and hair bows.

For the last few weeks he spent time getting you alone so he could fill you to the brim, taking you down anywhere that had a lock on the door or a surface to lay you on, sometimes not even that. The first time was in the laundry room when you were drying clothes, a month after you told him yes to a baby, a day after he was 100% sure you stopped taking your pills. Closing the door behind him and setting a basket in front of the door to avoid any unwanted little guests, your husband casually pulls up your sundress as you were loading the dryer and slides your panties to the side, the man on his knees with his tongue on your clit before you could even tell him you were busy.

The next time he took you down was in his personal gym, him just finishing a workout and you in the middle of your much needed yoga to stretch your sore muscles from the damage he had done the other night. Catching you in a downward doggy position, you felt his fingers shamelessly run between your lips that were covered by your favorite gym shorts, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit almost making your knees buckle. You slowly look up from your position, making eye contact with him in the mirror in front of you.

“May I help you, Mr. Hamilton?” You ask.

“You already know what I want, Mrs. Hamilton” He responds back in a sing-song tone and before you knew it you were getting creamed on a workout bench, Lewis using his fingers to stuff what had spilled when he pulled out back inside of your pussy. You sat there tired and absolutely bewildered with how feral your husband could get sometimes. Last time he was on ten like this you two scored twins, and you could only pray the twins that run in your family wouldn’t catch up to you again.

The next day you thought you were free of the teenage boy-ish sex drive your husband had. The twins were home and using the living room as their personal playroom though they had their own, and you took that as an excuse to distract them with toys as you read your favorite book in the kitchen where you could see them. Unluckily for you, the ADHD they inherited gave them the ability to not exactly not focus, but focus a little too much. Lewis had turned on their favorite show and made sure the volume was three notches higher than what it was supposed to be before sneaking into the kitchen with you.

You could feel he was up to something as you side eyed him from the sitting nook, but surprisingly he walked right by you, your eyes following him all the way to your home office. He knew you hated him in there.

You slam down you book after marking your page and follow after him, only to realize you had been duped when you heard the door close and lock behind you. You were starting to almost regret telling him your ovulation cycle.

✮✮✮✮

When you two got the news that it was twins, you were both in shock, Lewis a bit more over the moon than you of course because who wants to incubate twins for the second time around, but you both were happy nonetheless. The real kicker was finding out that one of them was a boy, and the other unknown.

“What do you mean you can’t see it? Is there something wrong?” You asked nervously and Lewis squeezes your hand, already knowing how your nerves were.

“Well, not really. The problem is that twin A is still blocking twin B. This is your last few weeks and it’s a bit camped in there now, so they’re kinda just laying in an uncomfortable position. Even if I were to do a vaginal ultrasound, it’d be pretty hard to tell” Your doctor chuckles, making you sigh in relief and look at Lewis, his face unreadable.

When you two left the building and went home, you could tell Lewis was a bit disappointed.

“You okay?” You ask, holding the hand he had placed on your thigh as he watched TV. He nods and gives you a small smile, his eyes not moving from the screen.

“You know I wanted a girl, but obviously god has other plans. It’s okay, really”

You hum. “…Look on the bright side, baby B might be a girl” You smile back, your husband laughing and shaking his head.

“Let’s be real! It’s gonna be two boys again”

“You don’t know that”

“I do. And it’s okay…We’ll always have another time to try for a girl” He smiles wider, looking to you.

You blink for a moment, realizing he was serious. “…Another time?! You are out of your mind!” You hit his arm and he groans, begging you in the mist of your refusals.

“Absolutely not, Lewis! You said just one more months ago and that one more turned into two!”

“So you wouldn’t want to try again if they’re both boys? Really?”

“Lewis, if this one is a boy, I might move out. That’s your answer!” Lewis bursts into laughter as your hand moves to your round belly, feeling a kick hit right below your belly button.

“And one of them is beating on me right now! I can’t live in a house with five boys, I can’t even believe I let three of them plus an alleged one stay inside me”

“Well…Four plus an alleged one. One of them was just on and off..In and out” You gasp at his dirty joke and shove him again, more laughs erupting from him.

✮✮✮✮

💌:i’ll probably make another part to this just cause Dad!Lewis is superior and maybe write an actual smut too idk yet

[h0neylevi]

Levi Month - Day 21 (Post-War: Children)

cw: canonverse/post-war, written with fem!reader in mind, suggestive sexual content, established relationship, mostly domestic fluff

word count: 857

“I found condoms in Falco’s room today.”

You peek over the top of your book to find Levi frowning in the bathroom doorway.

He had quietly retreated into the room several minutes ago for his usual nighttime routine, leaving you with the job of locking up and shutting off the lights. If relinquishing that task hadn’t been enough to clue you in that something was wrong, the familiar little scrunch of concern that is now etched between his eyebrows says everything. He’s worried.

Despite his obvious displeasure, the revelation still makes you smile. It isn’t the news necessarily–that isn’t as shocking to you as it apparently is to Levi. You’ve witnessed enough by accident of Gabi and Falco hurriedly pulling away from one another in the empty kitchen to know that something was going on.

But the second bedroom–first door on the left down the hall–is actually a guest bedroom. In the years since you and Levi have relocated and the restoration project began, a number of people have used it–Connie, Jean, Onyankopon, even you–but it seems that Levi has subconsciously deemed it Falco’s. It’s so like him to reveal his feelings in such an unintentional way. It’s cute.

You decide to tuck away that knowledge instead of antagonizing him for once and shrug.

“At least they’re being responsible,” you reply and return to your book.

Quietly, Levi crosses the room, a look of dissatisfaction still polluting his expression as he sinks onto his side of the bed.

“You’re not worried about it?” he asks.

You turn, meeting his concerned gaze with a sardonic tilt of your head. “Tell me you weren’t thinking about sex at his age.”

His lips purse slightly, and you know you’ve made your point when the tips of his ears begin to turn a faint shade of pink. “I wasn’t acting on it,” he says as if that makes any real difference.

You laugh. “Well, I think that was more because of your circumstances than anything else.”

He doesn’t say anything to refute what you say. Instead, Levi settles into his side of the bed, propped upright on the pillows next to you. With a slow sigh, his hand finds your thigh much like it does almost every night. It’s an idle touch, one that you’re not even sure he realizes he does anymore, but it still causes you to scoot closer, seeking out his warmth.

“That doesn’t mean they should be having sex. They’re kids,” he continues, seemingly still preoccupied with the topic. “Maybe we should talk to them.”

“Gabi and Falco are almost eighteen, Levi,” you point out, not looking up from your page. “I’m sure their parents have already had that kind of talk with them. Pretty soon they’ll have little ones of their own running around. And that’s what we fought for anyway, right? For people to live and fall in love. Have families, grow old.”

He doesn’t reply.

For a few minutes, you sit like this, absorbed in your book. Coaxed into comfort by the slow caress of Levi’s thumb on your skin. Some nights, Levi will read over your shoulder, and you think that’s what he’s doing again tonight, until–

“Have you ever thought about it?”

You don’t look up when you ask, “About what?”

“Having kids.”

Your eyes stutter on the page before freezing entirely. Any attempt to recall anything you just read is impossible, so you carefully bookmark your place at the end of the chapter and set the book aside.

Levi is already watching you when you turn, the expression in his one good eye now open and passive.

“I have,” you tell him slowly. “But never seriously. Never thought I’d get the chance to.”

He nods to assert he knows what you mean. It’s difficult to dream for a future when each day feels like it may be your last. It’s a feeling you’re both well accustomed to.

He keeps his gaze fixed and even in a way that makes your heart flutter. “And now?” he asks.

You swallow.

An implication sits in the air that you’re sure is intentional. You’ve been by Levi’s side as a comrade for almost a decade but as his partner for only a fraction of that time, only revealing your feelings a few months after the battle at Fort Salta. Thankfully, he had reciprocated.

And now, he’s asking if you want children with him.

Scenarios immediately flash through your mind. Ones of Levi holding a little boy with his eyes and your nose. Others of a little girl with both of her parents wrapped around her finger.

It conjures an indescribable feeling, but if you had to choose, you think joy might be the closest thing to it.

“I’d like that,” you finally say, eyes focusing on him once more. “But we’re not exactly young anymore. We’d have to start trying soon.”

There’s a small twitch of his mouth upwards–the tiniest of movements that you’ve come to recognize as the precursor to mischief. So when he reaches to pull you in for a kiss, you’re not surprised when he says, “We can start trying right now.”

[jackwhiteprophetic]

I love how it is established that Buck is always welcome at the Diaz house. In season 6, when he turned up, Eddie was barely surprised, and Buck didn't seem nervous or unsure about whether he was overstepping boundaries. In season 7, he turns up at night through the back door and Eddie's only confusion is that he didn't use the front. And in S2 (I think, but maybe S3) when Buck says "it's Eddie's house, I'm not really a guest" to Maddie when we've literally never seen him in the Diaz house before??

I am obsessed with how Buck, a character established to have been almost lost, looking for a home and a loving family and feeling like he was talking up too much space in his own childhood home, is shown to be so comfortable at Eddie's, and that Eddie, someone who does not trust people easily, especially with Chris, has clearly put the work in to make sure that Buck has no doubts about his place in their home.

Also canonically they both have keys right? (Eddie waking Buck up so he can take Chris to that tsunami, Buck getting into Eddie's house when he had the breakdown and finding Chris in the hallway (Chris didn't let him in...)) I mean idk if it's different in the USA/LA, but generally people lock their doors right?

[canihaveacalmtime]

Sitting on the swings at the playground, all alone by yourself, while the sun just started setting down in the distance. You wonder why the playground is so empty today, no one is nowhere to be seen but does that matter to you right now? Your mother forgotten to come pick you up again, it's not like this is the first time.

It happens... everyday to be honest.

You understand that she's really busy with her job but that doesn't mean she... she can neglect you.

You understand that because of you, her husband left her, thinking that she cheated on him and you're the child of her and another man. You're still confident that your mother didn't cheat and maybe your father really just didn't wanted her or you anymore as all he ever cares for was your brother and big sister, both who are very successful in the acting industry.

Or simply maybe because... you look exactly like mother and father just doesn't want a child who doesn't resembles him in anything.

"Let's go home, (Y/N)."

You said to yourself as you got down from the swing and begin walking your 6 years old body back home.

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

Open the door to your house, which was not locked for some reason, you see your mother and some what familiar man sitting in front of her. {Just a guest}, you thought but as soon as you closed the front door, you feel someone lifted you up in a quick pace.

It was your mother and... she's crying?

"Oh my god, (Y/N)... where have you been, I've looked for you everywhere when the teacher said you left school early..!"

But you told her to pick you up at the playground nearby... maybe she just forgot, probably. She always forget things you told her anyway.

"Sorry for making you worried, mother."

She kiss you on the forehead before carry you to the couch where the man is sitting. After putting you down, she ask you if you can show him the birth mark you have on your right shoulder and you agreed.

"There, you see it now. I mean the DNA test is probably enough already but... (Y/N) is really our child, you know."

DNA test? Our child? What's going on even, you ask yourself as you adjust your clothes back to normal. The man then crouched down to your level and pat your head, he explains that he's your biological father and that he's here to fix some troubles between him and your mother. He carefully embrace you into a hug as he apologize for abandoning you and your mother these 6 years.

The hug ends as you stare at him, unfazed, completely devoid of emotions as you just nod lightly. Upon seeing your emotionless face, your father was put into a worried situation while your mother seems troubled.

"(Y/N) dear, you understand what your father said, right?" Your mother asked, you nod. "We going to move to your father's place tomorrow, okay?" You nod again.

"Alix, let's talk... for a bit more. (Y/N), can you go to your room to start packing your stuffs and get ready for dinner?"

You nod, carry your school bag upstairs, not even bother to look back at your parents.

"How long has (Y/N) been like that?" Alix, your father, ask in worried.

"Over a year ago... probably. I will take the fault as the reason why (Y/N) became like that, I've always been too busy and... I couldn't stop blaming them for our divorce and- I'm just being a really bad mother to them..."

"Dolores, dear. (Y/N) looks older than their age, I'm sure they will understand, I just hope that we can start making up to (Y/N) and give them a better life from now on together, alright?"

Dolores, your mother, nods while sobbing. She hate herself for being such a bad parent to you and ended up turning you into a wounded child who probably spent years all alone by yourself. Alix is no different, he also hopes to give you the best life he could now that he's reunited again with you and your mother.

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

Dinner tonight isn't just you and your mother but now having your father for the first time. It does feel a little weird for you having another person on the dining table. Usually it would just be you eating alone or occasionally your mother if she was home soon that day. You also noticed that they look at you more a lot while eating, you don't complain or say anything but kept it in mind.

Alix was lost in thoughts. Usually at this age, children will always be the talker at the dining table because they tend to share their experiences at school with their family but now, looking at you, just sitting there quietly eating like that, hurts him.

"So (Y/N)... do you have anything cool at school to share with us?"

That's the first time someone has asked you that, "We study the daily subjects and... that's it". You stare at them, waiting for the next question.

"So... how about your recess time with friends?"

"I don't have friends, mother. I'm a loner and you know that too, though."

After dinner, without no more conversations, you say good night to your parents and retrieve back to your room, wanting to sleep soon as tomorrow is the weekend and you will move to a new place with your mother.

"Will my siblings like me? Probably not, no one likes a loner, people in school always say that, aren't they."

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

-> -> -> Part 2

[heartmix]

Messed Up - Joe Burrow

Pairing: Joe Burrow x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k+

Warning: swearing, mentions of s*x, joe's an ass in the beginning and also dumb, driving while on the phone (focus on driving!) angst but fluffy ending

A/N: cleaned out all my wip and deleted around 50 so i could motivate myself to write more. found this gem while i was cleaning

Masterlist / NFL Masterlist

He didn't mean to make you feel like shit. Really. You were the most understand person in the world especially when it came to his job. If he told you that practice was shit and that the winning drought was getting to him then you would've understood, but he just had to say,

"You're a distraction, you need to stop being all over me I can't focus on work."

That one sentence sent everything into a spiral. He regretted it the moment he said it, apologizing as soon as the last word came out but it was too late. The sad eyes mixed with the anger radiating from your body was evident.

"Hope you can focus for Tennessee." Was all you said before grabbing your phone and rushing to the guest bedroom before joe could get you from not locking the door.

Tennessee being venom on yours lips was a reminder that he had an early flight in the morning for this weekend's game. Of course he had to go and say some stupid shit knowing he wouldn't be able to see you till Monday.

His sleep was absolutely shit. He fell asleep outside the guest bedroom hoping in the middle of the night you'd crawl back in bed or open the door and take pity on him, but you didn't. You slept the whole morning. Even when he had to leave. He screwed up. The texts and voice memos he sent you piled in like a train that morning. In every way he could say sorry he wrote and said. He even made sure flowers and breakfast was on your doorstep before he boarded the plane.

You weren't completely heartless, you knew he regretted what he said, but that didn't change the fact that he said it and looked like in that moment he meant it. Not wanting him to have an even more terrible practice and even worst game you caved into the texts, sending a picture of the flowers with a

'Thank you, it's beautiful. Have fun in Tennessee'

Joe felt a wave of relief seeing your text come in. He knew it wouldn't make up for everything, but at least you weren't ignoring him. He was going to take as much as he could get until he saw you on Monday.

Over the next two days the texts were dry on your end. Just simple replies to his texts and pictures here and there of your day (when he asked). Those two days he was thinking of ways to make it up to you. All of his troubles washed away seeing your Instagram stories before the game. No matter how mad you were you still supported him (even if that wasn't your team).

Bengals got a win off the titans, a close game that was decided by a last second field goal. He was grateful for the strong wind and his kickers experience with wind over Tennessees'. He played a hell of a game, scoring 2 passing touchdowns. Seeing your celebratory stories made him feel even better. He thought everything was going to be okay once he got home.

Sure you loved supporting him every chance you got, but that wasn't the entire reason you posted about the bengals win. It would be suspicious if you didn't. Texts from friends who knew you all to well would roll in with

'you and Joe okay?'

'Joe piss you off?'

'Tired of the bengals?'

You didn't want that. You couldn't handle that right now. You got your anger out of the way and all that was left was irritation. Irritation with what Joe had the audacity to say that to you and Irritation that he couldn't just tell you he wasn't in the mood. He made you feel like a slut and that was the last thing you wanted to feel in a relationship with one of the biggest quarterbacks of this generation.

Monday morning rolled around and Joe couldn't be happier to be home. He couldn't wait to tell you all about the win and hear your praises. He loved hearing your insight after game day, especially over a game he knew he played great in.

When he walked in the house he expected the usual greeting and excitement from you. But it was silent. You didn't work today and even if you did you worked from home most days so you'd take a short break to great him. The whole house was quiet, not even music blasting from the speakers. The more he traveled in the house he finally found you in the walk in closest with your earphones in. You knew he was home evident to the notifications your got from the doorbell camera, you just didn't care to meet him at the door to greet him.

"Hey mamas." You felt his hands snake around your waist as he buried his head in your neck.

"Hey. Great game. The plane ride okay?" You asked pausing the current song so you can show some decadency in paying attention to him as much as you didn't want to.

"Yeah. The win made it easier to fall asleep for a bit." He mumbled in your neck. The reminder that he won hit you right in the chest. Maybe he did win because you weren't a distraction this weekend.

"I bet, at least you got some rest."

"Yeah but now I'm home and I couldn't be happier to be here." All you did was hum at his response as you continued to sort your clothes.

"What are you doing?" He noticed you were making an overnight back.

"Staying at Milla's tonight. She wanted a girls night with just us after we were with the girls all yesterday."

"Oh." Was all he could get out. He was confused. Obviously you could make plans whenever you wanted it's just you rarely made plans when he came back from a road game. You dedicated that day to him and him only. He loved those days even after a win, even in a lost you'd spend it in bed watching film and helping him analyze the games.

"Don't forget to put your laundry in the basket." You turned to him patting his cheek before grabbing your bag getting ready to head out.

"Wait! Whats the matter?" He chased you out of the closet with a confused look on his face.

"Nothing? I going to the store to grab dinner so I can cook at Milla's. She's in the mood for my cooking."

"Okay. So I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" His signature pout made its way onto his face. Normally you couldn't resist it, but today you really didn't care what face he was making.

"Mhmm."

"Bye i love you, text me when you get there." He came up to you planting a kiss to your lips deeply with you barely reciprocating it back.

"Will do." You gave a fake smile to him before leaving the house.

You didn't come home the next day. In fact you stayed one more day at Milla's with the reason being that Milla tired you out at the mall and you didn't feel like packing up everything from the tiredness. When you came back Wednesday morning Joe just got back from his morning work out but could tell you were in a rush.

"Hey! Woah in a rush?"

"Heading into work today. Got a new project." You replied swiftly has he watched you get undressed and dressed in front of him. Every ounce in his body wanted to take you in front of the mirror, but with the look on your face and your pacing he knew you were in a hurry.

"Oh okay. I was thinking dinner tonight with Sam, Ja'marr and Tee? Said they missed your cooking."

"Yeah sure. I'll text you when I leave the office." You smiled grabbing your work bag off the bed and rushing out the door before Joe could even pull you in for a goodbye kiss.

The only thing joe could think about all day was you. He couldnt wait till you got home and have you to himself, even though he needed to wait a few for you to play host. The text came in 2 hours after the boys arrived and they were well into a game of 2k. Screaming and jabs made them forget about the food that was promised.

'Hey sorry on short notice staying late tonight. New project is big. Tell the boys I'm sorry and that I'll cook for them next week. Don't wait up for me.'

'It's okay mamas, don't work yourself to hard. I love you'

All he revived was a heart reaction and no follow up text. He found that strange, but put it off as you were focusing on your work. He understood that. Quickly ordering some takeout the boys didn't mind hearing that next week they were for sure getting your cooking.

Joe didn't even know when you got home last night. Having the boys over drained him so he went to sleep earlier then he thought, he tried to stay up to wait fr you but failed. So to his surprise you weren't even in bed when he woke up. You weren't in the bathroom either. When he made his way downstairs he saw you already dressed for the day washing your finished coffee cup and making a new batch to go.

"Hey I didn't hear you get in last night."

"Yeah I crashed on the couch. To tired to go upstairs." Which had some truth to it. He knew you loved the couch so it wasn't strange you slept downstairs.

"Already heading out?" He asked coming up behind you circling his arms around your waist burying his head into the crook of your neck.

"Just for a few hours. Want to understand the project to I can bring it home for a few days."

"Mhmm, sounds good I missed you home." He mumbled still being comfortable in the crook of your neck.

"You need to get ready for practice and I need to run." You gave him a tight lip smile before rushing out with your coffee and bag in hand. No goodbye kiss, not even a goodbye in general.

He knew something was up, but couldn't figure out what. This whole week since he got back you were short with him. He wasn't even sure he saw you for an hour combined this whole week. The three men who were over that night could tell Joe was deep in his thoughts.

"What's got you all depressed?" Expressed Ja'marr as they were taking a break on the bench. 

"My girl. I haven't even seen her for an hour combined the whole week."

"Woah what did you do to piss her off." Next was Sam who spoke what everyone was thinking.

"Nothing I think? When I got back home she was running off with Milla for a sleepover and that turned into 2 days. When she came back the next morning she was rushing to get to work and stayed overtime which is why she didn't have dinner with us and this morning she was up and out when I woke up. I got two sentences out of her before she rushed out. No goodbye or even a kiss goodbye."

"Oh my guy you messed up big time." Tee said chuckling at the mans stupidity. He didn't know exactly what his teammate did, but knew it was his fault.

"I don't even know what I did! She wasn't like this before the week-" he stopped in his tracks now realizing what could be the cause.

"What did you do?" Ja'marr said knowing that face Joe made all too well.

"Before we flew out, the night before I told her that she was a distraction to me and that I couldn't focus on work with her being all over me." The QB hung his head wanting to knock himself out.

"You gotta be kidding me man."

"You blamed her for your shitty work performance?"

"Oh my god. I didn't even notice. I didn't think she was mad anymore after she was posting about the game on Sunday." Joe was now frantic. How could he have not know sooner.  

"Dude she posts every game it would be weird if she didn't." Tee said the obvious thing that Joe didn't seem to notice that it would be weird to everyone else if you didn't post.

"I would even question why she didn't post." Sam shrugged being the dude less on the internet out of the four. 

"Holy shit I'm a terrible boyfriend."

"Yeah you fucking are." Tee got out a little too fast.

"Wow thanks guys."

"It's your fault I didn't get her cooking last night? Unbelievable." Ja'marr exclaimed making Joe roll his eyes. Of course that was all he focused on.

"So how are you going to make this up?" Sam spoke seeing his friend stressing out.

"I don't know. But I need to do something before she comes home."

As soon as practice ended he rushed home having no time to waste. On the drive home he managed to order food from your favorite restaurant, have flowers delivered to home and a bag you've been eyeing for months. He was going to wait till Christmas to get the bag, but what better time than right now. As dangerous as it would be to be on his phone while driving he checked your location every minute to make sure he would make it home before you. Just as he reached home it was when you left your work place. He hoped you'd come straight home and not make any detours. 

He worked fast, putting the flowers front and center on the kitchen counter, unpacked the food and put it on plates and finally placed the Dior package next to the flowers. Smiling at the little set up he looked at this phone seeing he had time to get dressed up. Sure you didn't mind the sweatpants and a bengals shirt but he didn't feel like it was the most "i'm sorry" fit. 

Walking through the door you let out a sigh. As much as you wanted to avoid Joe more you couldn't help but admit you missed sleeping in your own bed especially with him in it. Maybe you should let up on your semi silent treatment. Your thoughts were paused when you heard your playlist coming through from the kitchen. Peaking your interest. Turning the corner you found Joe standing all dressed up with a goofy smile on his face.

"What is this?" You inquired placing your work bag on one of the free counters.

"A sorry, a i messed up and i didn't realize it till now."

"Joe-" you started before he cut you off.

"I missed the welcome homes, i love you's and the way call me by a nickname instead of Joe. I was stupid. i thought everything was okay with what I said to you last week but it wasn't. Trust me when i say i didn't mean it. This is no excuse, but it was an in the moment thing. I know my performance was shitty these last few weeks and that my day was bad and that was no excuse to take it out on you when you were only trying to make me feel better. I also know that i should've just came to you. The most understanding girl i know, especially when it comes to my job. I don't know what else to say besides i'm sorry." he got out all in one breathe which shocked you. He wants one for a grand speech, but he was pretty good at it.

"It took you almost a week to realize something was wrong with me." you still didn't want to let down your guard, you were going to milk him for everything he had to say.

"I know, I mean i knew you weren't alright since i left, but i guess i let the praise you gave me online clouded everything. Sorry it took me so long to realize."

"You know you made me feel like a slut. like all i wanted from the new hottest quarterback was sex. normally you like to take your mind off of work when it affects you that much but i was wrong and i'm sorry for that."

"Don't apologize. i never meant to make you feel that way, you are not a slut. you've been there for me since my first year at LSU. how could i make you feel any less." He said pulling you into an embrace which was much needed for the both of you.

"Do you forgive me?" He mumbled in your hair making you giggle at how whiny he sounded. 

"I do, and i missed you."

"I missed you more then you could ever know, this past week was worst than my losing streak."

"I doubt that but ill take it. now whats all of this?" You pulled away looking at the little fixture on the kitchen island."

"food from the place you like and a little gift."

"A little? It's a Dior package."

"Open it." he begged you.

Reaching over to the bag you didn't know what was going to be in it, Joe's love language was for sure gift giving so it was always a surprise. When you opened the box you gasped at the bag you've been eyeing out for months. You didn't even tell Joe about your interest in the bag. When you looked back up at Joe he had the signature smirk on his face. 

"How did you know?"

"I pay attention believe it or not."

"You didn't have to." You pouted up at him for the sweet gesture. No matter how many gifts he would shower you with it still caught you by surprise everytime.

"I wanted to. I was going to get you it for christmas, but i have enough gifts to spare." he said as a smirk creeped up on his face.

"You're unbelievable." You laughed pulled him down by the jacket he was wearing to plant a deep kiss. He couldn't help but bring you closer. Right when he was going to lift you up on the counter you pulled away.

"Food is going to get cold." You reminded with a smirk of your own making his drop.

"I haven't touched you in so long." he growled out making you laugh.

"Could've had sex the night before your flight and sex this whole week but thats on you." You said patting his chest as you made your way to sit on the barstool.

"Oh you're never going to let that go."

'am i getting my dinner next week?'

[luveline]

Same hotch sister reader anon here Jade!

I think I have sent this one before like recently only, idk whether you have seen it or not so I will request again

The reader gets injured (I'm a sucker for injury troop) and Aaron and Spencer worry and Spencer also has to lift the reader. Please write if it's not too much 🥺

Aaron tells you two or three times not to do it. “Just wait,” he says, standing behind you with his hands hovering over your back. “Seriously, I’ll ask Morgan.” 

“How can you host the party without glasses?” 

“I can assure you my guests aren’t going to miss a glass of wine for the first ten minutes. Don’t make me grab you.” 

“I can reach!” 

“I can reach, too, it’s not about height, it’s about–” He gasp loudly as your stool wobbles. “Sweetheart, get down. I’m not kidding.” 

You grab the stem of the last glass and pass it down to him. “Stop worrying! I told you I could do it and I did.” 

And you’re right, you passed him each of his glasses without smashing any, as promised. You are not expecting the top of the stool to feel so slippery as you try to get down, nor are you expecting to lean forward and pop your face on the cabinet glass. You whack your chin, lose your footing, and slam down on knee before Aaron can catch you. 

There’s a silence. Two hands on your shoulders. “Honey…” 

“Just say it,” you groan.

“Well, I told you so.” 

The doorbell rings. “Ah, fuck,” you say, curling into yourself as everything throbs. 

“It’s okay, come here.”

“Go get the door.” 

“No, they can wait, just let me help you up.” 

“If you love me, you’ll leave me to die here.” 

The doorbell rings again. “Aaron!” Dave calls from the other side. “Shall we let ourselves in?” 

“It’s locked,” Aaron says to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You wave him away. Honestly, you’re not okay, having fallen hard enough to knock the wind from yourself and hurt your knees and chin. But you’re happier to recover by yourself before his friends get here and spot you all crumpled. 

The problem arises when you can’t get your knee to listen to you. It tingles painfully. It did take all your weight as you fell, which likely stopped you from breaking your arms, but wasn’t kind to your joint, it seems. You push yourself onto your butt and sit there, unsatisfied, and, embarrassingly, waiting to be rescued. 

Aaron’s kind, thankfully. He takes Dave to the living room, and sends the second arrival your way. 

“You okay?” Spencer asks, frowning at your strange position on the floor. 

You pout at him. “Spencer, I’ve fallen and my knee won’t work.” 

“You fell?” 

Any nonchalance falls away. Spencer scrambles onto his knees beside you to look you over, curls falling from behind his ear into his eyes as he encourages you back. “You fell?” he asks again, confused. 

“Off the stool.” 

“Off the– What were you doing?” 

“Just grabbing the glasses for tonight!”

“Morgan could’ve done that.” 

“Can you please help me up?” you ask, very much wanting to move on. 

Spencer is a slight man. Not without muscle, but also no weightlifter. To his credit, he doesn’t make helping you seem above his abilities as he wraps an arm behind you and tucks the other under your legs. He lifts you enough to get his hand at the small of your back, and you use your now one good leg to stand. 

Spencer manhandles you a little, which is new. Hosts you to the couch, and lets you down gently. He does need a big breath when he’s done, but besides that, he’s like a Prince Charming having rescued you from your own demise. “Okay?” he asks, both hands at your waist. 

“It hurt bad.” 

“Can I see it?” 

By picking you up, he has earned the right to get you undressed, and you tell him so, his cheeks turning pinky-red as he rolls up your jeans. 

“Swollen,” he says. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You grimace. “I’m so embarrassed I don’t really know what to say. Do you think we can postpone the party?”

Spencer smiles at you, the sort of smile you can only give somebody when you’ve seen almost every part of them, and found yourself still in love by the end of it. He smiles at you like you’re made of pure gold. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna nurse you back to health.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course I am. I’m gonna fix it, but first I was thinking I could kiss your chin better? You have a dark spot coming.” 

You touch it, tender, surprised, “I do?” 

Spencer leans up to peck your chin, just shy of the coming bruise. “You do. I’ll get you some ice.” 

[aphrogeneias]

more than seven minutes — one-shot

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after you spend nearly a week completely avoiding your best friend, he takes matters into his own hands. and if that means locking you into a room with him until he makes you talk, then so be it.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: smut (+18), fluff, friends to lovers, forced proximity, love confessions, mentions of a sex dream, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, dirty talk

author's note: another reupload! this is the only steve fic i've ever written, or rather, the only one i started and finished. not sure if i really write steve that well, but i tried <3 this has a part two and will be uploaded soon too.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Don't you trust us?"

From your left, Robin's faux exasperated tone had you throwing her a mean side-eye. Her girlfriend, Vickie, on your right, giggled, "I don't think she does, Rob."

It wasn't that you didn't trust them. On a normal day, you would trust those two with your life, but given the circumstance you recently put yourself into, you couldn't help but be suspicious.

They'd found you hiding — or trying to, at least — at the back porch during another one of Tina's house parties, which were getting more and more boring to you, but you needed an escape, and cheap beer with some questionable company would have to do it. 

You were sitting with another one of your friends when Robin and Vickie, appearing seemingly out of nowhere — confusing you immensely because they'd be two people you wouldn't expect to find at Tina's on a Friday night — took your plastic cup from your hand and pulled you by the arms to follow them.

Dragging you along, each one linked to your arms from both sides, passing in between the crowd of bodies gathered in the living room, occasionally having to push a drunk jock out of the way, and guiding you up the stairs, into the upstairs hallway. They moved fast, the people around you passing by like a sea of blurred faces.

You were thrust forward when you reached one of the doors, and were pushed inside by Robin, who flashed you an apologetic smile, shrugging, "I'm sorry!"

"Robin!" Yelling over the loud music that bled through the walls, you could hear giggling from the outside, as well as the sound of a key being turned in doorknob. Your heart raced as you slowly realized what was happening, "Vickie! What the fuck?"

You knew who was behind you without even having to turn around.

Taking in your surroundings, you could tell it was a guest room, untouched by the madness going on downstairs and in the hallway. Sitting on the neatly made bed, above the soft pastel bedding, Steve Harrington looked like a kicked puppy, brown eyes following your every move from where you stood, still at the bedroom door, unsure of what to do.

He was the first to break the silence, "So… now I have to resort to kidnapping you in order to have a conversation with my best friend?"

Leaning back into the cold wooden surface of the door, you tried to sound as unbothered as possible, knowing very well you were about to crack. "I wouldn't call that much of a kidnapping. Your henchwomen are a little too clumsy for that."

When Steve didn't answer you, merely raising an eyebrow, unamused, you tried again. "So, uh… what is this, exactly? Seven minutes in heaven? You know this isn't seventh grade anymore, right?"

"No, if it was seventh grade you would still be talking to me and not acting all weird for a whole damn week and not telling me why!"

"I'm not acting weird…"

"Bullshit! You are avoiding me like the plague and I need to know why."

You weren't avoiding Steve.

At least, that's what you had told him the first time he confronted you about it, almost a week ago. He had showed up at your house, unannounced as always, with a new film he knew you'd love and a bag of popcorn and candy, walking in as if it was own place — and it was, in a way, more of a home than his own has ever been. You made up an excuse about how you were sick and didn't want to get him sick as well, ushering him out of the house with an apology and the promise of a raincheck on your movie night.

After that, he'd been calling you, asking what was wrong and why were you avoiding him, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the truth. You'd told him it was nothing, you were sick that day, then you were busy, and then… you were running out of excuses.

The truth was that you couldn't look your best friend in the eyes anymore.

Sighing, you looked down at your feet, shuffling in place, "It's nothing, Steve. I'm just confused about… something, but I promise it has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong, it's just, just a thing that happened." You stuttered.

There was a shift in the air, the tension dropping in the atmosphere as Steve's expression lightened, suddenly focusing entirely on you. He rose from his place on the bed and walked over to you, his body crowding your personal space. 

"Hey…" You felt a hand gently hold your chin, forcing you to look at him, warm brown eyes searching for yours. "I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm just worried. We used to tell each other everything and now you're acting like this and I don't know what to think."

Overwhelmed by Steve's closeness, his smell and the heat of his body invading your senses, and his hand moving to cradle your cheek, distracting you from gathering your thoughts, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. "If I tell you, do you promise you'll stay not mad at me?"

"I don't think I could ever be mad at you, Y/N."

With a deep breath, you walked away from him. The nearness, the feeling of his hand on your skin brought you vivid memories of the exact reason you were pushing him away.

"Ihadasexdreamaboutyou."

"A what?"

"A sex dream! I had a sex dream about you and I'm embarassed enough as it is, okay? I know it's weird, but we can't really help what we dream of, you know? It's like our brains produce images using the faces of people we know but it doesn't necessarily mean anything…"

"I get it! I get it, you don't need to explain yourself, I promise." Steve interrupts your rambling, you're still avoiding making eye contact with him, but you notice a light shade of pink take over his face. Silence fell over the room, both of you still trying to come to terms with what you'd just confessed.

"What was your dream like?"

He was closer now, you realized. There was something different in his eyes, a look you'd never seen before — far more intense, pupils blown wide. An electric current grows between you, like a live wire, ready to explode. It didn't help you stop thinking about the Steve in your dream, looking up at you with those same eyes, hands hungrily exploring your naked body.

It was all you could think about in the past few days — and then, there he was, warm and real, right in front of you, your Steve.

"Steve…"

"Please? I'm curious. It can't be that bad."

Turning around, you stared at the wall instead of having to look at him, feeling flustered all over. "I don't remember a lot of the details, but, uh… I think we were on my couch and we were… I  was riding you, I think." Letting out a nervous laugh, you gathered the courage to turn again, pretending to not be affected, "Crazy, right?"

"Not that crazy. Coming from you, I was expecting something a little more shocking." 

You laughed earnestly then, feeling some of the tension leave your body. "Yeah. Screw you, Harrington."

Steve started taking a few tentative steps forward, and instinctively, you took some backwards, until your back hit the wall behind you. Leaning in, those same dark, hungry eyes lowered to your lips, and down to your cleavage — you felt vulnerable under his gaze, but not uncomfortable. It felt right, even though it made your skin prickle. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Yeah." You breathed out.

One of his hands trailed along your waist, keeping you still as the other rested beside your head, on the wall. This was a line you'd definitely never crossed, even with Steve being as affectionate as he was, always keeping at least one hand on you. Not even in the many times you'd shared a bed and woke up tangled in each other. This was different, heavy with anticipation.

"Did you… touch yourself… thinking about this dream of yours?"

It felt like your head was spinning. Despite yourself, you drew in a sharp inhale, "Do you really need to know that?"

"Only if you want to tell me." His voice was gentle, much more restrained than the wild look in his eyes, barely keeping himself together. "But something tells me you do."

Steve wasn't blind to the effect he had on you, especially up close, where he could feel your heavy breathing, watching the way your body responded to his. Throwing every caution you had out of the metaphoric window, you finally looked him in the eyes, bringing him closer, and resting your hands on his broad shoulders.

"What if I told you that I did? What if I told you that I had my fingers inside of me thinking about how good it would feel if I was bouncing on your cock instead? How would it feel to have you run your hands all over me while I do it? Is that what you want to hear?"

Like the cat who got the cream — or the guy who got his best friend to confess how badly she wants to fuck him — he smirked, now holding you with both hands around your waist.

"Any chance you want to make that dream come true, baby?" 

"If King Steve is offering, who am I to refuse?"

"Shut up."

Snaking a hand up your back, raising a chill up your spine, and holding the back of your neck, his mouth descended on yours with a deep kiss. It started clumsy, all teeth and uncoordinated hands, two friends who dared cross a line they'd never return from. Steve took control, then, leading you towards the bed, and laying you on top of it, his hands never leaving your body as he climbed on top of you.

"You should have told me about this earlier. Could've helped you out, you know." He said, in between kisses, descending his mouth to your jaw, and down to your neck, his tongue eliciting tiny gasps from your gaping lips, "You were driving me insane."

His hands travelled under your shirt, after yanking it from under your skirt, finding your covered breasts. Too eager to feel you, he felt you up over your bra, squeezing and caressing his thumb over your nipples. Between Steve's hands and his kisses, you were left breathless under him, seeking whatever release you could get, grinding your hips against his thigh, which was resting between yours. You could feel your cotton panties cling to your wet folds, slick with desire.

"I think you're the one driving me insane here." You whined, biting his lower lip and dragging it just slightly. Steve's eyes darkened above you, and you felt his hands lower, slowly, to the hem of your already bunched up skirt. You watched as he sat up on his knees and removed his polo shirt, revealing his broad chest, and feeling the sudden urge to run your hands over the tuft hair and the smattering of freckles covering it.

"Consider it payback, baby."

They stopped at the waistband of your underwear, and stilled, as he asked, brown eyes as gentle as ever, almost whispering, "This okay?"

"Yeah. Please."

Lowering his head, he left kisses over your thighs as he brought the fabric down your legs and off your body, his hot mouth leaving a trail of small teeth marks and spit that warmed you to your core. There was an underlying devotion in Steve's touch, a reverence he always treated you with — like you were something precious, something worthy of praise. It set you alight under his expert fingers, running over the soft skin of your parted thighs.

Wasting no more time, Steve licked a long stripe over your weeping slit, flattening his tongue. You dropped your head to the pillow beneath you, not being able to stop the moan that rose on your throat. One of your hands reached to grab his hair as he alternated between flicking his tongue over your clit and sucking on it, groaning into your pussy like he was enjoying it just as much as you were. His strong hands grabbed your thighs and pulled you further into him, burying himself into you, his nose touching your clit as he delved his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.

A litany of moans filled the room, along with the filthy, sloppy sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy. You felt delirious, skin burning and grinding yourself shamelessly into his mouth, meeting his movements. 

"Isn't that better, honey?" He teased, bringing a finger down to your entrance and into you, stroking your walls in a torturingly slow pace, making you pout as you kept moving your hips, "Better than fucking yourself with your tiny, little fingers? You could have had this instead of hiding from me."

Mumbling something incoherent, you could barely keep your thoughts together as you felt him add a second finger into you, pumping them faster this time.

"Louder. Let me hear you."

"So much better. You feel so good, Stevie, so fucking good. Please don't stop."

At that point, you didn't care how whiny you sounded. Steve didn't seem to care either, shifting between your legs to wrap his lips around your clit again, matching his languid thrusts as he curled his fingers inside of you, building up the tension in your core, your pleas of "faster, please!" rising from your lips.

He obliged, looking at you with hooded eyes. You meet his gaze as you cry out, feeling your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing into you slowly, and then all at once. He keeps his fingers moving as you ride it out, breathing heavily, and running your hand over his messed up hair, much gentler this time.

"C'mere, baby." You called, voice a little weak from exhaustion. Steve leaned over and you met him halfway, supporting your upper body into your elbows, and kissed him. Deep and slow, savoring the taste of his tongue, still stained with your juices, making you dizzy with uncontained lust, and, quite frankly, an overwhelming feeling of possessiveness, as if you had just marked him as yours.

After spending years watching him pine over Nancy Wheeler, and throw himself into date after meaningless date, it felt only fair.

Not you'd ever admit this to him out loud.

Distracting him with your kisses, you manage to take control, flipping him over, and mounting him, straddling his hips. Steve doesn't stop missing you, however, bringing his hands to rest over your hips and guide you to grind your exposed pussy over the tent on his jeans. You could almost feel him pulsing under you, bringing a new jolt of pleasure through your body, making you run your nails over his chest.

Quickly undoing his belt, and his zipper, you bring his pants down, just enough to free him from his boxers, feeling his length warm and heavy in your hand. He pants under you, his eyes rolling back as you tease him with your fingers, lightly, before running your thumb over the delicious vein on the underside of him, all the way to his already weeping head.

Before you could do much else, you heard a hard knock on the door, followed by barely hushed giggles.

"Are you still alive in there? Do we need to call the police?"

"Go away, Buckley! Jesus." 

Steve groaned at Robin's interruption, running his hands over his face, flushed with frustration. You release him from your hold, chuckling a little at his outburst. Leaving a kiss to his nose, driving his attention back to you, you ask "Your house isn't too far from here, right?"

"Yeah. Your point being…"

"I think we should take this party somewhere a little less crowded."

Humming deep inside his chest, Steve leans up, pecking you on the lips, "Now you're speaking my language."

[elixirfromthestars]

Lines Crossed

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: You and Bucky have danced around the lines you've placed ever since that weekend camping trip. Months later, when Tony Stark hosts an extravagant party, he finally makes a move to cross them.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warning(s): 18+ mdni / drinking / jealousy / forced proximity / smut / female reader / drunk jerk (stranger) / tension / will they won't they oh they will 🫣❤️‍🔥 / sex w/protection / pet names / sprinkles of possessive + protective Bucky so be prepared / there's a build-up so enjoy ❣️

Prompt: oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

a/n: Please be kind this is my first time writing something like this. 🥺🩶 I decided to challenge myself and join @mercurial-chuckles‘ smutty September fest. A tad late on the deadline because Hurricane Helene decided to take the power out. 😭 This is a standalone fic, but you can most definitely read it (and is intended to be) as a continuation of the events of A Night of Frights & Delights. Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! ❤️❤️

part one backstory // divider // ambiance 🤍

You step into the foyer of the Stark Manor, a grand staircase greets you, its golden railing glowing underneath an ornate chandelier. Various guests mingle around the manor, the buzz of conversation accompanying the music that pulses throughout. Everything about the sight in front of you screams old wealth and elegance. 

Your eyes scan the luxurious home with an expression of awe. Despite being invited before, you had never come to one of Tony’s parties. Choosing the comfort of your bed and your favorite show instead. However, this time knowing a certain captain of the baseball team would be here—and your history with him—well you just had to come. 

As you take it all in, your gaze locks on a pair of beautiful blues. The very same ones you were thinking of all day. And by the way he was looking at you, you knew he was awaiting your arrival just as much as you had been waiting to see him. 

There was no denying he most certainly had been. 

Bucky had arrived about half an hour earlier with some of his teammates. His impatience grew by the second at your absence. He was dying to see what you wore for the party. You denied him any sneak peeks, which only fueled his excitement. He tried distracting himself by greeting anyone he could and making conversation, but he continuously gravitated to the foyer, waiting for the moment you stepped in through those doors. 

When you finally did, Bucky knew with the utmost certainty that the wait was worth it. When his eyes met yours you knocked the air straight out of his lungs with the black dress you were wearing. The satin dawning your body accentuated your silhouette perfectly—and the high slit at your right leg showed off the right amount of skin. The way you did your hair and your makeup complimented you perfectly, and Bucky was losing his goddamn mind because of it.  

Sincerely, he was close to whisking you away and keeping you all to himself. 

You looked nothing short of beyond stunning. Bucky had been holding back for months, staying within the lines you drew that night in the tent, and honestly, he deserved a medal for that. It’s the hardest thing he's ever done. What he felt for you couldn’t measure up to anything else in his life. Never had he felt so over the moon in his feelings for anyone. Yet, you brought on those sentiments by just being you. He was sure if he wasn’t in love with you yet, he was damn near close to it. 

And right now, seeing you in that dress, his mind is going to places it shouldn’t. Places that only belonged to him and his bed on those nights you left him wanting more. Thoughts and scenarios where the night ends with him tearing that dress right off you and showing you just how serious he is about wanting you. 

He’s not so sure he can be on his best behavior tonight. 

Bucky discards the drink he had been holding and saunters over to you. Your heart races in your chest when you see the way his blues darken when he rakes his eyes over your form—shamelessly drinking you up. You take in his figure as well, the all-black suit giving him an aura of class and sophistication that was stirring something dangerous within you. 

Bucky cleaned up good, real good.

He stops a mere foot away from you, his eyes twinkling with intentions both of you long for. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until his voice broke you out of your trance. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you leave my side tonight, not in that dress,” Bucky’s voice is deeper than usual, contrasting the charming grin on his face. You roll your eyes playfully, “I don’t need a babysitter, Bucky,” you reply amused at the thought. Having Bucky by your side all night would definitely lead to you two enjoying each other’s company in other ways. 

Not that you would object if it did. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out to touch you, your heart skipping a beat as he adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder. His touch lingers for a second more as a light chuckle escapes him. “Maybe not you sweetheart, but I might. Someone’s going to have to keep me in check tonight. I already have a hard enough time keeping my hands off of you and now you walk in looking like a masterpiece and I'm supposed to keep my hands to myself?” He bites his bottom lip for a moment, almost as if to stop himself from saying too much. 

“Something tells me you’re going to lay it on thick tonight, aren't you?” You tease him, all the while your body thrums with the way he compliments you. Bucky always knows exactly what to say to make you feel like the only girl in the room. An effortless gift he had only when it came to you.

“Can you blame me, baby? You walk in and suddenly it's like no one else exists,” his tone is softer, yet serious when he says this. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you baby. The weight of his attention felt in every fiber of your being. Bucky only ever called you baby when he wanted to really affect you. Reminding you of the pull he had over you.  

The spell you two were under was suddenly broken by Darcy, who rushed over to where you were standing and linked your arm with hers. “Sorry! I’m going to steal her away for a bit there Bucky!” She says unapologetically as she tears you away from the man who looks like he could have devoured you if your friend hadn't interrupted. Your protests fall on deaf ears so you're left waving a small—but not definite—farewell to Bucky. 

It seemed Bucky’s friends had been waiting for the right moment to steal him away too. As soon as you were in another room Sam and Steve went up to Bucky and dragged him to whatever antics the baseball team was up to. His disappointment matches yours, but if there was one thing he had proven all these months was that he had a lot of patience. He knew you two would end up crossing each other’s paths more than once tonight. It was only a matter of time. 

“You forgot you promised to stick by my side tonight. My ex is here, I need the support,” Darcy reminds you with a slight pout. She looks like a ball of fire with the way she pulls you through the crowd in her crimson dress. Her eyes dart to every guest looking to avoid her ex at all costs.

“I didn’t forget. I was just saying hi to a friend,” you explain emitting a snort from Darcy, “A friend? If he’s just a friend than I’m the Queen of England.” You roll your eyes, a small huff of a laugh leaving your lips. Darcy wasn’t wrong. You and Bucky weren’t just friends, but you also weren’t anything more—and that was by your account. 

You and Bucky have fallen into a grey area of what you are to each other. At first, after the camping trip, you tried avoiding him. Not because what happened upset you—but because you couldn’t trust yourself around him after that. Making out with him in that tent made you realize that what you thought had been an annoyance towards Bucky was actually the beginning of a deep-rooted crush. One that bubbled to the surface after that night. 

Avoiding him altogether was an impossible task when he lived in the other apartment in the duplex you rented. Especially after he insisted on giving you rides back and forth from campus with the excuse that now that you two were friends it's only natural for him to be more friendly. By his definition, it also included things like buying you food on days he knows you’ve been too busy to get something for yourself, walking you to your classes whenever he has the chance, and going with you to art exhibitions to dabble in your passion with you. 

Oh, and it also included kissing you mercilessly during tutoring sessions. 

Around the time that fall semester began, Bucky asked you if you could tutor him on a few subjects. He hadn’t done the greatest academically last semester and he wanted to keep his grades up before baseball season started. You were hesitant at first, but ultimately gave in when you realized how sincere he was about needing the help. 

Tutoring Bucky meant spending lots of time with him after classes. The sessions were innocent at first, but after the first time kissing on your bed, Bucky made it a tradition to have his lips on yours, and his hands wandering your body at every session. He even stopped hosting parties at his place, preferring being in your room and getting drunk on the taste of you. 

Bucky was too infatuated by you to ever want to do anything else. Studying was an afterthought whenever you were around, and yet he was doing better than he ever had before in all his classes. Being someone you could be proud of was honestly the best motivation he could ask for. 

Deep down you knew you were falling for him. There was a bit of apprehension on your part as you hadn’t known Bucky to ever have a girlfriend. From what you can remember, ever since you’ve known him, he was the kind of guy who preferred flirting and casual encounters. And there was no guarantee you would be the one to break that. So to keep yourself safe you drew those lines—built those walls up high to guard your heart. Bucky respected those lines and never crossed them. No matter how badly he wanted to. 

Some days, like today, made you want to say screw the lines and just give in to what you desired most. However, when that desire included lowering those walls you put in place, you weren’t brave enough to risk it—so you didn’t. Instead, you and Bucky danced around those lines until it drove you both mad. 

Your thoughts follow you for the next hour as you stay by Darcy’s side. Bucky has this natural way of consuming your mind lately—and your sketchbook. You wish you had it with you right now because when your feelings decide to overflow you channel that intensity onto the paper. For months, every page had been filled with graphite drawings of Bucky. His smile, his eyes, his determined expression when studying, his confident stance during baseball games, and everything else that sparked the creative fire in you. You found a lot of solace in drawing him. 

Bucky was undoubtedly your favorite muse. 

You're so lost in your thoughts you don’t register you’re in the kitchen of the manor until the guests around you cheer. It seems Darcy and Thor have fallen into a friendly competition of sorts to see who could down more shots than the other in one minute. A group of spectators and friends have gathered in the kitchen to watch the showdown go down. Your eyes dart to Jane who only gives you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. She is not looking forward to having to drive those two home later.

Contrary to your friends, you weren’t drinking much tonight. Bucky’s lingering presence at the party was all your senses needed to feel like you were in a daze. For appearances, however, you decide to grab one of the red solo cups to blend in with the rest of those around you. 

“Hey, Y/n! Enjoying the party?” A male’s voice comes from your right and when you turn to see who it is a friendly smile appears on your face. It was Ian Boothby, a fellow art major at your university. You’ve had him in enough of your classes to consider him a friend. 

“Hey, Ian. Yeah, I’m having a good time. Are you?” Your question is a catalyst for a much longer chat with Ian. The two of you fall into light conversation about the semester, art, and other relevant topics. It's a nice breath of fresh air compared to the thoughts that had been consuming you tonight. Especially when he tells you the story of one of his painting mishaps causing you to laugh along with him.

Soon after, a hand snakes its way around your waist, and when you smell that familiar woody muskiness you know exactly who it is. 

“Having fun without me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice has a slight edge to it as he speaks, his lips forming a smirk. You face him and the look in his eyes stills you. 

Bucky does not look pleased. 

“Bucky, hey man. How’s baseball prep?” Ian beats you to it by addressing Bucky first. Bucky's eyes flick between you and Ian before he presses you into his side by the hold on your waist. This does not go unnoticed by Ian.

“Boothby, it's going good. How’s the cross-country season treating you?” Bucky asks, his tone giving away how uninterested he is in continuing this conversation. If Ian picks up on the animosity he doesn’t show it as he goes on and on about the sport. Bucky’s impatience grows the more he speaks and his hold on you gets a little more firm. When Bucky’s expression finally gives way to how he genuinely feels Ian finds a way to excuse himself and exit the conversation.

A beat passes before you finally speak, “Ian’s my friend. You didn’t have to scare him off like that,” you say with slight annoyance. Bucky clicks his tongue as he eyes you closely, “I didn’t, but I felt like it,” he shrugs cooly. “Didn't like the way he was looking at you.” He adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

“Oh? And how was he looking at me?” 

“Like in the way only I should be.” 

The possessiveness in his voice catches you off guard. The air electrifying around you both at his words. You weren’t going to drink, but you suddenly felt the need to. You take a sip of the substance in your cup, the bitter liquid doing little to ground you. Bucky can tell how he’s affecting you and joins you with his drink. His eyes never leave yours as he gulps some of it down. 

You have to stop yourself from inhaling the entire thing in one go. 

“Ian’s harmless. He’s just comfortable with me because he’s an art major too. I’ve had a lot of classes with him,” you do your best to continue the conversation and ignore the way your body heats up when Bucky gives your hip a possessive squeeze. Massaging the area afterward in gentle strokes.

“You do a lot of bonding over paint?” Bucky’s response is slightly mocking, licking his lips to catch a drop of alcohol that wanted to escape. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he relishes the way you're looking at him now. Your gaze trained on his lips. When you realize he’s noticed, the heat from your body goes straight to your face.

You wouldn’t let him have the upper hand though. Never. 

“Well, when you have to sketch someone’s naked body you obviously become friendly,” your reply causes Bucky to choke on his drink, the hand at your hip falling as he uses it to grab a few napkins from the granite counter behind him to wipe at the mess he made. You hide a wicked grin behind the rim of your cup. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Excuse me? What does that mean?” He knows what you mean, but he’s giving you a chance to tell him you're joking. He’s not hiding the jealousy that crawls up his spine at your revelation. 

“It means Ian’s a nude model for some of my classes. He may not look like it but underneath those layers, he’s got the most gorgeous—” Bucky cuts you off with a fierce kiss, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you into him. There’s been plenty of times you’ve shut him up with your mouth and it was his turn to return the favor. Because hearing you talk about the naked body of another man gets under his skin in ways he wasn’t used to.  He wasn’t going to just stand there and hear another word of it. 

The kiss catches you by surprise, but soon your drink is discarded in favor of pulling him closer by his blazer. Not caring who sees or what anyone thinks, since it’s the first time you’ve ever kissed in front of others. Your craving for him was far too loud to ignore anymore. Your lips stay locked until your lungs burn begging for air.

Bucky pulls away with a smug smile, his voice an octave lower as he moves to whisper in your ear, “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. I know you love getting a rise out of me, but just so we’re clear—next time you want to mess with me like that—I’ll make sure you can’t even stand after I’m through with you,” his declaration causes a shiver to make its way up your spine. 

You swallow hard, your mouth opening to say something, but no sound comes out. Bucky lets out a rough chuckle, ghosting his lips against your cheek before pulling away to stare at how speechless he’s left you. He’s blatantly savoring every second of it. 

You want to say something—anything. Something witty or playful, but the thought of him making good on his promise—the image it conjures in your mind—keeps you silent.

“Buck! You’re needed at beer pong! Tony’s team is winning and the bet is up to five hundred,” Steve rushes into the kitchen, breaking through the bubble you two were in. His eyes dart between you and Bucky with a knowing look. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the sight of you two. 

You start to register there’s still an extravagant party happening around you.  

Bucky sighs with slight irritation as he once again gets his moment with you interrupted. He reluctantly tears his attention away from you to call back to Steve, “I’ll be right there!” Steve nods in approval before going back the way he came. 

Now’s your chance to say something, but Bucky pulls away from your body before you can. A coldness replacing where his touch used to be. “Hold that thought, baby. Looks like my team needs their star player,” he winks at you before placing a tender kiss on your forehead, “you keep thinking about what I said while I’m gone,” he says in a gruff whisper, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip in a barely there touch. 

He knows he needs to leave before he takes this somewhere you can’t go back from. 

Bucky doesn’t give you a chance to say anything as he makes a smooth exit. Heading out of the kitchen in the direction of the beer pong game. Your body prickling with an ever growing sexual frustration. You were embarrassingly close to snatching Bucky away and giving in to all your desires in one of the many rooms of the manor. 

“You two need to get a room,” Jane seems to read your mind as she teases you. Appearing from behind you once Bucky was no longer in sight. You can’t deny her words, letting out a small huff, “I don’t know what good that would do. I’ve been clear about not wanting to take things further.” You explain to her, not sure if you could go back on your words for the sake of giving in to what you want now. Jane has had this conversation with you a few times before, and it appears she's hit her limit today. 

 “That man is absolutely head over heels for you. How can you not see that?” Jane shakes her head at you, wondering how she can make you realize what you already know yet deny. There's a vulnerability that overcomes you when you reply, “It’s not that I don’t see it. I just—I’ve never seen him be serious about anyone. The only thing he’s ever serious about is baseball.” Jane looks like she’s about to do something drastic at your denial. 

“Y/n, Bucky is serious about you. He’s literally all about you—he’s chosen you over baseball many times. I’m not around him like you are and even I can see it clear as day. Do you know Thor and like half of the baseball team thinks you two are secretly dating? Stop denying what you know deep down is true and just give in—be happy,” Jane tells it like it is, her tone leaving no room for argument or denial. 

For so long Bucky has shown you another side of him—one not many get to see. He’s given you priority and importance when he didn’t have to. Care and consideration when you needed it most. A shoulder to lean on and a steady support to rely on. Time and time again Bucky has demonstrated how much you mean to him.

Perhaps, you both have been something more to each other for a long time and Bucky’s kept his wishes at bay to make sure things developed at your pace. 

When it finally hits you, you almost feel exposed by how skillfully Jane can read you. At how easily she can see the situation for what it is and not for what your worries twisted it to be. If Bucky had made it clear to you how he felt, what was stopping you from taking things further than they had been before?

At this point, nothing, nothing was stopping you but yourself.

This realization follows you to the dance floor. A very drunk Darcy had pulled you to it along with Jane, babbling tipsily after losing the drinking competition to Thor. You had never seen a living room with such high ceilings before or enough room to host a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth. The living space had been stripped of its furniture and supplied with top-notch equipment to make it resemble the inside of a club. 

At least in the near darkness, it resembled one.

You’re in a huddle of your closest friends, all of them letting the music guide their movements to their heart’s content. You sway absentmindedly, so you're not merely standing there awkwardly. The kaleidoscope of party lights strobe and kiss your skin with an array of colors as the music thumps around your body. 

A loud cheer catches your attention, the source of the sound coming from a table on the far left end of the room. Tony and his friends were boisterous as they made a shot against their opponent's team in beer pong—Bucky’s team. You had a clear view of it all from where you stood. 

Bucky’s team seems to be taking turns on who drinks every time Tony’s team makes a shot. They look amongst themselves until Bucky steps up and chugs the liquid in the red solo cup. It's like he can feel the shift in the air because as soon as the cup is away from his lips his eyes scan the space and find you, and suddenly it's like you two are the only two people in the room. 

You want him—all of him. You enjoy the teases, the banter, the back and forth, but you know you’d enjoy calling him yours more. 

The music picks up in tempo as your boldness grows. Keeping your eyes trained on him, your hips begin to sway provocatively, tempting him to say screw the game and make his way towards you instead. Bucky’s not even paying attention to the game anymore his eyes soaking up your every move as it fans the flames of desire between you. The atmosphere around you buzzes as the ground shakes due to the sea of dancing bodies, and yet nothing thrums within you more than your need for Bucky. 

The little show you’re putting on for him continues as you roll and wave your body in ways that seduce him. Ghosting your hand along the curves and dips of your figure showing him exactly where you’d like his hands to be. Bucky’s mind is reeling with everything he wants to do to you and none of it involves the dance floor and all of it involves you and him in some private corner of the manor where he can show you exactly what his hands are capable of. 

You are making it impossibly hard for him to concentrate on anything else. 

Slowly and with shady intentions a group of drunk guys circle the huddle of you and your friends like vultures. Finding their way to snake themselves into any corner or crevice they can fit into. Their bodies bumping and grazing against yours. There’s one guy in particular that has his sights set on you. Getting closer to you on the dancefloor and creeping his hands along your waist. You swat his hands away, but he doesn’t disperse immediately. The alcohol on his breath fanning your face causing you to gag. The more you dismiss him the more adamant he was about keeping you close to him. 

Almost instantly, a protective grip pulls you away from the drunk guy. A familiar warmth encases you as Bucky pulls you into his chest, your back to him. Your hands find their way to hold his arms to ease the displeasure the drunk had caused.

Bucky glares at the drunk guy, his gaze cold and unapologetic, “Alright, that's enough.” The drunk guy sneers, his words slurred, “What the—what’s your problem bro? We’re just—” Bucky doesn’t let him finish, “Shut up. You’re not doing anything. You’ve got two seconds to back off or we’re going to have a problem,” Bucky’s reply is sharp and menacing. He directs it to all the men that had swarmed you and your friends. 

Shifting you so you stand at his side, Bucky steps forward to let the guys know he’s not messing around. Your hold goes to his right arm where you’re watching the exchange unfold anxiously. You hope things don’t escalate, not wanting Bucky to get into a scuffle. You know he can handle himself, but the idea of him getting hurt in any way caused your heart to ache. 

The guys size Bucky up and it seems some of them think they can take him on. Until the strobing lights illuminate Bucky’s darkened gaze enough that in their drunk haze, they finally recognize him as captain of the baseball team. That means that fighting Bucky meant taking on the entirety of the team. And with the way Sam and Steve were looking over to see if they needed to step in, and Thor was already storming over—they knew they didn’t stand a chance.

It was comical the way the drunk men scramble to get away as fast as they could. Muttering incoherences and apologies under their breath. They don’t get far as Tony’s hired security for the night promptly kicks them out. 

Thor comes up to check on everyone, giving special attention to Jane who keeps assuring him she’s fine. You turn to Bucky, who’s already inspecting you to make sure you are alright, “Bucky I—” You almost tell him not to worry, that you had things under control, but in reality, you’re glad Bucky stepped in. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, Bucky’s tense demeanor softens at your words. He moves to get a better hold on you, his grip at your waist protective teetering on possessive. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart. I got you—always,” Bucky’s genuine response makes your heart flutter and your pulse quicken. Your senses are awakened by his proximity, completely enamored with the way he looks at you. 

“Plus, if I’m going to fall for the most beautiful girl in the world, I have to know how to fight right?” Bucky says this like it's the most obvious thing, smirking at the way you don’t hide the smitten grin he elicits from you. There’s a sparkle in your eyes as you stare at him, Bucky’s heart racing at the sight of it.

 “You and your compliments,” you give a breathless laugh, letting your guard down for once and going with the flow. Bucky can sense it. Sense the way there’s a shift between you, the blossoming of something bigger being accepted and not pushed away by you anymore.

“Only for my girl,” he says this like a promise. His right-hand goes up to gently brush against your cheek. You lean into the touch, that same hand cupping your cheek in response. Bucky has never felt more elated knowing that maybe finally you two can go to places he’s only dreamed of. 

“Yours?” You question him playfully, which causes him to chuckle, the sound a low rumble, “You and I both know you are, sweetheart. I told you I had all the time in the world to make you fall for me—and I meant it,” he smiles, an intense fire in his eyes that only accumulates when you respond, “You don’t have to wait any longer, Bucky.”

He wastes no second to connect your lips, kissing you with a loving purpose. His lips have a slightly bitter taste to them from the beer that still lingered there. And yet, the bitterness disappears when one kiss turns into two and then three. His arms encircling you to pull you into his chest, your hands finding their way to the nape of his neck.

Bucky pulls away to ghost his lips against your jaw until his lips brush against your ear, “Those little moves you were doing for me earlier, do them again,” his husky tone sends a shiver down your spine as he tugs you in to dance with him. Your bodies mold to one another, hips swaying in rhythm with the vigorous music. The beat allows you to gyrate and grind in ways that drive him to the edge of his control. 

His hand rests on the small of your back, holding you close, fingers splayed out as if making a silent claim. You can feel the way his gaze burns into you, the air getting hotter making it harder to breathe. Your hands trail up and down his arms as need be. The rest of the party fades away leaving you two alone in this space of this charged energy. Every lingering touch and longing glance is layered with unspoken urges that would soon intensify to the brink of madness. 

“You have no idea what you do to me do you?” 

“I do. I’m not immune to what’s going on between us, Bucky.”

Your body, your voice, the way you plead with your eyes for him to take this further—it causes a stirring within his pants—the fabric getting tighter the longer the dance goes on. He needs to get you away, to get you alone. Bucky needs to satiate this hunger for you that threatens to consume him or he is going to end up doing something Rated R on this dance floor. 

The throbbing between your legs agrees. 

An idea pops into Bucky’s mind when he glances at his group of friends. He increases the volume of his voice so you can hear him over the music, “The baseball team was going to host a game of hide and seek. Should we play?” Playful mischief glimmers in his eyes as he asks you. 

“Hide and seek? Seriously?” You raise a brow, wondering how that was going to work in a mansion full of a million rooms.

“Yeah, come on. It'll be fun,” Bucky draws you away from the dance floor and over to where his friends are mingling and taking a few shots. Steve sees Bucky approach and they have a quick whispered exchange. Your eyes dart between them, curious as to what they're discussing.

“Seems like we’re getting a head start,” he comments to you as he leads you away from the main party and down a few intricate hallways. His hold on your hand is firm, yet careful—almost as if he’s afraid you’ll get lost in one of the many corners of the manor. The thrum of the music fades the further you slip away from the party. Your pulse spikes, both from the adrenaline of the game and the heat that still simmers between you.

Bucky has been to Tony’s parties plenty of times before, so he knows the layout of the manor pretty well. The clicking of your heels along the marble floors echoes at the pace of the beating of his heart. He tries to focus on the expensive artwork that lines the halls instead of the way your hand perfectly fits in his. The artwork is what’s guiding his path through the manor and you are the best distraction he could ask for. 

“Where are we going?” Your voice echoes down the endless hallway. 

“Somewhere no one will find us,” he winks at you, your heart skipping a beat at his words, his pace steady and purposeful as he turns one more corner and slips you two inside a room. You're encased in darkness, blindly feeling for a light switch until Bucky uses the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the space. You faintly make out your surroundings. You seem to be in one of the many guest rooms of the manor. The attention to detail in the room was no short of the attention paid to the rest of the place.

You knew Tony’s family had money, but seeing how they splurged for a mere guest room, meant his family was beyond loaded. 

Bucky whispered something to you, but you didn’t catch it as he took you by the hand and ushered you into the room’s closet, clicking it shut behind him. He reaches up to turn on the small lightbulb to cascade the enclosed space in a soft glow, turning off the flashlight on his phone and putting it in his pants pocket. The tension is now thicker and more palpable in the small space, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

If you had a dollar for every time you and Bucky ended up in a tight space together, you would have exactly two dollars. While maybe strange, it somehow seemed fitting for you two. 

Bucky steps closer to you, your bodies inches apart, the dim light doing nothing to dull the intensity in his eyes, “Now that I’ve got you here—I think I did a good job with the hiding spot, don't you?” His heated whisper brings your breath to a hitch. 

You have to clear your throat to compose yourself, “I don’t know…We had a whole mansion to hide in, and you chose a closet?” You can’t help but tease him, trying to lighten the unbearable tension. 

“Would you rather go hide in the library? The wine cellar? The arcade?” His voice is dripping with mirth taking another step closer to you. He knows what you're doing, but he’s not going to let the tension die down—not this time.  

“The arcade sounds fun,” you quip, leaning back against the wall. 

“Hm, maybe, but I prefer the closet. It’s a lot more private and it has its…advantages,” he reaches out to pull your hand up to his lips, planting a soft kiss across your knuckles. You go to use that hand to lightly push at his chest, but he catches it in time and intertwines your fingers instead. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. 

“Maybe the closet isn’t so bad, but these heels…Worst decision I made tonight,” you shift slightly, not meaning to change the subject, but your heels are torturing you. In the quiet of the closet the pain begins to creep up on you, begging to be acknowledged. After hours of walking on them, dancing, and standing overall—your feet were killing you. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to stand upright while hiding. 

“Are they hurting you?” 

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Lets get them off then,” Bucky slides his hand underneath your right thigh, eyes locked on yours, as he hikes it up against the outside of his leg. Your hips brush up against his front, your breath catching at the intimacy of the moment. He watches your every reaction as he slides his hand down the underside of your leg until he reaches the strap of your heel. He’s able to undo it effortlessly, relieving you of the discomfort, his fingers grazing your ankle as he slides your right heel off. His every touch leaves heat in its wake. 

“Bucky you really don't have to—” he cuts you off with a soft smile and half-lidded eyes, switching his hold from your right leg to your left one, “I want to, sweetheart. Just let me help, ” he removes the other heel with the same tantalizing tenderness he used for the first one. Putting them to the side where they won’t get in the way.

The relief you feel is immediate.

“Better?” 

“Much.” 

“Good.” 

A moment passes before he speaks, his voice quiet with an underlying devotion, “You don’t get the hold you have on me, do you?’’ His right hand dances along the outside of your thigh while his left plays with the strap of your dress, twirling it between his fingers. The hand at your thigh traces patterns onto it. Trailing intricate swirls across the flesh, along your hips, ascending to your waist, and all the way up to the space between your breasts. The touch lingers there when you let out a soft sigh. 

You honestly forget how to breathe. 

“Say the word and I’m all yours, Y/n,” his voice is rough as his lips ghost against yours—seductively grazing against them. Going so far as licking his lips with an invigorating grin to really drive you crazy.

Bucky is waiting for you to make the deciding move. When you realize this, you throw all caution to the wind, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. You waste no time in granting him access to deepen it. Bucky follows your lead ardently. His hands snake down your body to cup your ass and pull you impossibly close to him. 

Your hands get lost in his hair, a groan rumbling through him at the way you tug at it. You two aren’t sweetly kissing, you're devouring each other. Yearning for the other all night leaves no more room for taking things slow or holding back. You’re both now giving in to what you want most—each other. 

The heat between you intensifies until it crescendos to a boiling point. The aching between your legs imploring you to do something about it. You reach down to tug at the waistband of his pants, causing Bucky to let out a husky laugh. 

“If you want something use your words, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips, you suppress a groan, “You know what I want. I don't have to say it,” you retort impatiently. Bucky shakes his head, smiling despite himself, “I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. The hands on your ass give it a light squeeze emitting a small gasp from you. You can feel the shit-eating grin on your neck. 

“Bucky….I…” your words are cut off by a soft moan when Bucky’s left hand sneaks its way through the slit of your dress until he reaches the inside of your thighs. He massages the flesh there, his thumb brushing against the hem of your panties. 

Your arousal pools impossibly more, and the lustful haze only increases at the way you feel his hardened cock straining against his pants—right against your hip. 

“Mm? What was that, baby? Couldn’t hear you over those pretty noises you're making,” his every word drips with cockiness. 

“You're insufferable.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Bucky kisses your neck with more fervor. Sucking and nipping at the skin hard enough to leave marks. Your thighs involuntarily close together at the way he calls you his girl. He eases them back apart with his deliberate touches. Kneading the soft flesh in his hands as his breathing goes ragged along your neck, tickling your skin. He was on the brink of losing what little control he had left. 

You suck in a sharp breath, losing what little semblance of control you had left the higher his touch gets. He only goes so far, barely brushing across your clothed cunt to give you a taste of what he can do if you just let him hear it. You were desperate for more and he knew it. 

 “Fuck me, Bucky,” you manage to whimper out, hooking your fingers into his empty belt loops and yanking him towards you. Bucky lets out a low growl at the brief friction, his eyes darkening to an almost unrecognizable color. For a moment, his brain short circuits at your words, processing that you really said that to him accompanied by that alluring sound. He’s heard those sinful noises from you before, but never like this. Never with the assurance of more. 

“Say it again.”

“Bucky, please just fuck me already.”

You don’t have to tell him another time. Bucky crashes his mouth onto yours with a new intensity, mumbling lustful promises into your mouth. How he wants you, how badly he aches to make you feel good, how he yearns for his pretty girl to lose herself with him, and so many more things that make you dizzy. 

He moves to bunch up your dress, hiking it up your legs until it's bundled at your waist. His breathing strains at the sight—your black lacy panties luring him in—his muscles tensing at the growing need to be inside you. His left arm reaches down to hook his forearm under your knee and bring it up to his hip. You wrap that leg around him, steadying yourself on your other foot as you grind against each other. You can feel the way his cock aches to be freed and it causes you to arch deeper into him. Your moans mingle into one, the slight relief overwhelming you. 

Bucky takes his free hand and splays it at the small of your back, offering strong support as your bodies continue to grind against one another. A chorus of moans and yearnful whines erupt from you both. All of the pining and hunger for one another amalgamates into one as you continue to rub against each other. You swallow each other’s sounds, tongues tangling carnally as neither of you leaves any room for air.

“Do you have—?”

“Back pocket. Wallet.”

Your lips barely disconnect at the brief exchange. You reach behind him, patting down his backside until you feel the outline of his wallet in his pocket. You take hold of it and bring it forward. Meanwhile, Bucky decides to leave wet kisses along the valley of your breasts. You can barely contain yourself and your soft moans as you pull out the condom. The wallet almost slips from your grasp as the attention to your breasts causes you to tremble. 

You hold it tighter intending to put it back in his pocket when something catches your eye. In the clear slot where his identification should be is a polaroid picture from the weekend camping trip. You’re in that picture sitting next to Bucky on a couple of logs surrounded by your friends and peers. There’s a bright smile on Bucky’s face, his arm around your shoulder as you make bunny ears behind his head.

You love this picture. You have a copy of it taped to your bedroom mirror back home.

At your stillness, Bucky looks up to see what’s going on. When he notices you staring at the picture, he smiles fondly. " It's the only picture I had of us,” he utters softly, causing a warmth to spread throughout you. You gaze at him in tender awe, marveling at the fact that Bucky is real.

Why had you ever doubted he was anything but yours? 

You kiss him this time with all the unspoken feelings you’ve bubbled up and kept inside. The wallet falls from your hands, but it's no matter as Bucky kicks it to the side with his foot, and shudders at the way your lips claim his. This goes beyond lust. Your heart beats with reason, and that reason is the man in front of you. 

“Bucky, I want this. I want you. All of you,” you whisper passionately, your hands lowering to help him unbutton and unzip his pants, the foil neatly tucked between your fingers. A guttural moan leaves him when you push the layers of fabric down and free his cock, pumping it a few times to get a feel of it. His head falls to your shoulder, sighing softly in a near whine as you tear the foil open and roll the protection down his length. It twitches in your hands, his hips bucking at the contact. 

His arms are preoccupied with keeping you close and steady, so you gently guide him to your center. Moving your panties to the side as he tantalizingly slides along your folds before he slowly enters you. Your mouth goes agape at the sensation while Bucky has to do everything to make sure he doesn’t cum right then and there.

This was so much better than what he had imagined in his dreams. 

It's been too long since you’ve done this and the burn at the stretch causes you to cry out quietly. Bucky peppers your face with sweet kisses and whispers of devotion. Trying to do his best to comfort you as he lets you adjust inch by inch. The hand at the small of your back rubs circles into it with his thumb, your own hands shooting up to grip his biceps for support. 

“I’m not gonna last if you tighten up like that sweetheart,” he hisses a groan at how tightly your walls envelop him. You’re really making it hard for him to not come undone in a short amount of time. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby, just relax for me.”

His gentle words are accompanied by thrusts that are slow with a deliberate purpose. He’s careful with his pace as he wants this to go at whatever speed you need. It takes a bit, but his soft kisses and comforting touches coax the burn away until you're left with the ardent ache of needing more. 

“Faster, Bucky,” you plead breathily. He rests his forehead against yours.“Can you handle it, baby?” His question is full of loving concern, prioritizing your pleasure over everything.

“I can…fuck…please,” you assure him, your leg pulling him in tighter causing him to bottom out. Bucky curses and moans all in one. At your assurance, he picks up the pace of his hips, rocking them against you with a fiery velocity. The lewd sounds bouncing off the walls of the closet in waves. 

He gives it to you exactly how you asked him to. That man would do anything for you—just say the word and its done. 

Bucky is on cloud nine at the way you take him. The way your bodies mold and arch into one another’s like you can’t get enough. As if all you ever needed to consume to live was each other. When he goes to kiss you, you can barely kiss back as you’re too lost in the way he slams into you.

“Fuck, baby, if only you could see yourself. You’re so fucking gorgeous making those pretty expressions for me,” Bucky grunts out, drinking up the sight of your face. A string of mewls leaves your lips at the keen attention he keeps on you. Everything about you right now is a work of art in his eyes he wants framed and kept at his bedside. A constant reminder he’s the one who gets to make you look and feel so damn good.  

“Don’t stop, please don't stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to, sweetheart.” 

Your words egg him on to go harder, causing your back to press tightly against the wall. Hiking your leg just a tad bit higher to thrust into you at another angle. This was the best decision he ever made as he hits the perfect spot within you. One that leaves you clinging onto him desperately as your walls tighten on the brink of release. 

It takes a few more fierce drives into you until your orgasm hits you and you're cumming with a feverish intensity. Moaning Bucky’s name in a euphoric mantra that’s music to his ears. It's what brings him over the edge and he stills at the force of his orgasm, his head collapsing into the dip of your neck as he releases into the condom. 

“My girl. My sweet girl. You feel so good, baby,” Bucky softly whispers against your neck. Planting small kisses as both of you come down from your highs. Your arms wrap behind his neck to embrace him and keep him close to you. Bucky continues to mutter sweet praises along your skin, as your hands thread through his hair tenderly. Both of you steadying your breaths as you come back down to Earth. 

If it weren't for Bucky holding your right leg up, it would've fallen from its position at his hip long ago. You’re even more grateful for it now as your body felt completely boneless. And when he pulls out, its the grip he has on your body that keeps your knees from buckling.

Bucky lifts his head so his gaze locks on yours. His blues are swimming with a vehemence that steals your breath and causes your pulse to race.  

“Y/n, I…I wanted to give you some time. Time to figure things out—to figure out what you wanted. I tried pretending I was okay with pieces of you, but I’m not. I want all of you. I want to be yours,” Bucky confesses with sincerity. You reach out to interlock your hands with his, a floodgate of emotions engulfing you. 

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s not hearing it, afraid you’ll want to go back to a place that would devastate him. “Wait, just hear me out. Everything I ever did was to get you to notice me. From the moment we met there was just something about you that kept pulling me in. And I knew—I just knew I had to get to know you. And then one thing led to another and I fell for you—hard. Now I can’t imagine my life without you. There's only you. It’s always been you. Give me a chance, let me prove it to you every day, that I’m yours. That I have been for a long time,” Bucky’s tone borders on pleading, you give his hands a light squeeze to ease the worry in his features. 

“Bucky you have nothing to prove—”

“Y/n—” 

This time you stop him by clamping a hand over his mouth. 

“Bucky, you have nothing to prove because I’ve felt the same way for a long time. I just fought it for so long out of fear that maybe you weren’t serious about me. But I can see now I was wrong. I’ve been yours for a long time too, Bucky. I just pretended I wasn’t—and I’m done fighting it. I’m done being in denial. I want to have something serious with you. I’m ready for it,” your heartfelt confession immediately melts away the tension in Bucky’s shoulders. 

You wanting this as much as he did made him feel like he was on top of the world.

He mumbles something into your hand, the biggest grin on the other side of it. You laugh adoringly at the sight as you remove your hand to replace it with your mouth instead. Both of you sink into the kiss as a deeper devotion is exchanged. 

“Whoever is seeking is horrible at it,” you remove yourself with a light giggle, taking a jab at whoever the seeker of the hide-and-seek game is. A game that was long forgotten by Bucky until you mentioned it. 

Bucky smiles sheepishly, “About that…there's not actually a hide-and-seek game. And if there is they don't know we’re playing,” he confesses with a twinkle in his eyes. You shake your head at him, laughing in disbelief, “Bucky, then what were you and Steve whispering about?” Your curiosity is met with a boyish grin from Bucky, “I was just letting him know not to come looking for me. I wanted to get some alone time with you,” his hands find your hips again to give them a gentle squeeze.

Bucky is far from done with you yet. 

You roll your eyes lightheartedly at his revelation. Of course, he’d come up with a way to get you all to himself. Can you blame him? 

After a few more stolen kisses and lingering touches, you both start to compose yourselves. Adjusting your outfits and collecting your items from the ground. Thankfully, the guest room has its own bathroom where the two of you can clean up much better than in the small closet. Tousled hair, smeared makeup, and sweaty skin required a deeper attentiveness.

You both take your time in freshening up. The bathroom lighting does wonders to reveal every piece of evidence of your sexual encounter. You can now clearly see all the red marks that would eventually turn into hickeys that scattered your neck and chest. Bucky beams pleased at the markings he’s left as you scold him for making them so prominent. 

Bucky doesn’t give a damn. He’d gladly make more in an instant. 

By the end, all that's left is to get your heels on, which Bucky insists on helping you with. He offered to carry you for the rest of the party or even giving you his shoes, but you declined both options. You paid good money for these heels so whether you liked it or not, you were forcing yourself to wear them. 

Bucky helps you up onto the expansive marble counter. Lowering down onto his knees in front of you to slide your heels back onto your feet. Nimble fingers work the straps into place, making sure they're not too tight at the ankles. When he looks up at you, a devilish grin appears on his face. That spark of desire is back in your eyes when you see how good he looks knelt between your legs. Your mind was reeling with ideas as the heat once again pranced across your skin. Bucky’s gaze bore into yours, almost as if he could read your mind. He can’t help but get turned on again. 

You were in the same boat. 

“You know, I have a big stats test on Monday. I could use an emergency tutoring session right about now,” his tone is laced with suggestion as his fingers trace along your ankle. You hum, “Hm? Do you? I think I could accommodate that.” Your reply gives Bucky the go to start kissing up your legs until he reaches your knees. He never breaks eye contact as he places a tender kiss on each one before standing up and giving that same attention to your mouth.

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here, sweetheart,” Bucky mutters against your lips, the kiss a promise of the fun awaiting you for the rest of the night. Now that the lines were blurred beyond recognition, into something deeper, something real, you were both completely all in. 

[froggiewrites]

Midnight Guest

Pairing: Vampire!Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: Your roommate is strange, you’ve always known that. Most of his habits seem like harmless eccentricities. His insistence that you lock your door when you sleep, due to his “sleepwalking,” confuses you more than anything. But when you forget one night and awaken to him standing over your bed, teeth bared, you start to think maybe there’s more to Law than meets the eye. Warnings: AFAB!Reader (no pronouns or gendered language used), Smut, Vampirism, Biting, Blood Drinking, Possessive/Obsessive Behavior, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 3.2k Halloween Special 2024

Your roommate was a strange man.

You had always known that, of course, from the moment you stepped foot into the house. It was old, built to be so beautiful and grand you could have confused it for a temple, a place of worship. And the rent he offered was far too good to be true. You couldn’t afford a studio for what he asked you to pay, let alone half of a gothic mansion to be shared with a mysterious and handsome man. There had to be something wrong with him, some reason he would give this offer to you of all people. He insisted it was just too big of a house to live in on his own, too lonely for one person. 

“I just…hate being alone,” he had admitted.

You didn’t believe that, not from someone as quiet as him.

You were extra sure he was strange when you had your first real conversation. He remained flat and reserved until you mentioned you had seen his comic collection, which made him light up like a Christmas tree. He told you about Sora, Warrior of the Sea for two hours after that, with a boyish enthusiasm you had never expected from a perpetually exhausted man covered in tattoos. It was cute, though he didn’t appreciate it when you pointed that out, cheeks growing pink and lips growing into what he would insist was not a pout. Yes, you had always known Law was strange, but in a fun way, the kind that brings more fond smiles than exasperation.

But some of his habits were starting to make you think he wasn’t quite as harmless as you had convinced yourself.

The first time you awoke with him standing over you, eyes flashing in the dark, you screamed. He had the nerve to jump back as well, as though you had scared him. Sleep walking, he had called it. You don’t know many people who sleepwalk with their eyes open and their teeth baring down on you. But he was so apologetic, you couldn’t help but let it slide.

“I’ve just been so tired from work lately,” he had admitted quietly, cheeks pink and voice tight with embarrassment. “That hasn’t happened since I was a kid. I’m sorry. I…don’t really know how to stop it, but I’ll try. Maybe I need to get more sleep.”

“I think you should,” you had agreed, dripping with good natured concern. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you look like you haven’t slept in years. I’ve been worried about you, honestly.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate it. Maybe I do need a bit more rest. But…maybe you should sleep with your door locked. Just in case I sleepwalk again. I wouldn’t want to give you such a rude awakening twice.” He had said something else, but frankly you were a little too focused on his hands flexing nervously, showing off his long, tattooed fingers, to catch whatever it was.

And since you had taken his advice, you hadn’t woken up to any more men lurking over your bed. You had, however, woken up to the jiggling of your door handle more than once. One time, you had even heard a knock echoing through the room, though he didn’t answer when you called out to ask him what he wanted.

You also couldn’t help but notice how empty the fridge and pantry were, or how little you saw him eat. He had a small snack here or there, but he seemed to subsist mostly on coffee and whatever he keeps in those tumblers he always has nearby. You had asked once, but he brushed it off, changing the subject not-so-subtly. You assumed they were protein shakes, or some other supplement he used to avoid having to sit down and enjoy a real meal. A lot of Law’s life seemed like he was actively trying to avoid living it. He had his hobbies and friends, of course, but any of the mundane pleasures of life, like eating, sleeping, or even human interaction outside of his chosen few people he avoided like the plague. He focused on his work, and anything else was either carefully penciled in or discarded entirely.

Every conversation you had about it was unproductive. He insisted he was fine, that this was just how he was, but there was always a tension around him, one you can’t help but think would disappear if he would only allow himself to live for once. But you can’t say that to him. How can you ask a man if he even enjoys being alive?

But tonight was the night you would learn your concerns were all for nothing, due only to a lack of information, and nothing more.

You try another conversation about your concerns when he wanders into the kitchen while you’re cleaning up. You know it won’t lead anywhere, but you have to try. “Do you think you’ve been sleeping better, Law?”

He hums noncommittally.

“...Have you actually been trying?”

“I’ve…had a lot to deal with.”

You frown, turning around to face him. “Has work not let up at all? You’ve been running yourself ragged for months.”

He avoids your eyes. “It’ll pass soon.”

“That’s what you said two months ago.” You reach across the counter for his hand, fingers brushing lightly against his, and he frantically pulls his hand back as though he’s been burned. You try not to show your hurt on your face, but from the guilt on his, you know you’ve failed. “I’m…I’m just worried about you. I feel like things have only gotten worse for you since I moved in. Maybe I should just–”

He jumps at that, quick to correct, to move you away from that train of thought as fast as he can. “No, no, that’s not true. And you shouldn’t do anything different. Having you around has been…this is the most alive the house has felt in years. I’m just tired, really.”

“You’re still sleepwalking.”

He tenses. “Am I?” Something about his tone is strange. He doesn’t seem like he’s surprised, or at least not surprised that he is. More surprised that you know.

“Yeah. You really didn’t start doing that until I moved in?”

“Well, no one would be able to tell me if I had.” He still isn’t looking at you.

You sigh. Even knowing how unproductive these talks are, it’s always a disappointment to learn he won’t open up to you. You honestly can’t figure out why he keeps you around. Your presence clearly stresses him out, even if he won’t admit it. “Just…try to get some rest, please. And eat a real meal for once. You’re a doctor, you should know how to take care of yourself.”

He finally looks at you again, self deprecation radiating from his tight smile. “Right. I’ll try.”

He won’t.

But you can. After you finish wiping down the counters, you get ready for a long night of sleep. No point in staying up worrying over things you can’t control. A long, warm shower and comfy pajamas are sure to fix your problems.

And they do, really, for the few hours you remain asleep.

But then you hear the door open.

No jiggling handle, no knocking, nothing. Just the quiet creak of the hinges, and footsteps approaching. You’ve barely opened your eyes before you can feel the bed start to shift, and you look up to see the same sight you did months ago: Law, eyes feral and needy, his mouth open, teeth looking particularly long and sharp in the moonlight. Before you can open your mouth, you can feel his body against yours, every inch of him stiff, his hands clutching your shoulders, his teeth growing closer and closer to your neck.

“Law?”

His eyes are still hazy, his mouth still approaching.

“Law!” You try to push his arms away, but you find you’re not strong enough to make him budge for even a moment. But the fear in your voice when you realize you’re about to feel his teeth against you makes him stop midair, his eyes focusing a little.

“Huh?” He looks down at you in his arms, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes, and he throws himself back with a speed and strength you didn’t know he had. You can hear him slam against the wall behind him, knocking all of your wall decorations askew and making the wall make a concerning creak. He stares at you, arms out, as though something is pinning him down, and he looks absolutely beautiful bathed in the moonlight that sneaks through your curtains. His eyes are hungry, and you can see his canines peeking out from his lips, almost looking like fangs. He’s naked except for a pair of gray sweatpants, hair mussed and tattoos on full display.

“Law?” He stares at you, still torn between hunger and fear. As you shift to sit up, you can see his eyes flicker between your neck and your breasts, your pajamas giving him a clear view of your cleavage. Normally you would be embarrassed, but the tension in the air makes you forget your vulnerability for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“You forgot to lock your door,” he murmurs, voice thick and deep. He hasn’t looked away from you for even a moment, and he hasn’t moved an inch.

“You were going to bite me.”

He licks his lips, something he often does around you. You had always thought it was a nervous habit, but combined with the look in his eyes, you’re starting to suspect perhaps there’s another reason. “I told you to keep your door locked.” It sounds like speaking takes effort, and you notice his hands trembling slightly.

“Why were you going to bite me?”

“I need to leave,” he says, not moving, staring intently at your exposed skin. He’s breathing heavily. His canines seem to have grown even longer. “Or maybe you should leave.”

“You’re…you haven’t been sleepwalking at all. You’ve been trying to get in every night. To bite me. With your teeth.”

“I…have.”

“Are you…” You can’t bring yourself to say the word, even with all of the evidence in front of you. It feels unreal, so ridiculous you feel as though you’re watching someone else live through it all.

“Yes.”

“And you’re hungry?”

His chest is heaving with the effort of holding himself back. “Very.”

“And you asked me to live with you anyway?”

He forces his eyes closed, pushing his head back against the wall. “It wasn’t very smart of me. I…I knew I couldn’t let you leave the moment you walked through that door. I needed you to stay. You don’t know what it’s like. …I thought I would have more self control than this, really.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

“Why couldn’t you let me leave?” You hate that your voice has a tinge of hope in it, like you aren’t in terrible danger, like your silly little crush on your roommate is more important than the very real threat he poses.

“You’re…you. And god, I need you.” He huffs out another breath. “You need to leave, really. Before I lose control.”

That should not have sent a shiver of excitement up your spine. “What if I didn’t?”

“Then I’d bite you.”

“And what if I wanted that?”

His eyes shoot open, and before you know it you’re pinned to the bed, a starving animal holding you down, every muscle in his body taut. “You…you shouldn’t…” He struggles to even get the words out, to keep up his good guy act when you can see the hunger in his eyes.

You lean up, exposing your neck fully, and just smile.

You’re pierced in a second.

The sensation is colder than you expected, and for a moment it really and truly feels like you’re going to die. Like you’ve made some horrible mistake for a pretty face and you’re going to pay the price for it. But before long, the ice in your veins fades away, leaving behind a pleasant warmth. It almost feels like you’re drunk, as your eyelids droop and an easy smile comes to your face.

You can feel every inch of Law pressed into you, from his warm tongue against your neck to his solid chest against yours and, most importantly, his hard and aching cock rutting against your thigh as he drinks. He hardly takes any time away from your neck, but whenever he does he’s panting, practically moaning against you. One of his hands goes to your chest, palming clumsily at your breasts, which easily spill out of your flimsy top. He looks down to see them, and groans from deep within his chest. “God, look at you.”

You try to respond, but in an instant he’s against your neck again, suckling, while his hand finds your nipple and pinches it between his fingers. You moan, far louder than you would ever admit, and your hips rut up into his. You can feel a wetness soaking easily through your pajama shorts, which he finds as well as he rubs against you, forcing the fabric between your folds and rubbing it against your clit. Your nails find his hair, gripping for dear life, and you hear him moan again. You can’t see them, but you can practically feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head. You try to speak again, to tell him to please fuck you, to complete the pleasure of the moment, but the only thing that leaves your lips is a pathetic cry of, “Law!”

He pulls himself back from your neck, lips dripping with your blood, staring at you ravenously. You fear he might swallow you whole. You fear you might enjoy that. His hand comes up, fingers gathering the blood dripping from his lips and chin. He maintains eye contact as he slowly and deliberately licks his fingers clean, refusing to waste even a drop of you. You clench your thighs together, which once again rubs the fabric against your clit just right, making you moan softly. His pupils blow out even further at the sound, his eyes nothing but inky blackness and desire.

You aren’t sure if it’s the warmth in your veins or your desire for Law that leaves you so pliable, so vulnerable underneath him. Either way, you find your thighs falling apart and your arms wrapping around him, begging him to take you. You whisper to him, “Please, Law, please. Finish what you’ve started. Have me.”

He leans down to clean the rest of the blood off of your neck with his tongue. “I want you,” he groans. “I have since the moment I saw you. God, you’re so delicious.” You feel his teeth graze against you again, desperate for a second taste. “You taste even better than I imagined, better than I dreamed.”

“You dreamed about me?”

“Every goddamn night. You’ve been haunting me.” He nips at your neck gently. “I couldn’t let you leave, no matter how much better it would be for you. I’m sick.”

You thrust your hips against his again, making his eyelids flutter and a soft choked noise escape his throat. “I’ve wanted you just as long.”

“I’ve never lost control over myself like this. You’ve done something to me.” He says it almost like an accusation.

You wrap your thighs around his waist in response, forcing your hips together again. “You’ve done something to me, too. I’d like you to finish it, if you don’t mind.”

He growls against your skin, something feral finally unleashing from him, and in one smooth motion he’s ripped off your pajama pants and underwear, leaving you bare and dripping for him. He thrusts into you in one smooth motion, making you nearly scream as your eyes roll back from the sensation. His pace is frantic, like if he stops for even a moment you’ll change your mind, or he’ll come to his senses, and it will all be over.

“Need you,” he mutters. “Need you to stay. Say you’ll stay.” There’s some deeper thread of desperation here, his voice pleading, nearly afraid. Like after all of this you’ll see him for what he is and leave him all alone in this house again, to be forgotten by time and left to rot.

“I’ll stay,” you moan. “I won’t leave you, Law.”

His hand finds your clit, a reward for giving him what he needed. His hands are as skilled as you had always hoped they would be, callused and moving exactly how you want them to. He makes you clench around him, ready to come undone so quickly under his attention. “You’re so alive,” he whispers. “So beautiful. And mine.”

“Yours, yes, yours!”

“Forever,” he insists.

“Forever!”

With your promise, his thrusts quicken, growing sloppy as he loses what little control he had left. His fingers and hips work frantically, bringing you to the edge easily, causing you to tighten around him as your vision goes white. At the same time, his teeth come down on your neck again, and he spills inside of you, filling you to the brim as he freely takes what he wants.

You’re panting, your heart pounding out of your chest, your blood flowing freely into Law’s waiting lips. Once he’s had his fill, he licks you clean again, before raising his head to look you in the eyes. “Forever?” He asks again.

“Forever,” you confirm.

He smiles. You watch as he bites his bottom lip, his fangs easily piercing the soft flesh, and he kisses you deeply and desperately. The taste of iron fills your mouth, at first repulsive but quickly growing into something sweet and irresistible. You lean further into him, sucking on his lip, taking whatever you can get, only stopping when he pulls back, pinning you down so you can’t chase his lips.

“Forever,” he whispers, tone filled with wonder. He kisses you again, tenderly, almost worshiping. “And you won’t have to spend a moment of it alone.”

You’re starting to grow unbearably hot, but even as you squirm, Law doesn’t allow you to move. He holds you there, under him, cock still inside of you. “Law, it’s hot. I need–”

“I know. It’ll pass.” He grins, teeth flashing dangerously in the light.

“What?” The haziness from blood loss and whatever endorphins came from a vampire’s bite start to wear off, and you start to tense. “What’ll pass?”

He doesn’t give you a straight answer. “It won’t hurt much, I promise.”

“Law, what did you do?”

He smiles, nuzzling you affectionately. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. You won’t have to try to figure it all out alone. It’ll be the two of us, figuring it all out together. And we’ll have forever to do it.” He kisses you again as the heat overtakes you, turning swiftly from discomfort to pain.

But you’ll be alright, of course. Law is right there to walk you through it.

And he will be forever.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl

[justagalwhowrites]

Stranger in a Bar - Part Two

You realize your hookup from the night before is your dad's best friend. Life goes on from there. The conclusion of Stranger in a Bar, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. Breeding kink if you squint. Talk of pregnancy. ANGST BECAUSE IT'S ME. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | Part One

“She hasn’t been home in so long,” your father was smiling proudly, seemingly oblivious to the way Joel was looking at you. 

It had never occurred to him that he’d never seen a picture of his friend’s daughter. He’d heard about you, of course. How your parents had gone to Tennessee for your college graduation, how you’d gotten a job in Memphis, how you only really came to visit about once a year and that meant your dad was busy that week. 

“Heard a lot about you,” Joel said when he realized your dad had gone quiet. “Good to… put a face to the name. Or, maybe, idea? Don’t think your dad ever mentioned your name…” 

“May not have,” he laughed, clapping Joel on the shoulder. Joel still couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fuck, this was bad. “To me, she’s just my little princess…” 

“Honey,” your mom appeared at your dad’s side, looping her arm through his. “Can I steal you for just a minute?” 

“Sure,” he gave her hand a squeeze before looking between you and Joel. “Keep her outta trouble, will ya? Have fun!” 

Joel more sensed them leave than watched them, his eyes locked on yours. He was pretty sure they were out of earshot when you spoke. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“‘Fraid not,” Joel said, his eyes drifting down over your body before he could really help himself. Your dress fit you perfectly, highlighting your every soft curve. He knew just what you looked like below it, just how smooth your skin was, just how you would taste. “You look… fuck, you look gorgeous.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. 

“Are you…” You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Never mind. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.” 

“It’s not…” he finally managed to look away from you to glance around at the people around the two of you. None of them seemed to be paying attention. He lowered his voice, anyway. “It’s not that bad…” 

“Not that bad?” You cut him off. “Are you… Jesus, come on.” 

You looked around, too, before grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the tent and toward the house. He just trailed along behind you, fighting the urge to smile while keeping an eye out for your parents. Because the last thing he wanted to do was explain to your father what he was doing, following wherever you led. 

And he did follow you - happily - into the house he’d been in plenty of times as a dinner guest or for Super Bowl parties or to help your father put together a new piece of furniture for your mother. You dragged him along to the sizable storage room off the garage and locked the door behind you before turning and staring daggers at him. 

“Not that bad?” You asked, brows raised so high they threatened to disappear into your hairline. “Not that bad? You’re my dad’s best friend! I didn’t even know he had one of those until this afternoon and I -” you looked around, as though someone might have been lurking, and lowered your voice to a harsh whisper “fucked him before I knew he existed! How is this not that bad?” 

“You in the habit of telling your daddy everyone you sleep with?” Joel asked, hands in his pockets. “Because I ain’t one to kiss and tell.”

“This is a joke to you, isn’t it,” you crossed your arms, clearly pissed. But the effect was lessened a bit by the way your angry pants and fierce stance made your breasts swell and fuck, but you were pretty. “What, you make a habit of fucking women young enough to be your friend’s daughter?” 

“No,” Joel said with a shrug. “Don’t make a habit of fucking anyone, really. Told you, I’m outta practice. And… well, can’t say I’ve ever… well…” 

“Ever?” Your eyebrows somehow got higher. 

“Ever been with someone as young as you,” he said, his cheeks getting hot at the shame of that. “Didn’t set out to, either. Not until I saw you.”

You relaxed a little then, your brows returning to a much more natural position on your face. 

“I didn’t go to that bar looking for someone,” he continued. “And I sure as shit never go chasing after women half my age. Sure as shit ain’t proud I did it last night, either. But… can’t say I really care much about any of that. I don’t care that you’re too young for me, don’t care that you live hundreds of miles away, don’t even care that you’re my best friend’s kid. Lord knows I should care about all that but I don’t. All I really care about in all that is you.” 

Your eyes searched his for a moment, like you were trying to tell if he was lying or not. You stepped closer to him and he resisted the urge to touch you, the pull stronger than he remembered it being in the past. He wasn’t sure if it was because it had been years since he’d been with someone, if it was because he could tell from the first moment he saw you that you were special, if it was because sex with you was the best he’d ever had. But, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. Not when you were this close, in that dress, when he could still remember how you tasted on his tongue. He knew he should give a shit, he knew he should at least do your father the courtesy of feeling bad but all he could feel was the drive to touch you - taste you - again.

You held his gaze until your lips were so close to his your noses brushed and he kissed you then, your mouth so plush and soft on his. 

It had been so long since Joel had done anything like this. He hadn’t exactly dated much when his daughter was at home. He tried, a bit, when she was in her teens but he ended up wishing he was spending time with her instead of trying to get to know someone he only had a passing interest in. 

When Sarah moved out to go to college - not community college anymore but Texas A&M - he didn’t have the same excuse anymore. But, when he tried to meet someone then, he found himself trying to force connections with women. They had little in common with him, they wanted different things out of life, they were just interested in things he couldn’t offer. After a few, unsatisfying and brief relationships - if you could even call them that - he’d given up on it. His life was meant to be quiet and lonely. He had Sarah and that was more than enough, even if she lived in Dallas now. He was fine with it. Happy, even. 

And then, there you were, so beautiful in that bar, something about you pulling him in. He couldn’t help but go up to you, couldn’t help but talk to you for hours, couldn’t help but walk you back to your hotel, couldn’t help but kiss you back in that elevator. 

He couldn’t help but kiss you now. 

His hands went to your waist, slipping over your sides to your back, spreading wide over you to hold as much of you as he could, pulling your body against his own. You moaned softly into his mouth and put your arms around his neck when he did and he could feel every line of you against him, could remember just what those lines felt like when there was nothing between you. 

If he was in his own head enough, he would have been embarrassed about just how fast he got hard against you, embarrassed about how quickly he gave in to the urge to grind his cock into you while remembering just what it felt like to be buried inside of you. But he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck about anything beyond just how good you felt pressed all tight and desperate against him. 

He guided you back until your ass was against a stack of plastic storage tubs, bins labeled with things like “Christmas” and “Halloween” that he’d helped your dad haul into the living room when your mom was ready to change the decor around the house. Your hands left him for a moment and you pulled yourself on top of the top bin, putting your hips at the same height as Joel’s own. You spread your legs wide and pulled him into you, grinding your pussy against his cock through his jeans and he had to fight not to come then and there. Your arms went back around his neck and your kiss grew messy, the both of you fighting to devour the other. Joel’s mouth slid over your lips to your chin, down your jaw to your throat and you moaned, arching your back. His hands moved to your thighs, forcing your skirt up and out of the way until your slick-soaked panties were pressed against his fly. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted softly, grinding that hot little pussy over his still clothed length. His hands skimmed over your sides to find your breasts, cupping the full, soft warmth of you there. Your fingers sank into his back, nails digging into him. “Please…” 

“Not a good idea,” he said, kissing back up your neck, leaving his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear. “Don’t got a condom.” 

He nipped your lobe and kissed over your cheek toward your mouth again. 

“I don’t care,” you said, breathless. “I don’t care, I just need you, fuck, please, please…” 

He groaned. He should resist you. He should, he knew better. But the way you tasted, the way you felt against him, just the thought of being inside you with nothing between you and him was making his head swim. 

“Don’t think I’ll be able to pull out, baby,” he said, kissing you all wet and sloppy and without control. “You felt too damn good with somethin’ on, I can’t…” 

“I don’t care,” you said again, pulling back from him just enough to look in his eyes, reaching your hand up to card your fingers through his graying hair. Your skin was almost glowing in the dim light, your eyes ranging over him, pupils blown. “I want you, please, Joel.” 

“Jesus,” he breathed, reaching quickly down to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. He pulled his cock free, his head swollen and leaking. He stroked himself - not that it offered any relief and it wasn’t possible to make him any harder - with one hand and watched with hungry eyes as he traced the the seam of you through your wet panties with the other, the fabric clinging to the plush softness of you. He couldn’t help but groan a little as he tucked the cotton to the side, revealing you all plump and dripping for him. 

He watched, his breath shaky, as he moved closer, trailing his cock head over your slit before slipping just inside your entrance. He just stood there for a moment, his heart beating out a frantic rhythm against his ribs, looking at where he was starting to disappear into you and he was mesmerized by it. The way you had to stretch to take even just the head of him, the way you took him so well anyway, the way you felt inside, the heat of you on his skin. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your hand clutching onto his bicep, his shirt twisting in your fingers. 

“Baby,” his voice was rough, raspy. He’d be embarrassed about how needy he sounded if he could bring himself to give a shit about anything but how you felt inside. “Fuck, you already feel fuckin’ incredible and I’m not even really inside you yet…” 

He finally pulled his eyes away from where the two of you met to find your face, your eyes so wide and pleading. He took you in his hand, his thumb on your cheek, your fingers reaching back to grip tight to your neck, holding you just so. You stretched to kiss him but he kept you in place, your eyebrows drawing together as you moaned in protest. 

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he whispered. “And sit still, just let me look at you.” 

He watched you closely as pressed into you, your breath hitching as he parted your inner walls, your tight, wet heat gripping him and he savored every needy expression that crossed your face. You were so beautiful like this, your mouth open in a silent gasp, eyes wide, looking like you were enjoying him almost as much as he was enjoying you. 

Because there was no possible way it could be equal, there was no way he felt as good as you did. You’d felt fucking exquisite with a condom on the night before, it had only taken Joel a second inside you to decide that this could not be a one time thing. He couldn’t feel something that good only once in his life, he’d spend the rest of his years searching for it otherwise. It was the cherry on top of the perfection that seemed to be you, someone he wanted to spend hours upon hours talking with and hours upon hours looking at. The way your body took him into yourself, the way you pulsed around him when you came, the way you were so goddamn soft inside. How was he supposed to just walk away from that? 

But, as Joel’s cock was buried inside you to the root, he realized that nothing - absolutely fucking nothing - compared to being inside you bare. He could feel you so clearly like this, every ridge of muscle, every little gush of come as you made a mess of his cock. You were so fucking tight he wondered how he’d even fit inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything quite as warm and soft as you and he knew he’d never felt quite so close to anyone like he did you in that moment. 

“Goddamn baby,” he breathed, his eyes locked on yours, not moving from his place inside you. 

“Joel,” you whispered before looking down to where your bodies where joined and groaning when you did. 

“Gotta stay quiet, pretty girl,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around you, his hand splaying wide over the small of your back. He held you in place and ground himself deeper into you, making you whimper. 

“Fuck me,” you panted, desperate. “Please Joel, I need you to move, I need you to fuck me, please…” 

He crumbled under your pleas, pulling back from you agonizingly slowly so that he could feel every part of you clinging to him before thrusting back inside you in one devastating go. You moaned as he did, loud enough that he was worried someone might hear. He kissed you to keep you quiet and your arms went around his neck, your fingers digging into him as you clung to him. But he couldn’t keep kissing you forever, not when the drive to fuck you harder was so strong, and he had to separate from you to gasp for breath as his cock plunged into you again and again. You moaned, desperate and needy and uncontrolled and Joel couldn’t even consider stopping to keep you quiet. Instead, he pulled you tight to him, tucking your head against his shoulder so your sounds were muffled by his body. 

“Said you gotta keep quiet baby,” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you. “Fuck… you feel too damn good, won’t be able to stop just because someone comes in.” 

Your muffled moans grew louder and you clutched onto him and he held you closer, tighter, the sharp snap of his hips never slowing or even stuttering. He felt like a man possessed as he savored the hot clutch of you. He’d never needed to fuck someone like this, never wanted to live inside another person like this. How was he supposed to move on from this, from you? When he’d never found anything that made him feel like this, so obsessed he couldn’t keep himself from fucking you hard and fast and unprotected under your father’s roof. 

His orgasm was building fast, faster than he really wanted it to. There was the nagging thought at the back of his mind - the last part of him that seemed to exist outside the sphere of your influence - that he should pull out at the very least. He didn’t know if you were on the pill but part of him didn’t fucking care. Part of him wanted to fill you up and take everything that came with it, as long as he got to keep coming in you again and again the rest of it didn’t matter. 

You started mumbling into his shoulder, your words incoherent around the fabric of his shirt and the bulk of his body and he pulled your head back just enough that he could make out what you were saying, just “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come” over and over and over and the sound went straight to his cock. 

He felt it then, you drawing so tight around him, the sensation intimately familiar after the night before, and then you exploded around him, throbbing hard and full, damn near pulling his own orgasm out of his body as he groaned against you. He didn’t do the smart thing, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he reveled in the feeling as he came deep inside you, buried to the root . 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted against him as your climax eased, sounding closer to sane now than you had the last few minutes. 

“I know, baby,” he said, breathless too, still deep within you. You pulled back from him ever so slightly, your eyes wide as they searched his face, your lipstick smeared over your skin. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you said again, but different this time, an edge of panic in your voice. You put your hand to his chest, leaning back from him and looking down to where you were still joined. “What the fuck did we just do?” 

“Nothin’ bad…” he said quietly but you looked back to him, your gaze fiery now. He pulled out of you slowly, reluctantly, and tucked himself away. 

“Nothing bad?” You asked, brows raised. “We just fucked in my parents’ house! I barely fucking know you and you just… I just begged you to… Jesus Christ…” 

Joel winced at that. 

“I can go get you one of those pills…” he said weakly. He hoped that was the right thing to say in a moment like this one. He hadn’t been in this position in so long, he wasn’t the type to just randomly fuck a woman and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to do so with no regard for the consequences. He’d learned that lesson well enough in his youth. Here he was, middle aged and fucking you like some teenager in heat, sneaking around behind your parents’ backs.

“What?” You shook your head once, sharply, like you were trying to shake him from your mind. “No, I have an IUD, but I don’t know you, you could have… I don’t fucking know, herpes or something!” 

Joel almost laughed. Not that anything about this was actually funny but it was… something. 

“I don’t got anything like that,” Joel said. “You’re safe, promise.” 

You looked to jump down from your perch on the storage bins but slipped a hand down between your legs first and groaned before looking around. 

“Do you see any paper towel or anything?” You asked, holding your hand covered in his come and yours in front of you, your combined slick pearly on your fingers. 

Joel swallowed. 

“No,” he said. “But… here…” 

He untucked his shirt and nudged your legs wider apart, forcing your dress further up your thighs, revealing your slit to him. He resisted the urge to groan at the sight, his spend leaking from you because he’d left it deep inside… 

He shook himself mentally and took the hem of his button down shirt, pressing it to your dripping hole, cleaning you gently. You leaned back on your hands and he could feel your eyes on him as he delicately ran the fabric over your soft skin. He was about to step back when he heard you moan, needy and wanting, and he realized he could see your clit, swollen and peeking out from your wet sex. 

“Fuck,” you breathed and he looked up to your face. Your eyes were closed, your mouth open in pleasure. 

“You like that?” He asked, his voice heavier than he’d meant it to be. Fuck, he shouldn’t be doing this. But you nodded, quick and desperate, and he couldn’t resist. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He knelt in front of you, looping his arms around your knees and pulling you sharply to the front edge of the storage bin before licking a hesitant stripe from your entrance to your sensitive nub. You groaned at that and he saw your fingers curl around the edge of the bin, knuckles tight. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you panted and he smiled a little before diving into your pussy like a man starved. 

He licked and sucked and ate at you, his tongue delving into your tight channel, his nose pressed against your swollen clit, his fingers pressing tightly into the meat of your thighs. Your hand flew to his hair, knotting and tangling in his curls, your nails digging into his scalp as you ground your hips against his face. You were moaning louder and he knew he should give a fuck, try to keep you quiet while he worked you to yet another orgasm in your father’s house, but he just didn’t care. All he cared about was making you come so hard you damn near took off his tongue. 

He didn’t need to wait long, your pussy growing tighter and tighter until you cried out, your hips pressed against him and he savored the way your body clutched onto him as you came. Your channel pulsed hard and strong and he drank down your slick, not caring that it mingled with his own come from just a few minutes before. 

Joel waited until your climax eased before he pulled his tongue from your body, pressing a lingering kiss over the top of your slit, making you groan. 

“Holy shit,” you panted and he got to his feet in front of you, wiping his mouth awkwardly with the back of his wrist. 

“Sorry,” he said, glancing quickly at your still slightly swollen sex. It was no longer dripping, at least. “That… that ain’t what I’d set out to do…” 

“Never apologize for that,” you said, sitting up properly this time. You slipped off the storage bin. You rearranged your underwear below your dress before adjusting the hem, looking down at yourself like you were trying to make sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. 

“Here,” Joel said, thankful that his shirt was black so your lipstick that was undoubtably on his shoulder wouldn’t show. He took the cuff that hadn’t wiped your slick from his face and carefully cleaned your smeared lipstick from your skin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that, either…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said, crossing your arms and looking him up and down. “I was literally begging for it. There’s just something about you… but that’s why we can’t do this, Joel. You’re my dad’s best friend, he’d never forgive us for this. We have to pretend like this never happened. Not tonight, not last night, none of it.” 

He just watched you for a moment. Part of him knew you were right. You were right for more reasons than just that, too. He hadn’t really dated in years, he hadn’t been in a good place to do it in ages and he sure as hell wasn’t in a place to date someone as young as you. You’d want things out of life that he was long past, things he could never give you. He should know better than this. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted you. He wanted to fuck you again, yeah, but he also wanted to get to know you, to make you dinner and take you to the beach and kiss you at midnight on New Year’s Eve. You’d woken something up in him that he didn’t know he still had, something he thought had died along with his youth years before. Wasn’t something like you worth risking a friendship for? Even one like the one he had with your father? 

“We have to stay away from each other the rest of the night,” you said. “Alright?” 

He looked at you for a moment, at the drawn expression on your face. 

“Yeah,” he said after the silence hung in the air a bit too long. “Yeah, alright.” 

The two of you made your way back toward the celebration, thankfully no one in the house to have heard the sounds he pulled form you, anyway. Joel tried not to stare at you the rest of the night but he found himself keenly aware of where you were all the time, anyway. He knew where you were and who you were with and just how far he’d have to move to pull you into his arms and kiss you. 

“Joel!” His friend clapped him on the shoulder as he sat at a table, drinking a beer and trying to not pay attention to where you were - something he was failing at because, at the moment, you were standing by your mother and your sister near the buffet. “Havin’ a nice time?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Joel cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat beside him. “It’s a great party. Y’all deserve it, too, hell of an accomplishment, puttin’ up with each other that long…” 

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “God, sometimes… See you didn’t bring a date, was hopin’ you’d be out on the dance floor with some lucky lady at least a little bit.” 

“Yeah, well,” Joel shrugged. “Don’t really got anyone to bring to someone like this and…” 

“Still,” he cut Joel off. “Should get out there… Princess! C’mere!” 

He raised his hand and flagged you down and Joel stiffened. Your eyes darted from his to your father’s before you made your way across the tent, your hands in fists at your sides. 

“You really don’t need to…” Joel began but your father cut him off again. 

“S’no trouble,” he said. “It’ll be good for her, too. Tells her mama everything, hasn’t had a boyfriend in who knows how long, she needs to do a little dancing…” 

“Yes, Dad?” You asked, steadfastly ignoring Joel. 

“Do me a favor, Princess, and get this old man on the dance floor, would ya?” He clapped Joel on the back. “He’s been sittin’ here alone way too long, think he needs a little nudge…” 

“Oh, I… I don’t,” you began. 

“Really don’t need…” Joel said. 

“Nonsense!” Your dad said. “C’mon! You two - two of my favorite people - have been sittin’ off to the sides of this shindig all night. Make me happy, get out there for me.” 

You looked at Joel half pleading, half resigned. 

“Yeah, alright,” Joel said, getting up and setting his beer on the table. Your father got up, too. 

“Good man!” He patted him firmly between the shoulder blades. “You two have fun!” 

Joel offered you his hand and you took it before he led you to the dance floor, your body tense and separated firmly from his own. The music shifted just as the two of you got there, The Way You Look Tonight starting to play and Joel almost groaned. Might as well put a neon sign over his head, flashing “I want to fuck her” in bright red. 

He took you in his arms all the same, leaving a respectable, painful distance between the two of you as he started to sway with you on the dance floor. 

“I’m sorry about this,” you said quietly after a moment. “I don’t know what his problem is, besides the fact that he’s had too much to drink.” 

“S’OK,” Joel said. His hand was at the small of your back and he knew just how soft your skin was there. “I don’t… It’s nice. Dancin’ with you.” 

You smiled a little. 

“It’s nice dancing with you, too.” 

You looked at him differently then. Your eyes were softer, your body less stiff and it reminded Joel of the night before, when you were just a stranger in a bar and you smiled and talked and laughed with him for hours. 

“I wish things were different,” you said quietly, eyes searching his. “I know we just met but… I mean, if I lived closer, if…” 

“If I wasn’t your daddy’s friend?” He asked, giving you a crooked smile. 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, that little snag,” you said. “If life was different… I think I’d like to figure some of it out with you, Joel.” 

The song wound down and he knew his time with you was numbered. 

“Think I’d like to figure it out with you, too.” 

He wanted to kiss you then and, if you were any other woman or in any other place, he would have. But instead, the music ended and he forced himself to stop touching you and he stood, in the middle of the dance floor, other couples flowing around him as he watched you walk away from him and back toward your family. 

Joel seriously considered getting hammered when he got home that night. Drinking himself into oblivion seemed like the kindest thing he could do to himself but he couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the memory of dancing with you like that. Instead, he lay flat on his back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, etching every part of you into his mind as best he could because, goddammit, the last day had to have existed for something, right? A bright spot in what had become a lonely life, something he could look back on with fondness when shit didn’t go the way he wanted. 

But, before too long, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. 

He got up, not bothering to get changed, just staying in his plaid pajama pants and threadbare band t-shirt and drove to your hotel. He remembered your room number and, only after he’d knocked on your door, did he realize what he’d done. He had, without calling or texting or anything that was actually fucking sensible, shown up at your door at - he glanced at his watch - one in the fucking morning. 

“Shit,” he said to himself, already moving to go when your door opened. 

“Joel?” You frowned a little, looking him up and down. “What are you…” 

“This was stupid,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this, I should’ve just…” 

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving and he blinked in surprise. 

“Did you want to come in or not?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yeah, I do.” 

And you smiled and took his hand, leading him into your room. 

***

Six Months Later 

“This feels like tempting fate,” you muttered as you did your hair in the mirror over Joel’s dresser. 

“Nah,” he waved you off as he lounged, shirtless, on the bed. “It’ll be fine. Think we can manage to keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours.” 

You scoffed at that. If you could, that would be a fucking first. 

In the six months since you and Joel had decided to make a go of it - damn all the reasons that you shouldn’t - you’d been happier than you could ever remember being. He’d been to visit you in Tennessee twice and you’d met up in New Orleans once but this was your first time back home since you’d decided that dating your father’s best friend wasn’t a total lost cause. 

When you were together, you spent obscene amounts of time in bed. He made you come more than anyone else you’d ever been with and you spent hours naked and tangled up with each other. Even when you were apart, he still gave you the best damn orgasms of your life because he was shockingly good at sexting for someone who was 20 years older than you. 

But your connection with Joel was so much deeper than the physical. You could talk with him the way you could no one else, he knew you and saw you in a way you didn’t realize was possible for another person to see you and know you. You wanted to spend all your time with him, do everything with him. How were you supposed to sit at your parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner with him next to you at the table and expect them to not notice that? 

“M’serious,” he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the side of your neck before nuzzling into your skin there. “Be on my best behavior. No fuckin’ you in the storage room this time. Couldn’t get me naked tonight if you tried.” 

“Oh, OK,” you rolled your eyes but laughed a little. “I’m sure you’d keep it in your pants if I just tugged my sweater dress down nice and low and headed off to the quiet part of the house…” 

“Well now you’re just askin’ too much of me, baby,” he teased, kissing you again before putting his face beside yours in the mirror. “I’m just a man, after all.” 

“My man,” you smiled and he laughed. 

“S’right,” he said. “Yours.” 

You went to your parents’ place first, keeping up the pretense that you’d been staying at a friend’s and not at Joel’s during your trip home, and you helped your mom finish up the last of dinner preparations. 

“You’re sure Joel’s not bringing anybody?” Your mom asked your dad as the two of you set the table, your dad camped in front of the television watching football. 

“S’what he said,” he replied absently before smacking his hand down on the arm of his recliner. “Fuckin’ hell! Dunno when we’re gonna field a goddamn defense this season…” 

“Well I thought you mentioned that he’d been seeing someone,” your mom said and your head snapped around to look at her so fast your neck popped. She frowned at you and you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking back down at the place setting you were arranging. 

“Said I thought he was seein’ someone,” your dad corrected her. “Been actin’ all cagey last few months but he’s got this funny look on his face when he shows up for basketball is all.” 

You bit back a smile and put out the next napkin. 

“Well, that’s good,” your mom said. “I hope he is seeing someone. Joel’s a good guy, he deserves a good woman.” 

“I agree OH COME ON!” He was on his feet, remote clutched in his hand as a ref gestured on screen. He turned off the TV and threw the remote into the couch. “Well, there’s no comin’ back from that. I’m gonna take a piss before folks get here…” 

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that during the holidays,” your mother grumbled. The words were barely out of her mouth when the doorbell rang and she looked to you. “Would you mind getting that, sweetie?” 

“Sure,” you smiled and tried to keep yourself from running to the door, stopping at the mirror to check your hair and makeup before pulling the door open. Joel was standing there, one of those cocky, crooked smiles you loved so much on his face. 

“Well hi there,” he said, his brown eyes soft. 

“Hi,” you smiled and then feigned a frown. “I’m sorry… Jim, was it? Think we met at my parents’ anniversary party?” 

He pursed his lips for a second and rolled his eyes and you could tell he wanted to grab you and kiss you. 

“Joel,” he corrected you. “And yeah, somethin’ like that.” 

Your mother put Joel across from you, the two single people at the table, and you slipped your foot out of your shoe during dinner, tracing your toes over his calf where no one could see. 

“So, princess,” your dad said as dinner wound down and you were on your third glass of wine. “You ever gonna get a real job? Think about movin’ closer to home?” 

The room went silent, Joel’s eyebrows knitting together before looking toward your father at the head of the table. 

“Honey,” your mom said quietly, lightly scolding your dad. 

“What?” He asked, picking up his wine glass and taking a generous sip. “Think it’s a fair question. We bankrolled her gettin’ that damn degree thinkin’ she’d do something with herself and she’s, what, playing music for whackos?” 

“Dad,” your sister hissed, her eyes darting to her boyfriend across from her. “Cool it.” 

“I’m providing music therapy in an inpatient setting,” you said, setting your wine glass down. 

“You’re finding some damn way to chase that pipe dream of being a goddamn singer is what you’re doin’,” he replied. “It’s time to grow up, find a real job…” 

“Just because you don’t recognize the importance of mental health doesn’t mean my job isn’t real,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. 

“You said you wanted to study psychology so you could help people,” he cut you off. “Not so you could find some way to play rock star, and…” 

“And I think you’ve had a few too many,” Joel cut him off. Your dad opened his mouth to argue but Joel cocked his head, his jaw tense. “C’mon. You were just tellin’ me that she don’t come home enough, you think this shit is helping? It’s Thanksgiving. Cool it.” 

Your mom looked quickly between you and Joel before clearing her throat. 

“Pie, anyone?” She asked, ending the conversation before your dad had a chance to pick it up again.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said when you got back to Joel’s that night, taking your earrings out and setting them on the nightstand you’d claimed as yours. 

“He shouldn’t have said that shit to you,” Joel said, his voice heated. “Can’t believe he’d even think that shit let alone say it. I’d never dream of saying somethin’ like that to Sarah, not about to just let him…” 

“Yes, you are,” you said, crossing your arms and facing him. “He’s always been like that, he’s always only wanted me to exist as an extension of himself and only do what he thinks is worthwhile. It’s nothing new, I’m used to it…” 

“Well, you fuckin’ shouldn’t be,” he snapped. “You deserve better than that.” 

“It’s great that you believe that,” you said. “I do, too. But if we want to make this work? You can’t come to my rescue. If it happens again, you have to let me handle it. Understand?” 

He sighed before going and kissing your temple. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

July 4th, 19 months later

“Do we really have to go?” You groaned, Joel’s ceiling fan turning lazily over your head. You were naked, the only way you could handle being anywhere close to Joel in this heat, your bodies sticky with sweat and come. 

“You are visiting for the holiday,” he said, toying with your fingers. “Probably look pretty damn weird if you don’t turn up for the cookout.” 

You sighed. 

“You’re right,” you said. “But you have to behave yourself this time. Actually behave yourself, I mean it.” 

“When do I not behave myself?” He teased. “I’m always on my best behavior when it comes to you, baby.”

You snorted. 

“Is that what you called it when you cornered me in the bathroom last Christmas and stuck your tongue down my throat?” You asked. 

“Yup,” he said. 

“How about when you pick a fight with my dad when he says something shitty?” 

“He stops sayin’ shitty stuff, I’ll stop fighting ‘im on it,” Joel shrugged. You groaned. “I just don’t understand that man. I love ‘im like a brother, and all he says about you when you aren’t around is glowing. You’d think that man worships the ground you walk on but for some reason, you come home and he decides to act like a fuckin’ jackass and I’m not about to just let him talk to you that way, baby, I’m sorry but I’m not. I’d stop any man from talking about his kid that way but I’m sure as hell not gonna just let him do it to you.” 

“Your chivalry would be hotter if it wasn’t putting our entire relationship at risk,” you said wryly. 

He shrugged. 

“We gotta tell him eventually, baby,” he said. “And if he finds out because he was being an ass, well, that’s on him.” 

You went into what had become your usual habit with Joel and holidays. When he wasn’t with Sarah - another hurdle you had yet to cross, not sure how she’d feel about her father dating someone just two years older than her - the two of you were usually together. When you came to Austin like you were now, you went to your parents’ house first and pitched in with your mother, counting the minutes until he showed up at the door. When he did, with his special recipe baked beans in hand, a profound relief took you. He was there, with you, and you were making it work. 

Or you were, until your dad made a back handed comment about your career yet again. 

You clenched your hand a little tighter around your beer bottle and you opened your mouth to respond but Joel beat you to it. 

“I don’t know why you say that kind of crap,” he said, going from leaning against a fence post by the pool to rising to his full and frankly massive height. “You tryin’ to make your kid feel like shit? Make her think you ain’t proud of her and what she does? Because I got news for you, bud, you’re damn lucky to have someone like her for a kid, someone who’s smart and kind and talented as hell. You’re damn lucky she comes around here at all, you talking to her the way you do and I’m not about to just let you pull that shit in front of me!” 

You stood there, mouth open, staring at your boyfriend who no one knew was your boyfriend. The party had gone silent, the only sounds coming from the sizzle of burgers on the grill and the quiet guitar of background music from the speakers around the pool. 

“Don’t much appreciate bein’ spoken to like that in my own home, friend,” your dad said eventually, his voice low and dangerous. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Joel muttered, setting his beer bottle down with a little too much force on a nearby table. “I’ll see myself out.” 

He hardly looked your way on his way to his truck and, when the rest of the guests left that night, you just had to pray that your mom believed you when you lied and said you didn’t know why Joel would act like that because of you. 

Two months later 

“It’s just not working,” you said, your voice thick. 

You didn’t like doing this. You didn’t want to do this. You needed to do this. 

“Baby,” he said, a pleading edge to his voice. “C’mon, I know… I know things have been rough, that the distance is real hard and that I fucked up when you were here last but…” 

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked, rubbing your temple with one hand and clutching your phone to your head with the other. 

“I thought we were lovin’ each other,” he said in a voice so sad and weak it almost broke you. 

“To what end?” You asked. “Where is this going? We’ve been doing this for more than two years now and what’s changed? We’re still in different states, my parents still don’t know and neither does your daughter, our lives are still separate. We have no where to go from here and I just… I can’t keep doing this. It’s not working.” 

“Isn’t it worth it like it is?” He said softly. 

“Joel,” you whispered. 

He sighed. 

“You’re right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just… You’re right. I shouldn’t hold you back, you deserve to have whatever you want.” 

“So do you,” you said quietly. 

He laughed once. 

“We both know that ain’t true,” he said. “Just… take care of yourself for me, OK baby? Give yourself something good.” 

“You too,” you said, just letting yourself sob now. 

“Still love you, baby,” he almost whispered. “Think I always will.” 

You pressed your nails into your palm. You weren’t sure you could survive saying it back. 

He didn’t ask you to. 

“I’ll see you around,” he said. “Bye, baby.” 

He hung up before you said I love you, too. 

Seven Years Later

You wondered if you should feel guilty, looking at your engagement ring on your finger as your new fiance snored lightly beside you. 

Reid was a good man. You’d met on a dating app a few years earlier, a few casual boyfriends between you and the disintegration of your relationship with Joel by then but he still lingered there on the edge of your consciousness. Never close but never far away, either. 

Your new fiance had wooed you in the usual way. He charmed you over text, he thoughtfully arranged dates, he even sent you flowers the first time you slept with him. He did almost everything right, even if he was sometimes oddly distant and unreachable. You were happy when he got down on one knee at the mini-golf course he’d taken you to on your first date, a large and shining diamond held out to you as an offering. 

But for a moment, just half a second, it wasn’t Reid you wanted to ask you that question. It was Joel, the man you’d loved more than any other, the man you hadn’t spoken to in the better part of a decade, the man you had no business still loving that you wanted to ask for your hand. 

Breaking things off had been the right call. You were right, it couldn’t work. You couldn’t have with him what you had with Reid, someone to sleep next to every night and plan a future with every day. But fuck, you still wished you could. 

You toyed with the ring, twisting it on your finger, the stone feeling oddly heavy on your hand. Reid was a good man. One you could settle down with, one you could build a life with. He was what you needed. 

You rolled over and wrapped around a pillow, trying to not think of Joel as you fell asleep next to your fiance. 

***

Bar None, Present Day

Joel thought he was crazy when he saw you. 

It wouldn’t surprise him if he’d lost his mind, spending the last decade hung up on you the way he had. There hadn’t been a day that passed since you left him that he didn’t think about you. He wondered how you were doing, if you were too stressed at work or if you were drinking enough water or if you’d seen a movie he thought you’d like. 

Sometimes, he just thought about you existing in your life. He pictured you on your couch reading or laughing with a glass of wine in your hand or lying in bed with your eyes half closed as you drifted toward sleep. He liked doing that, picturing you in your space in the intimate moments of your life. 

Others, he thought about the deeper things. He thought about you being happy, both alone and with someone else. He thought about you getting older and advancing in your life and your career. He thought about you struggling sometimes and how he wished he could make it easier. He thought about sending you flowers on your birthday and almost did a few times before deciding that might mess things up for you, if you were dating someone and flowers from another man showed up at your door so he didn’t because all he wanted was for you to be happy. 

He’d started talking to your dad again, a few months after you broke things off with him. They made up in that gruff way men did, dodging any and all emotion as much as they could. Joel latched on to everything your father mentioned about you. He became masochistic, in a way. Asking after you sometimes, checking in on how you were doing, seeing if your dad took pictures when you came home for the holidays. The day you got engaged was a punch to the gut. Your dad had proudly announced it to the whole team at their game that night, damn near glowing. That hit him harder than he thought it would. 

You really were gone, then. It really was over. Your dad had shown him the picture you’d sent him when you’d gotten engaged. It was a selfie, a man much closer to your age than Joel was holding you close and tight as you held your ring up for the camera and smiled broadly. But, he thought - maybe wishfully - it didn’t reach your eyes. Not really. Some part of this wasn’t entirely what you wanted. 

He shouldn’t like that - and most of him didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have every good thing you could because you deserved that. But the rest of him was selfish because he wanted to be the one to give you those things. He wanted to give you smiles and orgasms and fucking diamond rings. 

But he could’t. And you deserved someone who could. 

He’d tried to move on in your years apart, he really had. He’d tried dating for a while. Sarah even showed him how to set up a dating app and he went out with a few women but it hadn’t been any different than it had been in the past. It wasn’t long before he gave up, resigning himself to a life where the best of it was behind him. 

Going to Bar None was one of those masochistic things he just kept doing. He tried not to go too often, limiting himself to once a month at most. Some months were better than others. Sometimes, he could go six, eight weeks without stepping foot inside the place he’d first met you. Others, he went back three or four nights in a row. He always sat at the same spot he’d been at when he first saw you, like if he stayed rooted there long enough you’d walk back into his life and you could pick up right where you left off. 

Still, it was a shock when he saw you come in with your friends that night. He forced himself to sit there and wait even though your eyes found his the second you were in the door. 

You were engaged. Maybe even home for some kind of wedding related event. The last thing you needed was some ex-boyfriend butting in where he wasn’t wanted. 

But… you were looking at him. Not just looking at him, looking at him the way you used to, looking at him like you wanted him. So, when the last of your friends got up and left and you were there at the table, alone, he couldn’t help it. He went to you. 

And you weren’t wearing a ring.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, looking at your bare hand for a moment before going back to your face. “Your dad didn’t say…” 

“Yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled,” you smiled a little, putting your hand back in your lap. “He lost out on some deposit money for the wedding when that fell through. Thankfully, he got to place the blame on my ex and not on me.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” Joel asked, trying to keep from feeling hopeful. Lord knows he shouldn’t. 

“He cheated on me,” you said, shrugging simply as though you’d said he’d forgotten what you’d sent him to the store to get.

“Shit,” Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s a scumbag, not to mention a fuckin’ dumbass.” 

You smiled a little and shrugged again. 

“It happens,” you said. “And, honestly… I was a little relieved. The closer we got to the wedding, the more I wondered if I was doing the right thing.” 

Joel’s heart sped up. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “As much as I loved him, it just… it wasn’t the same as how I felt for this one guy I dated before.” 

“Really?” Joel asked, forcing himself to stay in his seat and not take your face in his hands and kiss you. 

“Really,” you smiled a little bigger now, one that it looked like you were struggling to contain. “We dated for a while and I loved him so much. I still do. But I was stupid, I let a bunch of life things get in the way and I didn’t fight for things with him the way I should have.”

Joel moved a little closer to you. 

“Probably not stupid,” he said. “Probably just practical.” 

“Nah, it was stupid,” you said. “When you love someone that much, the only practical thing is to figure it out, you know?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.” 

“Anyway,” you said. “I decided to come back here. See if he was still single and willing to make a go of it. A real go of it this time, one where we say fuck all the life problems because this is worth it.” 

“Well,” Joel said, his heart racing now. “He’d be a fool to turn you down. He was a fool for letting you go to begin with.” 

You smiled all the way then before leaning into him slowly, hesitantly. You kissed him, gentle and soft and your lips were so familiar but so electric on him. Something in him came alive at your touch, sparking low and deep and hot and he was suddenly desperate for you. His hands moved of their own accord, one to hold your face to his, the other to take your waist, slipping around to your back, pulling you damn near off your bar stool and into him, his tongue dipping into the sweetness that was your mouth. 

After what seemed like forever and no time at all, you pulled back from him, breathless and wide eyed. 

“Want to come back to my place?” You asked quietly. “I’m still unpacking but it’s not far.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly and then laughed a little. As if he wouldn’t go anywhere you asked. “Course I do.” 

You were barely in the door when your arms were around his neck, your body pressed tightly to the front of him, his hands snaking around to hold you close. You led him to your bedroom, tugging at his clothes and stepping out of yours until both of you were naked next to your bed. Joel’s eyes ran over you in the dark, the slats of the blinds casting lines of moonlight over your bared skin. You were somehow - impossibly - even more beautiful than he remembered, his hands gently running over the outline of you in front of him. 

“You sure about this?” He asked quietly. 

“I’m sure,” you whispered back. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.” 

He smiled at that, kissing you before that smile swallowed him up, and he lowered you onto the bed. He guided you back on it, until you were in the middle of the mattress and he settled between your thighs. His cock - already so hard it almost hurt and dripping with want - nestled against your soft, wet heat, the head of him brushing your clit as he rocked himself against you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed as he kissed your neck, drinking in the smell of your perfume and skin and just a little bit of sweat from the heat of the bar. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you, too,” he dragged his teeth up and over your skin to nip at your ear lobe. “So goddamn much.” 

He kissed over your skin, pressed himself against your warmth, worked himself against your slit, savoring every part of you he could possibly touch until you were dripping and damn near writhing below him. 

“Please,” you panted, your fingers knotting in the hair at his nape. “I need you, I need you inside me, please, I…” 

He just nodded, separating from you enough to look between your bodies as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing just the tip of him inside your grasping pussy before settling on top of you again. His eyes found yours in the dark, your skin soft on his, your mouth open as you whimpered in pleasure and want. 

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Give you everything you need.” 

You nodded quickly, frantically, and he pushed inside, his cock spreading you open and he had to fight to not close his eyes and get totally lost in the feel of you. But he needed everything, he needed to see you while he felt you and heard you and breathed you in. It had been too long since he’d seen you like this - back arched, mouth agape, keening and whining from his cock. He needed it like he needed water or air, needed you with him like this as often as he could get it. He needed you with him in every other way, too. He was an addict, there was never going to be enough. He knew now, after years of drought, that he would happily drown in you if you’d let him. 

He kissed you as he bottomed out inside, the whole of him filling the whole of you. Your walls clung to him, already fluttering lightly over him, your thighs wrapped around his hips as he held himself deep. He could taste you now, too, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Finally, he had all of you again, overwhelming all of him again. 

When he started to move inside you, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too goddamn good and it had been years since he’d last been with anyone without a condom. But he didn’t need to worry about making you come, he could tell you were already close. It had been years since he last had you but his body knew yours deeply and intimately. He knew how your hips moved when you got close, how your channel would draw tight for a moment before relaxing ever so slightly, again and again until you were pulled so close around him that he knew you were right on the precipice of your climax. 

“Come on baby,” he whispered, looking in your wide eyes. “Come for me, let me feel you.” 

You cried out, the sound cracked and desperate, and he pressed deep as you came, your channel throbbing and pulsing over him so hard that the rest of the world fell away. All that was left was you and how you were taking him, you and how damn good your pleasure felt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, still grinding his cock deep into you until your orgasm started to ease. “Not gonna last baby, can I come in you? Fuck, please…” 

“Please, Joel,” you moaned but, before he could start fucking into you hard and fast, your fingers dug into his bicep and your eyes met his, pleading in a new way. “But… I’m not on anything.” 

He stilled inside you, your cunt still tight around him, the last aftershocks of your orgasm running over him. You wanted him to come inside unprotected. He knew you’d always wanted children. You’d even day dreamed about it with him, fingers laced with his when you were naked in bed, but that’s all it had ever been: a dream. Now, you were damn near asking for it. 

“You sure?” He asked, breathless. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want you. All of you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck and fucking into you in earnest, his cock harder than it had ever been at your words. “I’m yours baby, only ever been yours.” 

Your thighs tightened against his sides, your hips rising to meet his, your pussy drawing tight around him again as he worked down into you and he moaned into your skin as he came, the heavy pulse of his orgasm making you come around him again, finding the height of your shared being together again, the way it seemed like it always should have been. 

When his climax finally eased, he went limp on top of you for a moment, your hands tracing slow, easy paths over the breadth of his back. When it felt like he could control his limbs again, he kissed your shoulder and pulled out of you gently, falling to your side. You rolled to face him and he tugged you close before lacing his fingers with yours, brushing over your knuckles as he did. 

“Did you mean that?” He asked quietly, eventually. 

“Yes,” you said softly, watching him closely. “I know what I want, Joel. I went a long time without you. I had a lot of time to think about things. I know what I want and what I want is you. I wanted you while we were apart, too, I was just… too afraid of what that might mean. But I know better now.” 

“What about your family?” He asked. “Your dad… not sure he’ll ever forgive us.” 

“Don’t care,” you said. “I fight with him all the time, anyway. At least this is a good reason to.” 

He smiled a little. 

“And it doesn’t bother you that I’ve got a kid who’s just two years younger than you?” He asked. 

“Moved past that years ago,” you smiled back. “Does it bother you?” 

“Moved past that years ago,” he said, too, and you laughed. 

“Does it bother you that I…” you took a deep breath. “That I want kids?” 

He watched you closely for a moment, your lower lip drawn between your teeth. 

“Haven’t thought much about having more kids,” he said. “But the times I have… they’ve been yours.” 

“Really?”

“Every time,” he said. “S’long as you don’t mind them having an old dad…” 

You laughed again, all gentle and easy, the way things were when the two of you were alone together. 

“Think we can manage,” you said. “I just want you. Everything else? We’ll figure it out.” 

He smiled a little and he reached out, cupping your cheek and looking in your eyes and feeling a spark in his chest that said he was holding the whole world in his palm. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Think we will.” 

A/N: I'm SO SORRY it took me a million years to finish this, I really didn't intend to. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

I hope you enjoyed these two crazy kids. I had a blast writing them. Thank you for being here and for putting up with the insane wait between chapters. Love you!

[borathae]

Man of the Hour

“You love your best friends, which means that Jungkook will do anything in his powers to make sure that they are safe.”

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Comfort

Warnings: protective!Jungkook, one of OC's friends needs help and he is there for her, sexual harassment, he's the best hubby ever, mentions of sexwork, tears, he's quite frankly The Man

Wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: the header fucking ruins me. he is so handsome ngngn. also, i saw a tiktok about a woman's husband helping her bestie move out of her abusive ex's place and went "you know what? aaol!Kook would always be there for OC's besties" so i wanted to write something about it 🤍

Six fourty two. Jungkook has a little over an hour left until he can finally go home. He doesn’t know that yet because he is currently lost in his work. He has concepts to write and contracts to go through. Jungkook has a very thorough and good team of lawyers which go through anything law related, but Jungkook still likes to check for himself. In his field of work, it is best to trust himself and only himself.

You are already at home, promising him dinner. His favourite. He can’t wait to get home to you. He will give you the tightest hug imaginable and then follow it up with a smooch to your face and lots of promises of his eternal love.

His phone rings. 

Jungkook looks at his smart watch, furrowing his brows in confusion. This is a caller he hadn’t expected to call. He picks up with a funny feeling in his stomach.

“Noona?”

“Jungkook, thank fuck you picked up. I didn’t know who else to call, I need your help.”

At that his ears perk up. The distress is obvious in her voice.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Loud club music plays in the background. Distorted voices are filling the chaos as well.

“No. I’m at Saturn and there are men who want to hurt me. T-they keep talking about taking turns on, on me.”

Jungkook straightens up in his chair.

“Are you safe right now?”

“I locked myself in the bathroom.” Loud banging. “Jungkook, can you please come and get me? They’re banging on the door. I’m scared.”

“I’m coming. Don’t go anywhere. I promise, I’m coming.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The phone call ends.

“Noona? Wheein noona?” Jungkook tries, ‘goddamn it, I’m coming.”

He leaves his office quickly, typing in your number to let you know what was happening.

“Bunny, hey there”, you sound happy about his call. “Are you coming home earlier?”

“Wheein noona is in danger.”

“What!?”

“She just called me that she is at Saturn and some assholes are trying to hurt her. She’s in the bathroom, safe for now, but I’m gonna get her.”

“Holy fuck, Kook. Please get her, please. I’m gonna call her right away.”

“Do that. See you later, love.”

“See you.”

The phone call ends. Jungkook gets into his car moments later, driving off as quickly as the law allows. He won’t let Wheein wait. He won’t let any of your friends wait. 

They lovingly call him their adoptive man of the hour sometimes because he will always be there for them if one of them needs male support. Be it something as innocent as moving furniture too heavy or hanging up curtains on a window too high, Jungkook will be there to help as best as possible. The same counts for the heavy stuff. Like rescuing Wheein from a dangerous situation because some men see a sex worker and think they have free range to do anything to her. Or stuff like letting Byulyi crash in his guest bedroom for a few weeks because her ex boyfriend turned out to be a piece of shit abuser and she needed to escape the situation. He even helped her move all her stuff, taking his biggest car so she wouldn’t have to go back to the place more than once. 

Jungkook cares and he cares honestly. Which is why he is officially the adoptive man of the hour for your girls. 

Tonight is no different. Jungkook hurries to the club bathroom as quickly as possible, pushing strangers aside with little care about how rude he might seem. Manners don’t count when one of his friends is in danger. 

The men aren’t in front of the bathroom anymore, but that doesn’t calm Jungkook down. They could still be hiding somewhere, waiting for a moment to jump Wheein if she ever comes out. 

He knocks on the door, calling out Wheein’s name.

“It’s me. Jungkook. The air’s clear, I promise.” 

Seconds later the door unlocks. Her face is messy because she cried off her makeup.

“Noona, hey there.” Jungkook steps closer, resting his hands on the doorframe so she was shielded from prying eyes and therefore safe. “I came as quickly as I could. How are you?”

“I’m sorry for calling. I didn’t know who else to call. You’re the only man I can trust.”

“Don’t apologise, noona. I’m just glad that you’re okay. Should we go home?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Our place or yours?”

“Can I s-stay at your place for a while?” she stutters, looking smaller than normally. Anxiety is definitely shrinking her.

“Of course, you can.” Jungkook assures her and looks over his shoulder. A few men are looking at him. Is that them? He sends them a deathly glare, then looks back at Wheein with soft eyes. “Is it okay for me to put my arm around you? So I can keep you safe?”

“Yeah, please. I’m sorry, I know that’s a lot to ask.”

“Don’t worry. It’s to keep you safe. You can hide away in my side if you need to. I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

“Thank you so much”, she barely gets out and seeks safety in his arms, knowing that she won’t be hurt anymore. And Jungkook takes pride in knowing that he can help her leave this shady place unharmed. He won’t ever let any of your friends get hurt. He will protect them just as much as he will protect you. They are his girls because they are your girls. And Jungkook fights for his girls.

The strange men inch closer like hyenas. So Jungkook’s gist was correct.

“Where are you taking her? We were here first”, one of them tries to fight him, while the others gawk lustfully. Like fucking starving animals. Disgusting.

“I’m gonna punch in your face if you keep talking”, Jungkook spits and leads Wheein past them without giving them any more attention.

“Hey!”

“Come back!”

They call after them.

“Don’t listen to them, noona. I’m here now”, Jungkook assures her and pulls her closer, “fuck, should I get back there and get their names? I’ll tell my lawyers to take care of them.”

“No please just, please just take me away”, she pleads because she is too scared to stay in this situation any longer. Jungkook respects her decision even if he really wants to punish them.

“Alright, I will. Don’t worry”, Jungkook promises, leading her safely out of the club and to his car.

He helps her inside and rounds the car, looking at the club one last time. The animals which call themselves men are lingering by the entrance, sending deathly glances Jungkook’s way.

“Fucking vermin”, he presses out and gets inside his car. He locks the doors and starts the engine. “I’ve got water in the door compartment if you need it.”

“Thank you”, Wheein whispers and relaxes in the seat just as Jungkook finally takes her away from the scary situation.

You are in the parking garage, dressed in slippers and your loungewear and looking beyond worried, when they finally arrive at home. You run to Wheein the moment the car pulls in, calling out to her.

“Unnie! Oh god, I was so worried!” you hug her tightly. So tightly in fact that her brittle composure finally breaks and she cries into your shoulder. 

“I was so scared. So, so scared.”

“I’m sorry, unnie. Oh god this is awful, I’m sorry. Let’s go upstairs, I made tea.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much I need this tonight.”

“Unnie, of course. You can crash here if you want to.”

“I think I do.”

“You can stay as long as you need. What happened? Do you wanna tell me? Oh god, unnie I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

“I was so scared. One of them recognised me from Paradis and, and then he and his friends tried to get me to fuck them and when I said no they followed me to-” She hides away in your arms. “I can’t.”

“It’s okay unnie, it’s okay. Just cry in my arms, I’m here.”

Jungkook lets you and Wheein talk, while he stands next to you and listens, rubbing your lower back soothingly. Wheein cries the entire elevator ride, telling you all about what happened while you curse at the men. Jungkook wanted to curse as well. He hates most of his fellow men a lot. He bears witness to how most act and think and talk when there are no women present. If Jungkook saved up each time one of his business partners made a misogynistic “joke” about their wives or women in general, he would be able to buy a house within six months. If he saved up each time he has one of them confesses how they are cheating on said wives followed by a “huh? As a man you should understand me” when Jungkook voices his distaste for such behaviour, he could buy a new sports car within seven months. Jungkook loathes most of his fellow men and how they carry their hatred for half of humanity with fucking pride. 

Wheein eats dinner with you, after taking a shower and borrowing some of your clothes. You sit by her side, holding her hand as she keeps repeating the story over and over again to work through it. Neither you nor Jungkook mind that she keeps repeating herself. Sometimes one just needs to keep talking about the same stuff over and over again until it finally stops hurting.

After dinner, you and Jungkook don’t really get to talk a lot because somehow the situation was so shocking that you both forgot to function until Wheein was truly safe in her bed. 

Jungkook is still in his suit, cleaning the kitchen after loading the dishwasher, when you return from the bathroom. He shrugged off his jacket and tie, but kept his waistcoat on. The main lights are off, only the stand lights in the living room are turned on and the light above the stove. Jungkook likes working in darkness because it is easier on his eyes. They get sensitive after a long day at the office.

You come up behind him, sneaking your arms around him so your hands were resting on his pecs innocently. Jungkook places the towel aside and leans back into your hug, caressing your lower arms.

“Thank you”, you whisper.

“Mhm”, he hums, closing his eyes. 

“Thank you so fucking much.”

He hums again. You turn him to you, holding his hands and pressing them against his chest. He looks at you, waiting for you to speak. The gratitude in your eyes is almost consuming them whole.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate what you did for Wheein today. What you keep doing for all of them.”

“They’re your best friends, which means I gotta be there for them. No, I want to be there for them.”

“You and I both know that not many think this way. Seriously, thank you so fucking much.”

He smiles, discarding you with a shake of his head.

“I’m just glad that noona is safe.”

“Me too. Fuck, me too”, you say, sagging your shoulders. You look up at him, pouting sadly to the point where your lower lip trembles. “I think I need a hug.”

“Come here.” Jungkook hugs you, rubbing the back of your head. “She’s safe now. I promise.”

“I’m so glad.”

“Me too.” Jungkook hugs you tighter when he hears you sniffle. “Let it out if you need to. I’m here for you.”

You melt into him, feeling safe. He is truly the man of the hour. Your gentle, good hearted man of the hour. 

[skyahri]

Shock |Kakashi Hatake X Reader|

Summary: An uninvited guest on Kakashi’s doorstep might be a little trouble, but it's worth it in the end.

Warnings: canon compliant violence, mentions of blood and death, reader is in shock, medical equipment.

Word Count: 5.2k

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

"I'm sorry, I um- I don't know why I'm here."

Out of curiosity, Kakashi cracks his front door open just a bit wider so he can get a better look at you. You're in your anbu attire, blood coating your clothes and splattered on your face. Your hands are shaking and you're shifting on your feet. You look manic- pupils blown and an unreadable expression on your face.

"It's kinda funny that I am, though, right? Knocking on your door in the middle of the night, covered in blood like a lunatic."

He peeks out into the hall, but there's no one else. No secondary footprints or chakra residuals. It's just you, like you said, covered in blood like a lunatic.

"You don't even like me and yet I still came here. I could've gone, well, anywhere else. I probably should've gone home... or the Hokage's office."

In your senseless muttering, you had gotten it right- you should've gone somewhere- anywhere- else. Why come here? While he's never been unnecessarily mean, he'd also never been kind to you, and yet here you are, waking him up at three in the morning, talking his ear off in some sort of haze.

"He'll probably want an update on my mission. He has to send a recovery team for the others, too. I think I need a medic before that, though. I hope he doesn't mind waiting."

He furrows his eyebrows at your rambling. You've always been a talker, but never like this. Never this unorganized and rushed, like your only goal was to fill the silence the night brought-

Wait.

"Recovery team?"

"It's kinda cold out don't you think? Usually, we have a few more weeks until it snows, but I think it's coming sooner this year. I've been trying to knit a blanket between missions, but I don't think I'll finish it before-"

You don't answer. You don't even acknowledge that he's said anything at all. You just keep talking. He's not sure what possessed him to do so (maybe it's his trauma responding to your off handed comment about a recovery team), but against better judgement, Kakashi sets his hand on your back and guides you inside his apartment. He locks the door before sitting you at his dining room table and searching around his cupboards for a cloth. He wets it, rings it out, and turns towards you.

"I found some really pretty yarn in Suna last year. Forest green and dandelion yellow and the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen. The woman who makes it gave me a pattern for an Afghan, said it's perfect for winter."

He wipes the cloth across your face, folding it over a few times to get as much blood as possible (why was there so much?) before returning to the sink to rinse it out and start again. He notices how you continue to stare straight ahead, completely unbothered by anything he's doing. Your words never falter, not even when he takes a firm hold of your face to make his task easier.

"I have four chakra natures... never really picked up lightning if I'm being honest. Did you know that? Nevermind, you're Kakashi, of course, you know that."

He tosses the rag into the sink and slowly moves to undo your weapon holster. It's light, and a quick peak in the pocket confirms that there's nothing left in there. He sets it aside, not really caring about the red puddle it's creating on the floor. He removes your gloves and kneels to untie your shoes.

"I copied that mudslide you use, by the way. It's crazy... changes the entire course of a battle in a split second. I'd say I hope you won't mind, but I know you will. You always mind when it comes to me."

He had you stand up and ushered you towards his bathroom. He turned on the faucet and tested the water to make sure it was warm. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and tapped your side, hoping that somewhere in your spaced out mind you'd get the hint and undress yourself. Lucky for him, you did, but not without falter.

"Your apartment's nice by the way. Very clean and organized and looks like someone actually lives here. All I have is a bed and a dresser. I don't have much time to appreciate anything else."

The motion was less than graceful. You used one hand to slip the tight fabric over your head and down your left arm, which stayed at your side despite the obstacle it caused. You expertly unclipped your bra and let it fall forward off your shoulders and to the ground, and had your pants and underwear there a second after. He doesn't stare, partially because he's already seen you naked before in the locker room from time to time, and partially because even in his perverted mind, he knows it's not the time.

"When I retire one day like you, I want my apartment to be just as homey. I'll be able to enjoy it since I'll be home longer than a day at a time."

He isn't too sure what to make of the current situation. He's pushing you under the showerhead, absently listening to you drone on, but all he can think about is how off-putting the whole thing is. You'd been in ops for a long time- long enough to not warrant a reaction like this after just any mission. Despite any sort of way he may have felt about you in the past, you've never been one to be affected by the carnage, a quality he's always appreciative of in his teammates. So what the Hell happened?

"My fifteenth anbu anniversary is coming up in December. Owl said he'd throw me a party, but I guess that's not happening anymore."

Your eyes fall from the wall in front of you to the drain on the ground. The water is muddy- the blood, sweat, and tears acquired from a month-long mission being washed away like nothing.

"I don't think I even like parties. I've never had one, which is why he offered in the first place. He wanted to celebrate my birthday, but I wouldn't tell him when it was. Drove him crazy."

Why is he even doing this? He must be losing it, honestly. Standing behind you, washing your hair as his clothes get completely soaked. This isn't something he's ever done, and even now, it's something he could never imagine doing for anyone else. You used to annoy the shit out of him, following him around in your youth and trying to be overly friendly when he clearly wasn't interested. If sixteen-year-old him had seen him in this moment, he'd surely have a fit.

"It's June 2nd, by the way. I don't think I've ever told anyone that. I don't even know why I told you. It's fine. You probably won't remember and even if you do, you aren't much of a gossip."

When the bulk of the debris is cleared away, he finally gets a good look at what's causing you to favor one arm. A gash curves around your shoulder blade and wraps around your torso, going all the way down to your pubic bone. It's deep and jagged, most likely from a dull kunai.

"I bet I'll get a few days off after this. Gai has been pestering me for a while now to try that new cold soba place. I think I'll go. He'll probably ask you to go, which would be nice, especially if Kurenai and Asuma come."

He hands you a soapy washcloth and watches as you diligently clean your hands. It's interesting, the way you scrub under your fingernails and between your fingers. It's probably muscle memory from years of trying to get the image of blood off your hands. He thinks, for only a moment, that maybe you aren't so different from him, you just put up a different front.

"I can't wait to have a nice meal. I'm so fucking sick of the MREs. It's a dumb thing to care about, but I think it's the smaller stuff that matters in this line of work."

He dries your hair before handing you the towel, leaving you to finish it off so he can grab you some clothes, changing his own while he's in there. Just sweats and a tee, and a pair of briefs if you'll take them. He hands you the bottoms first, withholding the top until he can get a better look at the wound.

"We were gone an extra week. My neighbor's gonna lecture me for sure this time. She always worries that I won't come back."

He thought for a moment, debating on whether or not he should outsource your injury. Honestly, even with immediate medical ninjutsu, this severe of an injury, not to mention how old it seems to be, is sure to leave a pretty nasty scar. Jostling you around to get across the village to the hospital may do more harm than good at this point in time.

"She's got three kids. All super loud, but they're really sweet. They think I'm the coolest person in the world, always saying they wanna be like me when they grow up. God, I hope they realize they should want more."

He grabs the first aid kit from the closet in the restroom and pulls up a chair next to his bed. He pushes you face down onto the mattress, your words becoming slightly muffled by his pillow. He's only ever stitched himself, and even then it was just a few here and there, not a hundred.

Your skin is soft compared to his rough hands. You seem like the kind of person to take care of yourself whenever possible, so he supposes it's not too surprising. He almost feels bad, being an accomplice to the desecration of your otherwise flawless body, but there's nothing to be done. All he can do is try and be as precise and delicate as possible and hope the wound heals nicely.

"Kumo is really nice this time of year. They don't have a lot of greenery but their flowers bloom around this time, just before the first snow falls- AH!"

It was like someone woke you up with a bucket of ice water to the face. You flinch hard when he sticks the needle through your skin. The area is tender, obviously, and the not-so-gentle tug of your flesh is enough to knock you out of your shock.

"Ah, there she is."

In the onslaught of your panic, you don't register, well, anything. You start to get up and the fact that you're half naked on his bed goes over your head. Before you can even prop yourself up onto your elbows, he's pushing your body down, large hands taking up the majority of your uninjured back.

"Relax. You're gonna fuck up the clotting if you keep squirming like that."

You lower yourself, but can't seem to loosen up at all. The blood loss and adrenaline crash are making your head spin. You feel sick and disoriented, and can't seem to to get a grip.

"Seriously, relax. Can't do what I need to if you keep freaking out."

You try to focus on his hands. They're rough from years of training, calloused, and strong as any other man would be, but the way he rubs his thumb back and forth over your spine is soft and doting. Years of unfamiliarity and pushback have left you hardly knowing him at all, but even you can tell this is his way of saying he's calm, and you should be too. Kakashi is a reasonable man, and it's safe to lower your guard around him.

When your breathing evens, he continues with the sutures as if it were nothing, emitting the same energy someone would put towards sudoku. Without the cushion of shock and adrenaline, you can feel how serious the wound really is. You push the unsettling feeling of the cool air against your exposed muscle to the back of your brain, preferring to instead lean into the warmth of his comforter. It has a more natural, woodsy, type of scent, similar to the shampoo he'd washed your hair with.

Kakashi is completely immersed in his work. He still has a ways to go, but he's rather pleased with his progress. Even spacing and perfectly taught, Rin would surely be proud.

"You're different."

He's caught off guard when you speak. If he's being honest, he assumed you'd somehow managed to fall asleep.

"Retirement has mellowed me out."

You don't respond and he doesn't bother to continue the conversation. The silence is comfortable. You hadn't talked to him in over a year, and even before that you were never on friendly terms, but the warmth in the air would lead an outsider to believe you were close.

It isn't long before he's offering you a hand and guiding you into a sitting position. He tugs a black shirt over your head and you pull your arms through, wincing at the stretch of your stitches. Your eyes go to the smear of red on your stomach, and subsequently the bedding. You absentmindedly thumb over the stain on his dark blue duvet cover.

"Don't worry about it. Just lie back down so I can finish the front."

You're too tired to argue with him, so you comply. He's leaning over you now that the injured side isn't directly facing him. His arms are warm against your skin and you have a better view of his face. Of course, he's still wearing that stupid mask, but you can easily make out the contours of his nose and lips. He's entirely focused, eyebrows pulled together and eyes fixed in front of him.

You hiss when he gets to the indent of your hip, knicking the bone. Your hand reaches to stop his, carelessly ignoring the fact that there's a needle sticking out of your skin. He looks up at you- your eyes are squeezed shut and your breathing is heavy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"'s fine. Just need a second."

He sets the needle driver down and splays his now free hand against your midriff. He's concerned for your comfort, a quality he wasn't aware he had, but that he apparently holds for you. He isn't even sure what he's doing with all of these subtle touches and acts of affection. Yesterday, you were just an annoying girl from his past, not too unlike Gai, and now he's finding himself losing his aloofness in favor of a more intimate moment.

Your hand eventually slides down his, gripping the juncture between his thumb and forefinger, a subtle sign that you're ready, before you fold your arms above your head.

He squeezes your side and resumes his previous position. He's more careful this time, not that he wasn't before. He's done within ten minutes, finishing it off with some dressings and tugging down your his shirt. He tugs the blanket out from under you and goes to grab the spare. It's a quick swap, the dirty one getting tossed in the general vicinity of his washer and the clean one is lazily thrown over you.

He starts to say something, but shuts his mouth when he notices you sleeping. You finally look peaceful. Your lips are chapped, your hair's a mess, and you're paler than usual, but peaceful nonetheless.

He sways his head side to side to side as he contemplates his next move. He could certainly just wait it out and situate himself on the couch with a book until you woke up. Or, he could do what Kurenai would call 'the chivalrous thing to do' and continue to care for you.

With a sigh, he summons Pakkun, who appears in a puff of smoke.

"You think you can keep an eye on her while I take care of some business?"

"You got it boss."

- - - - -

Your eyes felt heavy. It took more willpower than you'd care to admit to force them open, and even more to lift your hands to rub the sleep away. The soreness that spread across your shoulder and hip quickly reminded you where you were and what had happened.

You sat up and swung your feet over the side of Kakashi’s bed, planting them on the floor and setting your face in your hands. You hear footsteps, but don't bother to look up. Your head is swimming, your stomach is in knots, and your body is fighting to not collapse.

"Dinner is almost ready if you're up to it."

"I have to give my report before I can even think of anything else-"

"No need. It's already been handled."

You lift your head to give him a confused look, and that's when you see it. He's a bit uneasy, shuffling awkwardly until he's leaning against the door frame. He won't meet your gaze and you can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

"Handled?"

"I informed Lord Third of your return. He said not to bother with your full report until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

You turned your gaze back to the floor and sighed in relief, but the feeling didn't last as you began a rather fast paced descent into madness. You mulled over all the events of the day and couldn't help but think of all the things you should've done differently. You should've taken first watch. You should've forced an opening to send someone, or even a summoning, to get back up. You should've said no when the others wanted to camp for the night and insisted on moving forward.

But you didn't, and now the people you spent nearly every day of the past three years with paid the price, slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

While you had never been one to grow unnecessarily fond of your teammates in the past, you couldn't deny the personal affection you'd acquired for your team over the years. It was stupid to get so attached to people who signed up for a job that damn near guarantees death, but you couldn't help it. Not when Sato was convinced that the person responsible for his meal rations had it out for him by giving him all the worst options. Not when Kaito was complaining about another failed date that he definitely ruined by being, well, himself. Not when Yue always made the time to nicely braid your hair after an impromptu bath in the lake.

Especially not when they all went out of their way to ensure you that you were valued and loved.

Kakashi can't see your face, but he doesn't need to. The slight tremble of your frame and the shakiness of your breath tell him all he needs to know. Despite how uncharacteristically nice and patient he's been today, he's still not used to actually caring for people outside of just making sure they don't die. So he does the only thing he can think of and sets his heavy, uncoordinated dog paw of a hand on your head and ruffles your hair, much like he'd do for his ninken.

"Relax."

You can't help but snicker at the action. It's awkward, so much so that you can feel it radiating through his skin. Unlike him, though, you are very well versed in this area. You rub your hands down your face, drying any tears that may have fallen, and pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his firm stomach. He tenses but doesn't make any effort to move. Eventually, you feel his rigid hold on your head loosen, his fingers grazing across your scalp and then running through your hair.

"You suck at comforting people, you know?"

"It worked in the end, didn't it?"

You can't argue with him, not after he had so easily shut down your rapid spiral. Instead, you choose to focus on the moment and can't help but notice how intimate it feels. You're no stranger to physical affection, oftentimes using it to get out of difficult or uncomfortable questions, but never before has it felt like this. It could be that you're wearing his clothes and smell like his soap, or maybe it's the way one of his hands is cupped around the back of your head and pressing you further into his abdomen, but this feeling is definitely different from anything you've experienced up until this point.

Unbeknownst to you, Kakashi is having similar thoughts. His mind is going a thousand miles a minute, trying to push away his avoidant instincts. This past year has given him the opportunity to rewire his brain to be less... guarded, and he's hardly done anything with the newfound sense of freedom. Sure, he's managed to salvage his friendships, but even that much was due to other people's persistence, and not his own doing.

Maybe, just maybe, there's something specific about you. This entire experience has been ridiculously natural. You look like you belong in his apartment, in his clothes. Talking to you doesn't feel forced and there's not that weight he usually associates with social interaction. It's almost like you belong-

"Kakashi?"

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He shifts his gaze down to see you peering up at him. He gives a slight hum to acknowledge you.

"Weren't you cooking?"

Cursing himself under his breath, he pulls back, his hands sliding out of your hair and along the underside of your jaw. He quickly makes his way back into the kitchen, shutting off the stove and removing the pan from the burner. You follow after him and sit at his table. It's funny, really, the way he haphazardly moves around the kitchen like he's never touched a pan before. You shouldn't laugh at him, not after he's been so good to you, and especially because you probably wouldn't fare much better.

He set a plate in front of you and your face instantly lights up. You clap your hands together and thank him profusely for the food. It's quiet for a while. You're enjoying your first real meal in weeks and he's giving you the space to do so.

It's hard to ignore the looks he keeps sending your way. You avoid looking directly at him to preserve the bits of his face that his cupped hand doesn't cover, but you can still feel the holes burning into your skull. You know what he wants, and to be honest, you're surprised. It seems Kurenai was right with that off-handed comment a few months ago- Kakashi had become rather nosey in recent times. Or, maybe, he's always been keen to information, but due to his particular place in the ranks, he's never had to ask for it before.

Growing more uncomfortable under his gaze and sensing he won't be the one to break the ice, you take the initiative.

"Why'd you let me in?"

"I'm trying to be more receptive to people's efforts at friendship."

You nod. You were once on the receiving end of his less-than-amicable approach, and you were glad he was actually allowing people in after everything that happened in his youth.

"Why come here?"

You sigh, nervously running your hands up and down your thighs. Honestly, you hadn't been very present-minded when you knocked on his door last night. The journey back to the village was hard to recall. Even the few hours you spent awake with Kakashi earlier were blurry.

Every other time you've needed someone in the past, you've turned to Kurenai. It was easy to unwind around her. You didn't have to think about anything, just letting her force feed you snacks from a variety of vendors and drag you around to different shops.

That's not always enough, though, and even if you pretend it is, there's always a part of you that seeks out something more. Apparently, last night you had sought out that something.

"Sometimes... it's nice to be around people who understand,"

Kakashi nods. He's been on the receiving end of said behavior, and he knows exactly how exhausting it can be.

"Don't get me wrong, Kurenai and Gai are great, but... they ask so many questions. There's a big difference between regular Shinobi work and ANBU, especially with what I do, and it's just, I don't know. I just don't usually want to talk about the details."

"I get it."

Even though Kakashi is obviously curious, he doesn't pry. He really does get it. Constantly being asked if you're okay, if you wanna talk about it, being offered a shoulder to cry on- it's kind, but it gets old after a while. Especially when you're just trying to spend the limited free time you have as a person and not just an off duty shinobi.

"Can I ask you personal questions? Or are you gonna get all angsty on me?"

"Angsty? I'm not angsty,"

One pointed look from you is all it takes for him to cave.

"Yeah, yeah, just ask your damn questions."

"How's retirement?"

It's kind of complicated. He should be training genin right now, but he sank that ship before it even left the dock. Poor kids didn't even make it a day before they were right back in the academy. Or wait, could you mean personally? That's probably at least a little complicated, too. There's been a lot of change for him this past year, but that doesn't really mean much compared to others when you're practically crawling at the ripe age of twenty-four.

"I'm only asking how you've been doing, Kakashi, there's no need to fret."

He must've taken too long to answer. That's why you're filling in the blanks for him. He should feel embarrassed, but he doesn't. Your teasing tone is enough to subdue any negative connotations your interruption may have offered. Honestly, he's more so just confused as to how you knew exactly what he was thinking.

"... I have a lot of free time."

Man, you really do have to walk him through everything, huh?

"Is that a good thing?"

He shrugs and mulls over it for a moment.

"I'm used to being busy. It's just difficult to get used to. I imagine you'll have an even harder time adjusting once you retire."

"Why's that?"

"You've spent nearly your entire life in ANBU. The cool down from that is gonna be hard after it's been ingrained so deeply."

He's right about that. You'd joined at just seven years old, hadn't even been a genin a year.

"Do personal questions go both ways?"

"I don't see why not."

"Why'd they recruit you so early?"

Damn, he really went right for it. You swallowed hard. Your fingers drummed lightly on the pair of pants he'd lent you.

"It was the only way Lord Third could keep me out of root."

Oh God. Root. Kakashi knew all about Danzo and his followers, courtesy of Tenzo, of course. That place was disgusting and cruel. It was a wonder why it hadn't been shut down already.

"I'm not very smart, so I didn't stick out in the academy, but once I got onto the field and found my calling... let's just say Danzo had taken an interest in me."

Oh, Kakashi knows exactly what you're talking about. It's true. You couldn't do a henge or substitution jutsu to save you're life, but you made up for it tenfold. It's only fitting that the person dubbed 'Calamity' in bingo books be a force of nature, right? You had an abundance of chakra and raw strength that only Tsunade could parallel. All the jutsu you knew were hard hitters- mudslides, tornadoes, tsunamis- anything massive that didn't require a lot of concentration, you could pull off.

"It's fine, though. My fighting style isn't exactly useful on standard missions. Too much collateral damage."

You manage a laugh. It's a little awkward, but genuine nonetheless. Most people get a bit stiff when talking about your unorthodox recruitment, but you don't hold the same sentiment. You'd lucked out with an amazing team right off the bat. They were all men in their late teens and early twenties, eager to take you in as their little sister and raise you into a fine shinobi.

"Why’d you get recruited?"

"Me? Minato-sensei had some personal tasks for me."

"Oh yeah? Is that your mysterious way of saying you were solely recruited for baby duty?"

Now that had taken him aback.

"How did you-"

You, apparently, knew the couple very well. How that fact got past Kakashi all this time is beyond him. You told him about the first time you met Kushina- how she cried because the chest plate on your uniform was too big for little seven-year-old you. You told him about how Minato tried desperately to free you from ANBU during his reign, but couldn't find any loopholes that'd keep you away from Danzo. How they'd sometimes run into you on the street and offer to take you to dinner.

Kakashi shared his own stories of his sensei and his wife, which, in extension, got him to talk about Rin and Obito. Before either of you knew it, it'd been several hours. The last rays of sunshine had disappeared in the midst of your discussion some time ago. The pain of your injuries had dulled and were pushed to the back of your mind, buried in the new found connection.

He hadn't felt that stress-free in decades. There was no pressure when he was talking to you, even when it came to the people he lost. You were just... talking. No prying, no judging, no eggshells- just talking.

It was easy to admit that Kakashi was different from the others. The conversation had revived memories you hadn't even realized existed. This is what was lacking in all of your other encounters- depth. Screw mission details and gossip. These were the kinds of things you wanted to spend your time mulling over.

"Kakashi?"

"Hm?

You smiled at him and he swears his heart might be failing him. It's so soft and genuine, the kind of smile that soul mates share with one another.

"Thank you... for everything."

He doesn't respond. Actually, no more words are spoken between you two as you ready yourself to leave his apartment. There's a peaceful silence as you gather your belongings and head to the door.

When you're finally standing on his welcome mat, you decide that it's now or never with him. Maybe you're being a bit bold, but the Copy Nin is exclusively difficult to connect with and you aren't about to take any chances.

"When Gai inevitably invited you out to dinner-"

"I'll go."

That was surprisingly easy.

Another one of those beautiful smiles lights up your face at his response. He knows that whatever is going to come of this is sure to be troublesome, but he can't find it in himself to care.

"Good."

And just like that you're walking away.