#if any of you want to have notifications for this future series

[whomeidontknowthem]

Content warning: slavery, implied sexual slavery, implied torture, implied non-con

From the author: THIS STORY IS GOING TO BE REWRITTEN. The details will change. Once I have a new version, I will take this one down and repost it as it's own thing. It's necessary so I can get the story progression and worldbuilding straight, as now I have plans for a series based on these characters, but initially I didn't put much forethought into it.

When six years ago Kris promised she'd never give up until she found Ayzan, she didn't know how it'd be. She thought it'd be simple: she had a trail to follow and people to interrogate, and she'd not give up until she got to the bottom of it all. She did, get to the bottom of the whole slave trade organization. Ayzan was not there.

She followed more trails, then, went through the names in encrypted documents, through sellers and buyers and all the people in between, got into fights that almost killed her and conflicts with higher ups that nearly ended in worse disasters.

Ayzan wasn't there. They weren't anywhere. No matter how she tried, what lead she followed, how many times she rode across the country and visited places where only a quick smile and smart words separated her from being found at the bottom of the nearest lake, they were not there.

Ayzan had simply disappeared. Kris was told that they had probably died and that she should give up. Should accept it. Move on and live her life, not haunted by the echoes of her past.

Deep in the dark of the night, these words rang in her head and she gritted her teeth against the desperation and grief.

She dreamed of them often.

She saw them:

As the teen barely older than her, when Ayzan cheated her in a game for all the money she had left, and then bought her a dinner and showed how to move someone's attention away until their pouch found a new home in her hands.

As a friend that held her during the long nights after her mother's death and made her laugh through tears until she felt alive again.

As a lover with a tongue made of silver, who teased and teased and teased until she learned how to answer and then it was Ayzan's turn to hide their red face behind their hands.

As a figure larger than life and the closest family she ever had.

At the end of every dream, they smiled, their eyes turning into half-moon slits of pure giddiness. And then they turned and walked away, and no matter how she tried to run and reach out, she could never stop them.

So, it was easy to hold on to the hope the first few weeks. It was easy to cling to the determination as the weeks turned into months that threatened to turn into years. When years passed by and the features of their face in her dreams grew more and more blurry, she wondered if the others had been right. If she was supposed to move on.

Which was why Kris wasn’t searching for them that day. Walking through the underbelly of a city as if it was her second home, among the dangerous and the poor, the unlucky and the cruel, she didn’t think about Ayzan, focused on the mission at hand. She was far from the lands she called home, on the southern peninsular with different customs, traditions and laws. Slavery wasn’t frowned upon here. She felt her skin crawl and kept her mouth shut because she was alone. In places like this, it was all too easy to disappear and never be found if you’re not careful.

Kris meant to walk past a makeshift slave trading ground. She did it more and more often lately, sparing a glance or two to the poor dirty things huddled together in front of a small scene, because stopping and truly looking felt like flaying herself row only to be met with unavoidable disappointment. Hope hurt, these days. And there didn’t seem to be much reason to hold on to it anymore, — Kris started to accept.

Nearly accepted, before her eyes locked with the familiar pale blue. Before their eyes blinked, widened, suddenly focusing, as she stopped dead in her tracks. Before she looked at the dirty face with unfamiliar scars and greasy short hair that once fell on the shoulders in radiant curls, and her whole being froze, overwhelmed with the sense of recognition.

Someone bumped into her and she muttered a quick apology and ignored the obscene yelling, and with a long look sweeping across the market, noting the other slaves and the seller and the few people walking by, ducked into the nearest side street to wait for her hands to stop shaking.

Ayzan was right there.

Thoughts ran through Kris’ mind in a hurricane, leaving a few facts in their wake:

She could not confront the slave seller. Back in her kingdom, sure, she could afford to deal with whatever mess it would cause, but not here. She couldn’t get into a fight directly, nor did she know enough to go through the indirect means.

Besides. Kris could not tolerate the idea of leaving the market when Ayzan was right there, so close. Closer than ever in these six years. She couldn’t leave and hope she’d find them again. She needed to get them now, and leave with them.

It meant playing by the disgusting rules of this place.

She opened her purse, counted the money. Cursed. Took a deep breath. She’d accomplished more with less. Failure was not an option.

Kris returned to the market from another street and strolled by, her gaze lazily moving from one face to the other and never stopping at Ayzan for longer than a second. Her clothes made her look like a wealthy foreigner, she knew and made sure her face reflected the bored expression she often saw on an experienced buyer. It didn’t take long for the merchant to come to her.

“Have something caught your eyes, lady…” he drifted off.

She inclined her head. “Teyol,” a fake surname naturally rolled off her tongue, made more realistic with the skilled northern accent. The merchant immediately answered with a wide smile.

“Come, lady Teyol,” he invited. “I have many remarkable items here. Something for anyone’s taste! Has any of them caught your eyes?”

Kris let him lead her closer to the slaves, all sitting right in the dirt, all tied to a long railing by short leashes connected to rough leather collars. Hardly the astounding selection the merchant was trying to sell it as. Ayzan was among them, sitting to the side, and Kris felt their stare on her face as she refused to look in their direction more than necessary. She inspected other slaves instead, letting the merchant pitch his property and feigning interest. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Ayzan sink back in line as the merchant pushed them back in passing. They didn’t do much of anything to make her turn attention to them, and Kris was infinitely grateful. It would go so much easier if the merchant didn’t suspect any connection between the two of them.

After looking at two slaves and nodding along to the merchant’s tales, Kris finally decided it was enough. “What about that one?” she asked and pointed at Ayzan, who flinched from the sudden attention of the both of them. “They seem pretty.”

“Ah, you have a great taste, lady! They’re one of the better ones,” the merchant hurried to assure her. “Years of training. Very obedient, and can do many things, too, outside and inside the bedroom, if you know what I mean.”

He flashed a grin, untied the leash and tugged at it, making Ayzan follow on their knees. They didn’t try to use arms to help them. Ayzan stopped before her, kneeling and keeping their head low, the looks they’d been giving her this whole time disappearing in an instant. She could see their hands, one curled on their lap, shaking slightly.

It took all her willpower to not reach out to hug them then and there.

Instead Kris let her gaze slip from their form, rising to meet the merchant’s eyes with a pleasant smile. “Where were they trained, then?”

“In Ashtar,” he answered instantly and proudly. Kris nodded in understanding and approval as her stomach sunk. Ashtar. She met enough people who’d been through that place to know it was nothing short of awful. She knew also that a slave from Ashtar wouldn’t end up in a place like this for no reason. There was something else there, something that’d lowered Ayzan’s price so much they ended up covered in dirt and rags, sold on the street among other cheap slaves. And these were cheap, Kris could see, no matter what the merchant was trying to tell her. She’d been to enough auctions to know.

“Ashtar,” Kris felt her lips move when the silence went on for two long. She was distantly impressed that her voice sounded calm as it did, tinted with curiosity and doubt. “They have an awful lot of scars for someone from there.”

Slowly, she reached out and put a hand in their hair — so, so short, when she knew they always preferred to let it grow out, — coaxing them to look up. There was a moment of resistance as they tried to flinch away, sink even more onto themself. The merchant noticed immediately and tugged their hair with no hesitation.

There was a quiet, sharp exhale, and then Kris could finally see their face. Her blood turned cold from just one look.

There were scars there, those she’d noticed even from afar: a wide one crossing their cheek, an old one through their brow, leaving pale skin where once was hair. This close, she could see more: a thin line starting from under their ear and going down to their neck. Many small but uneven, angry red dots around their lips, in an uneven pattern Kris took long seconds to recognize as what it was: the marks left behind from the thread that once held their mouth shut.

Never, in all her years, had Kris wanted to kill so much as at that moment.

And then, there were their eyes. She looked into them, finally, and had to fight to keep her features relaxed. There was so much in those blue eyes, so much she never wanted to see there: hurt and barely contained fear, and confusion, and, more than anything else, desperate, painful kind of hope. They didn’t say anything, didn’t even try to, only looked, until a smack came from the merchant, forcing their gaze down.

Kris silently let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding, before tuning in the merchant’s words.

“…long time. They were a feisty one once, you see, with a spirit. All the better when they’re finally broken, isn’t it?” he smiled as if it was a joke. She laughed and nodded in agreement. “I can lower the price for the scars, but believe me, they’re worth every coin you pay for them.”

“And how much is the price?” Kris asked. The merchant smiled widely.

And said, “two thousands.”

It took her a moment to convert the sum to the currency she was more familiar with. She didn’t need to fake the indignant snort. “That much?”

Kris knew the prices, that was the thing. She saw so many of such places, so many of such people putting a tag on a person’s worth, and she learned the numbers. Slaves from Ashtar meant to be pets, toys, pretty playthings for their owners, trained to be obedient and appealing in every way the owner wanted. They were meant to be kept healthy and beautiful, and any permanent mark immediately dropped their price.

Two thousands was too much. She’d give it barely seven hundred, maybe eleven if she was generous.

She felt bile rise up in her throat as she realized she was thinking about Ayzan in these terms. She felt the shudder go through their body as her hand stayed in their hair. Kris hoped the gentle touch felt reassuring.

“They’re the best you can find around these parts,” the merchant answered quickly.

“A pleasure slave, scarred like that?” she replied coldly. “Hardly.”

“A highly trained slave with just a few unfortunate but faded marks. You said it yourself, lady Teyol, they’re pretty. You won’t have to work hard to forget the scars are there at all.”

“Well, I don’t think I can just ignore them, they’re quite unsightly, in my opinion,” Kris argued. “You said you’d lower the price for them.”

“And I already have,” the merchant assured her. “You see, ordinarily I’d ask two and a half, even three thousands for them!..”

“Don’t try to cheat me,” Kris cut him off. She crossed her arms, letting go of Ayzan’s hair with the last gentle stroke, and added, softening her voice. “You are a smart man, lord…”

“Just Relo, lady Teyol.”

“Relo. You must know when what you’re asking for is beyond any limit.”

“Forgive me, but I don’t think it is,” the merchant continued stubbornly. “They’re the best you can find around these parts. Try finding other shops or even going to the auctions, see for yourself. Ashtar slaves are hard to come by.”

“Perhaps they’re hard to come by because there’s no need for them here. Who else would you sell them to? The mines? Even with all their… training, you’d be happy to receive even a few hundred.”

“I’m sure there’ll be those who understand the value of what I’m offering,” Relo countered.

Kris saw as his pose changed, closed off. She spoke quieter, friendlier once again. “I must say I am one of those people. An Ashtar slave is something I’d gladly buy, but not with this price; like this, I’d be better off making the trip myself. It wouldn’t be much more costly, and I’d surely find one there that isn’t so… defective.”

Ayzan was quiet before the two of them, hunched onto themself now that nothing held their head up. Kris sneaked a glance at them and saw the white of their knuckles as their fingers dug into their thighs. Ayzan made themself so easy to ignore with how quiet and motionless they were, and Kris hated herself for talking over them like this.

“Perhaps, I could go a bit lower without it being a loss,” after a few seconds of consideration, the merchant relented. “Eighteen hundred, how does that sound?”

Kris laughed, “I was thinking more in terms of five or maybe eight hundred,” and quickly raised her hand when Relo opened his mouth to protest. “But I apologize, I understand, it’s not an adequate compensation for your efforts. The transportation itself must have cost quite a bit. Perhaps, we could settle on a thousand?” she flashed a persuasive smile.

The merchant answered to her smile with his, but then shook his head. “I’m afraid it is so low I’d have to try my luck somewhere else. Seventeen hundred is the lowest I can go.”

It was better, closer to the real price. She only had fourteen hundred in her purse. She needed to go lower.

She turned her attention to Ayzan once more, looking them up and down in search of something to use as a leverage. They were skinny, pale, but this was normal for a slave, even desirable in the eyes of some. Easier to control, when they’re weak from hunger. Ayzan didn’t look like they’d starve at any moment, and that meant she couldn’t use it as an argument. Kris needed something else, and fast.

“It is a serious investment, you understand,” she said to the merchant who nodded. “I don’t want to disrespect you in any way, Relo, but, you understand, a slave bought for… the reasons… that I’m considering, needs to be in an appealing form everywhere. With such scars on their face, who knows what can be hidden underneath their clothes? Please don’t take it as a sign of distrust…”

“No-no, lady, I understand,” Relo reassured her. “It’s only natural to want to make sure.” He tugged the leash and then once again when Ayzan hesitated, frozen in place. Relo frowned and shot an apologetic look to Kris, which she waved off with a smile. “Get up and strip for the lady,” the merchant spat, “you know what’s going to happen otherwise.”

Finally, Ayzan moved, slowly rising to their feet but never looking up. They tugged the coarse, badly cut in shape fabric they had for a shirt up with their left hand, Relo helping them get it off the leash. Silently, Kris begged for forgiveness as they pulled their pants down with one hand. When she caught a sight of their face, it was uncomfortably, eerily empty.

Finished, they stood before her and the merchant, not making a single move to cover their body. They trembled slightly, and Kris wasn’t sure if it was from cold.

There were scars on their body, but not as many as she feared. The one starting below their ear continued on to their chest. On the opposite side, there were lines starting from under their armpit and going down, where Kris knew very well the skin was more sensitive than in most other parts of the body. Even the shallow cuts must’ve hurt as hell. A few were on the legs, but they looked more accidental and less like deliberate torture. Their right hand was half covered in pink scar tissue, their little finger missing in its entirety. When Relo told Ayzan to turn around and they obeyed, Kris could see the long, numerous lines left by lashes, layered on top of each other so that there was barely any healthy skin left.

She stepped forward, raising a hand, and barely kept her face neutral when Ayzan tried to flinch from her touch. “Stand still,” the merchant grumbled and tugged the leash. He looked apologetic once more, “You know how some of them are, when with new people.”

“I understand,” she brushed it off once again. It was a good excuse to use with something else, but it wouldn’t get her much of an advantage by itself. Instead, she ran her fingers down Ayzan’s body as they kept horribly still except for rapid, panicked breaths. She prayed for forgiveness once more, taking their left hand and rotating it around.

Then, she moved to the right hand. The moment she raised it, slightly rotating the wrist, a shudder when through Ayzan’s whole body and a quiet, pained whimper escaped their tightly pressed lips.

Kris immediately let go of their hand and turned to Relo, who looked incredibly upset. “You must be kidding me,” she said, letting some of her fury reflect in her tone. The merchant frowned and stepped closer.

“Must’ve pulled something,” he found an excuse and shot a glance to Ayzan before grabbing their hand and forcefully rotating the whole way. Ayzan tried hard to stay silent. Kris saw how their breath hitched, their eyes fluttering shut, and stopped the merchant’s attempts to pretend it was nothing.

“Do you want to hurt them more,” she snapped. “Because if you do, I won’t be buying them for sure.”

That made Relo hesitate and ultimately let go of Ayzan’s hand. It fell limply down their side and they took in a deep, rough breath, their eyes still tightly closed.

“I apologize, lady Teyol, there wasn’t anything like this yesterday,” the merchant explained, and Kris felt too tired to guess if he was lying or somehow managed to genuinely overlook such a problem. “I’m sure it’ll heal in no time, but, because of the circumstances, I will cut down some more. Sixteen hundred.”

“Thirteen,” Kris replied. “I can’t know if the injury is permanent or will heal, but it’ll require attention and money. I’ll have to find a healer to look at them! Not only at the arm, too, who knows what else is wrong!” she made sure it didn’t sound like a threat, but was sure the merchant did hear it as such. She didn’t know what else she’d find if she continued on with the inspection. Whatever it was, it was in Relo’s interest to stop from trying.

“Fifteen,” Relo returned an offer with a wince. “You must understand, going any lower would put me at a loss…”

“Fourteen. They aren’t even as obedient as you promised, hesitating like this. Can I even trust you that they’re from Ashtar? Or is it something you’ve lied about just like you neglected to mention that they can’t move their right arm?”

The merchant winced again. He must know, Kris thought, that with such an injury he had no luck of selling them to anyone. Even the mines would refuse a slave that couldn’t use one hand. Now that it was noticed, he couldn’t afford to cling to the bigger price. What she was offering was already generous. He must know that. He must accept.

Relo chews his lips, deep in thought.

Then sighed.

“Fourteen hundred it is, then. Deal.” She shook his hand and gave nearly all the money she had to him. After being paid, Relo smiled with much more sincerity. Kris found it hard to much his enthusiasm.

She helped Ayzan dress up, mindful of their arm, and took the leash from the joyful merchant. Just a few minutes, until they got to the room in the closest inn, she promised herself.

Ayzan didn’t make a single attempt to look up at her, following her steps as a second shadow, quiet and gloomy as one.

In the inn, she cut the small talk with the innkeeper short, getting a key for a room with one bed (it would be suspicious if a slave was given their own bed; she’d sleep on the floor if needed) and swiftly making her way upstairs. She let them inside the room first and shut the door after herself, immediately slumping before it.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed and then muttered a whole string of curses as the adrenaline wore off, leaving her fingers shaking. She did it. She’d got them. She’d got them.

She took half a minute to herself, staring at her hands and willing her emotions back under control. Then she looked up.

Ayzan stood where she left them, in the middle of the room, their head hanging low and left fist tightly clenched. They were so still she couldn’t even notice if they were breathing. They didn’t move to look at her, not even once.

“Hey,” she whispered and stepped closer. They tensed but didn’t back away. She worked on removing the collar, letting it fall down once she was done. “Ayzan, will you look at me? Dear?” gently, oh so gently she touched their chin and guided it up. They used to be higher than her. Slouched as they were now, she had to look down to meet their eyes.

Back in the market, there was fear there, and she’d thought it was the worst. Now, she searched and searched and could only find — something like defeat. Like resignation. They looked at her with pale blue eyes that always used to crinkle in a smile, and this time there was nothing.

Kris was the one who let out a shaking breath and had to fight to hold back tears. “I’m sorry,” she said, softly as she could, when her voice was back under her control. When she let her hand fall, Ayzan’s head immediately hang low, too. “I didn’t mean any of what I said to that bastard. I just— you're worth so much, but if I didn’t make him think I didn’t care, I— I couldn’t let let him take you away! I’m so so sorry you had to hear it. You had to— I’m so sorry. None, none of that is true.”

Ayzan’s chest slowly rose in a deeper breath than they’d taken before. If Kris wasn’t staring at their features so intently, she’d miss the way their lips twitched, just a bit.

“Love,” she begged. “Ayzan. Say something, please?”

Their lips twitched again, opened just a bit. They didn’t look Kris in the eyes, but their gaze moved just a bit closer. Slowly, quietly, they breathed out in a raspy voice, “Kris?” and then fell silent again.

“Yes. Yes, Ayzan, it’s me. I’m here, I’ve— I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore, okay? I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” she repeated and reached out to clench their good hand in hers. Ayzan didn’t move, staring at their hands as if unable to see it. “I’ve got you,” she repeated again as her heart bled from the distant, uncomprehending look on their face.

After a long stretch of silence, Ayzan’s lips moved again. “What do you want me for?”

It felt like a punch. Like somebody made a hole through her chest and squeezed her heart until it turned into burning mash, coating her insides with pain. She took a breath that sounded like a sob.

“Nothing. I— nothing like that. I needed him to believe that I did, but I wouldn’t— I didn’t—“ she tried to find words to explain and failed. Ayzan stood before her, terribly still, terribly distant, terribly tense. As if they weren’t safe. As if they expected her to hurt them.

She tried again, “You’re not here as my property. I am very, very happy to see you alive. I’ve been searching for you,” she paused as her breath hitched. She hadn’t been searching for them this time, had she? She would walk right past them, not pausing to even find out that they were so close. She’d nearly given up. She forced the thoughts down, focusing on here and now and the fact that she’d found them. “I want you to be free, and safe, and happy. This is all.” She repeated, helplessly, when they didn’t move, “this is all.”

Kris watched their face as they breathed. There was no reaction to see if they understood, if they even heard her. Ayzan’s face used to be so open, so emotive, all their feelings written loud and clear all over it, be it a bright smile or childish pouting. She rarely remembered them genuinely upset, but even that was better than the careful, nearly complete blankness. As if they weren’t here at all.

She fought to blink back tears. “May I hug you?”

Their brows twitched, barely perceptible. Their eyes moved to the side. They didn’t answer.

She didn’t reach out to touch them.

She took a deep breath instead, trying to ground herself. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I know it’s sudden and hard. We have time now, okay? You have time. You’re safe, and here, and—“ another deep, deep breath. “You’re safe. I promise you. I won’t ever let you be hurt again. I promise.”

Ayzen didn’t answer, but Kris saw as their breaths grew deeper, slower, calmer. It was okay. They were here, and they had all the time in the world.

Whump prompt XVIII

Caretaker is trying to buy whumpee to free them.

Only they cannot afford the asking price, so they're left haggling down whumpee's value, picking out every conceivable flaw and arguing with the seller that whumpee really isn't worth that - all fully within earshot of whumpee.

[navybrat817]

Double Shift

Pairing: Chop Shop Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky helps you unwind after you work a double shift.

Word Count: Over 1.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, slight insecurities, bit of backstory, dirty talk, mild smut, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: @nixakimbo was kind enough to gift me with this GORGEOUS edit and I had to create a new AU. Sorry, lovelies? @tavners , this is for you. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You dropped your bag the moment you walked through the door. Your feet ached despite the comfortable shoes, and your head throbbed with each passing second. Groaning, you dragged yourself to the couch, collapsing into it like it was the only place you’d ever wanted to be. Working doubles was exhausting, but this? This was something else entirely.

It was a long day in a series of long days, but now you had a chance to relax.

Reaching for the nearby pillow, you inhaled deeply, a smile tugging at your lips. Instead of the usual fresh scent of your couch, you caught the familiar, warm fragrance of your boyfriend’s cologne. He must have spritzed it before leaving for work. It was like leaning into him and your shoulder relaxed more, even though you wished he were really there.

The sound of the door creaking open a few minutes later told you that your wish had been granted.

“Aww. Long day, baby?” Bucky cooed from the doorway, spotting you sprawled out with no intention of moving to greet him. “You know your bag’s on the ground?”

“Mm-hmm.” You rubbed your temples slowly. “You know I worked a double, right? I’m lucky I made it to the couch.”

His soft chuckle reached your ears as he set his keys down and picked up your bag. “I know and I’m sorry. You work really hard.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead once he reached the couch. “I wish you didn't have to.”

You turned your head, the throbbing in your temples easing when your eyes met his. His black tank top fit him perfectly, complementing the tattoos that stretched across his neck and arms. The skulls and flowers, symbols of death and hope, told stories of his past. Stories he didn't have to tell you about, but he did anyway and you were happy to know every detail. As captivating as the ink was, it was his blue eyes that held you. In them, you saw your future, bright and full of love.

“That’s life. And you work hard, too,” you reminded him.

“Yeah. My job is so honorable,” he mumbled, making a mess of his hair as he ran a hand through it. “I’m really making a difference in the world.”

You frowned sympathetically. Bucky was a gifted mechanic, but his family was dealt a bad hand and he did what he had to do to take care of his younger sister. “And you’ll be out of there soon.”

Once he finished paying off Becca's medical bills, he could quit. That day was getting closer and closer. And one day he’d open his own shop, too, a legitimate shop. You wanted to stand beside him when that dream came true. Becca would be so proud.

Both of you wanted the best for Bucky.

He sighed, sinking to his knees and resting his hands on your thighs. You could see the gray peppering his scruff and you couldn’t help but reach out to run your nails through it. The sound of his groan made you smile, so you did it again.

“I just wanna give you the world,” he whispered, turning his head and kissing your palm. “You know that, right?”

“You already do,” you whispered back, his eyes softening. You had a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and his love in your heart. It was all you needed. “But you know, I could-”

Bucky put a finger to your lips to stop you. “I know what you're going to say and we’re not selling your dad's car.”

You smiled sadly. Your dad’s car was a classic and could get Bucky the money he needed, but he turned the offer down each time you brought it up. He didn't want you to give up one of the only things you had left of your dad. “I won't say a word tonight.”

But you could try again tomorrow.

“Thank you.” He took your hand and kissed your palm again. “You up for a ride later?”

“I don’t think I’m moving from this spot tonight,” you half smiled. “But we can tomorrow.”

“You don’t wanna go for a ride tonight?” he asked, surprise laced in his voice. You usually jumped at the chance to ride his motorcycle with him.

“Feet and head hurt a little,” you admitted, touching his cheek as concern etched his features. “I’m fine, really. Nothing for you to make a fuss about, but I won't turn you down if you want to dote on me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, slipping your shoes off. You gasped when he began massaging the sole of your right foot, the gentle pressure making your body sink deeper into the couch. By the time he switched to your left foot, you were practically melting. “That better?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, combing your fingers through his dark hair. He always took care of you. “I swear, you have magic hands.”

“Oh, I have more than magic hands,” he winked, your heart skipping a beat. “And you know what’s good for headaches?”

“Bucky…” you smiled. There was a warning in your voice, but you couldn't help the amusement in your eyes.

“Yes, me,” he grinned. “I’m very good at helping with headaches and you know it.”

Your smile widened. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, so making you come all over my face before I cook you dinner was not what you meant and will not help your headache?” he asked, his voice deep, dripping with desire.

Whatever ache you felt in your body all went straight to your pussy. A deep, throbbing ache that cried out for him to soothe it since he was the cause. “Is making melt on your tongue as my reward for working a double?”

He smirked at your breathy tone. “That’s exactly what it is.” He didn’t need to ask you to lift your hips when he reached for the waistband of your pants and pulled them off with your underwear. Your body moved on instinct for him, fluid and in sync. “I can feed you right here and carry you to bed, too.”

“I’m too big and heavy for you to carry me,” you teased. His eyes flashed, and before you could react, he leaned down unexpectedly, sinking his teeth into your thigh. Your mouth fell open from the sting, but it felt good, too. “Hey!” You shrieked.

“You’re not big. You’re not heavy. You’re perfect,” he snarled, brushing his tongue along the teeth marks. You wanted his mark all over you. “I’ll blame that remark on how tired you are right now from work.”

Framing his face to lift his head, you met his lips in a soft kiss, hoping to convey how much it meant to you that he saw you as beautiful. How touched you were that he always put your care and feelings first. As scary as he looked to others, you knew the man inside. The one with a heart full of passion.

“I’m not perfect,” you whispered against his lips, gasping when he nibbled your bottom lip. A second bite for once again downplaying yourself. “But I’m perfect for you.”

“You think so?” he asked quietly.

“I know so,” you said, biting his bottom lip for good measure.

He thought you were too good for him some days, and you were quick to shut that down. A good man wouldn’t have taken care of his sister the way he did, and he wouldn’t love you wholeheartedly if he was less of a good person than you. His current profession didn’t define him, and you refused to let him believe it did.

“I...” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Love...” You shivered when he kissed the other corner. “You.”

A flame lit within your heart. His tender touches and words burned you from the inside out. “I love you, too,” you managed to whisper before his lips covered yours again.

Fresh arousal washed over you when he smiled and kissed down your body. “Now let me show you with my mouth how much I love you,” he simpered, parting your legs to open for him. “Might die if I don’t get my mouth on you and you wouldn’t want that, would you? And we need to get rid of your headache.”

You moaned, also feeling like you’d die if he didn’t touch you. “Do I get your cock, too? It’s a pretty bad headache you need to help me get rid of,” you teased. If your pain actually persisted, he’d make you take something and insist on you resting. And maybe it was selfish to ask for more than one orgasm, but you both knew he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to rock your world.

“Before and after dinner,” he promised, his pupils dialting as he stared between your trembling thighs. “Fuck, I missed you today,” he groaned.

“Missed me or my pussy?” you asked, certain that you were going to soak the cushion beneath you and you didn’t care as long as he got you off. “Because we both missed you.”

He smirked, his hand inching up your thigh. “Of course, you missed me. Who else would make you come as hard as I do?”

Cocky was a good look on him, but you could play a little, too. “Well…” Your coy smile had him raising his eyebrow. “If you really want to know, there’s-” You threw your head back with a cry as Bucky’s head dipped down to taste you, effectively cutting off your teasing.

It wouldn’t take long for you to coat his fingers and tongue with your release. It never did with him. He’d make you taste yourself when he kissed you after so you could fully appreciate the orgasm he gave you. He wouldn’t give you any reprieve when he’d bend you over the couch and sink his cock into your sensitive pussy. Your sounds would be erotic music to his ears, just like his words were music to yours.

“Grind that pussy back against me. Show me how much you crave my cock.”

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy for me to fuck and fill.”

“Don’t you dare rub your clit. You wanna come? I’ll make you come.”

“Oh, you don’t have to beg for me to come inside you. I’ll give it to you.”

You’d scream his name in ecstasy and pass out in his arms from the best kind of exhaustion. You’d wake up to him kissing your forehead and holding you upright so he could hand feed you a delicious meal. You’d smile when he told you how much he loved you and that he'd be free of the chop shop soon. And you’d tell him you loved him, too, before he fucked you all over again.

It was going to be a good night.

Appreciate you lovelies indulging me like always and hope to share more when I can. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hellishjoel]

cherry thrill | lights

9.2k / pairing: daddy dom tattoo artist!joel miller x sub virgin f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi chapter summary: your tattoo artist, joel miller, takes your virginity. chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, implied age gap, swearing, virginity loss, dom&sub dynamics (/not lg), size kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, swearing, dirty talk, pet names (princess, bunny, baby girl, sweetheart, etc.), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, protected p in v, joel talks you through it, protective!joel, slight pov switching, reader is described as having no tattoos or piercings, as well as hair, but otherwise no physical description, no use of y/n series summary: Trust and devotion. Ink meets innocence. Your tattoo artist, Joel Miller, shows you what it really means to give up control. Reeling from the loss of your job, you’re running out of options, until a passing comment from Joel and a video camera give you just the right idea. A/N: this was supposed to be a one shot but just like everything else I try to write, I expand on the characters too much for it not to become a series. also, thank you for 2,000 followers, I promise to do something soon to show my appreciation <3 I'm bad at giving thanks and receiving attention so anyway - dividers by @firefly-graphics (thank you, daisy!)

During your first consultation, there was something in the air. 

Glances that lasted a few seconds too long, a charged energy replicating that of two strong magnets.  You stand frozen in a dark office down the hall from the shop’s main entrance. The walls are painted black. A gallery wall displays different art and posters in gold frames. There’s a large red neon sign with your tattoo artist’s initials, J.M. 

Joel Miller. 

You sit opposite of him, leg anxiously bouncing and nails subconsciously piercing the chair’s leather arms as he listens silently to your request before his mind starts to work. It doesn’t take much time to draw up an example or two with your guided tweaks and fixes. 

Other than the scribble of a graphite pencil, silence falls over you both. And observation takes over. 

Joel surrounds himself with scattered drawings on loose paper that litter his desk. You watch the way his eyes screw inward to focus on the sketch he is drawing up. A small vein protrudes from his temple, his jaw shifts from side to side with tension. 

He’s a blunt sort of handsome. With harsh edges and lines, jaded and carved with precision like precious marble. It makes your pulse jump a bit in your neck and wrist. 

You think your first tattoo should be something special, especially since you’ve waited so long to pull the trigger. He was a bit intimidating like you imagined a tattoo artist to be, what with his brooding demeanor and how he looked you up and down upon taking one step inside his parlor. 

Virgin. 

That’s what he called your skin, untouched by any ink or piercings. 

He didn’t know that it described you down to your core. No one had popped your cherry, taken your virginity, made you theirs. Untouched.

Now, half an hour later and sitting anxiously in his back office, he finishes drawing up the sketch and asks about the precise placement you had in mind. 

“I was thinking here,” you mindlessly point to a spot on your upper thigh. There was a level of secrecy to it, in case any future employers cared about that sort of shit. 

You can’t help the way your skin vibrates under his touch, when he aids you in taking off your bottoms and runs his calloused palms up the smooth skin of your thighs. 

You shakily exhale as he warms you. 

You definitely don’t let yourself fantasize that he’s feeling you up, or even think about wanting him to explore every inch of your body. You know he’s just doing his job. 

But the way his eyes flick up to yours when he feels the goosebumps he knows he’s created is otherworldly. Like he knows you want him to fuck you. The way your muscles twitch under the warmth of his palm, feeling pliant under his touch. Fuck. 

His eyes gleam as his mouth forms into a barely-there smirk. 

There was no point in playing coy. Your body changed at the contact and Joel knew it. 

It was damn near degrading the way he let you simmer. It set a light inside of you no one had before. So that’s when you knew you’d let him, Joel Miller, take your virginity. 

It would be no easy task. You didn’t know how to pursue him, or anyone for that matter. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have said virginity. 

You try not to stare for too long, but even with his gruff demeanor and silence being second nature to him, he was handsome. A rugged sort of handsome with different facial piercings. 

A septum in his nose highlighted its aquiline structure. And a small hoop in his right eyebrow, with greys tickling through like pretty streaks in the hair. It made him look deliciously too old for you. Perhaps that’s what you enjoyed most, though. He was no amateur. 

The moment his fingers dipped into your flesh to work on your tattoo's placement, you knew he felt it, too. Supple under his touch. Squishy. Something he could sink his teeth into. Something that obeyed. 

“You prepared for the pain, sweetheart?”

His southern drawl is sweet like honey, deep and husky nonetheless. 

“I think so.” 

Your response is meek. It’s your wavering nerves from having him so close and unsure what the feeling of being tattooed will be like. Joel looks for certainty instead. He insists on it. 

“Need ya t’tell me. Not that you think, that you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know so.”

Joel squeezes the back of your thigh fondly, a proud little smile twitching at the edges of his mouth. “Good girl.”

The praise alone was enough to make your thighs sticky with arousal. Joel sent you home that day with an ache between your legs that your fingers had to fix. And you thought about him the entire time. 

How his cold tongue piercing would feel against the warmth of your clit. Holding you with his strong, protective arms swirled with black ink. How his staggering dark eyes would look into yours as he fucks you. 

But thinking about him wasn’t enough. 

You tried to string out the process, anything you could do to fix more time with him. Anything to get his tough palms on your skin. 

You fiddled with different placements, opting to show a little skin as you rid yourself of your top and pointed to your ribs during your next appointment. 

A breath hitches in your throat as he eyes your bra's innocent pink color. Lacy and pretty. Delicate. He clears his throat and runs his fingers along your side, evidence of his touch causing an effect on you displayed with more goosebumps. Your body could simply not hide the attraction you felt towards him. 

“Would hurt. A lot. The ribs move every time you breathe, which makes the tattooing process more painful.” Joel gently cups your side with his large palm and squeezes your ribs, holding you in place as you shakily breathe with the hold he has on you. “Can’t tell ya where to place it, can only advise. Just don’t want such a pretty girl to shed any tears.” 

That’s when you knew you could trust him. That even a man as hardened as himself could treat you with such care. 

He excuses himself for a moment, opting for more transfer paper and leaving you topless in his private office. 

Your ears were ringing, you could hear the quickening beat of your heart. You slowly inch off the portable tattoo table, glancing around Joel’s dark academia-style office. 

He’s an enigma, you think, the more you look at his surroundings. Quiet but dark, you knew he was concealing a hidden desire. You hope to unlock it. That he’ll trust you enough just as you trust him. 

Articles of clothing start to drop to the floor, one by one. You knew you’d be ambushing him; you didn’t want to scare Joel. So you left yourself in your soft pink-colored bra and panty set. You thought it was classy and cute. Not too forward, but sweet. Definitely planned out, you hope he doesn’t notice. 

All your confidence quickly disappears as soon as he comes back in through the door. You could feel your heart slowly sink to your stomach, your lips parting to come up with some sort of reasoning. 

“I-I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say. Joel is stilled at the entrance of his office, door still ajar as he blankly stares at the delicate angel standing in the middle of his office. 

He clears his throat and finally closes the door, leaving the two of you in silence. You can’t read his expression. 

“What do ya think you’re doin’?” He asks, sweet southern drawl dripping with tension as his heavy boots slowly make their way closer to you. 

You can only shake your head, unsteady hands concealing as much of your body as possible. You decide to face the mirror, keeping your back to him. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller, I was just-” Lie. “I was just looking at your full-length mirror to see other placement ideas.” 

Joel merely shakes his head, a knowing look in his eyes. “I can tell when you’re lyin’ t’me, baby girl. You wanna try tellin’ me the truth now?”

His tone only makes the ache in your core grow with desire as your pulse quickens under his eyeline. 

You feel embarrassed, heat coursing through your body and making you tingle as his stare lingers selfishly, basking in the glory of your figure. You watch with want in the reflection as his eyes stare at the curves of your hips and your ass. A handful, he probably thinks. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxes, moving closer and enveloping you in his musky pine and whiskey scent. It’s almost knowing what he says next. “Tell me what y’want.” 

You swallow the lump protruding in your throat before you decide to be honest with him. Like you said, you could trust him. You play with your fingers and pick at the skin by your nails.

“I want you.” You say barely above a whisper. 

Joel simply shakes his head, takes another impossible step closer, and cranes his head down to hear you better. His lips and coarse beard hairs tickle at the shell of your ear. 

Your eyes close shyly as he speaks again amid your silence. 

“Say it again, baby. Can’t hear ya.” His toned front meets your back, forcing a whimper past your lips. 

You work up the nerve to take a glance at the two figures in the gold-framed mirror. Perfect opposites. Young, beautiful, a little inexperienced. Older, handsome, sure as hell looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

His height looms over you. His eyes are an unknown shade of obsidian and he’s radiating a comforting warmth. Your hand reaches for his, only able to look him in the eyes through the glass as you guide his hand to your hip. 

Your thumb rolls across the faded tattoo on the backside of his hand. There used to be a cross there, but it looks to be covered up by some sort of python now. With a shaky sigh, you try again. “I want you, Mr. Miller. I want you to take my virginity.” 

You’ve prepared yourself to hear his laughter, a snickering, degrading comment of disbelief. You felt ready to experience shame. But you were wrong. 

Joel places his pointer finger under your chin, using his other hand to guide you in his hold to turn and face him. His thumb grazes over your lower lip as he guides your head to tilt up and look at him properly. Your soft eyes meet his lust-driven ones and your heart surges at the sight. 

You’ve never seen a man so hungry. 

“You want me to take your virginity, little bunny?” He hums seductively. Suddenly, you don’t feel so doomed. It’s placed with a little bit of eagerness now. You wanted your spoils. 

“Yes. Want you to do whatever you desire with me, I’ll do anything you want.” You sound like a devoted cult member, but the energy you feel is undeniable. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point. 

Slowly but surely, Joel begins to nod. He’s mulled it over and he’s made up his mind. 

“Whatever I desire, huh?” He tuts almost degradingly. Your nod of enthusiasm makes his blood rush. 

He hesitates, untrusting of his own words. 

“Want you to call me Daddy,” He starts haphazardly, gauging your reaction. “Think you can do that, sweet girl?”

Your wide eyes soften, a notch of confusion knotting your eyebrows. 

“You- what?” 

“Want you to call me daddy. Want you to be a good little girl for me and hop up on that desk. Can ya do that for me, princess?” His chin juts up and signals toward his office desk. 

The swirling in your stomach just won’t stop. 

“Go on now.” His orotund voice projects his instructions. You back up a few paces until you feel the cool metal of his desk hit your backside, slowly moving to sit on it with hidden excitement and a shiver up your spine. 

You do want to be good, if there’s anything you want in this world right now, it’s to play along and be good for him. Knowing he would take care of you was making you leak. 

His fingertips delicately touch your skin, starting at your wrists and moving upwards to the straps on your bra. He’s intimidating to look at, so you fixate on something behind him. But it doesn’t help when he clouds your vision. Even his aroma, from the smoke of his cigarettes to the musky spruce cologne, was putting you in a tailspin. 

You don’t anticipate the way your body moves for him. His hands skim to the back of your bra, and your spine straightens. It makes the right side of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. 

“Nervous?” He belittles.

Your long lashes innocently flutter, you think you might be doing it on purpose. You sort of like playing along. 

“A little… Daddy.” You test cautiously, the word tangling on your tongue. But it’s unforgettable the way his eyes light up at the name. You find yourself already willing to do whatever it takes to recreate that signature look of his. 

Joel hums appreciatively, thumb making minuscule circles over your chin. “I’ll take care of ya. Ya know that. Or else you wouldn’t have chosen me.”

All you can do is nod. Because he knows that your selection process was a real thing. You had danced around it once during your first consultation when he asked if you had a boyfriend. All you could feel was heat rising to the back of your neck, shy eyes evading his warm brown orbs. 

“No, definitely not.” 

“What’d’ya mean definitely not? You’re a pretty girl.”  

You shrug in a noncommittal way. “I’ve never had to really worry about stuff like… boyfriends. Or girlfriends. Any of that sort of stuff.” 

His eyes flicked up to yours in an instant, a mutual understanding of your underlying words. “I see. I understand, angel.” 

Joel works your bra off with one hand, you gasp as you feel the material loosen around your body. His opposite hand taps at the top of your thigh. You’re all too aware you are eagerly sitting half-naked on his desk. 

“Open.” He directs, voice laced with smoke. 

You nip at your lower lip and slowly inch your clamped-shut thighs open for him. He instantly makes eye contact with the wet, dark little circle that’s ruining the pristine innocence of your panties. 

He decides not to make fun of it, but it’s truly a compliment. Your adoration for him. “This all for me, angel?”

You work up a few quick nods. Now that he was so close, you wanted him to hurry the hell up.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” 

You feel heat tingle at the sides of your neck. This would be your first time really talking like this with someone. He made it feel safe to talk so dirty. To try, to learn. 

“Yes, daddy.”

You can’t deny how proud you feel to be the reason a certain warmth brightens in his eyes and on his smirk. You did that, you pleased him. Little did you know how he’d thank you for it. 

“You said you’re a virgin? Hard to believe.”

A shaky sigh leaves your parted lips as his warm palms slowly pull your bra down, revealing your breasts to him. “Just never found anyone I really trusted or liked enough.” 

He mutters something quiet in understanding, all too distracted by how damn pretty you look. 

Joel is silently observing your body, he can’t help but want to touch the delicate flower in front of him. A gasp leaves your parted lips as his calloused hands come up and cup your breasts. He starts to squeeze, and a happy little whimper leaves your mouth with a small smile. 

“I like that.” You tell him, hoping it improves your chances that he’ll do it again. Which he does. 

“Good.” He compliments, pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, turning them into peaks that send electricity down your spine. 

A sweet and experimental moan leaves your lips. Joel stands between your parted legs and you feel his erection for the first time against your skin. You can tell by the shape protruding through his pants that he’s a large man, already thick and swollen for your taking. 

“No one’s ever been inside of you?” He damn near growls, raising an eyebrow after the beat he offers you to answer.  

You shake your head again. “I’ve tried my fingers, but I’m sure it’s not the same.” 

A scoffy little breath echoes out of his nose. “No, not quite. Lay back for me, bunny.” His hands release your breasts, pebbled nipples left abandoned as you slowly move down onto your elbows and then onto your back. 

There was a sudden peak of anxiety, not being able to fully see him. But perhaps this was the point, to fully surrender yourself under his touch. To trust him. 

His rough hands grip the sides of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. He gets about halfway down your thighs before you quickly sit up on your elbows again. 

“Joel?” Your voice anxiously chirps. 

He stops, eyes flicking up to you from your cunt still concealed by your sticky thighs. 

“We can stop,” He says before you can explain. “S’okay if you’re not ready.”

“No, no, that’s not it, God, that’s not it,” You rid his worries, feeling your chest quickly rise and fall under his all of a sudden protective gaze. 

“I uh-... I know you don’t owe me this, we’re not together, but… can you talk me through what you’re doing? I want to learn, and I can tell you’re experienced, I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“S’not too much to ask.” He quickly intervenes, gently taking your hands and guiding you to sit up fully once more. Your soft eyes graze over all the layers he’s still wearing, and suddenly you’re reminded how naked you are. 

“Use your voice, sweet girl. Can tell you wanna say somethin’. This is your time.” 

The sentiment means a lot. It is your time, your first time, and just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean it should be any less special. So you decide to make it your time, the way you want it. 

“Can you take your clothes off too? And is the door locked?” You trail off upon seeing his amused smirk. 

“Go on.” He nods again, letting you list your needs and wants. 

“And can you kiss me, please, Daddy?” You ask more softly than the rest of your demands. You know that kissing is romantic, but you think it might help settle you. Pull you back from drifting away, keep you here with him.  

He watches you for a moment, a bemused grin on his lips before he gently cradles your face. “The door’s locked. I’ll take my clothes off. And I’ll kiss you as many times as you like as long as you keep askin’ that nice.” 

For the first time during your interaction, your face lights up with a smile. It’s small, it’s thankful, but it’s there. There was an undeniable connection you shared with Joel, it made you feel safe under his curious eyes. 

With his large hands cupping either side of your jaw, he leans down while simultaneously guiding your chin up as your lips meet. It’s gentle at first, soft. His mouth tastes like a cigarette, it’s oddly intoxicating and you find yourself wanting more.

You know how to make out at the very least. So when you gently bite down and tug on Joel’s lower lip, both of your eyes open as a throaty little groan escapes him. 

He kisses you a little harder this time, hands falling to your hips as he pulls you closer so your fronts align. The force makes your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to let his tongue invade your mouth. He moves fluently to explore, both of you falling into a sweet lull as your bodies meld into one. 

Inadvertently, he hooks his pointer finger into your panties halfway down your thighs and finishes pulling them to your ankles. They land somewhere on the floor in a pile of your other clothes. 

Unbeknownst to you until he took his hands off your body to pluck open his belt do you realize how you were on fire for him. 

You wonder while he pushes down his trousers and tugs off his shirt if he’s ever slept with a virgin before. If you’d be his version of a first time just like he’d be yours. No, not his first ever, you weren’t that foolish. But maybe you could teach him a thing or two as well. 

There’s no way to mask your surprise when he pushes down his boxer briefs, the dark band revealing all that was underneath. His half-hard cock raises towards his stomach, rosiness fluttering at his tip. You were pleasantly surprised to find that it was a little hooked, deliciously curving upwards. 

With a new sense of confidence, your hand reaches forward and you start to shift your hand up and down his length. Joel’s quiet grunt shatters your thoughts. He gently cups the side of your neck and twirls a piece of hair around his finger. 

Joel takes your hand off his cock and you worry you’ve done something wrong already. He holds it palm-side up and nods encouragingly. “Spit on your hand, baby.”

He nods after you look up at him with shy, blown-out eyes. But you obey. 

You spit into your hand and let him guide your hand back around his member. That seems a lot better. He glistens with your spit and you have the urge to keep shocking him with your confidence.

You lean forward and directly spit onto his tip, looking up to see his approving little smirk. 

“Fuck- That’s- mmm, that’s good, angel,” he sighs with a certain happiness, loving the feeling of getting his cock taken care of. “Feels real good.” 

The praise sets off a million pistons in your brain, feeling yourself scrabble off the desk,  dropping to your knees as you continue to pump him. 

He’s heavy in your hand, and you gently lean forward to give sweet kisses to the tip. You swallow the lump in your throat before parting your lips, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. He’s salty, musky, but not dirty. In fact, he was rather well-kempt in his nether regions. 

You force yourself deeper and Joel already has his hands in your hair to pause you. 

“Woah, slow your roll, pretty girl.” He says with shortened breaths. Heat floods your body, you hate being so new to this. 

Joel continues to stroke your hair back, gently gliding a thumb up your cheekbone before he cradles one side of your face. “I see you gettin’ all shy, I know this is your first time, but I’ll teach you the basics. And no one’s perfect on their first try, okay? So just get that thought outta your head now.”

Your chest swells at his eagerness to relax you, so you nod gently and lean in to kiss the base of his stomach in appreciation. The right side of his mouth tilts up as he swipes his thumb across your plump bottom lip, a silent thank you for the kiss. 

“You’re a real good girl, you know that?” A bigger smile breaks across your lips and you eagerly tug on his cock with eagerness. Joel sighs, already in defeat at how you’re willing to get it right for him, to learn, to listen. To obey. 

“You’re gonna wanna relax your jaw,” his fingers guide you, your lips parting and letting your jaw drop lower, lower, lower for him. “And the whole part is to suck, not just put your mouth on it, okay, peaches? So hollow your cheeks, no teeth, and only go as far as you feel comfortable.” 

You shake off your nerves and clear your throat, feeling your mouth fill with spit intended for him. You place your hands on the back of his thighs, feeling the dark hairs under the pads of your fingers. 

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around his tip once more. You swirl your tongue around him, adoring the way he hisses when you glide your tongue across the slit leaking a salty substance. 

Over the introduction, you try to take him down your throat properly. And he’s a mouthful, literally. He’s a lot. But you try to just enjoy that there’s no real pressure. 

A lot of saliva starts to build in your mouth, and you swallow it around him. You’re awestruck when he lets out a low moan, strong hands weaving through your hair and lightly tugging. Your eyes flutter up to him through your lashes, and he’s looking at you so deliciously. 

You can tell he wants to fuck your mouth, holding his hips back from really letting you have it. And maybe he could do that to you someday, but for now, today was slow. And Joel knew that too. 

Joel gently tucks your hair back, your lips suctioning around his length before he drags you back towards him, indicating for you to start moving, to bob your head. 

It takes a few tries, but you really feel yourself going further down his cock. You breathe through your nose, but it’s hard when you’re trying not to gag around him. Finally, after little to no error, you slip up. His tip unexpectedly hits the back of your throat and you gag around him.  Joel must feel your whole body tense with anxiety because he’s quick to gently hush and console you. Your eyes well up with tears, but your first instinct is to keep him inside your mouth and swallow around him. 

A long, low groan leaves Joel’s mouth, a compliment to your first big challenge. 

“Holy fuck,” he pants, weaving his fingers into your hair and fisting eagerly to keep himself grounded. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ well, princess, you have no idea, fuck,” he grins. “Try using your hands on what you can’t take, come on, baby.” 

You can feel yourself physically gush at his compliments, your stomach swirling with a newfound desperation. To please. 

With new instructions, you work your hand at his base and pump up and down with the rhythm of your mouth. You worked on gently squeezing and releasing your hand, making Joel go slack-jawed as a husky groan leaves the back of his throat. Sucking and licking and bobbing your head in earnest, he’s already twitching in your mouth. 

“You’ve done this before baby,” his voice drips with a smirk, pulling yourself off for some deep breaths and a few desperate swallows. 

“Haven’t, promise, Joel,” You coo with a proud little smile, your voice thick and wrecked as you continue to pump his cock in the absence of your mouth. 

Joel lets your hair go and guides your hand off his cock before helping you up from the floor. 

Your face is obviously written with disappointment, you could have continued. You sort of wanted to continue despite the ache hanging around in your jaw. 

“You were gonna make me come, don’t wanna come yet, angel,” Joel pants weakly, ducking down and connecting your lips. You’re a little taken aback. Not by the kiss, but by the fact you already had him nearly ready to finish. 

“Really?” You murmur hopefully against his mouth, wishing he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you. 

The way that his features started to twitch and his tummy and chest fluttered with his jagged breathing, it would have been quite a sight to see him finish. Maybe he would have even done it right on your tongue. The thought alone gives you goosebumps. 

Your insides swirl as he licks inside of your mouth and gently runs his tongue along your bottom lip, moving you back towards his desk. You hop up without his instruction, feeling him smirk against your pouted mouth. 

“Now you’re gettin’ a hang of things.” He murmurs into your mouth, carrying on where he had left off before, sinking down to his own knees at the edge of the desk and positioning your feet to rest up on the edge. He seems to stare at the glistening arousal you’ve been creating for the last hour straight. 

That nervous feeling settles in your stomach, completely bare and open for him. A shocked gasp leaves your mouth, not prepared for him already to be diving into your pussy. 

The breadth of his tongue slowly swipes up the center of your core, purposely flicking off of your clit and making you yelp at the contact. His cold tongue piercing against your sensitive bundle made a shiver shoot up your spine. 

He gently smirks as he places a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh. “You’re jumpy, kitten. Take a breath. Wanna make you feel real good.” 

You let out a shaky sigh and move off your elbows, back flat on his desk as your eyes slowly drift close. Then, as he starts to truly taste you, learning you and what you like, it’s unexpected how much you enjoy it. It never really dawned on you that some people truly enjoy eating pussy, but Joel Miller sure does. 

Your broken little whimpers and strung-out moans turn into writhing on his desk under him. He was such an expert, meticulously swirling his tongue around you and suckling your clit into his mouth. 

It didn’t take long for your fingers to wind up into his hair as his shoulders lay bracketed between your thighs. It was heavy, it was stomach-twisting, in fact, it was rolling through you like a storm. The it in question was your first oral orgasm. 

“J-Joel,” you gasp, your jaw dropping down as he slowly prods the tip of his finger at your entrance. 

“Need to get you ready for my cock, sweet girl, keep focusing on how good you feel,” he encourages. Your face pinches as his finger slowly sinks into your entrance, but you realize how grateful you are for all the extra spit and arousal Joel has provided. 

It doesn’t necessarily hurt, it’s a weird ache at first. But then his finger starts to slowly pump inside of you, and it’s a new craving. Especially with the way his tongue moves around your clit, the pistons in his brain firing all to figure out what you like. 

Do you like when he flicks your clit with his cold metal piercing?

“Ohmygod-” you gasp. 

Do you like when he swirls his naughty tongue around you in tight figure eights? 

“Joel, please,” you say, needing more. 

Did you like it most when he suckles around your sweet bud?

“Joel!” You cry out, tugging tighter at his hair, not sure if you want to tug him closer for more or push him away because it feels too good. 

“O-Oh, oh my god.” Lying still was a foreign thing to you now, all you could do was wiggle and grip your fingers into his hair, tugging harshly as he grunted against your core in enjoyment. 

He actually likes pleasing you, he likes tasting you! It’s a compliment without words as your eyes dip close and your head digs back into the desk.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to drop like you’re on a rollercoaster. You’re not unfamiliar with the feeling of an orgasm, but this, oral, it hits differently. 

“Fuck,” you curse unexpectedly, making Joel cock up an eyebrow as he glances up at you. All you can do is watch as his mouth suckles harder around you, his finger pumping faster and adding a second. 

Because if there’s anyone in this world that can break you out of your shell, Joel wants it to be him. 

Now you’re really aching for him,  wishing that it was his cock slotted between your walls, pushing you towards euphoria. 

“Know you wanna come for me angel,” his fingers quirk upwards in a come here motion, and a long, strung-out moan of his name leaves your lips.

God forbid any of the shop’s workers or clients hear you, but you can’t think of a singular reason to care right now. 

Your walls flex and squeeze around Joel’s two fingers, truly feeling the stretch as you come around his digits. It leaves you a whimpering mess on his desk, hot pants leaving your pretty lips. 

Joel is in heaven, lapping you up and moaning against your core as your clit starts to twitch with the overstimulation. His hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before he sits up and kisses up your body, his own lips meeting yours. He’s hungry, and you’re still bouncing back. But you want it so bad, and you’re so close to finally having it. 

“Joel, I’m ready.” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He breathily laughs and pecks your lips once more, tasting your own arousal and making you feel warm inside. 

“Desperate for my cock, ain’t that right, pretty girl?” 

God, he was such a menace with his mouth. Your adorably shy grin is all the answer he needs. But you give him one anyway, because he likes when you talk like that with him. 

“Yes, daddy, I just wanna feel it already,” you try out, Joel’s lust-filled eyes meeting yours as white-hot heat spills into your stomach. 

“I’ll give it to ya, baby girl. Wanna give that tight little virgin pussy my cock, don’t want anyone else to have ya. Mine.” Joel huskily grunts, a choked moan leaving your lips. 

Joel reaches past your head and to the drawer on the other side of the desk. He jimmies it open and searches his hand around blindly. He flips open his wallet and pulls a small square foil package from the slot. 

Oh, duh, a condom. In all your excitement, you sort of forgot to be safe. But you’re glad he was prepared. 

You watch with adoration on your features as Joel lifts the condom to his lips, pearly teeth ripping the foil off but not hurting the condom. His other hand rests sweetly on your hip, thumb running soothing circles into your pretty skin. 

It’s a soothing feeling, one that he doesn’t have to do, but he does because he’s being considerate and maybe even a little protective. You gently lay your hand on his forearm, fingers tracing fresh black ink and older green ink on his arm’s sleeve. 

A shaky sigh leaves your lips as he uses both hands to glide the condom down his shaft. It’s nearly invisible, the way it’s so thin and tightly wrapped around his cock. Besides the band that rests at the very bottom of his shaft. He grumbles something incoherent, probably his annoyance with the fussing of the condom and how tight it probably felt around him.  

You take in a shaky breath and nod at him once he comes to rejoin your centers. 

“You’re sure you’re ready for this? Don’t wanna wait for someone y’love? Or trust? Or just... Anybody but me?” Joel’s face is pinched with genuine concern. 

You smile softly and gently cup his cheek. “I do trust you. It takes a lot of trust to allow someone to alter your body forever with a tattoo. So, you’re giving me a tattoo, and you’re taking my virginity. You’re sort of doubling down for me right now, honestly.” 

Joel flashes a genuine little smile. It’s the most you’ve said consistently all day with him, even with a little drip of sarcasm and wit. 

“Okay. But ya gotta say it.” He says more seriously. 

“I’m ready, Daddy. Want you to make me feel good. I know you can.” You can already feel yourself picking up his dirty talk. It makes your smile twitch as you gently grip both of his forearms, his hands spreading your thighs open for him. 

He enters the space, his heavy cock resting over your core and slowly slipping up and down your wet folds. 

You let out an unexpected little scoff as he grinds himself down against you, your arousal soaking the condom. He holds himself at his base and taps his tip down against your already throbbing clit, making you hiss out a desperate whine. 

“M’not usually this… gentle.” He admits through gritted teeth. You’re sort of shocked by that. Sure, he has a rough and tough exterior, but he’s treated you with such delicacy that you assumed he was like this all the time. 

“So, what are you usually like?” You pose, your breath hitching in your throat as one of his hands abandons your thighs and guides his tip from your clit to your entrance, up and down, several times. Your thighs twitch impatiently. Your entrance squeezes around nothing. 

“M’just... not this gentle,” is all he can say without breaking into a bemused smile. 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

Joel playfully scoffs as his face starts to pierce with concentration. “Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

“I’m sure I-” your words are cut off by a loud gasp, your lips parting as his tip penetrates your walls. You’re phased for a moment before you gulp and recollect yourself. You whimper, louder and louder as he pushes on, watching Joel move with such caution. 

He really is holding back, you think. You wonder what he’s like when he can just fuck how he pleases. 

“Baby,” Joel’s voice breaks your concentration. “Breathe.” 

A loud huff of air leaves your mouth that you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. The ache in your hips and core only builds with tension as Joel pushes on, his length and girth surely parting your tight walls. 

“So fuckin’- tight.” He says with gritted teeth, his fingers piercing into the delicate flesh of your outer thighs, making you whimper. 

“Joel,” you quietly cry for him, tears threatening to spill at the pain. It’s just- a lot. It’s a lot for your first time, and maybe you wouldn’t have signed up if you knew what he was packing, but in a weird way, you loved it. He felt made for you. 

“M’here, angel, look at me.” In all the excitement and overwhelming feelings of pain and pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed you were clenching your eyes closed. You slowly peek them open, greeted by his heavenly features. 

“There’s my girl.” He compliments, warmth and sweetness shooting through your body. 

“Fuck,” you say, your voice a bit wet as Joel comes down closer to aid you. He’s all the way in now, you can feel his balls flushed against your sopping wet cunt. 

The arousal helps, the condom sort of doesn’t but it’s fine, that’s life, you think. You’re torn between pain and pleasure. Honestly, you just feel so fucking full. 

He tells you between breathy pants that he would have used lube if he had any, but he didn’t, and he’s sorry, and his pretty voice starts to turn into static with how fucking good he feels inside of you. 

“You’re doing so good for me, angel,” he praises, sponging a few kisses along your cheeks and tasting your salty tears. You feel like some weak pathetic being under him. He’s been sweet, but you’re sure he’s just treating you like he found a wounded animal. 

“Move, Joel, please” you weakly demand, lassoing your arms around his neck and holding him close to you. 

“No.” He says through gritted teeth. “Just-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, knowing that you’re dealing with a million emotions right now as he’s trying to breathe around the death grip you have on his cock. “Just wait a minute, sweetheart, let yourself adjust.” 

A pouty, bratty sigh leaves your lips as you continue to blink away tears. You eventually nod and he only smiles adoringly as he returns to kiss at the tears.

Your senses are spiked. You can smell his cologne, feel each gristle of hair from his salt and pepper beard. It’s erotic how much more you can feel while at the edge of your emotions. 

One of your hands roams into his darling chocolate curls, instinctually going to gently scrape your nails delicately against his scalp. You’re sweetly surprised to hear him mutter a sweet little moan just for you against the shell of your ear. 

Your hands flutter across dark tattoos on his shoulders and arms, your blurry vision trying to make out the shapes as you trace a pretty angel on his upper bicep. 

Joel Miller was inside of you. Joel Miller has taken your virginity. The hottest man you’ve ever set your eyes on is fucking you at his place of work, on his desk. And you convinced him to. 

Joel was right. The pain, ache, and burn slowly turned into a real yearning for him to move. It felt like what was right, a certain neediness to be filled and fucked.  

“Daddy,” you whisper more sweetly this time, more to your character. “Please fuck me, you feel good now, I can take it. Promise.” 

It takes him a moment to gather himself as well, smiling sweetly as he keeps his mouth by your breasts where he is sucking a gentle hickey into your soft skin. Color flushes to the area, feeling his teeth gently nibble on the spot before he finally lifts off. 

Marking you, you think. It makes another gush of arousal flood your core, liquifying your spine as you become putty in his hands. 

His mouth twitches in a small smile as he captures your lips. Unbeknownst to you, the sweet kiss was just a distraction. 

Joel slowly began reeling his hips back which was a whole new sensation. His strangled moan harmonized with the gasp you let out into his mouth, moaning out the breath you were holding as he plunges himself fully back inside your warm cunt. 

You whimpered weakly, needy and anxiously happy, you wanted more. More, more, more. 

“Oh- my god,” you whimper, feeling him start a steady rhythm inside of you. Your jaw slowly drops and your eyes flutter closed, feeling your tits start to lightly bounce every time his hips perfectly align with your own. 

“So goddamn tight, still,” he grunts each word, forehead against yours as he watches your face unfold with a million reactions. 

Something primal switches in Joel, knowing he’s the first one to do this sort of stuff with you. 

It’s strangely possessive and arrogant, he knows it, but being the first man you trust to fuck you properly was feeding his ego. You’re a beautiful young woman with big doe eyes who waltzed into his shop and insisted he rail you, take your sacred first, talk you through it, and carry you through this dark and fearful forest. 

You trusted him. He wouldn’t break that bond. 

You came here wanting something, knowing how to get it. You came here asking, and Joel was open to teaching. The last thing he wanted was for some asshole to hurt you, something your sweet nature couldn’t afford was poison. 

Maybe he could teach you more, if you wanted. If he offered you an invitation to his world, would you take it? He only shared a slice of his lifestyle with you today, would the rest scare you, or entice you? 

Joel can’t help the way his hips buck faster at his thoughts, a little sob leaving your lips. He’s absent, just for a moment, feeling your skin slap against his as he holds you down and fills you fully. His tip hits your cervix for the first time and heat floods your stomach as you cry out his name. 

“Shit,” he panics and quickly comes back to his senses, wide eyes meeting your bleary ones, “you okay, angel? M’sorry” Joel whispers, returning to his original rhythm. 

“Yes-yes, fuck, please keep going, keep doing that, I can’t believe how good it feels.” 

Joel weakly smirks, proud to see you taking him so well.

The desk squeaks and juts with each of his heavy thrusts, that’s how you know it’s fucking good. You came here wanting to lose your virginity, but now that you’ve unwound Joel Miller, you want him to fucking rail you. 

Licking your lips, you lean up and pepper kisses up his wirey jawline, feeling the patch of hair that fades out and then back in again. He’s so sweet right now, but you wonder what he was talking about before. What was he when he wasn’t gentle? How good would rough feel? Would you like it? Maybe you could learn, explore, adventure. Surely Joel with his experience could be a guiding light. 

You watch with glittery eyes as Joel pulls his head off yours and licks across the pads of his fingers. 

“What are you- shit,” you whimper as his fingers start circling your clit, taking a moment to find your sweet little rhythm, one that somehow matches his hips. Now, your skin is slapping and it’s echoing around the room. Your moans are louder and uncontrollable, as are Joel’s. Your hips ache but you don’t find the will to care, he feels like fucking heaven. 

His cock is somehow inching deeper, as if your walls have decided to invite him in further, where he hits this perfect little spot inside of you that makes you squeak Joel’s name with robbed breaths. 

You’re not sure if you can hold on much longer, your stomach starts to swirl as all the knots inside your belly begin to untie themselves. 

You brace Joel at his shoulders and look into his eyes as you moan his name. A certain hunger flickers behind his dark brown orbs. His jaw clicks and he starts fucking you in earnest, filling you up each time as his hips snap with vigor. He feels fucking amazing, piercing your walls and marking you as his. 

“Joel-”

“Say what I wanna hear, baby,” he rasps. You quickly nod and gulp. 

“Daddy, please, I-I’m so close,” you moan sweetly as your head digs into the desk, jutting your chin up and arching your back. Joel takes full advantage of your breasts in his face, burying his nose in between them and nipping at the sensitive flesh, nearly making you yelp. 

“M’right there with you, angel baby, come for me,” he insists breathlessly.

His hips were losing their precision, going buck-wild, so you knew he was close. But he was holding out for you. 

You clench your eyes closed, feeling yourself lose all control. Your heart races in your chest, beat thrumming in your throat as you hold Joel against your front as his hips continue to snap and fill you. You don’t know what to do with your mouth, so you feverishly land your lips on his and make him mask the moans of your orgasm. 

Joel’s groan echoes loudly into your mouth as you gasp against his lips. Your walls clench eagerly around his cock as he spills into the condom. 

It’s blinding, deafening even. Your face goes slack and your eyes see stars. You think you might be shedding a tear or two because Joel is cupping your face kindly, thumbs swiping under your eyes as he encourages you out of your haze. 

“Lemme see those eyes, pretty girl,” he pants sweetly, watching for any sign of doubt. But he wouldn’t find any. 

You’re not so sure where he starts and you begin, your mind is so fuzzy. 

A soft hum leaves your lips as you soothingly run a hand through his dark hair again, gently stroking the longer curls away from the sheen on his forehead. Both of you were so warm, it felt like a fire was set between you two. When you curl a strand around your finger, you weakly smile as it coils back up and bounces. 

“How was your first time, angel?” Joel pants, still buried balls deep inside of you. Your hips ache, but part of you wasn’t ready for him to pull out yet. 

“I can’t believe I finished twice.” You admit with a shy smile, running a thumb up his cheekbone and glancing up at his eyebrow piercing. He notices you staring but keeps his eyes on your own.  

“Did it hurt?”

He shakes his head. 

“What about the one in your nose?”

He shakes his head again, this time with a smile. 

“Or your tongue?” 

This one made him ponder before he finally gave a light shrug. 

“You don’t remember the pain after a while. Just like tattoos. The pain is temporary.” 

Your mouth tilts in a lopsided smile, feeling messy with both of your spillages still puddled around your centers. 

Joel grunts as he slowly stands up from his bent-over position on the desk, pulling himself out of you and tying up the condom before he tosses it into the waste bin. 

You whine quietly to yourself as you close your legs. It hurts a little more now. Your hips and your core, a certain soreness. Or maybe it was missing him already. 

“Oh,” you whisper, starting to feel a little bit of leakage glide down your thigh. “Joe, do you-” 

“Course,” Joel says assuringly, hands already on a towel as he neals down and gently glides the material up the inside of your thigh. You bite down on your lip as he cleans you up with the soft towel and a little bit of water. 

You glance around the sterilized room and realize he’ll probably have to scrub this place down for the most part. Whoops. 

You’re slow to dress. Joel’s already buttoned his pants by the time you find your panties. He snickers quietly and helps you dress with a smirk. 

It’s not awkward like you feared it would. It sort of felt like you guys were friends. Then, something sort of unexpected happens. 

Joel fondly strokes a hair out of your face, pushing it behind your ear and smoothing out the little knots he had caused while fisting your hair during his blowjob. He’s soft and gentle with you. It makes you oh so curious what he looks like when he’s not soft and gentle. 

You sigh softly as you look at yourself in the mirror. You sort of felt proud, like you’d be a whole new person leaving the shop today. Even without a tattoo. 

“Joel, I don’t want anyone to see me leaving your office.” 

“That ashamed of me, huh?” He scoffs at you playfully, running his hand up and down his chest hair before he finally throws on his shirt. “I have the back office, so we can just go out that door.” He juts up his chin to behind you and you follow his eyeline. “Goes to the alley behind the shop.” 

You note the dark green painted exit door, and you’re thankful you don’t have to parade through the front of the shop or go past any other clients. 

The gentleman that he is, Joel walks you to your car as dusk settles in, marking the sky an orange and red horizon.  

“I gotta clean up the shop and close. You gonna be okay until I see you next?”

You nod meekly, a sweet smile on your face that twinges with a little shyness. “I’ll be okay. I still need that tattoo.” You tease to which he grins. 

“You do. I’ve worked real hard on it, so you better come back an’get it.” 

You nip at your lower lip as he stays guarded by your window, like a handsome pierced, and tatted bodyguard. 

It’s itching at you too much to let it go. You’re just too curious. “M’not this gentle.” 

“Yeah? Maybe you can show me next time what you’re really like.” 

“Not sure if you can handle it, kitten.” 

You gulp and clutch his hand before he fully stands up to walk away from your car. “You’ll show me again sometime? Like you said?”

Your eyes glimmer with a certain hopefulness, but his own seem to harden out of caution. 

It was just insane that he knew so much more than you. You wanted to unlock all forms of pleasure you were comfortable with. You like that he was holding something back. 

You were wet clay in his massive hands, he could mold you to his liking. You could learn his pleasures, his kinks, what unravels him beyond repair. You could learn a thing or two about yourself in the process. 

Joel sighs. 

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warns, lips crooked in a snarl. His eyes beg for you not to want him, not to want this. 

But nothing set your nerves on fire like seeing him in control of you, just that brief second where his eyes flashed from amber to black and he fucked you like nothing or no one was stopping him. What if you gave it all up to him? 

Submissiveness dances behind your eyes, and Joel’s a sucker for that sweet look on your face. He debates if this is what you really want, or if it’s something else. He can’t deny he enjoys the trust you put in him. 

Joel quietly sighs with hesitation, eyes the way your small hand desperately holds his before he finally squeezes back. 

“You don’t know how t’take no for an answer, do ya?” He asks, a small smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth. “That’ll have to change.” 

You grin and nod, biting down on your lower lip as you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Joel takes notice, not wanting to see you in any sort of discomfort, especially from something he caused. 

“Take some pain medicine and relax tonight, angel. You were perfect.” 

Your heart swells at the compliment, the appreciation, the care. He gently pats your window a few times before standing up straight and backing up from your car, moving back towards the dark green exit door. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Driving away, you’re giddy with excitement of the unknown. It was a dark path you wanted to pursue. And maybe it was fucking stupid how you could trust a complete stranger like this, how none of your past partners felt worthy of your first time, but the tattooed and pierced old southern gentleman did. It was fucked. But you were sort of fucked for Joel Miller. 

You hum to the radio as you experience pure adrenaline, thumb gliding over the raised numbers on his business card. You glance down and notice a small stamp of a fern in the top right corner, adjacent to his name and professional title. 

The Obsidian Gallery 

Joel Miller

Senior Tatoo Artist

You can’t explain how your heart inadvertently races as you remember flashes of his hips rutting into yours, those same delicate fern leaves decorating the front of his hips. You were so fucked for Joel Miller. 

next chapter ->

[covetyou]

sweet as cherry wine

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (power imbalance, reader was paying a debt), unprotected PIV, period sex, the joys of menstruation, fingering, derogatory names (slut), mentions of malnutrition/lack of food, positive weight gain, ghost of anal sex past and future, drug reference, asshole Joel, no use of y/n word count: 5.1k summary: a different kind of rude awakenin' than you were promised ruins your Sunday plans but, of course, you find yourself at the mercy of Joel Miller anyway.

A/N: she's here! another mini-kinktober SWAT series of oneshots for you to enjoy and for me to be horny about in theory, stressed about in practice. if you want spoilers, check out the SWAT masterlist for what's to come.

once again, please ignore the total and utter bastardisation and improper use of hozier lyrics. this one is particularly heinous but out of context I couldn't resist.

title from cherry wine by hozier

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You felt more alive these days. Whether it was the bright, cool days, the extra food you could suddenly afford to eat, or the regular fucking you got from Joel, you couldn't tell, but the world felt lighter and, at the very least, your father's bad days didn't feel so difficult to manage.

It was easy to forget that these things couldn't last - the cloud was incoming whether you liked it or not, and whether it was a short shower or a downpour, you were going to get wet.

It was a fact that became painfully apparent the very morning you had an appointment with Joel.

It wasn't a strict appointment, more an offhand comment that you planned on cashing in on. When a man like Joel fucks you from behind and taunts you with threats of fucking your ass again and you think fuck yes so hard the words spew out of your mouth as you babble into the sheets, what else is a girl to do. And when he makes doubly sure you heard him by kneading your ass as you ready yourself to leave and whispers in your ear the filthy things he wants to do to you, and if you want them to happen you should come over Sunday afternoon, it's basically a done deal.

"If you thought that was an ass fuckin' before," he had said, "You're in for a rude fuckin' awakenin', sweetheart."

By god did you want that rude awakening.

But, staring into your underwear that Sunday morning, the distantly familiar gnawing ache in your abdomen suddenly had a name, and there your plans went, flushed down the drain right alongside the first signs you'd seen of your fucking period in years.

You remembered the pain, but it'd been long enough that you'd forgotten about the other discomforts periods could bring. The hunger, the aches, the tender nipples and the throb in your head. Not to mention, the last thing you wanted was Joel anywhere near any of your holes, asshole definitely included.

With your plans ruined and an ache that was rapidly spreading to your back, you didn't bother leaving the house that day, or sending word to Joel that you wouldn't be coming. Your rude awakenin' would have to wait, and your dad would have to stretch his pills for a few more days.

Three days in, you can't wait any longer. Or rather, your dad can't. You still feel rotten, and though the pain and bleeding have eased off a little, you just want the sit in your apartment and eat - the very luxury that got you in this mess in the first place.

But, you're here instead. In front of Joel's door, hands clasped at your sides, berating yourself - and your father - for even needing to be here, when Joel pulls open the door with a scowl.

"This look like Sunday to you?" he grouches, the furrow between his brows deepening as he looks you up and down.

You try to ignore it. Just like you've tried to ignore the gnawing ache in your belly all week. But, despite yourself, you can't speak, can't bring mention to Sunday and your own disappointment, and instead reach a hand deep into your jacket pocket and pull out the small number of cards you'd agreed would cover your dad's meds.

"Just here for a refill."

Joel rolls his eyes, and when he pushes away from the door frame, he beckons you inside, pushing the door shut behind you the second you scurry through after him.

"The fuck is wrong with you," he says, slamming an old worn container onto the table a second later. "And don't say nothin', I can tell you ain't right. Seen dead bodies with more life in 'em."

It hadn't occurred to you that he'd know. That he'd see right through you and know that you'd spent the days since Sunday feeling shitty as you curled into yourself. It hadn't occured to you for a second that you might look different - probably just as shit as you felt - and that Joel, a man who never seemed to be put off by anything, might be put off by this. By you.

"You sick?"

You hadn't even noticed he'd stopped rummaging, hands now on his hips as he stares at you with what you could almost mistake for concern. It pulls at you, somewhere deep inside, and you find a need to scramble for the words to reassure him, to tell him you'd be okay in the vaguest terms, that you'd be back to normal next week, if he still wants to go ahead with Sunday, because by fuck do you want to.

But instead, just one word comes out of your mouth in a sudden burst much louder than you intended.

"Period."

Joel blinks. Once. Then twice. As if trying to work something out, or maybe he's disgusted that you bleed, or maybe he's relieved you aren't pregnant at all and the little procedure to keep his swimmers at bay was still effective.

"Y'ain't had one o' them before," he starts. "I mean, since..."

You want to tell him that maybe you have. Maybe you hid it - didn't want him to know - but you both know you're a shit liar.

"Guess eating works wonders," you joke instead, not missing the frown that tugs his brows down, or the way his eyes scan back over your body to settle on the jacket that fits more snug than it ever has, or the thighs that now fill out your jeans.

The entire time, he doesn't make a single move to grab your father's pills. You want to scream at him to hurry up and give them to you - the longer you're standing here, the longer your cunt has to throb and clench at the mere thought of him. For the first time all week, you're not sure the wet feeling between your legs is blood.

"Got everything's you need?" he asks, his eyes briefly flicking down to your belly then back up.

You do. You tell him as much, now keenly aware of the feeling of the cup sat securely inside you as he stares holes through your head, searching for the lie, before giving up and shrugging when he doesn't find one.

He starts rummaging in the small container again, pulling out a half used packet and gesturing to you with it. "You hurtin'?"

You shake your head, turning down his offer of free prescription meds to ease your aches and pains. "Not so much any more."

Joel slowly takes a step towards you, and your pussy pulses again, gripping the cup lodged inside you and making you wish it was something else entirely.

"Still up for fuckin' if you are."

Nothing can keep the scoff of disbelief from bubbling out of your chest. Not two seconds ago you thought that maybe he'd be put off by you, if not by how you looked, then by the mess between your legs.

"No way are you fucking my ass, Joel," you say through a laugh.

He shrugs, before moving closer and pulling open your jacket. "Never said that. A fuckin' is a fuckin', don't matter which hole. Could have you comin' on this cock and leavin' feelin' better than you have in days, if you want it."

"You got a magic dick or something?" You laugh again, though smaller this time as Joel stares down at you through dark lashes.

"Think you know the answer to that better than I do," Joel says, running his tongue along his teeth. "Doubt you been rubbin' that pretty thing between your legs too much these last few days, huh?"

He's not wrong - making yourself come has been the last thing in your mind lately. You spent most of your time Sunday scrambling to find your menstrual cup and learning how to use it all over again so you weren't free bleeding all over the place. Since then your days had been filled with torturously slow work days and hiding away in your room with a pillow cluched firmly to your stomach.

"Didn't think so."

In a blink, he's gone, moving away from you so quickly your head spins. He's pressing the lid firmly back onto the container, the loud clicking echoing around his apartment as he readies it to be stashed away. You look away as he turns from you - not wanting to see if it's hidden in the usual drawer or elsewhere in his home - and turn just in time for a threadbare towel to be thrown your way. It's worn, and stained, but soft and clean in your hands.

"Go get yourself cleaned up."

You gape at him. Mostly in disbelief that he would want to touch you at all right now, but a small part of you stares at his form - broad and strong - wanting desperately to leap on him right here with no mind paid to the thing currently lodged in your cunt, feral with the knowledge that he actually wants you.

"But what about the mess," you say feebly instead, grinding your knuckles into that soft part just below the pooch of your belly as a sudden ache - no doubt brought on by the fluttering in your cunt - takes hold of your womb.

He laughs then, low and throaty, before making his way back to you and gripping your chin between thumb and forefinger.

"Good job I like it when you're a mess for me, sweetheart."

You're gone in a flash - his deep chuckle the only thing you hear as you rush to the bathroom and close the door, stripping down as quickly as you can before hopping into his shower. The water is deliciously warm as it pelts your skin, a forgotten luxury that you wish you'd had two days ago at the worst of your aches. Still, you relish in it, and find yourself tentatively stepping out of the steamy room with the tattered towel wrapped around you and your cup cleaned and discarded on his bathroom sink far sooner than you'd like.

There's a soft yellow light beckoning you into Joel's bedroom as you pad your way across his floor. He's there, just beyond the doorway, laying another towel across faded sheets. His jeans are off and his sweater discarded, his bare, muscular legs flexing with each movement in the golden light as he puts together the space you're about to fall apart in.

"You gonna keep starin'," he says with a final flourish of the towel before giving it a gentle pat with his hand. "Or you gonna sit your ass down before you drip on my floor."

Rolling your eyes, you walk to the bed, Joel barely giving you space to maneouver by him, before doing as your told and sitting your ass down. There's already a soft lump forming in the front of his boxers when you cast your eyes up to him.

"Show me," he says, dragging a finger across your hand where you grip the towel to yourself, and in an instant it drops away from your body, falling into your lap and exposing your chest to him.

"Y'know, I thought they'd got bigger," he says, letting his finger trace from your hand to your palm and down to the soft swelling of your chest. "Bouncin' in my fuckin' face more than usual lately."

His broad hand encases your breast, gently holding but not squeezing as his fingertips caress your soft flesh. His thumb drags gently across your nipple, the sensitive bud of it tightening and sending a zing straight down through to your core. It should hardly come as a surprise to you - the soft fabric of your own t-shirts had been borderline painful in the days leading up to your unpleasant surprise. Still, it makes you gasp, a thing that Joel notices with a cocked eyebrow.

"Ass too," he continues, hands stroking softly at your tender nipple before crouching before you on creaking knees. "I'd fuck it any chance I'd get, but somethin' about it lately..."

Resting back on your palms, you look down at him beyond the swell of your breasts. He's gazing at them, watching as they heave with each breath you take. For good measure, you take in a deep sigh just to watch his eyes darken as they rise and fall right in front of his face.

"Show me," he says again, with a nod and, while his eyes never leave your tits as they sway in front of him, you know what he really means.

Part of you wants to clamp your legs together and hide from him. You want to ask him why - why ever, but mostly why now, when you're like this. But you don't.

Instead, you pull the towel away and let it fall from your thighs. For a second, you wonder if Joel has even noticed. He still seems entranced by the way your tits move. That, or he's somehow being polite - a weird thing to even consider given how very naked and very close to him you are right now.

Then, he flicks his eyes between your legs for a fraction of a second, before standing and pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth movement. The tent in his boxers is even more pronounced now, the trail of hair that slips beneath the waistband drawing your eye easily to the swelling bulge hidden beyond the fabric.

"Eyes up here, sweetheart," Joel says. "Think you can take it?"

He's stroking himself over the fabric now, you can see it in your periphery. His broad hand gently squeezing and rubbing the very thing you wish was in you.

Words lost, you nod. Then, his knee descends to one side of you, calloused hands pushing at your shoulders, and you're falling softly backward until you collide with the mattress, and the worn towel covering it.

The mattress gives way to your weight, dipping softly where you lay. Joel's over you, his massive frame cast in golden light from the lamp as he touches you more gently than you think he ever has. Your nipples pucker, his hands not even close to them as you arch into the touch of his rough palm across your side, your belly, your hip.

And then, he's dipping his fingers between your legs, not caring of the mess that might be there, and drags slick fingers through your folds until you're panting and writhing underneath him, legs spreading and hips rocking your pussy into his hand with each swipe of his wet fingers over your clit. You didn't notice how sensitive you were. The last few days you'd tried your hardest to ignore any sensation coming from your cunt that wasn't an alarming feeling of warm and wet. Now, while you were definitely warm and wet, you were practically electrified too, blood humming with need as Joel gently stroked at your pussy until you were begging him to make you come.

"I'm gonna, sweetheart," he growls. "Gonna make this needy pussy come all over my cock. Make a mess o' me."

You feel yourself flutter as his finger pushes lightly into your waiting hole. You're dripping, no telling really with what at this point, but you don't have it in you to care. He can have the mess he so desperately wants, as long as he makes you come and leaves you panting and bone tired right here on the mattress.

His face burrows into your neck, shrouding you in him while he sucks kisses down and onto your shoulder.

"Joel..." you moan, arching into him again when his finger plunges deep, gently curling forward while his palm grinds against your clit. You could make yourself come on him if he just kept like this. Except, you don't want to. You don't want to do the work. You want to lie here and take it, have him split you open on his cock and work you apart until you crumble underneath him.

He works another into you, shallow thrusts of the digits working you up and sliding easily through you. His thumb finds your clit, swiping messily over it until you twitch and grip his arm, forcing his palm flat against you so you can grind and grind against him. But he stills - the soft kisses he was peppering with you having reached the jiggle of your tits - and looks aup at you with a quirk to his brow.

"Beg me for it," he whispers, pulling his sopping fingers out of you and wiping them on the towel between your legs. "Not gonna fuck you until you do."

Your desperation cuts through the anger that flares in your belly. You were close when he pulled away, his hand now simply teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh. You were so close your cunt was throbbing, sending small aches up through you. Whether they were from him, and the relief he so quickly took from you, or the making of your own body, you couldn't even tell, but you had a sneaking suspicion they were working together to fuck you over. They always did.

"Fuck me, Joel. Please."

Joel is already settling between your thighs, boxers yanked down his legs and cock springing free, by the time you even finish asking. He presses forward, letting his cock slip against you as his mouth hungrily finds your nipple, sucking and making you gasp. A sudden sob wrestles its way out of your chest while he grinds against you, your clit twitching against the slip and slide of his length, your hands finding his arms to steady you. He's solid, and steady above you, while you quake and writhe beneath him - always the picture of fucking composure, even with his cock heavy and dripping between your legs.

He rears back then, completely naked before you, the shadow between his legs ignored as you make a point to stare up at him, his own eyes favoring the mess between your legs rather than your face. His fingers find your thighs again, spreading them, holding them, before lining himself up with your entrance.

As he presses his tip into you, there's something glaringly obvious, and different, that you notice.

He's being gentle with you. Sort of.

And you're not entirely sure you like it. A very big part of you wants him to say fuck it and pound into you, fucking the pain out of your mind to leave you moaning and boneless and far too messy to comprehend. Unfortunately, you're definitely sure that'd hurt much more than it'd actually be enjoyable, and you hate that Joel and his animal brain have understood that before you and yours.

He catches your frown before you do, and rolls his eyes at you with a gentle squeeze to your thighs. His cock is still slipping gently in and out of you, just pushing in past the head, careful not to go too deep too quickly as he spreads you apart to take him.

"I ain't a fuckin' animal. I know when a pussy's gotta be treated sweet and nice and when it needs to be fucked hard."

You really do try not to pout, but the slow drag of him suddenly doesn't feel like enough and it's all you can do not to cross your arms and glare at him. "What if I don't want sweet and nice?"

"Yeah, you do," he whispers, so sure of himself you want to fucking slap him. If his hands weren't so distracting as they slide up and down your thighs, gently massaging away any ache in tandem with his cock in your cunt, you probably would reach up and give a smack to that beautiful fucking face of his. "And even if you think you don't, she does, and, unlucky for you, I ain't listenin' to you right now."

The moment he starts talking about your cunt, his brings his thumb down to gently tease along your lips where he splits you open, drawing a slick combination of your own blood and arousal up to your clit where he swirls it around.

And, traitorous bitch that she is, your pussy throbs in approval, as if to say yes, yes we want sweet and nice, and you know you've lost the battle. Where Joel was concerned, you were a slave to your pussy - it wasn't even a point worth contending at this point, and you're not sure you ever would've fought to hard against it anyway.

So, you nod, slipping your eyes closed as he fucks himself deeper and deeper into you. In an odd way it does feel like a massage - the stiff length of him pushing in past the tense grip of your cunt until you're putty right there on the bed, a leaking, dripping, groaning mess, all of Joel Miller's making. He never bottoms out. Never once hammers home. Never once takes your soft pleas and moans as direction to go faster, harder, even though part of you still wants him to.

You just lie there, soft and pliant against the sheets, taking the steady slip of him in your needy hole until your brain turns to soup in your head.

"Kiss me," you mumble through another moan when his hands drag up your body to swip rough fingers over your nipples again. "Joel, kiss me."

Your legs push back as he falls forward, the sudden movement pushing him deeper and making you gasp. He stops for a moment, searching your eyes as they fly open, pupils blown in the lowlight of his bedroom. He rocks tentatively, at first, before beginning the slow slide in and out of you all over again, until your head thuds back against the mattress.

You'd thought he'd undone you before. Right in this room. You'd thought his fist in you had ruined you, his cock in your ass, his hand in your hair. So many things before now should have torn you apart, but none of that had prepared you for this. The soft, sweet, dirty way Joel Miller fucked all the aches and pains out of you right on his tired mattress.

Through it all, you almost forget you'd asked him to kiss you until his mouth finds yours, and you excitedly accept the pressure of his lips. You'd be embarrassed by it, and by the giddiness in your head as he nips and sucks at your mouth, if you hadn't long lost that feeling around him.

"Forget how much of a slut for kisses you are," he mumbles when he pulls away. "Slut for everythin'."

A weak protest forms in your throat, but his hips jerk forward and silence you with a moan instead.

"No denyin' it. Ain't met many who wanna be split open on this dick when they're on the rag," he's grinning into your shoulder as he taunts you, biting and sucking soft bruises you'll worry about later you as he grinds deeper in you now. "Startin' to think you're some kind of masochist."

You can feel his smile against your skin - a sign he already knows by now that that's more than true. Even so, like most things with Joel, this wasn't something you'd even considered before, let alone considered you might enjoy, until he did it. There's an ache as he stretches you, sure. And an ache in your belly too. And, somehow, one is soothing the other, the grip you have around his cock distracting you from any other feeling in your body as he slides through the mess between the two of you, bringing you close to a euphoria that feels deeper in your belly than it ever has.

He notices the change before you do. Your soft, contented moans turn into deep yearning cries as he grinds his cock deep, heavy balls sitting wetly against your ass as your slicked up hole seems to draw him in further and further. His fingers push between you, the slip of sweat, and blood, and your own slick easing his digits between your bodies until he finds your clit again.

With a soft movement, he jerks it between two fingers, watching and listening as you whine pathetically, eyes pressed so tight you see stars. A quick slip lower, feeling the sticky slip of you around his cock that has the telltale feel of your arousal and not blood, he moves back up and begins swiping his finger over your swollen clit in earnest.

Your clit twitches and pulses beneath his finger, your cunt fluttering around his solid length as it slowly presses into you, barely moving, just watching as you become exactly the kind of mess you feel.

It aches, and it hurts, and it feels so fucking good that you sob out a cry, a moan, a garbled plea, all at once as you come, shaking into the deep arch of your back as he fucks slowly and slowly and slowly, his fingers sliping endlessly against your clit, jerking the nub until you can do nothing but let out a deep, breathy, scream.

"That's it," he groans, his own cock throbbing in you as you pulsate around him. "Messy fuckin' girl. Come on it. Come all over it."

"Please," you gasp stupidly, not knowing what you're begging for, the height of your orgasm coming crashing down as it suddenly all feels too much. "Please."

While you don't know what you're begging for, it seems like Joel does. One moment his hand is between you, and the next it's rubbing against the towel before gripping gently at your shoulder, holding you steadily underneath him as you shudder and gasp.

And then, like reading your deepest wishes straight from your mind, he starts rocking in shallow thrusts - unsatisfying on their own, but paired with the filth from his mouth, it sends you close to the edge all over again.

"There we go," he moans in your ear, breathy and desperate as you. "S'all you needed."

You're starting to think Joel Miller's cock maybe is all you need - for some people it's love, or riches, but for you, at least in this moment, the heavy length impaling you and curing all your ailments is all you need. For now, at least.

He's wrecking himself with it all too, you notice. The way the pressure of his hands on your body increases and releases over and over as he fights with himself to be gentle as he fucks you to his own release isn't helped by the way his mind is racing, his mouth barely keeping up with whatever filth is rattling around in his mind.

"Gonna take it. Gonna dump my load right in this messy fuckin' hole. Y'gonna be fillin' up that fuckin' cup with my cum after this. Gonna be spillin' outta you. Needy - fuckin' - slut."

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes," you babble, holding onto his arms through his gentle thrusts, your cunt threatening an orgasm even as a new ache settles back into your core.

"Like bein' a slut for me?" he gasps. "Like bein' mine?"

"Yeah. Yours. Please, Joel. Fuck."

"Tell me. Tell me s'mine."

"It's yours. Your hole. I'm your needy - fuck - hole!"

"Damn fuckin' right you're my needy fuck hole. Fuck. Shit. You want this?"

And god you do. You want more besides, but right now you'll take it, on the brink of coming as the rough thatch of hair at the base of his cock grinds relentlessly into your clit.

"Said, do you want this."

His shallow thrusts speed up, and you just about have time to gasp out a yes before you're twitching and coming hard around his cock again. He follows soon behind, gasped curses bitten into your shoulder as your hands slip against his sweat soaked sides, filling your cunt with thick ropes of cum, thanking him in mindless chants as you feel each pulse of his cock fill you more and more.

You're limp and just about as lifeless as he said you looked when he first opened the door. You don't care. You feel more relaxed than you have all week, the pain completely gone as a warm floaty feeling courses through your veins.

Joel pulls out, asking if you're all good and accepting the wobble of your head as a yes, before wiping his cock with the towel and using it to gently wipe at your thighs.

There's not as much mess as you expected, as you look down. You expected carnage - a bloodbath - but there's nothing more than a soft streak of red on the towel when he pulls it away and tosses it into the corner.

He flops heavily next to you, pulling part of the towel you're laying on over your body in a vague attempt to keep you warm as you both come down. The chill in the room had been kept at bay until now, mostly thanks to Joel's body heating yours from the inside out. Now, sweat dries on both of your bodies, and you find yourself shifting closer to his warmth to stave off the cold.

"Y'think these gonna be a regular thing now?" he asks as he tugs part of his bedsheet over himself.

You shrug, offering up your uncertainty. It had been years since your last - your fathers declining health and your subsequent lack of good meals had seen to that. There was no telling if there'd be any regularity to them and, if you were being honest, you didn't want to see one again for a very long time.

He's silent for a second, thoughtful features pinching in the warm light of his bedroom before he speaks again.

"Alright. How 'bout I give you that ass fuckin' in a couple weeks, then?"

It's not exactly what you expected. You'd almost forgotten about it yourself. But, now, as he pins a new date for your promised rude awakenin' you find yourself ready to pout again, this time at the idea of having to wait two more weeks.

"Two weeks? I'll probably be finished with this by the end of the week. I can come over Sunday, or in the week or -"

"I know," he says simply. "Like the idea of you bein' like a bitch in heat and me fuckin' a load into your ass when your cunt is so desperate for it, though."

Anything you were going to say is totally lost in an instant, your jaw flapping on its hinges as you try and fail to find the words that were just on the tip of your tongue. Any protest, question, or suggestion, is gone and, you realize, replaced with one thing, and one thing only.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

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[ramp-it-up]

ii Most Wanted Part 10: 'Til The Day I Die (1)

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: How you and Sy overcome long distance. And what about your friends?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. Distance, horny, filthy Sy on video, electronic sex, masturbation, voice/dirty talk kink, glasses kink, size kink, Angst, Sex in committed relationship. Oral sex, female receiving, making love, raw p in v, fluffy Sy, future plans, your friends are menaces, and of course, so is Sy.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the 10th installment of II Most Wanted. These characters won't quit, so this series will be extended, but not for much longer. Results from the wedding dress poll will be revealed in the next part. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

———

Don’t open this in public.

You were intrigued when you got the notification, but you did as you were told, and put your phone back into your purse, catching up with your friends but with anticipation for when you got home.

It was just the second day back in your town, and you were out to dinner with co-workers who wanted to catch up on your new development. You’d just started to fill them in on you and Sy’s story when you got his message.

—--

The day before…

All morning, Sy thought of you and the picture you’d sent. He had to concentrate to work, and therefore was a bit of an asshole to the guys all day. He couldn’t wait to talk to you again. When you answered his call that evening, he’d been struck dumb.

“Sy? Are you there? Can you see me… can you hear me? Shit, this must be a bad connection.”

Sy seemed frozen, his mouth gaping open.

“I’ll have to call you b–”

“Wait, Buttercup, don’t hang up. I’m here.”

You smiled at him and settled back on your pillows.

“Good, You looked like you were frozen.”

“I was, kinda. I’m at a loss for words, Buttercup.”

You adjusted the glasses that Sy had never seen you in and patted your hair. You must have looked tired after a long day. You laughed nervously.

“You want to reconsider? You finally see me in my natural state. In bed, my hair up, in comfy clothes and glasses. Tired as hell. This is me. Sure this is what you want?”

You chucked your chin up as if you were ready to take a blow.

Sy recognized your anxiety and shook his head.

“I’m so sorry, Buttercup…”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You bit your lip as you prepared for the worst. After all that happened this weekend, Sy was about to drop you like a hot potato.

“I need to ask you a question.”

“Sure, Sy.” 

“Will you marry me? You are the most gorgeous thing on the planet. Good lord…”

You stared at him in disbelief, then laughed, wishing he were there so that you could punch him. 

“You are a menace, Syverson, I swear.”

You sighed and brought the phone closer to your face. 

“Of course I will marry you. I am marrying you. Can’t take it back now. I will hunt you down.”

Sy grinned at you, reveling in the fact that you actually wanted him too.

You grinned back at him. 

“And you don’t have to butter me up. I’ll show you my boobs.”

“Mmmmmm. I’m not trying to butter you up, Buttercup. You are the cutest little thing in those glasses. Giving me all kinda thoughts. Can’t wait to see you like that in person and hold you again. But in the meantime, I’ll take you up on that offer….”

The next morning, even after having fun sexy time on the phone, Sy woke up with a boner and the memory of an extremely hot dream involving you naked on the kitchen table in those glasses.

And to make it worse, you had sent him a picture of you in those same glasses and his Army T-shirt the next morning. Sy was very hot and bothered.

Just in a slightly better mood.

—--

It was after 11 pm once you settled into bed and got your phone out. 

You opened your text thread to see a graphic up close video of Sy’s cock, slick and leaking as he gripped it hard, fisting it brutally, his thumb swiping over the tip when he reached the top.

You clutched your pearls, but stared at the screen and opened the video, licking your lips and wishing that you were with him.

“Got me down bad, Buttercup. So fucking horny for you. And that picture. That. Fucking. Picture. Have so much cum for you I don’t know what to do with it.”

Your hand was on your neck and you dragged it down under Sy’s shirt to grip one of your nipples, squirming in your bed at the thought of the cock that was held before you. You couldn’t believe that Sy had recorded this. But you weren’t mad.

Not at all, although you felt faint and swore you had a fever. Your body was hot and your throat was parched and your eyes were glued to the screen

“Oh my god, Sy…” 

You spoke to the image as if it were him and immediately put your hand down your underwear.

“Are you wet for me? If I walked through your bedroom door right now, would I find you playing in your panties?”

You heard him panting and then pausing what he was doing to squeeze the base of his cock. 

“Fuck! I can’t stop what’s coming, Buttercup.”

Sy grabbed his balls up with his two smallest fingers as the rest of them squeezed his shaft tighter.

“Why can’t I stop? That picture. That’s why. Y’look so fucking cute and godamn sexy in those glasses and my shirt.“

You gasped. You thought the picture was rather innocent. You were fully covered up. And you never imagined that your glasses would be a sex aid. 

“Well ain’t that a peach,” you said out loud and giggled at your use of a Sy-ism.

“The shirt is so big on you that it slips off your neck and I can see your collarbone and the hickey I put there the other day. The size of the shirt reminds me how tiny you are and how, how f-fucking tight your little pussy is… ugh.”

He sounded so desperate, and him handling himself was so erotic. Your clit was hard now and you were as desperate as your fiancé was on the video. 

“I was hard all fucking day, Buttercup. But I didn’t touch myself until now. It was like I was punishing myself. But then I thought about punishing you…”

You stilled, heart almost beating out of your chest. Did he just say…?

“Yeah I said it, Buttercup.”

Sy panned the camera to his face and it looked fearsome. It made your heart thrill and you gush wetness over your fingers as you started again to rub your clit in tight, tight circles.

“I thought about spanking that beautiful ass of yours until it’s hot to the touch, then fucking you. Hard.”

You swore you saw his blue eyes actually flash through the screen.

“ …just until you are ready to cum. Then stopping. Making you wait, like I have to, to feel you again…”

You whimpered.

“...making you get on your knees and feeding you my cock until both of us are dripping wet and can’t handle it anymore. FUCK! Can’t stop thinkin’ of that mouth of yours, fucking your throat until tears run down your face and then letting go all over you, and getting those glasses filthy with my cum.”

“Fuuuuckkk! Sy!”

Your fingers were touching yourself, but Sy’s words were getting you there.

“Christ, Buttercup! You drive me crazy woman.”

You could tell that he was speaking through clenched teeth and was trying not to cum even though the camera was focused again on his cock. Pre cum almost continually squirted out of his tip, and his entire shaft looked glazed, like a donut. You licked your lips at the thought.

“Is your clit pounding all pretty like it does for me? Hm? After all that, I wanna eat you out, damn, I just want to taste you again, to wrap my lips around that pretty little clit and drink from that fountain, Buttercup.”

Your back arched as you remembered the burn of Sy’s beard between your legs. Your vision whited out as you came. You wanted him there with you.

“Bet you came right then. Nothing like the real thing, huh?” 

Sy chuckled as he read your mind.

“Send me another picture like that and don’t be surprised if I turn up at your doorstep the next day. Don’t say anything, just take this cock in whatever hole I choose to put it in….”

Sy continued to speak until you witnessed his precious white cum spurt forcefully out of his cock, the sight making you touch your sensitive pussy again, this time moaning his name for your empty house.

Your mind was scrambled by the time he had wound down said a sweet and tame, “Goodnight Buttercup. Sleep tight. I love you. Talk to you soon.”

Sy had ruined you. You had to return the favor.

You looked at the clock and noticed that it was almost 2 am in Texas, so you didn’t call him like you wanted to.

Instead, you opened your own camera to record a special wake up call for Sy.

And that was how you kept your sexual connection sizzling across 1500 miles.

—-

Even though you had a fiancé, you couldn’t neglect the rest of your life, or the friends who had been constant in your life for 20 years. You looked forward to your weekly zoom with Carla and Tiffany.

Normally.

At the moment, you were being lambasted by your besties three states over.

“So… you come home for a reunion and we see you, what?  A total of about 4 hours over the course of about 80?”

You tried to explain, but Carla interrupted.

“You right, Tiff! So what’s up Buttercup! You ditched your friends for some d– GIRL WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ON YOUR FINGER!!??!??”

Your two best friends in the world start screaming.

“Is that the ring? THEEE Ring?”

Tiffany was up and gesticulating in her living room, her two teenagers looking at her like she was crazy since she had her earbuds in.

“Yes-”

Your explanation is interrupted by Carla again.

“Oh no you didn’t. Because you didn’t tell us about it. That better be a, ‘the pussy was so good I gotta give you some jewelry ring, and not the ring you gushed over in high school when you started writing “Mrs Jacob Syverson” all over your little notebooks. Not that important ass ring that probably means a very important ass thing that we have no idea about. Right?”

Now she was quiet as Carla and Tiffany waited for you to reply. You smile sheepishly and shrug.

“Wanna come to Vegas in a month?”

Tiffany threw up both her hands and screamed while Carla hung up. 

But by the end of the night, they were both back on the call and on the same page as you. They listened as you explained how you came to realize that you didn’t want to waste anymore time because of what other people did and thought. 

You told them how much you loved Sy and how much you wanted this. They couldn’t deny that you were right. They ended the call as your best allies who just needed to have a tiny talk with Sy.

—-

“I can’t believe that they went over to your house and threatened you.”

Sy only looked a little scared. You had to laugh.

“It was more terrifying than war, Buttercup. Those women are scary. We coulda used them in country.”

Then Sy was chuckling. 

“They calmed down when I explained how much I love you, and how I would make sure that nothing or no one ever hurts you again. Even me.”

Damn. You really loved this man. You smiled at him.

“Well, I’m glad that you escaped unharmed. You might want to check Betty before you start it in the morning, though.”

“No worries. I set up a time for them to help me… for them to help me get something for the wedding. Everything is cool.”

You raised an eyebrow at your phone. He grinned.

“You’re so godamn cute, Buttercup.”

“What are you up to, Jake Syverson?”

“Just getting ready for the most important day in our lives.” 

Sy smirked at you as you gave him a side eye.

“The question at hand, though,” He wiggled his eyebrows and held up his dominant hand then lowered it, and you could clearly tell what he was doing. “Is what are you wearing, Buttercup?”

You were successfully distracted.

—--

The first two weeks apart from Sy went by pretty quickly. You were very busy: You had to turn in paperwork, find a property management company, order moving supplies, search for a house cleaner and stager, and shop for wedding dresses with Carla and Tiffany virtually critiquing every choice.

You finally settled on the perfect choice for a Vegas wedding dress in July that was to your taste and that would drive Sy crazy. But you were exhausted. You didn’t have time to second guess yourself. 

You texted Sy all day long and facetimed every evening. It wasn’t just phone sex; you talked about your plans for the future, your five year plans, and how you wanted your marriage to work.

“I want us to have a family meeting every quarter, even if it is just for the day, and check on the status of our marriage. Want us to adjust everything as needed, finances, individual and couple goals, and evaluate where we are with one another. And make changes if we need to.”

You didn’t know why you were surprised, but you were. You just didn’t expect Sy to come at you this way.

He laughed at the look on your face. 

“I know that you think I’m the emotional one, and that you are the analytical one. But I don’t want us to take each other for granted. This is too important, Buttercup. This will be for the rest of our lives.”

You smiled and responded with your heart.

“Forever and ever, amen.”

“Forever and ever, amen.”

—

The last week before the 4th crawled by.

You were amped up, which gave you excess energy to get packed up. You tried not to bother him too much, because he was trying to tie a bow on some projects so that he could have time off for the wedding and honeymoon. 

It just didn’t seem real.

Finally, Sy was getting on the road to come to you. You were nervous for the two days that it took for Sy to drive out to your place, talking to him much of the way to keep him company as you finished packing up the few things you wanted to put in the back of the Bronco.

You couldn’t sleep the night of the first day when you knew that he was sleeping just 10 hours away from you. The next morning, Sy confessed much the same. 

Your car was picked up by the shipping company, and the storage container was delivered and set on the front lawn in the driveway the morning he was to arrive and you were at your living room window watching when you heard Betty Bronco turn the corner around 6 pm. 

When you saw her down the road, you couldn’t help but take off on foot down the road to meet him, causing Sy to honk and stop the truck in the middle of the road to get out and snatch you up.

“Buttercup!”

He picked you up, twirled you around and lifted you over his head as you laughed and your soon-to-be ex neighbors looked at the scene curiously from their lawns, or their porches, or from between the slats on their blinds. Neither one of you cared about the scene you’d created.

You began kissing him before he let you down and slid down his body before he pushed you back away from him to look at you. Your curls were up in a puff and you had your glasses on and Sy laughed down at you, clad in one of his flannels and denim short shorts.

“Didn’t know that you stole that shirt too, Buttercup. You are so fine. And all mine. Soon to be Mrs. Syverson.”

He kissed you again, and before things got too heated, you pulled away and pushed him back toward Betty.

“Let’s get out of the road and into the house, Sy.”

He winked at you.

“Good idea, Buttercup.”

You practically skipped to your door as Sy parked by the curb and got his bag out of the back of Betty. You held the door open but as soon as Sy stepped foot inside, he slammed it shut and you against it.

“Hello, little lady.”

“Hullo Sy. I missed you.”

“No question I missed you too. But in less than 72 hours, we will be saying ‘I do.’”

Sy looked at you hungrily.

“Yes, Sir. You ready for that?

“Fuckin’ A.”

And Sy kissed you. Tentatively at first, rubbing his lips against yours, his beard tickling your cheeks, You put your hand up to rub your fingertips in it while he traced your lips with his tongue. You moaned, and thats when his tongue darted in to meet yours, re-exploring your mouth and causing yours to venture out and re-explore his.

Sy grabbed your hips and lifted you up so that your heads were level with each other and causing your legs to wrap around his waist. His hands explored under his shirt as yours went around his neck. And when you finally stopped kissing, you leaned your forehead against his, a little overwhelmed by the emotion.

“Sy…”

You whimpered it, your need emerging, but Sy let you down, letting your body slither against his as you gained your feet again.

“I know, baby. But show me around a little bit before we… show me around. Need to see how you are and how you are doing.”

You nodded and looked down at his shoes, which were huge next to yours. Why did that get you wet?

“Take those off.”

You did it first, showing him where to put them, and as he did as he was told, you backed up and admired your man. When he looked back up at you, he winked.

“Well, this is it. It’s not as big as your–”

“Our.”

“...house, but it’s been good to me.”

You showed him around the small dwelling, and he admired the craftsman bones of the house.

“Looks like you got most of everything packed up.”

You smiled wide at him.

“Had a burst of energy lately.”

“Hmmm. You were supposed to wait for me, Buttercup,” Sy said, turning his big body in the small, filled-with-boxes space.

“What are we gonna do for the next two days?”

You suddenly felt shy. He really made you feel like a kid again.

“Why don’t you take a shower? I’ll order some food. Maybe take a nap? You must be tired from the drive…”

Sy looked at you with an intensity that shook you to your core.

“I’ll take you up on that shower. Need to wash the road off. And go ahead and order the food if you want. Your favorite place. I am mighty hungry.” Sy’s eyes swept up and down your form and you stuttered.

“Oh-okay. L-let me show you the bathroom.”

Sy followed you and you felt his eyes on you as you got him set up.

“I’ll give you some privacy.”

Sy chuckled. 

“Thanks, Buttercup. Won’t be long."

You were shook as you ordered Thai food and tried to make space at your small table among the boxes. You felt like it was 20 years ago, yet again. 

In a few minutes, Sy came out of your master suite, clad in grey sleep pants. You tried not to stare, but hell, he was yours. You dragged your eyes up his thick, muscular form to his handsome face.

“Food’s here.”

You gulped as he held his hand out. 

“Great. It’ll reheat, right? Cause right now what I need is to hold my future wife.”

You melted into him as he practically carried you back into your bedroom and laid you both down on the king sized bed that took up most of the room. You relaxed into his arms suddenly safe again. You thought about how he hadn’t immediately wanted to fuck. He’d asked about you and how you were doing. He was so pure.

“What are you thinking, Buttercup?

Sy whispered and brushed a knuckle over your cheek. 

“Just thinking about what a good man you are,” you whispered.

“You are so good to me. Even when I was giving you hell about what happened 20 years ago…”

Sy chuckled. 

“Never stop giving me hell, Buttercup. What I need is a woman who can keep me on my toes.”

You turned toward Sy and kissed him, causing a groan when you threw your thigh over his hips. 

“There are a few things that I need to give you,Right here in your bed.” 

“Our bed,” you replied as you arched your back and his lips ventured down the side of your neck.

His hands skimmed the side of your breasts, squeezing them gently through his shirt.

 “I like the sound of that, Buttercup.” 

Sy smiled into your neck, his voice was muffled since his lips were busy on your collarbone, making new marks, and his hands were busy unbuttoning and unwrapping you from his shirt. His eyes went wide as he leaned back and looked at your naked torso, then locked in on your eyes again.

“Missed you so damn much.”

“Me, too, Sy.”

Sy descended again to place his lips to your skin, covering your breasts with soft kisses, despite the pebbling, hardening flesh over your sensitive peaks. When he drew those into his mouth was when you arched into his hand, which had unbuttoned your shorts and delved inside to cup your moist mound.

“Damn, I can’t wait for you to be mine, fully. To carry my name…”

“I am yours, Sy. Til the day I die…”

Sy muttered a soft curse, squeezing his eyes shut, and he chewed his bottom lip, concentrating, as his fingers strummed you to the edge. He gradually increased the pace, as you widened your legs and held onto his shoulder. You rotated your hips, wining on his hand until he swore again and rubbed his thumb over your clit. Your orgasm ripped through you, intense and earth-shattering, causing you to throw your head back and scream. 

“Holy fuck, you are so beautiful when you come. Give it to me.”

He leaned down and suckled at your nipple while your pulses slowed, then he scooted lower, dragging your shorts off and parting your thighs and propping them on his shoulders. He stared at it for a minute, while you brushed his now longer curls out of his eyes. He smiled at you and then your pussy.

“She’s so beautiful.”

You giggled, but it was cut short as his lips made contact. You felt the groan he emitted through your soul, and you had to bite your lip at the first brush of his tongue on the super sensitive skin that was still recovering from your orgasm. The first lick of your slick center had you clenching your hands into the sheets.

“Oh God.”

He lapped at you, kissing and exploring with his tongue. He took his time, seeming to be in no hurry. When his tongue circled your throbbing bundle of nerves, you flew apart in his hands again, but he didn’t let up. He kept lapping and slid a finger into you causing you to roll your hips and your legs to open wider.

Sy parted your folds to put another finger inside you, curled both of them, stroking over those bundles of nerves inside you as he pumped in and out as he suckled your clit. Your third orgasm rolled through you, on the heels of the one before it.  

He drew himself back up your body, naked now, having shed his pants as you were coming down, pausing to nip at your hips and his favorite parts of you, then to suck at both breasts. When he made it to your lips, he whispered against them.

“That’s going to be a daily thing.” 

“You could do that to me any time you want, Sy. Please, fuck me now. Please? Pleaseeeee?” 

He shifted between your thighs and teased your slit with his leaking cock as his jaw clenched. You begging was his kryptonite.

“I had the idea to wait until we got married. But… I just… can’t….”

You moaned and he closed his eyes as he slowly entered you inch by inch, stretching you out again for him. His jaw remained clenched, and yours was gaped open in a gasp until he was fully seated inside you. Sy leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“So tight. So good for me, Buttercup…Suchhhh a good girl for me, baby…”

You keened at his praise as he started moving, making love to you sweetly, kissing you, holding you tenderly, and looking into your eyes. The connection was everything.

“You’re mine. And I am yours.” 

“I know.” 

The tense knot in your belly began to unfurl, and you held onto him tight as the orgasm took over you. 

“Love you so much, Buttercup.” 

With just a few more strokes, Sy found his release.

—-

You eventually got up from bed and ate. Then you talked for the rest of the night. 

You and Sy caught up you loaded the shipping container, leaving the big furniture for the movers. You were in your little domestic bubble until you heard pounding on your door on the morning of the 4th of July, the day before you and Sy were going to drive to Vegas for the wedding.

Sy got up from bed and opened the door, as you peered around the corner from your bedroom.

He looked through the peephole and rolled his eyes before he opened the door. He let Carla and Tiffany push him aside as they entered your house.

“Move aside, Syverson. We’re here to take our bestie for some girl time and a bachelorette party to remember before she signs her life away.”

You stared at Sy, then at them as they continued. 

“Pack your bags, Buttercup, we’re going to Vegas!”

——

Please if you liked it!

Next part here.

[buckyshoneybunny]

The White Wolf (Part 5)

Wolf/Alpha!Bucky + Wildlifephotographer!curvy!reader   

W.C. 1564 

Warnings- Cursing, fluff, allusions to smut?? 

A/N- I am so sorry this took so long!!! I didn’t know how I wanted to end it. Yes, this is the end of this series, I may write little drabbles and oneshots for these two on how their future goes. But between classes, no motivation, and being tired I just haven’t had much time to write. I was gonna do this last week but I had a mysterious 4-day long headache that even migraine medicine couldn’t get rid of. Anyway I hope you enjoy!!! Any mistakes are mine. More stories will be coming soon!!  

Taglist- @blackbirdwitch22 @lesleurs @nelachu2423 @shadowzena43 @calwitch @laughterafter @sebastians-love @purplecolordeer

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Masterlist Series Masterlist

Over the next couple of weeks, you and Bucky discussed what your future would look like. You agreed to move in with him, as long as you could keep your job. He agreed begrudgingly.  

Bucky had been out with Steve doing whatever it is they did during the day, when your phone pinged with a notification. Period one-week late.  

Your blood ran cold. Were you, could you be, pregnant? A wave of nausea hits you. You and Bucky were still trying to settle into your new life together, you couldn’t possibly add a kid on top of that. Oh god, what would Bucky think? 

You grab your phone and keys, you run out the door, hoping Bucky wouldn’t smell you and come running. You made your way to Wanda’s cabin and pounded on the door. She lets you in, asking what’s wrong. 

“I think I might be pregnant,” you blurt out nervously.  

Her eyes widen. “Wow um, have you taken a test?” You shake your head. She offers to do some magic thingy to see if you’re pregnant. You are.  

“Oh god,” you groan and sit on her couch, face buried in your hands. “This can’t be happening.” 

She giggles. “What are you worried about? Everything will be fine, Y/N.” 

“Everything, Wanda! I’m still trying to come to terms with everything, I mean, I’m supposedly the mate to a half-man, half-werewolf! A month ago I didn’t even existed! And now I’m pregnant, this is ju-” 

“Y/N, calm down.” She sits next to you and rub your arm. “I know this must be scary, finding out what you thought was just fiction to be real. But Bucky will be there for you, he won’t let you go through this alone.”  

“But what if he gets bored of me? What if he’s not ready for this.” There’re tears in your eyes.  

“You’re his destined mate, Y/N. And the fact that you are pregnant with his child? He’ll be over the moon.”  

“But I’m not a werewolf, or an omega. Oh god, what will having a werewolf’s baby do to me?” You ask, panicked.  

“It doesn’t matter, you’re his mate, he’d never abandon you. I don’t know what it will do to your body, I’ve read that the side effects could be worse or you could have crazy different symptoms then what you’d have with a normal pregnancy.” You look even more worried.  

She thinks for a moment. “I haven’t tested it but I’ve been working on something.” She stands and walks to her desk. “If you and Bucky coat your teeth with this and claim each other, you should be able to feel the connection, and the more time goes on, the more your body will get omega features.”  

She hands you the bottle and touches your neck, something zaps you. 

“Ow! What the hell?” You ask, rubbing said spot. 

“There, you have the start of a scent gland, it could take anywhere from a few hours to a few days to fully develop.” She snickers at the dirty look you send her. 

“So....with the scent gland and this, potion? I’ll slowly become an omega.” 

She nods. “Yes, but you won’t be a werewolf. Unfortunately, I haven’t found any magic that could turn into one.” You nod.  

You chat with Wanda for a little while longer before heading home. When you see Bucky isn’t back yet you grab your wallet and head into town. You head to the local supermarket, you grab a little gift bag, a newborn onesie that says ‘I love my Daddy’, and some tissue paper. You also grab some chocolate, munching on it to help calm your nerves.  

You get home and set the little bag up, then start on dinner. You use the fresh herbs and veggies from the pack garden, they have just about everything in there, even sugar canes! 

You get the fireplace going and put on some soft music, hooking your phone up to the speakers Bucky installed when he learned you loved music.  

Bucky trudges up the steps, his shoulders aching. He and the guys had been working on clearing land, they wanted to make their own shops and whatnot, to limit having to go into town. He leaves his muddy boots outside, not wanting to track it into the house.  

He walks in and is hit with the scent of a home cooked meal and you. He sighs at the warmth the fireplace is giving off and smiles when he hears you humming to the music. He stands there and watches you for a moment before coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You jump but relax when you realize it’s him. He buries his face into your neck and freezes.  

“Babydoll?” He asks, his voice gravelly. 

You turn in his arms to face him. “Yes?” You ask nervously.  

“What is this?” He cups the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing the spot in question.  

“A scent gland, Wanda gave me it. It’s surprise 1 of 3.”  

His face is unreadable for a moment before a groan rumbles through his chest and he leans down to nose at the scent gland. He nips it, causing you to shiver. 

“Tell me,” he licks your ear before nibbling on it. “Are you one of the surprises?” 

“No,” you giggle. “But I can be an add-on.” 

He hums and presses his nose to your hairline, taking a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I love you,” he says softly. 

At your whispered ‘I love you too’ he feels warmth spread through his chest. He nudges your nose with his. 

“When will I get these other surprises?” 

“After dinner.”  

He hums and gives you a loving kiss. He showers while you finish dinner.  

As you set the table, he comes out in those grey sweatpants you love so much hung low on his hips. His already half-hard cock visible, making it clear he has no underwear on. He’s shirtless, displaying those washboard abs you love so much. 

You both eat dinner in silence, he can sense you’re nervous. You both clean the dishes, while he finishes wiping the counters down you grab the gift bag.  

You sit on the couch and hand him the bag. He blindly reaches in and pulls out the potion first. 

“What’s this?” His brows furrow in confusion. 

“It’s a potion. Wanda said to both coat our teeth when we claim each other, it’ll help me feel the bond and feel it lock in place. I’d be one step closer to an actual omega and connected to you.”  

His eyes shine with excitement and lust. “You’d want to be an omega?” You can hear the joy in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “But I won’t become a werewolf.” He deflates a little but nods, the thought of running through the woods in y'all's wolf together running through his mind. 

“What made you want to become an omega?” 

“Well, I wanted to feel the connection that you’ll feel, feel even closer to you. Plus, it’ll also help my body with what’s to come.” He gives you a confused look and you nod to the bag. He pulls out the onesie. As he reads it, his heart stops and eyes widen.  

“Babydoll....are you.... pregnant?” 

You nod. “I know we haven’t been together long and we’re still adjusting. Bu-” 

He cuts you off with a kiss. He leans his forehead against yours. “I’m going to be a dad?” His steel blue eyes sparkle with unshed tears. 

You cup his stubbly cheeks. “You’re going to be a dad, Bucky,” you whisper. Your own eyes glisten with tears.  

He laughs and hugs you. His heart swells with pride. You, his mate, is going to have his pups. 

He makes love to you that night, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He gushes excitedly to Steve the next day and rubs the news into Sams face. Everyone congratulates you over a barbeque. Bucky already has plans of how he wants to expand the cabin, add on for your future family. You’re already planning on how you want to decorate the nursery. 

Seven months later..... 

You sit in the rocking chair in your new nursery. You watch your husband with a fond smile as he puts the crib together, insisting he wanted to hand make everything. The pile of gifts from your baby shower sits in the corner, ready to be put away.  

You can feel Bucky’s excitement, the permanent bite mark on both yours and Bucky’s neck sealing the bond. You rub your swollen belly, the ring on your finger shines in the sunlight that streams through the window. 

You couldn’t wait to meet your baby girl, Winfred, Winnie for short, after Bucky’s mother. He talks about her all the time; you know he misses her and the fact you’re naming you guys first daughter after her means the world to him. You knew that’s what you wanted to name her the minute he said her name, he cried when you told him. 

As you rock and listen to the music playing softly in the background, you think of how grateful you are you went into the forest, choosing to not listen to the locals warnings.  

You may not know what the future hold next, but you do know one thing, you couldn’t wait to find out. 

[todomochi-uwu]

Taste ┃ B. C

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis:

"Well, I heard you're back together and if that's true You'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you"

Loving him and losing him might hurt just as much or even more as making her taste your pain. Is it worth it? Or have you forgotten who was the one who wronged you?

Author's notes: Sad porn. Basically. Oh, and I don't condone any kind of cheating.

WARNINGS: Cheating (reader and Bang Chan)

This fanfic belongs to the series Short n' Sweet, please make sure to check it out.

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

They were on every single social media platform there is. All smiley, all cutesy. It made you want to throw up.  

When Christopher first told you things weren’t working out you believed him. The lack of time, miscommunication, stress and many other things made things harder than they needed to be. So, you thought, right person, wrong time. Maybe in the future... 

It wasn’t until you knocked on his door the weekend after you had ended things, having forgotten a box of your stuff (you still couldn’t decide whether it was on purpose or an actual slip) when she opened the door: hair disheveled, bare faced, his shirt the only thing covering her. Your entire body froze in shock, you could feel your heart cracking little by little, tears threatened to spill out of your eyes. 

What. The. Fuck.  

“Oh, Y/n, right?” She leaned against the door frame, scanning you up and down before smiling at you. She knew exactly who you were. “Chris said you might be stopping by.” She said while pushing the box into your hands, “Such a shame you didn’t work out. But you know what they always say, they always go back to their first love, bye.” Wiggling her fingers in front of your face. 

You spent a good ten minutes leaning against the wall trying to figure out how not to bawl your eyes out on the way home. Spoiler, you still did. 

Rage took over your mind, at first. Every single memory tinted with the idea of her. When did it even happen? How didn’t you notice? Why her and not you? You spent weeks trying to figure it out, trying to cope, but nothing could bring comfort to your restless heart. 

“I have never felt this way about someone, baby.” He said, holding you in his arms.  

You giggled, shaking your head, “Shut up, you are such a liar.” 

“I’m being serious,” he turned you around, looking into your eyes, “you have no idea how much I love you, Y/n.” 

Stalking their social media accounts was never a good idea, but you couldn’t help it. Why did he never post a photo of you? Thousands of photos of their relationship flooded your feed, them on a date, on vacation, where was all this time when it came to you? That’s when it finally clicked, if he wanted to, he would. It just was that you weren’t the one he wanted. 

While it was easier said than done, and admittedly, there were days when you wanted to die, the pain slowly eased. You worked on yourself, going out of your comfort zone, trying new things, reconnecting with old friends, and travelling a little. Your mind no longer going back to him. And like he’s got a sixth sense... 

A notification pops onto your phone screen. 

In the middle of having drinks, when you were looking your nicest and feeling your finest, there he was. In a small red heart at the bottom of your post. How tacky, you couldn’t help but think. So, you turned your phone down. 

But of course, you could put it out of your sight, only not out of your mind. 

_______________ 

And so, it started once again. A different post each day, the outfits got more and more revealing, while the poses left less and less to the imagination. You didn’t even have to wait a few minutes for the notification to pop up, in a matter of seconds there it was. It had become some kind of addiction, knowing he still thinks of you, knowing he still wants you. And that only made you want to get more daring. Something you would come to regret eventually. 

Burning in the back of your mind was still her, the way she wiggled her back into his life, into your relationship. It was something you couldn’t leave in the past. And your captions clearly showed it.  

_______________ 

A photo of you leaning against the wall. The dress you wore on your first date. “He's funny, now all his jokes hit different. Guess who he learned that from?”  

A photo of you laying on the bed, on all fours, ass up, tits spilling from the black lace corset. His favourite set, his favourite pose. “I heard you're back together and if that's true. You'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you.”  

You were in the middle of cleaning your room, organizing your makeup, getting rid of clothes that you no longer like, when you come across it.  

A photo of you sitting on your knees in front of the mirror. Only a pair of thin panties covering your bottom. His favorite sweatshirt as a top. “You're wondering why half his clothes went missing, my body's where they're at.”  

_______________ 

Your phone rang from the kitchen bar, pulling your attention away from the soup boiling on the stove. Your stomach fell to the floor, and a small gasp escaped your mouth. 

Hey. 

_______________ 

“What are you doing, Y/n?”, said Felix.  

“It’s just a coffee, Lix.” 

“You know damn well it’s not only that.” He stood next to you while you finished getting ready, in front of the mirror, “when did you start talking again?” 

“Not long ago, a couple of weeks.” 

“A couple of weeks? Oh my god, have you forgotten what he did to you? How much it took you to even get out of bed?” 

“No, and no. It’s just lunch, Felix it’s not like I’m going to end up on his bed.” 

“Yeah, keep telling that to yourself. Besides, is he even single? I thought he was back with his ex.”  

“They’ve been having some problems.” You mumbled, not looking at him, hoping he wouldn’t hear you.  

“How much have you been talking to him? When did he ask you out? No, scratch that, why did you say yes?” 

“To get some closure, Lix.” You finished applying lipstick, “I swear, no more than a coffee, no more than an hour. Now,” you straighten your skirt and smile at your best friend, “how do I look?” 

“Like you are better than this.” 

_______________ 

You sat in your car, in front of the café, annihilating your fingernails, Felix’s words had implanted themselves into your brain; to be fair, it wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before. What were you doing? Why were you here? A couple of weeks ago you were sure you didn't want anything to do with him ever again, but now? You weren´t so sure. And even if it came to that, could you do to her what she did to you?  

Your hand reached for your key, turning it to start your car, when a knock on the window pulled you out of your daze. There he was. 

His hair straightened and parted the way you like it, small black studs on his ears, black acid wash jeans and a sleeveless shirt. The bastard still knew exactly how to make your knees grow weak.  

“Hey, long time no see.” 

“Hey, yeah, it’s been a while.” 

... 

It was bound to happen. Everyone knew it. Him. You. But you liked to pretend it came out of nowhere. 

Chris was pounding into you as if his life depended on it, hands gripping your hips hard enough you were sure bruises would be there in the morning, your ass an angry red from all the spanking and slapping and your cunt dripping onto the satin sheets of the hotel room. 

“Fuck, Chris!” Face down, your knees are barely able to keep up with his rhythm.  

“I missed you so much, baby girl.” He pressed his chest against your back, whispering in your ear and kissing your neck, “I miss you; I miss your body, I miss your perfect little cunt.” He continued his way down your body, his fingers tracing small and quick circles on your clit. 

He knew your body like the back of his hand. Where to touch, where to suck, where to lick, everything; a part of you loves the idea that he still remembered such details; another part knows it’s about getting his dick wet. 

“You take my cock so well, fuck, oh god, I’m gonna cum.” He said between moans. His thrusts became quicker and shorter, but he knew exactly how to hit the spot that had you seeing stars. 

“Please, please, make me cum, Chris.” Gibberish and a few coherent words came out of your mouth. You were right on the edge, a step away from falling from the cliff. 

“Fuck!” 

And it finally snapped, the sudden warmth threw you over the edge, your whole body trembled, your lungs screaming for some air, and your mascara smeared all over your face and the sheets. You felt his hand caress your back up and down, his fingers tracing shapeless patterns on the skin. 

“Are you okay, baby?” His tone is now sweet and comforting, making your heart flutter. This is bad. 

“Yeah, yeah, umm thanks.” Accepting the bottle he pressed onto your lips. 

He smiled at you, “I meant it, Y/n I miss you.” 

You nodded, not sure what to say. 

_______________ 

And so, the cycle continued its course. You knew you had to leave, but you were not sure you had what it took to end it. Too much of a coward to confront him, to ask him what the fuck was happening. You liked to think you were different from Chan, that he was the one in a relationship, and that he should be the one to stop this, but you knew you were also guilty. 

On top of him, his back leaning against the bedframe, your hips went up and down in a slow sway, holding him close while he kissed your chest. Third, fourth round? Only God knows. This time you acted like you had all the time in the world, no rush, no frenetic passion, only the two of you. 

“I fucking adore you, princess.” He whispered against your lips. 

You only let out a small moan in response, not daring to say anything else. 

His hands stroked the skin on your legs, giving you goosebumps. You had been in this exact scene before, only this time your heart didn’t fill with love, it only broke even further.  

You increased the pace, bouncing harder on his cock. You backed away placing your hands on his knees, Chan’s let himself fall back down on the bed, putting his arms behind his head, he enjoyed the show in front of him. Your boobs jumped up and down, his abdomen muscles clenching, his groans and moans increased their volume, his hands gripped your ass desperately and right before he came, he pressed toy against his chest. 

“Oh shit! Oh god, I love you Y/n.”  

_______________ 

His head between your legs, his tongue lapping up your clitoris and his fingers stuffing your cunt. You felt like in heaven. Your hands pulled on his hair, and he moaned against your centre; your legs thrashed around, and his name left his lips again and again. You were right there, but as you opened your eyes, there it was. In the mirror ceiling (that for some reason he convinced you to try) the picture of you, in bed, with a man you could no longer call your own.  

That was when your heart finally evaporated into nothing, and the fog left your mind. 

_______________ 

You paced around Hyunjin’s apartment, cigarette in your hand. You felt like throwing up, like ripping your hair out, and vomit all over the floor, all at the same time. 

“You’ve got to calm down.” He leaned against his burgundy sofa, a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

“I’m a homewrecker, Hyunjin.” Your hands trembled, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Everything was just getting better, I was so close, and now, now, I’m, now, this. I’m a homewrecker.” Tears escaped your tears along with choked gasps. 

“You are not a homewrecker, my love.” He got up and grabbed your hands, making you look at him, “she did the same thing to you. She deserves it.” 

“I don’t want to be like her, Jinnie. I don’t, I can’t be like her.” You cried into his arms. 

“You are not doing anything, he’s the one who is actively deciding to do this.” You love Hyunjin, you know he’s always going to be on your side, even when you don’t deserve it.  

“I need to stop this. I don’t want it any longer.” You whispered. 

He nodded and went to look for your phone, “you are right, this must stop. Don’t worry, love you are not alone.” 

“At the end of the day, it wasn’t her who cheated on me, it was him. He was the one who broke my heart.”  

So, you did what you should have done in the first place. You got rid of him everywhere, blocked him out of your life, no messages, no calls, no emails, not even comments. You took down all it, ashamed of the things you did and spoke. You ask everyone to not say a thing about yourself to Chan or to you about him, detoxifying yourself from him. Guilt didn’t quite abandon you, but it was your cross to bear.  

_______________ 

You had come across her, it was on a random night, at a random place. Your looks crossed and you felt all the air ripped out of your lungs. She looked miserable. They had broken up; you had read it somewhere (you swore you hadn’t looked it up). You felt like apologizing, but then decided against, what would you say? I’m sorry for fucking with your relationship, I’m sorry for giving you a taste of what I felt like? Like it justifies your actions.  

_______________ 

Chris had tried everything to get in contact with you, fake accounts, new phone numbers, he begged everyone who knew you to tell him something, anything, where you were, how you were doing, were you thinking of him? 

“Felix, please, I know I fucked, please tell me where is she? Let me speak to her.” 

“Chan, I don’t even know what you are doing here. I’m not telling you shit, leave her alone.” 

“Please, I love...”, he was cut off. 

“Why now? Why do you want her now? Why not when you had her?” 

“Because I’m a fucking idiot, as simple as that.” 

“Oh, believe me I know, I know how much of a piece of shit you are. You and your little pity party can go to hell.”  

_______________ 

“It’s like she vanished, Sana.” Chris said on the phone. 

Sana could only roll her eyes, she had heard this speech like a thousand times, and she was way past it, “Chan, please, let it go. You fucked up, you now move on, there’s nothing left to do.” 

He groaned, “but...” 

“But nothing, leave that girl alone, Chris it’s time for you to accept she doesn’t want you back. I mean, after that shit you pulled, who would?” 

_______________ 

He knew what he had to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Letting you go was one of the hardest he ever had to do, and while he was the one to break up with you, and fuck his ex, he still had hope. He’s such an asshole, and he knew it. 

It wasn’t until one day, passing by your once favourite café, he saw you. Sitting down there, reading a book, by yourself, he at once thought it was the right time to make things right, to say all the things that had been running through his mind since the last time he saw you.  

I love you.  

I meant everything I said, I miss you and I’m going crazy without you.  

Please, give me a chance to make things right. 

And as he was going to push the door, he wondered, should he do it? What right did he have to disrupt your world once again? And so, he backed down. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He whispered to himself.  

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 06

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,1k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down. 

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

A single buzz of the phone distracted you from the document you were reading through. Thrown out of the work rhythm that had been driving you for the past few hours, you instinctively ran your eyes over the desk, pretty much buried in papers, meanwhile figuring out that the phone was hidden somewhere underneath. So you started collecting all the documents, putting them in neat piles to eventually find it.

It felt good to be working like that again. Finally, after a few weeks since your father's death, filled with overwhelming responsibilities and things a little too heavy for your shoulders, your mind was in the right place; stable enough to catch up on paperwork.

You grabbed your phone and tapped the screen to check the latest notification, expecting a message from Suzie reminding you to buy her promised snacks on the way home. But it wasn’t your sister. You froze when the sender of the text turned out to be Bucky.

You still have my sweatshirt. I want it back.

You hoped he had let go after weeks of being ignored. Right at the start – on the very evening John showed up at your house – you wrote Bucky a succinct message saying that you couldn't see each other anymore. This was to be the definitive end; you didn't reply to his texts, didn't answer his calls. You realized that otherwise you would be drawn to him again, therefore throwing away your only chance for a marriage. 

The phone in your hands buzzed again.

I don’t want it back. I want to see you. 

An unpleasant warmth went through your body. You put the phone back on the desk, then stood up; mostly to stretch your bones, stiff from sitting, partly to fight the urge to speak to him. With the phone still in your hands, you could have undone the hard work of recent weeks – weaning yourself from the presence of the one person who had always been on your side.

You walked up to the window where, just a while ago, you were thinking about your life, your past; about who Bucky actually was to you, and why your paths never crossed. But they finally did – at the moment when you most needed guidance, understanding, a friend. And now you missed him. You missed Bucky endlessly since the last time you saw each other. You missed him the way you missed the first rays of bright, warm sunshine after a harsh winter; the way you missed the cool, refreshing rain during a stuffy summer; the way you missed a favorite flavor that you never recreated again; the way you missed the childhood years of innocent carefreeness. Because he was just that to you – some lost, longed-for sensation that was beyond your reach.

And all this for what? A successful marriage to John? A peaceful, secure future?

In fact, everything seemed perfect. John was good to you – he didn't drop distasteful hints, didn't ogle you, didn't put any pressure. He regularly took you to one fancy restaurant after another, and kept trying to find out as much as he could about you. He even turned up at the exhibition in your gallery. From the outside it seemed like he was there to support you, to keep you company. However, the truth was that John was controlling you; just as Michael said. What's more, he lavished you with gifts, usually expensive jewellery that was rarely to your taste. You weren't ungrateful, but you got the impression that John was only giving you what he himself wanted to see on you, not what actually suited you.

But there was something that worried Michael in particular. John had expressed a willingness to make a deal, in addition it looked like he was courting you full steam ahead, but he hadn't asked you to marry him yet. So, at any time, he could have simply backed out, leaving you in the lurch – he had you in the palm of his hand and was taking advantage of this by testing your loyalty and, somehow, obedience. Knowing that any contact with Bucky would cost you dearly, you couldn't afford even a moment's weakness.

Hearing a quiet knock on the door of your office, you felt another wave of that unpleasant warmth. You looked back hesitantly and were instantly relieved seeing the familiar face of your friend, Connie.

“Are you okay?” She furrowed. “You look… bad.”

You smiled, as if that would dissuade your friend from worrying. “Just a little tired.” You stretched sleepily to emphasize your words. 

“No wonder. You've been working a lot lately,” Connie pointed out, sitting down on a chair in front of her desk. “You're hard to get to.” She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side as if she had just caught you at something. Connie was one of your closest friends, and although she wasn't directly connected to your world – unless it was through you – you mentioned your problem to her; one that had been dragging on since your father's funeral.

“And how's your new job?” To distract Connie, you slightly changed the subject. You walked over to the desk and took a seat too. 

“It is not that bad. If I get promoted from making coffee and washing cups to actual finances. But it's only an internship, so I might as well keep making coffee until the end.” She rolled her eyes and your smile widened; perhaps Connie was complaining about her duties and you sympathized that she had to do something she didn't like, but it was nice to hear about such mundane problems. You would have liked to be making coffee for bankers and financiers instead of having to marry to save your family from ruin. “Actually…” she began innocently. “I just have one tiny favor to ask you. I swear I came mostly to see if you were okay, but-”

“I know, Connie,” you interrupted. “What’s the favor?”

“Go out with me this weekend. Have some fun, stop thinking about work and… you know, the other thing.”

Turning down such proposals was not in your habit. Moreover, suffocated by visits to expensive, uptight restaurants, which left you hungry and a little bored, you missed this kind of entertainment. Besides, lately you've only been hanging around older men, who always had a full range of golden advice and ideal offers for you. You craved loud music, dancing among strangers and, above all, alcohol – it didn't have to be expensive, the kind John would provide; you just wanted it to take the weight off your thoughts, at least for a while. You needed a break.

“Okay,” you said after a moment of reflection. 

Connie's face lit up with a bright, excited grin. “Okay?” she made sure, and when you nodded in surrender, she reached over the desk, put her hands around your cheeks and placed a big kiss on your forehead, and you – put in a light, somewhat carefree mood by your friend – laughed. You both did.

The weekend arrived much slower as you waited for the fun you craved. You had completely absorbed the idea that you would be spending Saturday night at some club, and there was nothing to stop you doing so. Not even John. As you sat in Connie's flat, in your robe, sipping a margarita, waiting for the polish on your nails to dry, he called you with a proposition for another date. 

“Johnny…” Despite the heavy sigh that left your lips, you tried to make your voice sound as sweet as possible; even if you wanted to set any boundaries, John had the upper hand, so you couldn't behave audaciously – you couldn't be cold and assertive, you had to wrap him around your finger. “I can't see you. I would love to, but I've been neglecting my girlfriends lately. I need to spend some time with them.”

“But in a club?” he reluctantly repeated the information you gave him at the very beginning. “Maybe I could go with you?” 

You nearly choked on your drink. A red light flashed in your head; John Walker was about to enter a phase that would put an end to you going out on your own. And you couldn't let that happen. At least not until he had made his final decision in terms of marriage. You needed that wedding, and in order to achieve it you were prepared to do a lot, at the same time you couldn't let John trample you like that. He said himself that he had always wanted you – so he had to realize that he could easily lose you. You couldn't be the only one who was fearing about this 'relationship'.

“Johnny,” you echoed his name, but this time you almost said it between clenched teeth with a kind of determination and slight irritation. You plastered a smile on your face to sound at least a little softer. “You are really sweet. But I need time with my friends. It will be something like my bachelorette party.” The words you used were intentional; you wanted to give him the idea that he should finally make up his mind and officially ask you to marry him. It wasn't your dream, but you had to protect yourself; you had to stop letting him lead you around by the nose, taking advantage of your dates.

“You're right. But you have to promise me that we'll spend all Sunday together. Tomorrow you will be just for me and no one else.”

The dates with John were not a disaster largely because they usually lasted a few hours. Spending a whole day with him was different. And if you reacted this way to this prospect – with discouraged silence – what about spending the rest of your life with John? You've probably never seen it in this light before, and it suddenly made you sick.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said hurriedly. “Yes, of course, we will spend the whole Sunday together.”

“Perfect. See you then?”

“See you then.”

You tossed your phone to the other end of the couch. Connie appeared in the living room, although technically she had been there the whole time due to the living room being connected to the kitchen. She looked at you with concern, put down the margarita pitcher she had brought, and sat beside you.

“He's not that bad,” you claimed. 

“Yeah, sure.”

You squinted, staring blankly at a random point in front of you. “But…”

Under the influence of margarita, you wanted to make some philosophical speech about how your end was near; how it was creeping up on you, crawling under your skin. You were sure of the end of your freedom, as future husbands tend to joke about, but you hated these jokes. Eventually you said nothing, occupying your head with ways to help you unwind; to somehow honor the potentially last opportunity for you to go out like this; without your controlling soon-to-be husband. 

Having shaken your head to get rid of some unnecessary thoughts, you glanced at Connie, smiling at her tenderly. “Would you be so kind and lend me the shortest dress you have?”

Although you weren't in the mood for men's company, the decision about the dress resulted in exactly what you thought it would. It was short enough that you didn't dare bend down, but its length and tightness actually played only a partial role in making you attract attention. You oozed a sort of mysterious, appealing aura of being open to innocent propositions you might have refused; eager for an adventure you might not have taken part in. Men followed you with their eyes, and it looked as if they were prepared to get burnt, to be rejected only if that meant they could get close to you, to exchange a few words, to have the opportunity to be noticed by you.

Perhaps it was the irritation, the cooling anger at John and the exhaustion of your living situation that made you attract people the way flame attracts moths? Perhaps your true nature – the one your mother tried to nip – has been bubbling to the surface through some small cracks, caused by your recent bending to the will imposed from everywhere? Or was it simply the result of a couple margaritas consumed before going out?

You didn't know, and you didn't particularly care. 

From the moment you arrived at the club – the kind of club you had in mind; with colorful but not aggressive lights, affordable alcohol and good music; on this night, hits from the early 2000s prevailed – you and Connie basically didn't leave the dance floor. Not including short breaks for drinks at the bar or going to the toilet. For the first time in a long time, you felt your age – carefree, almost irresponsible; you were having fun.

Time seemed to flow a little differently, so you didn't know exactly how much of it had passed, but Connie and you were starting to get sore feet. You knew that choosing some flat shoes would be a wise move, but high heels made your legs look even better than usual. There was no room for reason that night.

Connie disappeared somewhere, having promised earlier to get you some seats. You didn't want to return to the dance floor alone, besides, you needed to catch your breath. You ordered something exceptionally non-alcoholic at the bar – orange juice with ice – and decided to wait for your friend there. Resting your elbows on the slightly sticky counter, thereby trying to transfer your body weight from your sore legs, you sipped your juice. 

The bartender unexpectedly slipped you a pink drink in a wine glass. “From that guy.” She nodded to the other end of the counter. 

You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down. 

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

He stood next to you, his hand resting on the surface of the counter, his fingers almost reaching your elbow. You looked at his face; to your disadvantage, he was as beautiful as ever, his plump lips were wet, giving them the impression of being even more luscious; his eyes seemed fatigued as he watched you with calm and benevolence.

“Aren't you going to ask what I’m doing here?” He spoke, and from the way he articulated the words you were able to tell that he was a little drunk. “If I'm following you..?” 

“No, I'm not going to ask that. I’m not going to ask about anything, actually, because I shouldn't be talking to you at all.”

Bucky smiled, but there was not a bit of warmth in that smile. “So you're marrying him…” He nodded slowly, running his tongue over his teeth. “Did he tell you to stay away from me or what?” 

Closing your eyes, you let out a heavy sigh. “I want this marriage to work, Bucky.” You looked him straight in the eye. “And it won’t work with you there. I wish I could keep what we have, I wish I could keep you, I swear, but I can’t. I need you to understand that. Please.” 

At first he stared at you without a word, anger crept onto his face. “So that’s it? I lose you, you get your perfect little husband?”

You pursed your lips; no matter what, you didn’t expect to hear something like this from Bucky, yet you deserved it; you should’ve had a normal conversation with him. And now you were too tired, too defeated already, to fight. “Yeah, that’s it,” you said briefly. “Friendship isn't meant for us. Thanks for the drink,” you added, trying to take the least emotional approach possible, but in reality you could feel your heart breaking. 

Bucky looked like he was slowly being consumed by panic. But there was nothing you could do about it. You grabbed the glass filled with alcohol he'd bought for you and moved away from the bar. Anywhere, as long as it's far away from him.

By the kindness of one man (or, rather, innocent flirtation), Connie got the seats in the VIP box. The man shared it with a friend who introduced himself as Reggie, Ricky or Randy; you couldn't recall the correct version. You didn't focus on his name; nor did you pay particular attention to what he was saying. All you knew was that he called you pretty, and was buying you drinks, which you accepted cautiously.

Things stopped going as you had hoped. This was supposed to be your night without men, yet you were just letting one hit on you. You were supposed to have fun, yet you felt heartbroken by the situation with Bucky. Since when did everything start revolving around him? Since when did your mood depend on what was going on between the two of you? Did your first meeting unlock some mechanism that you were both doomed to, or did you just get so attached to him over the course of a couple weeks?

When Reggie/Ricky/Randy's hand resting on your thigh began to go higher and higher, your thoughts crashed against all these questions like rough waves. It didn't bother you, what he was doing. And since it didn't bother you, you decided not to spoil his fun. Your thoughts wandered so far and wide that you barely noticed the moment he kissed you. His hot, alcohol-breathing lips pressed onto yours, and you were basically indifferent to that too. Maybe not so indifferent, because you found something pleasurable in it; your relationship with John lacked the flame, the immediate desire. And Reggie/Ricky/Randy had that boyish charm mixed with the possessiveness of a grown man; a combination that appealed to you very much. Besides, your future wasn't in his hands, and not being at Reggie/Ricky/Randy's mercy turned you on even more.

And suddenly he was gone.

Reggie/Ricky/Randy ended up on the floor. You lifted up your eyes from the drunken man, unable to get up from the ground, and saw Bucky. Again. With clenched jaw and heavy breathing, he watched Reggie/Ricky/Randy laying between you. However, he was harmless enough to quickly lose Bucky's interest, so he grabbed your wrist and forced you to stand up, then follow him. 

“Bucky!” you groaned. You were afraid that Bucky was capable of dragging you behind him if the situation called for it. “You're walking too fast! I can’t walk that fast in these heels!” 

He stopped sharply and turned towards you; you could see how angry he was. You didn’t know when he positioned his hands at the right places on your body, so he could throw you over his shoulder. An amused giggle escaped your mouth, but you quickly remembered that you should be mad at him.

“Put me down!” You hit him somewhere under the shoulder blade and immediately felt the hardness of his muscles – you might as well have hit a stone. You massaged your sore hand right away, meanwhile coming to terms with the fact that he couldn't hear you over the thumping music anyway.

A sudden coolness and distant sounds indicated that you had left the club. Bucky put you down but still stayed close in case you would lose your balance.

“What the hell are you doing?” You abruptly pushed back his arm, which was meant to secure you.

“What I am doing?” he bit back, the anger not leaving his face. He seemed more sober than before, too. “What the hell are you doing to yourself, Y/N? Kissing some strange guy in front of fucking everyone? You think John is gonna love that, but us hanging out is too much for him? Do you want this marriage or not?”

“What's the difference what I want!” A dreadful sorrow and helplessness echoed in your voice that made Bucky perplexed. His lips parted slightly, then snapped shut, his eyes filled with concern and sympathy. Despite the fact that you had been yelling at each other outside the club for the past few minutes, these words rang out most emphatically, bringing you both back to reality. “Who cares, Buck?” you said more quietly. “I'm supposed to marry a guy I don't really know, and I try to like him, but the more time I spend with him, the harder it gets. I'm not even talking about love, not hoping for it to happen, because I know John Walker is not it. But it doesn't matter, I still have to have his children, otherwise everything I'm doing now goes out the window. And I'm doing it so that my sister doesn't have to. So that she and my mother don't have to worry about the future and money. I would do anything for them, but my mother won't even speak to me; she is mad at me for it.” You quickly wiped a hot tear from your cheek, completely missing the moment you started crying. “I know there are worse things than marrying a rich guy.” You rolled your eyes at the depiction of your problem. “But it still hurts. Maybe one day I'll get used to it, but right now I'm fucking scared. I’m all alone, I have no one to get my back, no one to hold my hand. I’m fucking scared-” 

“Y/N…” 

“No.” You didn't let him get a word in fear that – whatever he had to say – you would break even more. “Help me get through this less painfully and just… disappear. Leave me alone.”

Connie appeared beside you, but you only noticed it when her warm hand touched your bare shoulder.  You didn't hear what she was telling you; there was just ringing in your ears, and the sound of gushing blood in your head. Bucky didn't take his eyes off you; you'd never seen him so worried, so vulnerable and unsettled before. 

Connie stroked your hair, then put her arm around you, and you both began to walk ahead. The tenderness of her gestures revived you somewhat; you looked away from Bucky and fixed your eyes on the pavement. Eventually she pulled you into probably the only open diner in the area. There was still ringing in your ears, but you realized that you were to get something warm to drink and wait for a cab.

One of your first conscious thoughts shortly after waking up was that physically you felt far too good for a hangover. You were genuinely disappointed by this, as this kind of suffering would have been the perfect excuse not to spend the day with John. The perfect excuse for your nasty mood.

You sat up on the bed, your eyes automatically fell on the black sweatshirt slung over the chair by a vanity table. Returning it would have been the perfect opportunity to see him, but you had finished that stage in your life, and you were going to stick to it. You decided not to bother with how you planned to give Bucky back his property. Instead, you grabbed the sweatshirt off the chair and put it on.

When you went down to the kitchen, you met Michael there. He was sipping coffee – as you gathered from the smell lingering in the room – and focused on you as soon as you entered his sight. As you prepared your tea, you felt his attentive gaze on you.

“Where were you last night?”

You almost dropped the cup from your hands. That uncomfortable, paralyzing electricity ran through your body. The only reason Michael could have asked that particular question was because he knew – someone had told him about what you were doing; that you were making out with a man whose name you couldn't even remember. And if Michael knew, John was also going to get that information sooner or later.

“At a nightclub. With Connie. Do you remember Connie..?” You glanced over your shoulder and he only nodded. “Why do you ask?” you added casually, although in reality you were sure you were about to have a heart attack. 

“I thought you saw Bucky Barnes. That you convinced him to change his mind.”

Your forehead furrowed, your eyes widened. Trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat, you turned to Michael. “What..?”

“He has made an offer.”

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine

[torialefay]

☀️ Everyday Idol 🌙 (Chapter 1)

✨ possible bangchan x reader (f), possible jungkook x reader (f); (however, this is a bangchan-focused fic)

✨ friends to lovers? possible love triangle? future angst and smut??? definitely fluff.

✨ summary: JYP Entertainment launches a new show and y/n somehow gets recruited. Even though she doesn’t particularly care about the outcome of the show, she does particularly care about one of the artists she met: Chris from Stray Kids. Does Chris feel the same or will a potential relationship with one of his friends overcome what y/n feels for him?

✨ author’s notes: this is my first ever post, yay! i know i have a lot to improve on, so bear with me as i figure out all of the fun stuff. leaving this as a stand alone for now until i find out if anyone is interested in this becoming a series. any feedback is super helpful! taking suggestions as well 💜

✨ warnings: cursing from time to time. gets a little emotional towards the middle. that should be about it hehe.

“Holy shit.” You stared down at your phone. A notification highlighted in tones of pink, yellow, and purple clued you into the fact quickly that it had been an Instagram notification. But the words you were reading seemed to not register.

Message request from abcedfghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz.

Wait, hold up. That’s weird. There’s no way this is his real account… Hold on.

You hurriedly clicked on the notification to open the app. It brought up a white screen with a short message surrounded by the grey Instagram text bubble.

Hey! I was wondering if you’d want to hang out sometime before you go back? We can do whatever you want. I’d just like to see you again.

You hurriedly screened your eyes back to the top of the page. In bold letters: JungKook. Right underneath, the username sprawled again: abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz.

You clicked the name and went to their profile. As bright as the sky and as plain as day, a blue checkmark next to the username. What the fuck?! There’s no way. You felt your heart start to race and your eyes shot up, looking to see who was around. You went back to the message, clicked again, and sure enough, it took you back to the same verified account. You felt your breathing start to quicken and the nerves set in. The nerves- what were they from? Excitement? Nervousness? Confusion? A mixture of them all?

“Oh God, what do I do?” You whispered to yourself while shooting your head up. Skittish all of a sudden, you examined your surroundings. You had been in the JYPE dance practice room. Light wood-colored vinyl flooring laid underneath your feet, while red walls surrounded you all the way to the ceiling, where a huge JYPE logo was attached and acted as the bright overhead lighting. You still aren’t really sure how you ended up here. Well, I guess you were, but you still couldn’t believe it. One minute, you were on a 4-week vacation to Korea, and the next, you were here- standing in a practice room for JYP Entertainment.

Merely 2 weeks ago, you had been walking along one of the busiest streets in downtown Seoul with your friend Anna. The two of you had been inseparable for the past 2 years, meeting each other in medical school in the States and relying on each other and your friend group to get you through every waking moment of it. From exam study sessions to making sure the other had woken up in time to make it to the lab, you wouldn’t find one of you without the other. Which is why you were extremely thankful that both you AND Anna were politely paused on the side of the street, being offered the opportunity of a lifetime. JYP Entertainment planned to make a new show, Everyday Idol. The concept of the show was to recruit everyday people- people in various different jobs with various different lives- to spend one week as a JYP trainee. After 2 or 3 weeks, a performance would be held. It was speculated even that JYP himself would be at the finale to make evaluations and possibly ask a select few to continue their training at JYPE. That part of it is still hearsay. No one knows what happens after the final evaluation, but it didn’t matter to you anyways. Both you and Anna had another calling- one in the medical field. You weren’t here to become an idol. You weren’t even here because you particularly liked singing and dancing. You were just here for the experience of it all… and maybe also a little because you had heard that JYP had some very handsome artists who would be involved in the training, judging, and making of the show. You told yourself that was just a bonus, but let’s be honest, it was really the deciding factor of whether you would go through with this or not. You never expected though to meet Jungkook as a friend of one of the JYP artists, but again, that was also just a bonus.

So now, here you stood. A confused mess, darting eyes across the JYPE practice room that you had finally started to feel comfortable with. One final glance at your phone. Where was Anna? You had to tell someone, right? Talk to someone before you did or said anything crazy. Flights of ideas ran through your head. You started to walk toward the exit door as fast as you possibly could without anyone thinking there was something seriously wrong. Anna had to be around here somewhere. At the cafeteria, more than likely. You two had gotten separated a short while ago, but you were sure that’s where she’d be. You paced hurriedly down the long corridor and down the 2 flights of stairs to the level holding the cafeteria. Upon getting there, a quick scouring over the room showed the strawberry blond waves of Anna’s head at a long table. She was seated at the end next to Felix. Felix was a member of Stray Kids and was also Anna’s mentor throughout her week of being a trainee. The 3 of you, well 4 really (counting your own mentor, Changbin) had gotten really close. You were introduced to the other Stray Kids members as well, as you had all gone out for drinks. Some members you got closer to than others. Like Chris for example. You felt so lucky to have really cool and down to earth guys to help you along your way. They were so much fun and made hard things seem a lot easier. But no matter how awesome they were, they weren’t Anna. You zoned in on her and quickly made your way over.

“I am quite literally not doing that,” you heard Anna say, while side-eyeing Felix.

“But think about how memorable it would be. They would never forget you at least. And as your mentor, it is my job to make you stand out during the finale. I mean, just think about it,” Felix was wide-eyed, making a rainbow motion with one hand across the sky.

You interrupted the conversation by arriving at the table. “What are we thinking about?” You asked, with a faint panic sound in your voice and out of breath.

Anna just rolled her eyes again. “Go on,” she said, head dipping down to motion toward Felix.

A huge grin spread across Felix’s face. You could tell he was about to break character and start laughing any second now. “Well, I was thinkinggg, you know since you guys are gonna be doing ‘Charmer’ for your group performance, that Anna and maybe some others should draw on some fake abs since we have to show ours too.” Felix laughed and waited for your expression. You relaxed into the joke, thinking about how iconic it really would be.

An annoyed smile crept across your mouth. Finally giving an eye roll of your own, you responded, “As much as I do think it is a main selling point of the performance… yeah, I’m with Anna. No way in hell I’m doing that.” You looked at Felix with raised eyebrows and laughed. Thinking about it, Felix really is such a cool guy. I’m glad he’s Anna’s mentor, and now, a friend.

“Touché,” he grinned and looked down. Damn y/n, hold up. You almost forgot you’re supposed to be panicking right now.

“Anna, I need you for just a sec,” you blurted out quickly, while grabbing her by the arm and elbow at the same time. She stood up swiftly and you rushed a few steps to the next table over. Although it was a long table, no one else was sitting there, and you thought it would be fine. You hurriedly plopped down into the seat, pulling her with you. “Look who the fuck just messaged me,” you excitedly tried to keep your voice down.

Anna took the phone and focused on it, squinting her eyes. Again, you could tell that she was clicking the account’s username and icon. Then re-reading the message, back and forth, back and forth again. You saw her expression go from confusion to utter shock, jaw dropping open. She set the phone down face up. “Holy shit y/n!!!” she all but squeeled. It was loud, and you could tell people were now looking your way.

“Shhh,” you scolded her, bringing both of your heads down closer to the table and establishing a low tone. “No one can know. I do NOT want this getting out, okay?” You paused and felt your heart skip a beat. “Anna, I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t know what to do?!” She borderline yelled yet again, raising her body up in the air with her proclamation.

“Anna!” You hush-yelled at her, bringing her body back down again. “Please, for the love of God, we have to be quiet. No, I don’t know what to do.”

“Bitchhh, message him back and say ‘hell yes!!!’. If you don’t, I swear I will.” You could tell she was so excited for you and she could not keep the cheesiest smile from spreading ear to ear across her face. Her eyes were lit up.

“I just don’t understand,” you spoke quietly. “He was literally such an asshole when I met him. Just arrogant and rude. Thinks he’s hot shit. He made me feel like I was the most irrelevant person ever. Like why is he even messaging me? I genuinely do not understand.” You had only met Jungkook a couple of days prior, through your new friend Chris from Stray Kids. They had been hanging out in Chris’ living room when you had gone to pick something up from Changbin. The interaction between the two of you was brief, but long enough for you to know that Jungkook was not your cup of tea. Now Chris on the other hand… Chris was something else. Chris was the exact opposite of Jungkook. The fact that they could even hang out in the same crowd baffled you. You could think of 100 ways to describe Chris, but no single word felt like it did him justice. On second thought, ‘perfect’ might do it. Did you hope that HE would be the one sending you a message wanting to hang out? Maybe. Did you have somewhat of a crush on him? DEFINITELY maybe. Okay, definitely. But you didn’t mean to. And how you ended up with that conclusion in the first place… Well, it’s a long story:

The way that JYPE had Everyday Idol set up, you would start preparing for the show 1 week before the actual filming and training process started. You had to come to the company building everyday to go over contracts, meet your mentors, tour the buildings, all of that good stuff. Although that was only an orientation week, it was one that was very important. You got to meet several artists and make so many connections. Since both your and Anna’s mentors were from Stray Kids, naturally, you met the other members and became friends with them as well. They were a super friendly group of guys and made you feel much more comfortable about going through this whole process. Each member had their own quirks, which you learned at a group dinner where every member came with their mentee. Some much-needed drinks were downed that night, with resultant memories made. One thing you learned for sure- Koreans LOVED their drinking games, and they really did bring people closer together. Well, at least it did for you. It brought you closer to Chris.

Chris wasn’t always the drinking type. He was overtly responsible for the wellbeing of Stray Kids after all. But that night was a night to cut loose and get to know new people. You and Chris bonded almost instantly. First, you found out that he had a dog, Berry, who happened to be the same breed as your own. You cut up all night about how the 2 dogs sounded like something out of a children’s book- “The Adventures of Berry and Bella”- Bella, your baby Cavalier of course. He showed you Berry’s pictures, and you showed him Bella’s. They looked almost identical. When Chan made a remark about them being long-lost sisters, you felt your breath get taken away for a split second. You being Bella’s mom and Chris being Berry’s dad… it sounded like some “The Parent Trap” shit. You were feeding into it though. You jokingly asked if he called her “Barold like Harold” and Berry was just a nickname. You later found out that he grew up loving classic rock, just like you. Apparently he got it from his parents, just like you. Minute after minute, you kept finding more similarities and never-ending things to talk about. By around 2-3 AM, everyone else was ready to head out and go to bed. But for you, it felt like time had flown by. You silently hoped that Chris had felt the same way- that he had felt the same spark in the conversations. That he had held onto every word you said, just like you did to him. That he was desparately hoping that the night could last for just 5 more minutes. That he wished you would invite him over just to chat some more.

But these were things you could only hope for. You knew your place and you knew that it had to be called a night. You said your goodbyes and gave Chris a hug. You’re not sure if you imagined it, but the hug seemed extra long and extra warm. You tried not to read too far into it... That was hardly the end though. You two became friends, joking with each other whenever you ran into the other, like at his apartment that day with Jungkook, and always mentioning to the other that a group of you were going to dinner if the other wanted to join. All casually though. It didn’t matter that you found him extremely handsome. You never went out of your way to seek out Chris again, nor did he you. That is, until you found yourself as the last of the new Everyday Idols cast to remain in the JYPE building. Anna had gone home early, having a migraine but already having finished up what she needed for the day. You finished the day out until the others left, staying back to talk on the phone with a friend. It was Sammie, one of the girls in the close-knit friend group with you and Anna. There were 6 of you who had become the best of friends during medical school. And although you had the closest reliance on Anna, the other girls were about as close to you as any people could be. You had all consistently cried together, stayed up all night together, and hyped each other up, not letting anyone quit for the past 2 years. The kind of mental toll that medical school puts on people is pure psychological torture, and you felt sure that none of you could have withstood it without having each other.

“Hi Sammie!!! How are you?!” You were so happy to see her name pop up…. No response. You heard a lot of background noise and looked down to see that instead, it had been a group call. You were on the line with Sammie and Anna, as well as your other 3 best friends. Sniffles was all you could distinctly hear. The light lit up around her name, showing that the noise was coming from her line.

“Sammie, are you okay?” You heard Anna ask reassuringly. There was worry in her voice. You could tell that Sammie was trying to muster up her voice, but nothing was coming out.

“Sammie, please tell us what’s going on. Is everything alright?” You questioned her. There was definitely worry now in your voice too, but how could there not be?

“Guys, I just got my score back. I didn’t pass,” Sammie cried into the phone. You felt your heart break. You had all just taken the first level of the USMLE, the first exam in the series for your medical degree. You all knew Sammie had been struggling. She had to move her test date back by a month. But when everyone else had gotten their passing results, you knew Sammie’s passing score would could back the following month. I guess it turns out that it didn’t. And you all knew what that meant. Your throat got caught. Dead silence…

“Oh Sammie, no. I’m so so sorry,” you whispered in a hushed voice, straining to get the words out. You felt water welling up in your eyes. You sat down on the floor, criss-crossed, ready to settle on the phone for a while and braced yourself for the rest of the conversation. Your back was propped up against the wall-length mirror, but your entire upper body slouched over so as to shield your face from the world. All you heard on the other line was sniffles… still.

Finally, your friend Nia broke the silence. “It’s okay buddy, we are still so proud of you. We all tried so hard. It will be okay. Things just have to get shifted back a bit is all. It will be okay, I promise.” You made a mental note of how Nia said ‘things just have to get shifted back a bit.’ We all knew what that meant. Sammie was automatically going to be put on probation now. She would also automatically not be allowed to continue on with the other third years… She would not be allowed to continue on with us. If she failed again, she would be kicked out of medical school entirely, any hope of becoming a doctor shot out the window.

You could hear a rustling noise coming through on Sammie’s line, and you knew it was the sound of her using the sleeves of her sweater to wipe away her tears. “No, I know. It will be okay. I’m just- I just-“ you could hear the stuffiness in her voice and how close she was to breaking. “I can’t lose you guys,” she choked out, letting out a low, slow cry once it had been said. That one got you. ‘I can’t lose you guys’ rang in your head. You lifted your head up and all the way back, taking in a deep breath and blinking slowly to try and halt any tears that were trying to escape. You needed to be strong. For Sammie. Let her know that it was okay- that we would be okay. Things would be different, but we would always be friends. Hushed cries and sniffles could be heard from the other lines, with your other friends intermittently offering up their words of comfort. Once the line had gone silent for a moment, everyone sat in solitude. Not a word uttered, not a falling tear heard. Even though you wanted to believe that nothing would change, that you could all continue on the same as you had been for the past 2 years, you knew the reality of it. You knew how brutal medical school was, and how wrapped up everyone HAS to be in their own life and at their own level if they have any chance of making it. You know this because your friend group of 6 started out as 9. People just simply did not make it. People failed out, got so far behind that they couldn’t catch up, struggled so badly with their mental health that they couldn’t continue foreward, you name it. With Sammie risking that, and definitely falling behind to the class behind you, there was no denying that things would not be the same. It’s an unspoken rule that you cannot say that though. It’s an unspoken rule that you have to be cheerful at a time like this. Tears were streaming down each of your cheeks thinking about having to move on without her and how her heart must be breaking to see all of her friends continuing, leaving her by herself..

“We’re never gonna leave you behind, okay?” you cried out, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your jacket. You would try your very best. She cannot be one more who doesn’t make it. Your heart wouldn’t be able to handle that. You felt so guilty. Tears of sorrow were now replaced with tears of guilt as you covered your mouth to try to muffle any noise coming out. This continued until you felt numb. Until everyone on the line felt numb.

After another minute, everyone had soothed themselves and were starting to offer more encouragement. A weight of emotional exhaustion could be felt over the phone. You each ended the call with how much you love each other, miss each other, and promised each other that nothing would change. Even though you knew it would. With one final sniff and wipe to your cheeks, you ended the call. It took just about everything in you to stand up from the floor and stabilize yourself. You stood there for a minute, just trying to look straight ahead and get your footing. You gathered your things and exited the practice room into a long hallway. You headed first to get a cup of water, all too aware of how dehydrated the crying had made you. Once you reached the machine in the break room, you swiftly but shakily grabbed a cup and pressed the button to let the water down. With your other hand, you cupped your forehead and leaned over onto the same side’s elbow, hoping to get some pressure on your head and to get some congestion out. You felt pitiful- looked pitiful too.

Inhale, hold… Exhale, hold… Inhale, hold… Exhale, hold…

“Long day?” You heard a familiar Aussie voice chuckle from behind you. You leaned up now that your cup was done filling and turned around to face Chris. He had been stood there, just gazing towards you with his hands tucked into the pockets of his black sweatpants. You figured that must have been his signature look- a black hoodie and black pants. Come to think of it, you didn’t recall ever seeing him in something else. The moment he saw your face, how puffy and red you looked, his expression completely changed. Did he look worried?

“Yeah a little bit,” you tried to say with a sheepish smile, but a small crack came out. It was okay enough. Holding firmly on your cup, you looked down, took a long drink of the water, then lowered your hand again to start your trek out of the building. As you stepped past Chris, your arm brushed the fabric of his hoodie.

“Y/n?” He questioned abruptly, making you turn halfway around at a slow speed. You popped your head to the side a bit and looked him in the eyes but couldn’t muster up the energy to verbalize a response. You stood there waiting for him to continue, still with a worried expression evident on his face. “Are you okay?” He stared a hole right through your eyes.

You weren’t. Not really. But you didn’t know Chris enough to dump any of that on him. He’s here late too; you were sure he was busy and had plenty of work to do. Even though you did like to vent and talk things out to relieve the stress of it, that wasn’t something to do with someone who doesn’t deeply know you. That will be an activity for you and Anna once you get to the hotel. With all the strength you had, you lifted your head up high to meet his gaze. You lightly bit your cheek and feverishly nodded your head up and down. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Shallow breath in and out. “Thanks though.” You offered another low smile and turned on your heels to leave.

“I’m serious, you know. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll be in my studio. I’ve been through this before too, yeah?” You heard him call out behind you as you walked. It made you hault and think on what he said. ‘I’ve been through this before too.’ … Oh, he thinks you’re upset over the training process- over the show and the practices you’re having to do and classes you’re having to take. You wanted to do well, yes, but you couldn’t care less about the outcome of the show. You didn’t want to be an idol- you probably wouldn’t even take the offer if it was given to you. ‘Not that it would be.’ But you had another calling, one that you loved and that you deeply cared about. One that made you feel like you made a difference in the world and could actually help people. Sammie had that calling too, or that same feeling at least. You weren’t sure if her chance was gone now.

“It’s not about the show or the training. I just- I’m sorry, I don’t think you’d understand,” you quietly muttered, only half turning back. The exhaustion and lack of emotion in your response was evident. You started making your way again toward the company building’s exit door.

“Try me,” you heard Chris call, sounding half stern but half playful.

You paused for a long moment, contemplating. You had to admit, it was a bit tempting. “Fine,” you gave in. You crossed your arms on your chest after you had turned your body around. You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you’d been holding in and walked forward towards Chris. “Can we go to your studio?”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

“It just feels like I keep losing the people that I care about. I feel so hopeless, like there’s nothing I can do to help them,” you were lightly crying, holding onto a pillow and looking down so as to shield your face. “And I know it’s ridiculous. And I know it’s not my responsibility to make sure that everyone makes it through. But that’s my friend, you know? And I know that she can do it, she just needed more time. When she pushed back her testing date I told her to call me if she needed any help… God, why didn’t she just call me? Why didn’t I call her? I knew she was struggling, but I didn’t bother to do anything… Didn’t do anything to help… I mean I know it’s not totally on me, but GOD I feel like I’m responsible. We always worked through everything together for studying. She was the reason I even made it through the first two years. And now it feels like I’m abandoning her and there’s nothing I can even do about it. Fuck, I just feel… I feel so guilty. So so guilty. And it’s like, if this happened to her, then when is it my time? Ya know? Like she is so smart. Smarter than me. I just, I don’t see how I can do this,” you kept rambling and rambling. Chris had led you a few doors down to his studio, where you both had plopped onto his grey leather couch. Each of your bodies were turned toward the other, one leg up on the couch, so close to touching one another’s knees. You didn’t mean to ramble on like this. Honestly, you knew you were emotional, but not to this point. Feelings and emotions came out that you didn’t even register you had yet. Guilt being a big one. Chris didn’t say anything while you were talking. He just sat patiently, nodding along to what you had to say. He looked into your eyes with such conviction as you confided in him, looking like he was trying to search for something there that he hadn’t yet found. Once he realized you were done with what you had to say, he took a breath in and began with his words.

“You know, I felt like that too before,” he said, scooting in slightly to bring his face closer to yours and lowering his voice. “It’s not so different, being a trainee and being in medical school. You kill yourself trying so hard each day, only to see the people you love not make it. It hurts. It hurts a lot.” He tried to ignore the fact that his voice was going in and out, plagued by a crack that he couldn’t stifle. His brow began to furrow as asense of seriousness came over him. “And it makes you turn cold, to want to hide away and recluse those emotions. Trust me, I get it. And I’m sorry you’re having to go through that. I’m sorry to your friend as well.” His eyes were big, something was in there- it looked like genuine hurt.

Tears were welling in your eyes. You broke eye contact with Chris to look up and over to the corner of the room. To look at anything else so you didn’t start letting tears stream again. You clicked your toungue, then ran it across your teeth before taking a gulp. Once you had calmed yourself to the point you didn’t think you would cry anymore, you looked back down to a sweetly, patiently waiting Chris, who still had just as much concern on his face. “What do I do? What did you do when you felt like this?”

You could see him almost smile in a way. Or blush maybe. His eyes lit up the teeniest bit. You could see it. There had been new look on his face. Was it endearment? Whatever it was, he must have liked when people asked him for his advice or trusted his judgement. The expression was fleeting, and he went back to his prior worried face. “There’s nothing you can do besides try to learn to be okay with it. I know that’s probably not an answer that helps very much, but there really isn’t much you can do to fix it, yeah? It will be okay.” You had looked down by this point, so Chris leaned down to meet your eye level, locking you in. He extended his right index and middle fingers to hold the bottom of your chin, slowly but delicately bringing your face back up to normal with his head following right along. He never broke eye contact. He started to whisper. “Hey, you’ve done nothing wrong. Sometimes things happen, things that we can’t change. And if we spend our whole lives worrying about those things, then we will never move on to what we are meant to do. I know it must be hard seeing your friend not move on with you. And I know how discouraging it feels to think that it’s just a matter of time before you’re next. But you have to keep your head up and keep going. You can still be a good friend. You can still be a supporter and a helper. You can still be a confidant. But you can’t forget that this is your dream too. And as harsh as it sounds, sometimes you’ve just got to do what you’ve got to do to stay alive… Whether that means push your feelings aside or not. You still have your other friends to go through this with, yeah? Let them be your rock, and you be theirs. I can’t promise you that you’ll all make it through together. But I can promise you that if everyone works hard enough, they will make it through… You will make it through.” You had a few stray tears rolling down your face with Chris’ words. Somewhat because of the situation, yes, but the words did help. They made you feel reassured. More than anything, they made you feel seen. Made you feel like someone understands the pain you felt, even if it was a bit ridiculous to be so worked up. A small smile crept up. You looked down, then back up at Chris with an approving nod.

“You’re right,” you took a deep breath out. Your hands reached for your eyes to wipe at them and then went right back down to your lap. The mood had quickly shifted in the room from something serious and uptight to calm and relaxed. “Thank you Chris, really. Even just letting me get everything out made me feel better, but I do really appreciate your advice. I really value the way that you think. Really. Thank you.”

Chris blushed. He reached for the back of his neck to hold it, feeling obviously shy. “Don’t say that,” he looked down, smiling. “It’s no problem.” He put his arm down and looked up. “You feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you,” you chuckled. You instinctively went in for a hug, which Chris reciprocated. The moment he locked his arms around your back, he felt so warm… so comforting. It was like his warm words had been personafied into an action, the everyday expression of a hug. Something about this moment just felt right. You leaned in even closer, deepening the hug. Chris picked up on your cues and gently reciprocated, pushing you closer into his chest as well. He started to rub your back, making contact with your hair and neck, ever so slightly. You let out a small sigh and melted in. You felt his breath hitch, his heart stopping for just one second while he seemed to tense up. Just for a split second though. He soothed down into your grasp as well and started to rock into the hug, rubbing larger circles onto your back. You stayed like that for a few more moments, just enjoying each other’s body heat and the calm silence that remained in the building since you were the only two left. You wished you could stay like that for the next hour, but then again, you knew if you didn’t pull away soon, things would start to feel awkward. You slowly started to pull your arms back and away from his back and waist, dragging your hands lightly along the black hoodie as you went. Chris matched your actions and untangled his limbs from around your body, pulling away from your side and upper back. It was slow. It was meaningful. You weren’t sure if it was intentional, but he continued to slowly drag his hands away until one was resting on your waist and the other on the opposing side of your neck between your ear and jaw. For just a split second, he held his position, then slowly pulled his hands completely off of you. He smiled but looked down while pulling his body back, from only inches away to now a couple of feet.

You returned the smile and looked down to your hands folded in your lap. “I appreciate you Chris. I really really do. I know you’re super busy, so it means a lot to me that you’d take the time to listen to me. Hopefully one day, I can return the favor.”

“I’ll never be too busy,” he said under his breath while still looking down, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it. “People like us, we’ve gotta stick together, yeah? The world is hard sometimes, but we can lean on each other to make it a bit easier… Plus, we’ve gotta stick it out so Berry and Bella can have some play dates the next time you come back,” he giggled and looked at you endearingly. Something about that comment made your heart swell. “You will come back, won’t you?” He raised his eyebrow and gave you and over-dramatic expression, like he was wanting to get a laugh out of you. This man lol.

“Of course I’ll come back. Our long-lost daughters will be dying to meet each other, I’m sure.” You cracked a smile. A genuine smile. “Plus, people like us have to stick together, remember?” You lightheartedly asked, mirroring what he had just told you.

“Yeah, yeah we do.” He smiled and looked straight into your eyes. You could have sworn he was closer now than he had been a few seconds ago. Or maybe you wanted him to be. You could have reached out, pulled him into another hug. It would have felt natural. Well, to you at least. You didn’t want to out-hug Chris for the night. Plus, I’m sure you were somewhat swayed by how handsome he is, which factored into it. You shifted your position back slightly.

“I better get out of here and get back to the hotel. Anna thought I was headed back like 30 minutes ago. I know she’s probably as stressed as me about everything going on,” you stood up off of the couch. Chris followed suit as you shuffled past him toward the door.

“Tell her what we talked about and hopefully it can calm her down some too.” Chris caught your waist with his hand as you went to open the door. “Do you want me to walk with you back to your hotel? It’s late, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anything.” You turned to face him. What a cutie. He was probably just saying it to be nice. Also probably because you were still a distraught foreign woman about to wonder the streets alone after midnight. Still cute though.

“That’s okay. It’s the opposite direction from your apartment anyways, so I wouldn’t want to put you out that much.” You knew from meeting up with Changbin at their apartment that it would probably take around 30 minutes for him to get back to his place if he accompanied you to yours. Just seemed like a bit much at this time of night.

“I know, but I promise I don’t mind.” … Wait hold up. ‘I know?’ How did he know where your hotel was? You didn’t think you’d mentioned it. Old conversations started to scan through your mind, trying to think of any time you may have mentioned it to him. Nothing you could think of. Maybe you had drank too much the night everyone was together. Maybe a bunch of other Everyday Idol contestants were staying at the same place. Whatever, not a big deal.

“It’s okay Chris, really. But thank you. That’s very kind,” you smiled warmly at him. He took it openly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course!” He exclaimed, sounding a bit off. Almost… nervous? One more quick exchange of smiles and you were off. Once you had reached the cold air that hit you outside of the confines of the JYPE building, you silently thanked yourself for telling Chris you’d be alright on your own. You didn’t want him to see you with your teeth chattering, lips getting chapped, and nose about to run from the cold. The only thing that kept you thawed while on the trek back was thinking about Chris’ kindness. The fact that he even offered to walk you to your hotel made your cheeks heat up. Did he mean anything else by that? You were sure not. He’s just a good guy. But you couldn’t help but let your mind wander just a little bit. I wish he was my good guy. Maybe he could think that too?

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

And that is why, here you were, arguing with your best friend over whether or not you should respond to a message from Jeon Jungkook, of all people, wanting to see you. I mean, you weren’t blind. Jungkook was cute, yes. But having his first words to you be: “Heyyy there,” while smirking and definitely looking at your tits instead of your face, didn’t exactly make you want to see him again. How could that even be an option when you could only think about Chris? Sweet, sweet Chris.

“Okay, so he was a little bit of an asshole,” Anna started. “But you literally only talked to him for like 2 minutes. How do you know he’s really like that? What if he was just putting up a front trying to seem cool? Obviously he’s interested in you, I mean he Instagram messaged you for God’s sake. I’d bet he was just nervous and didn’t know how to act around you. I think you should give him another chance.” You pondered this for a second. Jungkook was weird around you for sure. But knowing what you now knew, you guessed it could be from putting up a front with you. You guessed that could be a possibility. The more you thought about it, the more you thought Anna’s points were valid. What about Chris though?

“I guess you have a point,” you gave in. Anna looked at you with a smirk and an “I-told-you-so” expression. “But even if that was the case, I don’t… I’m stuck.” You leaned down closer to the table and lowered your voice even more, as if it were possible. “I think I have a little crush on Chris.”

“It’s about fucking time you said it!” Anna laughed, her voice growing louder. “I just knew you and Chris had something there since the night we all met for drinks. Ahhhh my bestie has a little crush!!!” She reached out to grab your cheeks. You turned red and swatted her hands away, pulling them down onto the table, bringing the rest of your body with her.

“Keep it down,” you scolded her. “It’s a one-sided thing. I don’t want anyone to know please, it’s low-key mortifying,” you scoffed while saying it, looking around the room to see if Anna’s wonderfully “robust” voice had grabbed the attention of some wondering ears. You didn’t see anything. “But even if it is one sided, I don’t want to ruin my chance before I even get one. Jungkook and Chris are friends. Surely, he’d find out.”

“Okay… So let him.”

“Huh?” You questioned, not sure what she was getting at.

“Let Chris get jealous.” She was being so serious. “It’s not like Chris has tried to make any kind of move on you since you’ve seen him. And neither have you. I mean you literally saw him the other day when you met JK and he said absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. In my book, JK is at least trying. Just go for it. See what happens.” You contemplated her words. “Maybe Chris will get jealous and confess his love to you,” she said taunting, opening her eyes really big to tease you. “Or maybe… maybe you’ll find out Jungkook is actually a pretty cool guy… And a guy who’s really into you and willing to make a move at that.” Damn, she is really coming through with some good points today.

“I’ll think about it,” you smiled back. You looked down to check the message again, only to realize what time it was. You both needed to get going to a meeting. You motioned down for Anna to look at the time.

“Come on, we better go.” You both stood up and turned to walk toward the exit. You passed by Felix’s table on the way through and looked over to give him a smile and wave, so as to say goodbye. Instead of the usual wave back, he just looked at you and smiled, brows raised high on his face, almost teasingly. He gave you the expression of knowing something that he shouldn’t. Or maybe HEARING something that he shouldn’t. OH SHIT. Your eyes shifted to Anna, wide as they’d ever been; however, she didn’t seem to notice and walked along without a care in the world. Your eyes darted back to Felix for a split second, hoping he’d looked away and you were misreading things. Surely you were just paranoid. His eyes met yours, still with the same gleefull smile. He let out a small chuckle, held the eye contact for one more second, and looked down at his phone, suddenly typing away. FUCK.

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

✨Continue to ➡️ Chapter 2

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[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. x

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: an old friend finds you at your lowest point, and you're confronted with ghosts of the past. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.7k chapter warnings: HEAVY ANGST. Grief. Time jumps. Referenced death of family members and romantic partners. Canon typical violence. Blood mention. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: I took a week off to get my shit together. I hope you are still with me :) Also, please pay attention to dates in this chapter.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-March 7, 2022-

You hobble forward through the snow, dragging your right foot behind you for as long as you can until you’re forced to use it to step forward. Every time you have to bear weight on your ankle, you try to mentally prepare yourself for the pain, to convince yourself it’s not that bad. But each time your injured foot comes in contact with the ground, you realize your imagination didn’t do it any justice. Still, you try to keep the noises you make in response down to nothing more than sharp inhales. Despite the fact that the boy trailing a few steps behind you always keeps his eyes cast down, he sees everything, and the last thing you want him to notice is the severity of your injury. 

Both of you have more important things to worry about. 

It’s a forgivingly warm day, and by forgivingly warm, you mean not freezing. Snow still covers the ground, so tightly packed that in some areas you can walk on top of it, but in others you have to forage a path – it’s nearly above your knees. Without the support system of the group you had just been with, there was no way you’d be able to make it in this weather. This was the plan – head South, for warmer weather. But still, you’ve no real destination or purpose, you’re kind of wandering aimlessly through the woods and mountains, with nothing to direct you but a cracked compass. 

Despite the pain you’re in, you find the discomfort a welcome reprieve. If you’re focused on that, you’re not thinking of her. Of what you’d just lost, which would spiral into all the things you had lost, and so on and so forth. If you let yourself go down that path, you wouldn’t be able to come back, despite your future looking more and more uncertain each day. 

The boots that crunch behind you echo your own footsteps, so when they come to a sudden halt, you turn to look at him. He puts a finger to his lips. “Did you hear that?” 

His head tilts towards the wind. It’s hard enough to hear already, between the rushing river to your left, and the whistling of the breeze through the pines to your right. It ruffles his dark hair and you watch him – but it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking when his eyes are obstructed by a pair of Rayban Wayfarers perched on the bridge of his nose. You’d found them – along with the aviators you wore – on a road full of abandoned cars about three days back. Or was it…four? You’d have to look at your journal. Either way, you’d known they were necessary to avoid snow blindness, especially now that the sun was out. 

After a few moments of listening, he shakes his head. “I thought I heard horses.” 

Whether he did or not doesn’t matter. “We should move back towards the woods,” you advise.

He frowns, but doesn’t argue, and you abandon the easy path in favor of what’s safer, but also much, much, harder terrain to move over. Now, you have to move slower, but the pain is just as bad as before. 

You’re not sure how much time passes before you lose your footing over some gnarled tree roots, and it sends you to the ground. It hurts, and because you weren’t prepared for it, sharp cry you let out can’t be held back. 

“Shit!” 

Within a second, the boy is kneeling at your side, brow furrowed in concern. And you’re reminded, with him hovering over you, that he’s not a boy anymore.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” you say rapidly, rolling onto your stomach to push yourself up to a seated position. 

“No you’re not,” he crouches down, gesturing to your foot. One of his hands lands on your shoulder, keeping you from trying to rise to your feet.  “You’re clearly not.”

You lift up your pants to tighten the cloth you’ve wrapped around your ankle – a makeshift compression sleeve – even though you know it’s not going to fix the problem. It’s main purpose, really, is to hide the majority of the bruising and swelling. It makes it easier for you both to stay in denial of how bad the situation really is. “I twisted it. It’s fine.”

“It’s fucking broken,” he insists. “You know it is. We can’t keep going like this, we need to rest, and food. You need to ice it and actually let it fucking heal-”

“Ethan,” you hiss. “Just where the fuck are we going to do that?”

Wherever you are is incredibly remote, you hadn’t been able to find a reliable shelter since you first started running away. 

Your nephew frowns again, his head dropping. “You’re right. We’re fucked, aren’t we?” 

“We’re not fucked,” you say, even if you don’t believe it. “We’ve seen worse.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know....this is pretty fucking bad, right?” 

There was something equally tragic about almost every situation you’d been in since the beginning of the outbreak, so it’s honestly hard if you’re actually doomed or not. 

“I mean we survived….that,” you gesture towards the general direction from which you’d come, even if it’s a week’s worth of travel away. 

“Maybe we’re still not out of it.” 

“We are. The worst is over.” Despite your own doubts, you try to remain determined for his sake. 

Ethan only sighs. He doesn’t argue with you, and rarely does. It doesn’t mean he agrees with you. Even after everything you’d been through, he’s sensitive – and incredibly introspective. 

This conversation was getting filed away to bring up later. There’s a lot of things you know he wants to talk about, but he knows now is not the time for those conversations.

“Let’s keep moving,” you decide. “Hopefully we’ll find shelter soon, and when we do, I promise, you can rest.” 

“You can rest,” he corrects.

You hum your affirmation, and he stands. The thick pelt that’s draped over his shoulders shifts when his hand reaches out to help you up. There’s still blood that stains his clothing, and it’s caked under his fingernails. Yours too. It’d be nice to clean yourself off properly, but with the unpredictable temperatures, you’re not interested in diving into the river and risking hypothermia.

The second that you rise to your feet, you can see you are – as Ethan predicted – fucked. 

There’s four, hulking figures cantering towards you on horseback. You turn to look into the woods. “Fuck, we have to-” you fumble for the revolver strapped at your hip, and Ethan lifts his rifle, but it’s too late. Before you can even draw your weapons, or comprehend an escape plan, you’re surrounded. 

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” there’s at least two guns trained directly at you. “Hands up.” After everything that had gone down, you’re out of bullets, so even if it might’ve been a good bluff, a gun would only get you so far. 

You both obey, but Ethan subtly shifts his weight so he stands in front of you. “Hey kid. Step away from mom or we’ll shoot you both.”

The words come from the man on the horse directly in front of you. Probably the leader, if you had to guess, and clad just like his counterparts. They’re all clad in muted tones, handkerchiefs obscuring their mouths and cowboy hats casting shadows over their eyes. There’s a dog seated obediently at one of the horses feet. 

You don’t say anything as Ethan steps away. This wasn’t the first time you’ve both been cornered like this before. And hopefully not the last, you think, before realizing just how grim of a wish that would be. Either way, he knows what to do. Silence is an incredibly effective card to play when you have absolutely nothing to offer. It allows you to bide your time, to strategize, to listen.

Once Ethan is an appropriate distance away, he raises his chin in defiance. “What brings you to the area?” 

“Nothing. We’re passing through,” you answer. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe the only thing you really can use as leverage right now is just how down on your luck you actually are. Unfortunately, you have found that even when you have nothing to give, there are still things that can be taken.

“What’s with all the blood?” another man asks, this one to your left. “You in some kind of trouble?”

“Only the usual kind.”

“Infected?”

“We aren’t sick.” 

“We’ll see…” the third man whistles to the dog at his feet, which trots forward with a low growl to sniff at your shoes. 

Neither you or Ethan have been bit, so you know you’re in the clear, but that doesn’t make things any less hopeless. You exchange a sidelong glance with your nephew as the dog sniffs at you, and you glance to the only cowboy who has been silent the whole time, the one at your right. He clears his throat, adjusts his hat, and you catch a glimpse of his eyes….just for a second. The dog backs away.

“Looks like you aren’t lying,” the cowboy in front of you sounds almost satisfied. “Both of you, take off those glasses.” 

You sigh, glancing over at Ethan. 

“Don’t look at him, just do it.” 

You do, pushing them off the bridge of your nose and up into your matted and tangled hair. Pointedly, you turn to look at the men surrounding you. Revealing your face is always a risk, and you’ve made plenty of enemies who would recognize you. But you’re out of options.

“Where are you headed?”

“South,” you say. “Just trying to get out of the cold.” 

“If think this is cold, then you must have not been in the area long enough.”

Actually, I have, asshole. Is a decade long enough? You keep the commentary to yourself. 

“Any friends nearby we should know about?” 

Your stomach twists. No. But he doesn’t deserve the story. Not when all you want to do is forget every second of the last week. “Can you just tell us what you want from us?”

“Answer the question.”

“Hold on,” the man to your right speaks up for the first time, and you turn to look over at him. “What’s your name?” His voice is muffled by the bandana.

Hesitantly, you give him your first. 

The man pulls his handkerchief down around his neck, pushes the brim of his hat back. Now, you can see him clearly. He looks familiar, but it’s not someone you know from this lifetime. His long, dark hair pokes out from where it’s slicked back behind his ears. He looks far too young to be the first person that comes to mind. But….maybe. 

And then he repeats your name, adds your last himself. How does he know?

You tilt your head to the side, squint against the sun. 

“....Tommy?” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Huddled at the far end of a couch, you’re still trying to make sense of the situation when Tommy settles into a chair that he pulls alongside you. 

“Let me take a look at your ankle.” 

“It’s fine, really,” you insist, even though all your efforts to refuse help since you’ve arrived have been futile.

It’s the most normal-looking community you’d seen in a decade. Completely self-sufficient and self-governed – no FEDRA, no Fireflies. Hell, you’d just showered under warm, running water – had watched the blood and dirt and grime swirl about the tiles before disappearing down the drain. And now, despite the temperature having dropped since nightfall, you are perfectly warm in a thin gray sweater, thanks to the central heating and a fire crackling in the fireplace. It seems far too civilized to be real. 

Your eyes flick behind Tommy towards the stairs, and you register the sound of the water running above you. Ethan. For the past few days, he hasn’t left your sight once, such a force of habit that leaving him alone puts you on edge. If something happens, and you’re separated….

“He’ll be fine,” Tommy assures you, almost like he can read your mind. You focus back on him, but don’t have anything to offer in response. He sighs, lowers his voice. “Whatever happened to you, I want you to know that you’re safe. And can trust me. You know that, right?” 

You study Tommy. Of course, you want to trust him. But he is a man, after all. A man you haven’t seen in a long time. You had been betrayed so many times by people you thought you could trust that it was no longer something you could give so easily. The sincerity in his expression, the conviction with which he speaks, however, causes you to soften. “C-Can I?” 

“Of course,” Tommy says. “We knew each other….before.” 

“I know, I know.” You nod, wearily, and take in the room. “Guess it’s just….a bit of a shock.”

“I get it,” he sympathizes. “But I’m here to help. If I wasn’t, all this…” he gestures around the living room of the once-empty house he’s letting you use for the night. “...would be a huge waste of time and resources.”

You offer a small smile, feel some of the apprehension fade, and allow him to examine your ankle. When you’d gotten a glimpse of it in the shower, you really couldn’t deny the severity of the situation. 

“It does look like it could be broken,” Tommy says as he begins to wrap it in a bandage. It’s so sensitive, you can’t even watch, trying not to wince. “Tomorrow, I’ll get the doctor to come by and take a look. But for now, we’ll ice it and keep it elevated. Maria’s coming by later with dinner and some medicine that should help with the discomfort.” 

You nod. To be real, the whole situation seems too surreal. There is something interesting about this situation – that right after one of the most traumatic events of your life, someone you knew from before was there to help. It wasn’t nothing. 

And you’re aware that there are a thousand questions that hang between you. It’s overwhelming, you don’t know what one you want to pick, or if you even want to. So you keep it simple. “Who’s Maria?” 

Tommy maneuvers a pillow under your foot and gingerly rests an ice pack on top. “She only kind of runs the place. And….she’s also my girlfriend.”

“How nice,” you say, earnestly. 

“Yeah….” Tommy smiles to himself. “Yeah, it is nice. I have a life here. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt that way.”

His candid nature further helps you relax. If you can trust him, and he feels safe here….maybe you are, too.  

“Look, I’m sorry, but I have to ask…” Tommy begins, rubbing his hands together and looking over his shoulder. “But uh….the kid….Ethan…is he….”

You tilt your head.

“Is he….Joel’s?” 

“Oh,“ your eyes widen. You register that a less hardened version of yourself might have laughed at the misunderstanding. But not now. Something twists deep in your gut at the implication. “No, no. No. He’s not mine. He’s my nephew. My brother’s son.”

“Okay,” Tommy looks almost relieved. “Sorry, it's just. He’s so young and you sort of look alike and-”

“It’s alright, Tommy,” you say. Because you can see why he thinks that. You are old enough to be Ethan’s mother, and people constantly assume he’s your son. Most of the time, you don’t bother to correct them. No one needed that information. Ethan was only a child when his parents passed. The two of you were all that remained of your family, and if it weren’t for him, you probably wouldn’t even be here. -“I get it.”

It’s been awhile since you’ve thought of Joel, of Sarah. It seems cruel, but it’s really just a matter of self-preservation. For some time, right after the outbreak, you had tried to find them. But you weren’t willing to abandon Ethan or Vincent, and there was only so much you could go. You kept losing people, and then started to avoid thinking about them entirely. Those memories became a distraction. You had more important things to focus on. Staying alive. Only when things were quiet would you let yourself indulge. 

“He’s still alive,” Tommy’s voice cuts through the silence. 

It almost feels selfish to be relieved that Joel’s alive.  Because anyone who remembers what it was like before has survived, against all odds. And it’d be impossible to meet anyone who hasn’t traded over part of their humanity to last this long. 

Despite that, you aren’t surprised. Joel was practical, smart….a protector. You remembered a hot summer night, the way he’d made some guy harassing you and Sarah cower and retreat with all his friends. It would be terrifying to be on the receiving end of that rage. What kinds of things was he capable of? Maybe you’re just projecting. 

“And Sarah?” You think of her, her sweet smile and quick wit. 

Tommy’s head drops, he shakes his head once. 

“No….really?” It’s such a stupid question to ask. As if he’d make such a terrible joke. 

At first, you’re overwhelmed by the anger you feel. It grips you tight around your throat and you struggle to breath as Tommy continues. 

“It was the night everything went down. The military had these orders to kill all civilians….we all got split up. Sarah and Joel were cornered by this soldier. I shot him but…. I got there too late…she, uh….yeah….” 

The anger dissipates quickly. Because you know all too well that it’s not useful. You’re completely powerless, it won’t fix anything. So all that momentum and energy comes screeching to a halt. You’re left thinking of Joel, of what that loss must have felt like. What you’re feeling now probably isn’t a fraction of what he felt. And you feel terrible. 

“No,” you choke out, the frustration fizzling into grief. “She was so-”

All that time you’d spent with her, all those years ago, yet you still can see her so vividly. 

Something you’ve always longed for is the ability to know, the second you meet someone new, just how much they are going to change your life. You think of Sarah, standing timidly at the end of your driveway, asking to use your landline. That was it. Then, she was always over at your place – eating your snacks, sprawled out on your couch watching television, asking for life advice as if you were qualified to give it. In the end, you’d probably learned more from her than what you had to offer. It wasn’t fair. Not to her. Not to Joel. Not to Tommy. Or you. 

“I know, it’s-” Tommy starts, but he doesn’t finish. You understand. What is he supposed to say?

You’ve been a fortress, held together by nothing but sticks and plaster, and this is the blow that takes you down. It’s not just Sarah, it’s everything you’ve been holding back for the past week. That you’d hidden from Ethan because you didn’t want him to worry. But you can only take so much loss, pitching forward to sob into your palms.

You don’t cry like you used to. The tears come, but you don’t make any noise, save for the shaky, staggered inhales your body forces you to take to self-regulate. There’s a hand on your shoulder, and a weight settles next to you on the couch. “I’m s-sorry,” you manage through a faltering breath.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, but he wraps his arms around you. Something in the back of your brain reminds you that this could be a part of some long con. But you’re sick of listening to that voice. You lean into him, and accept the little bit of comfort, because you can’t remember the last time it’s been offered to you. So much time spent being strong, but you’re only human, and no one is built to endure this much without breaking. 

“Where is he?” you ask Tommy, once you’ve finally managed to pull yourself together, his hand still between your shoulder blades. “Is he here?” 

“Last time I saw him, we were livin’ in the Boston QZ.” Tommy shakes his head. “But it’s….been awhile since we’ve spoken.” 

They had always seemed close, but you don’t press, because you get the impression it’s painful to talk about. You wonder what kind of man Joel must have become after losing Sarah. What else would he have to fight for? You know how loss has changed you, too. How all of this has changed you. For better, and for worse. 

“I bet he would be glad to know you’re still here,” says Tommy, patting your back.

“Sure,” you say. “But it’s been a long time.”

“It has been. But you took good care of him and Sarah,” Tommy says. “So there’s a place for you here. If you want to stay, the house is yours.” 

“Tommy, I can’t-” You aren’t really sure why you are refusing. It’s all so much. And it doesn’t even make sense to do it, because where had you been planning to go to begin with? You’re just stubborn. You know if you stop moving, everything will catch up to you. 

“You don’t have to decide tonight. But at least wait until you’re back on your feet.”

“Is that…a joke?” you glance towards your ankle, relieved to find some remaining proof of your sense of humor, something you’re pretty sure you can’t go on without. 

Tommy seems to share this relief, smiling gently. “It wasn’t intentional.” 

There’s a lull, then: “Maria was a lawyer, too. She could use your help on the council.”

You sniff, wipe at a stray tear that falls at the mention of your old life, the job that you were constantly complaining about. Everything had been perfect, and you had taken it for granted. “I don’t know how much of that stuff I even remember.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re family,” Tommy speaks definitively. “Maybe not technically. But eventually…you would’ve been.” That makes you ache, and he goes on. “It’s the least I can do.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 10, 2024-

The wind rustles the leaves of the trees, through the windchimes that hang off your back porch. The sun is on the horizon, you can tell because there’s a red glow behind your eyelids. Huffing, you fold your body forward over your feet, pulling yourself towards the floor by the backs of your ankles, before stepping back into a lunge. 

The sound of a door sliding up interrupts the quiet, then two plates hit a glass tabletop. 

“Breakfast.” 

You open your eyes. Ethan’s head is tilted as he glances over at you. “I can’t believe you still do this shit everyday.” 

“Old habits die hard.” You push yourself up off the tattered blanket you’ve been using as a yoga mat and roll it up. “Gotta stay limber.” 

It’s the truth. You’re in your forties now, and have spent the last twenty years under constant physical and mental stress. If there’s anything you can do to reverse the damage and be a little kinder to your body, you’re going to do it.

You put your hands on your hips and look at the omelets he’s prepared. “Wow,” you say. “You know, you’re becoming quite the chef.”

“One of us has to.”

You ignore his dig to take a sip of the tea he’s prepared you. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Patrol. I have to leave in like 20 minutes. Are you going out today?”

“Tomorrow,” you correct, sitting in the chair across from him. “But today I have to meet with Eugene, and then I told Maria I’d look after the baby while she gets some work done.” 

“Makes sense. Tommy told me they’re hardly sleeping. How is she?” 

“She’s doing good. But…there used to be this saying…It takes a village.” 

Ethan considers this. “I still don’t know how you and dad looked after me all those years.” 

“You were five years old, not five weeks. At least you could walk.” 

“That’s still young. It must’ve been hard.”

“It was but….” you shrug. “We made it.”

Ethan looks into the backyard, like he’s contemplating the past two years you’d spent in this house. “You think this is it?” 

After Tommy had brought you to Jackson, you’d never left. Will it last? Is really what he’s asking. It’s easy to feel jaded. The last place you’d been before Jackson had housed you for almost a decade. It hadn’t been nearly as nice as this, but it had its appeal. Today, you feel hopeful. “It’d be nice if it was.” 

Ethan seems comforted by your answer. “I don’t remember much…from those days. Back at the beginning of everything.” 

“That’s probably for the best,” you say. There are so many things from that time you’d erase from memory if given the chance. Some things never felt less jarring, even with time. 

Ethan looks down at his food. “I miss them. I wish I got to know them better.”

You think of your brother, of Elizabeth. His parents. “You knew them,” you assure him. “And they loved you.” 

Ethan studies the divots in the glass of the patio table. He’d grown up to be a spitting image of his dad. In fact, if Vincent were still alive, you would’ve found a way to give him shit about it. I knew you were self-absorbed, but don’t you think cloning yourself is a little extreme? But he’s not here, so you whisper those sorts of things when no one else can hear you, and hope that somehow he can. 

He finishes his last bite of food and stands, towering over you, tall and lanky. When he reaches to collect his plate, you stop him. “I’ll get it. Don’t want you running late.”

“Thanks,” he leans down and gives you a quick hug. “I’ll be back before dinner.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun is about to set when he returns. You’re back from Maria’s, mellowing out on the couch with your knitting while listening to an old comedy album you’d found the last time you were on patrol. 

“Hey,” you crane your neck to see him kicking off his boots in the foyer. Taking your shoes off when you walk in a house was a habit that had taken some getting used to. Before Jackson, you’d been so used to sleeping in your clothing, your shoes, knife and gun curled by your side, ready to grab at a moment's notice. The first week you’d lived here, you and Ethan had slept on the couches in the living room and refused to separate. 

In general, there were a lot of things that had taken some getting used to while you were settling in. But humans have a natural instinct to put down roots. It was only a matter of time before you’d start to thaw out. And boy did you thaw. 

For a long time, you were resistant to staying. At first, it was just for the night, then, it was until your foot got better. Your foot got better, and then you wanted to put on some weight. Then one day, you were sitting in the Tipsy Bison, sandwiched in a booth listening to Tommy brazenly flirt with Maria while watching Ethan joke with the kid his age working at the bar. It had been three months, and you didn’t want to leave anymore. 

Twenty years of running, of not knowing when your next meal was coming from, or what could be lurking around every corner. It was a different kind of exhaustion, and the second that you felt safe, it all caught up to you. All you did for the first two months was sleep. 

You woke only when Maria dropped by. Like Tommy had said, Maria had been a lawyer before. A prosecutor, however, so the work was different. You’d had a good laugh over the fact that you were raised by a ruthless criminal defense attorney with questionable clientele, because that was her worst nightmare. She was always enthusiastically telling you about things happening amongst the town council, and would even ask for your expertise. When you were done sleeping off the exhaustion, she’d extended you an offer to work for the town council. 

Not leaving your house for weeks you assumed would earn you the reputation of the town recluse. But when you started to participate in community affairs, no one gave you any grief. That was probably thanks to Ethan, who from the beginning, fit right in. He was desperate for a social life outside of you, and more importantly, with kids his actual age. 

Between helping Maria on the council, and Eugene with his….business…you didn’t go out on patrol too often. But you were glad you and Ethan had managed to find some sort of normalcy in Jackson. Even though you’d never admit this to him, the last group you’d lived in had some…..questionable traditions. 

“Did Tommy come by already?” Ethan asks as he strolls into the living room and practically throws himself down on the couch. 

“No,” you say. “Was he supposed to?” 

“He said he was coming over tonight because he has a surprise for you or something?”

“A surprise?” you ask. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan says, sounding slightly annoyed by your questions. Sometimes, you still get glimpses of the fifteen-year-old boy he once was. He had always been well-behaved, but those sorts of things slipped through on occasion. 

“Hmmm,” you return to your knitting, but don’t think much of it. It’s not like Tommy coming over is out of the ordinary. If it wasn’t him walking through your front door, it was Maria, and you and Ethan were over at theirs several times a week as well – whether it was for dinner or to help out with their new baby. 

You think about what Tommy had told you when he first encouraged you to stay. He’d called you family. At the time, you didn’t think that was true. But now, it was. Maybe you weren’t bonded together by blood, but you’d grown to care for each other as if you were. Opening your heart used to feel impossible, painful even….but all the people who had helped you at your lowest had proven otherwise. Shutting them out only made things worse. After everything you’d been through, all you had left were the people you cared about. What else was there? It was stupid to do anything else but love. 

There’s a knock on your screen door, and Ethan is the first to practically jump off the sofa. You don’t get up right away, figuring that Tommy will stroll in shortly. 

Instead, you hear more voices than you were expecting, the screen door closing behind Ethan, his muffled “Nice to meet you.” 

The sun is setting, and the last thing you want to do is go and meet someone who's new to the community to make small talk. But then you hear Ethan call for you. You need to be a good member of the community and keep up appearances. Begrudgingly, you lift yourself out of the sofa and walk down the hallway to your front door. 

You slide into your sneakers, pull on your pair of aviators to protect from the intense light of the sun on the horizon, stepping onto the patio. 

“What’s up?” you ask, stepping out onto the patio next to Ethan, and Tommy is to your right, though you are hardly aware of him as you focus immediately on the man standing in front of you.

You recognize him instantly. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. It doesn’t matter that his hair is more gray now than it is brown. It doesn’t matter or that the lines on his face are deeper, and his shoulders slump under an invisible weight. There’s a scar on his temple that hadn’t been there before, and his eyes, once warm and sparkling, seem impossibly cool and distant. He’s hardened by the world, and so are you.

“Joel?” 

It’s a stupid to pretend like you don’t know that it’s him. Like you need the confirmation. And you lower your sunglasses, just in case you’re seeing something you want to see, and not what’s actually in front of you. 

When you meet his eyes, his jaw clenches, and something unrecognizable flashes in his eyes.

“How are-” you step forward, and you’re not sure why. 

What were you expecting, a hug? A kiss? Some grand reunion, like you hadn’t lived separate lives for two decades, like you hadn’t loved someone else in the meantime. He probably had, too. So it’s not like you’d be able to pick up where you left off and forget all the things that happened. It wouldn’t be possible, but you have an instinctual urge to wrap him in your arms, to press your face into his chest as you did so many times before. You’d tilt your head back to kiss his neck, his jaw, and to feel his stubble scratch your face – you’d do it anyway, because you don’t care if it hurts you. 

Joel steps backwards just as you move closer. There’s a young girl hovering behind him, the same way that Sarah used to. But it’s hard to see much of her from where you are standing. His eyes flicker between you and Ethan, and then he turns on his heel and walks down the pathway without a word.

“Ellie!” he calls out, and doesn’t even so much as glance over his shoulder. It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, and his voice gruffer, a bite to it that didn’t exist before.

You don’t call out after him, don’t trail after him down the street like the girl or Tommy does. But you do stare after him until he turns the corner and disappears from view. The only evidence he’d been standing in front of you at all is the pounding of your heart and a sick feeling in your stomach.

-

-

-

[funkybarnes]

happy birthday, bugs!

pairing: actor!SebastianStan x bookstore!owner!female reader.

summary: Sebastian, as weirdly as it is, giving his career and your condition as a non-famous person, is your best friend. And today is his birthday. And you can't miss, for nothing in this world, the opportunity of being the first person to give him a little gift.

warnings: too cute, not much more than that.

trope: best friend to lovers. (possibly a series to be written in the future)

word count: almost 1K. (a little short, since is my first time posting a fic)

> means message sent from you to him.

< means message received from him.

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SEBASTIAN, this is my little gift for his fans and for him. I hope he's having the best day ever. Anyways, please feel free to reblog, comment and interact! I do not allow to copy, repost or translate this work. Also, I want to clarify that english is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, bare with me.

The clock strikes midnight on a surprisingly warm night right in the middle of August when Sebastian was packing some clothes for the trip. Not a minute passed and he heard his phone making the sound he had chosen for your notifications.

> Y/n: "hey, are you at home?"

< Seb: "uhm, yeah, why?"

> Y/n: "are you alone?"

He looked at the phone with a frown, wondering what crazy thought was on your mind.

< Seb: "yes, weirdo, I am alone"

< Seb: "are you coming?"

> Y/n: "I was going to ask you if I could go"

< Seb: "of course you can, silly"

> Y/n: "good, cause I'm already outside!"

Sebastian took his eyes from the phone and looked at the door, and went straight to it. Walked a few steps to the stairs and went to open the main door for you. The image he encountered made him melt a little.

You were standing in the stairs, a little birthday chocolate dessert made from scratch with some candles on top in your hands, and when you saw him opening the door, you started to sing happy birthday to him.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, Sebastian! Happy birthday to you!" you sang with a huge smile on your face, and when he went down a little to blow the candles you stopped him. "Wait, I have to sing it in spanish too" you stated seriously and he laughed and let you go on with the show.

Once you finished singing he blew the candles and let you come inside. "I would have sang in Romanian but you know I don't know how" you joked while entering so he could close the door.

You gave him a big hug before heading to the stairs to his apartment. "Did you think that I would forget?"

"How can you forget?" he talked behind you, watching you as you opened his apartment door and let yourself in. "Thank you, Y/n"

"You have to teach me how to sing it in Romanian for next year, old man" you pointed your finger at him while talking after leaving the little birthday dessert on his kitchen counter. "How much is it? Like one hundred and two, right?"

He came behind you and shook your hair playfully. "Ha-ha, very funny, you're ten years younger, so I'm dragging you with me, ninety years old lady"

You frowned pretending to be offended as you watched him go upstairs, so you followed him, making your hair presentable again. "Hey, that's not funny! You wish you were a thirty year old woman!"

You heard him chuckle gravely, making your stomach flick a little bit, as he put some stuff in a suitcase. You took a seat on his bed following every step he made with your eyes. Before you could ask, he spoke, as if he knew what you were going to ask.

"Some friends invited me to a trip for my birthday, it's a surprise so I have no idea where I'm going" he laughed between words. "You think they'll kidnap me?"

You made a serious face and frowned, making a funny expression "oh, yeah, definitely, you're never coming back, bugs. This is the end of your era!" You threw a pillow from his bed to his head while laughing. "In fact, I think you'll be eaten by sharks and sea monsters. Worst one hundred and two birthday ever, and you don't get those very much"

He laughed loudly, coming to you with the pillow you threw at him in his hands, ready for the impact in your face. "Oh, shut up, you're so dramatic". He ran after you when you got up avoiding his strike, but he got you, wrapping you in his arms and dragging you with him to the ground.

You both laughed on the ground, a little sore from the impact, and ended up lay down, side by side, looking at the ceiling. A moment of silence later you turned your head to look at him. "You will have fun, don't worry".

He turned his head to you too, looking directly at your eyes, comfortable silence between the two. Then he took your hand in his and, as usual, you started to gently caress his, and his yours. "Yeah, but never as much fun as I have with you."

You turned your head to the ceiling again, trying to hide the blush in your face from him. He copied your action, but kept the caresses in your hand, bringing it up so you both could see the conjunction of yourselves.

As you both kept your eyes on the ceiling, breathing peacefully, time went by, the sides of your heads barely touching, closer than before.

"You should eat your dessert, I made it myself", you spoke a few minutes later, remembering the little chocolate delight you made this afternoon, just for him.

"I will, I'm just enjoying this" he whispered softly, almost closing his eyes and relaxing.

You doubted yourself for a second, but took courage after thinking twice. Then, you quickly got up, a little, just enough so you could gently put your lips to his, in a sweet but short kiss that he couldn't almost react to.

"Happy birthday, bugs", your whisper almost inaudible, just like your kiss, barely there.

[sweetprfct]

Permanent December

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Sara have been best friends for a while now and when Sara had started dating Wes, you realized he also had a best friend. Joe. But somehow, you and Joe tend not to get along all the time.

Author's Note: This was my very first Joe series I ever wrote in my old blog, and I know many of you had requested for me to re-publish it, so here it is! A note, this series was written when I was inspired by @icallhimjoey's To Have and To Scold fic series. She and I have also talked about a scene here that would be coming in the future parts, so I don't want any drama nor controversy over this again. It's old and had been resolved. Thanks and enjoy! :)

Wordcount: 3.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

It wasn’t the first time you have visited Germany. It was actually a few times now that you have visited the country, and you were so excited because you were able to see your best friend, Sara, again. You two met online and ever since then, you two were inseparable. It was hard at the beginning because you lived in California, and she lived all the way across the ocean. The time difference was a bitch too, but you two tend to always give each other time to message each other every day. 

The friendship started off slow. You two realized that you both shared the same interests in movies and then the friendship started blossoming when you two started getting to know each other more. Especially on the day when you were struggling trying to break off your toxic relationship with your ex. You had texted Sara that night, bawling your eyes out while laying on your bed. It was around midnight already in Germany, but she was always there for you. She stayed up to listen to you venting about how your ex had emotionally abused you for two years now. Sara had listened, and she had encouraged you to break it off already, but you were scared. Terrified of the reaction with what your ex might give off if you had decided to break it off. 

Eventually, you gathered up all your courage and finally cut off ties with the asshole. 

And Sara? 

She was there when you went through the post-breakup phase and started healing yourself after the toxic relationship. After a year, you even flew to Germany for the first time to finally meet her and it was so fun. Both of you went to the Christmas market that December and got tipsy with all the Glühwein that you both drank that night. Those two weeks went by so fast that you wished you could have stayed longer but unfortunately, you also had a job to attend to. So, this vacation in Germany has become a yearly thing for the last three years around your birthday. You’d fly there around December and you two would visit the Christmas market and get drunk with all the Glühwein and eat crêpes.

But Sara was just a human. 

A woman. 

She told you one night that she wanted to go out there and meet someone, but she really didn’t know how to start a conversation with someone in real life, didn’t she? Sure, she was okay having conversations on the internet but in real life? She was shy. So shy, but she could feel the loneliness creeping up on her. So, you encouraged her. The same way she was always encouraging you. The same way she wanted good things for you. Sara, after all, deserved amazing things. She deserves someone that would love her and take care of her. So you encouraged her at the beginning to maybe meet some mutual friends but that didn’t work out too well. They were all arrogant men that didn’t deserve her. So then, you encouraged her to try online dating. Initially, it wasn’t great either until she went on vacation in London. 

She hadn’t thought much about it when she was there. She didn’t realize that her location in the app had changed. She would swipe left and right and didn’t even recognize that the location had changed. She had texted you one night that a notification appeared on her screen. 

A match! 

She got another match and guess what? He lived in London. And just like from all her matches, Sara had freaked out. She didn’t know what to do, so you told her that she should go for it. A little conversation wasn’t going to hurt and so, she decided to listen to your advice. Looking back at it, you thought maybe you should have shut your mouth in the first place because the conversation went well. 

Oh, they got along really well. 

They talked for a couple days while she was in London and decided to meet up. Sara didn’t even expect the first meeting to go well.

“He was really sweet and a gentleman.” She had told you through the phone. “He understood me well, and I told him I wasn’t from London, but he said that he didn’t mind and that he wanted to get to know me better.” 

She mentioned Wesley was his name or Wes as she calls him, and you were so happy for her because she had found someone, and you only wanted nothing but love and happiness that your best friend deserved. That was until you had flown that December for your annual vacation to visit Sara, and Wes was there. You had finally met the one man that was making her joyful for a year now, and you were so ecstatic to finally meet him. 

Sara was right. He was nice and understanding, but he was also goofy and funny at the same time. It was like they both had balanced each other’s personalities out. Everything was going great until three days later when you and Sara were hanging out in her apartment, and you found Wes out on the balcony talking to his phone. 

“So, how is everything going on with you two?” You asked Sara, your eyes shifting towards Wes on the balcony and then back at her. 

“Great!” Sara smiled, her eyes were full of love and you could see it. “He visits me here a lot and sometimes, I fly to London too.”

“That’s good that the distance doesn’t come between you two.” 

“No, not really. We both understand each other, and we also have jobs to focus on anyway. I think we just learned how to balance everything out.”

Before you could continue the conversation, both of your attentions were caught to the sound of the door sliding open. You both turned around and saw Wes entered with a huge enthusiastic smile plastered on his face. He had been on that balcony for over ten minutes, and you had wondered how he wasn’t cold from the freezing winter air outside but it seemed like that phone call was important. From the way his expression was at the moment, it looked like good news came out of it. 

“Guess what?” Wes said excitedly, sitting next to Sara and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

Both of you stared at him, waiting for him to continue with whatever good news he was about to announce. 

“My best friend, Joe,” Wes glanced at Sara. “I convinced him to come here and join us since he was in Paris anyway for his work.” Wes then shifted his eyes towards you and smiled, “And so he could also finally meet you too.”

You heard about Joe. Sara had mentioned him. She also had mentioned that he wasn’t just any ordinary Joe because he was Joseph Quinn, the actor from Stranger Things. The Eddie Munson character that you heard everyone had been obsessing about.

As someone that worked as a production assistant in LA, you heard many things in the Hollywood industry. You sure have heard about Joe, and you really haven’t paid much attention to him. You never watched the show either and so when Joe had come to Germany to join the three of you, you didn’t expect yourself to treat him differently. 

After all, he was just another human being too. Wes had picked him up from the airport late afternoon and brought him to Sara’s apartment. As you have expected, from the pictures you have seen, he looked the same in real life. The same curly hair, big chocolate button eyes and a small shy smile that tugged on his face. He looked a bit exhausted but you figured that was from the plane ride. He wasn’t too casual either. He was wearing some nice gray trousers and a blue button up with a big fancy coat that you swore his whole outfit were designer brands along with his black shiny chelsea boots that looked a bit expensive too. 

You were nice. You were understanding at the beginning because you knew that Joe was important to Wes and Wes was important to Sara, and Sara was important to you. So you were nice. 

You were understanding. 

You were understanding when he had walked into that door and Wes had introduced him to you and all he did was give you a small smile and didn’t really say anything else. Sara had talked about him to you and how he was kind and funny. Though, that didn’t seem to be the same man that was standing in front of you that she described through texts and phone calls. 

Joe had probably stood in the doorway of her living room for about an hour without saying one word. He would chuckle or talk to Wes or Sara, but he never looked at you. But you were understanding, remember? You understood that he just came from work all the way from Paris. 

“Why don’t we all go to the Christmas market tonight?” Sara suggested that afternoon.

The Christmas market? But that was yours and Sara’s thing. 

Sure, you didn’t mind Wes being here during the only time you were able to see Sara. You didn’t mind Joe tagging along even if he seemed to be so quiet all day. But the Christmas market was a girls’ night, and you wished it had stayed that way but just like the way life was, things changed. So, you went along with it. You didn’t want to be selfish, especially if Sara was happy. You didn’t want to ruin that. You didn’t want to be the one who ruined this vacation.

The night was freezing and the market was buzzing with crowds of people. You had kept yourself next to Sara the whole time, while Joe did the same with Wes on the other side. You tried your best to have a conversation with everyone, but Joe just seemed so disinterested with you and as the night went on, it started bothering you. 

You two only just met but why did he look like he hated you already? It only bothered you even more when the four of you were walking around the market, enjoying the evening, and eating crêpes, but Joe had his eyes laser focused on his phone. His brows were all furrowed, and he looked tense. He looked like he didn’t want to be here right now, and you wondered if your presence was the reason why. 

Be nice. You reminded yourself. 

So, you offered to take the glass of Glühwein that Wes and Sara ordered to hand it to Joe, who was busy standing in the corner. His eyes were still glued to his phone and you wondered maybe if you had broken the ice, it would help him feel a bit more comfortable around you. 

“Glühwein?” You asked, handing the glass of hot wine in front of him. 

Wes and Sara were right behind you, and Joe had finally gazed up from his phone and just stared at you for a moment and then his eyes shifted to the hot glass that you were still holding in front of him. 

“Oh,” he said, his eyes looking disappointed. “I could have paid for one myself.”

“Sara paid for it.” You said, feeling a bit offended. 

Joe stared at Wes and Sara, who were standing behind you and then back at the glass before taking it and muttering a small thank you to you. 

That stung.

That hit you a little bit right on the chest. So, he only took the glass because Sara paid for it? So, if you had paid for it, he wouldn’t have taken it? That bothered you to the core. That insulted you. You didn’t know what you did for him to act like that, but you were understanding and so you tried to let it go.

You really did.

So, when Wes and Joe had distanced themselves for a moment that night because Wes was looking at some Christmas decorations that he knew his mum would love, you were occupied with Sara looking at different colorful Christmas lights. With the alcohol running in your system already, you couldn’t help but blurt out the words that you have been hiding all night to your best friend.

“Is he always like that? Joe?” You asked, looking over your shoulder where Wes and Joe were. “You know… seems disinterested with the surroundings around him?”

Sara shrugged, chuckling softly. “I think he’s just tired from work. Wes said he had been busy, but I swear. He really is nice.”

You let out a soft hum and nodded your head, believing what Sara had said because she was your best friend and you trusted her. 

But that wasn’t the case, was it? 

Because for the next three years, that behavior never stopped radiating off of him. You tried your best to really understand him and be nice, but you were starting to hold a bit of frustration inside with the way he acted around you. 

The annual Germany vacation that you took had changed for the next three years. It became a thing where Wes and Joe would also fly over and the four of you would hang out. You would all go to the city and drink. Of course, not to forget the usual Christmas market that the four of you would visit. 

There was that time where you worked on the set of a show in LA, and Joe had shown up as a guest star. You weren’t surprised at all to see him since both of you worked in the same industry. The one thing that surprised you was when he showed up on set and directly stared into your eyes and then walked away as if he didn’t know you. 

God, that pissed you off. 

Thank god, you only saw him that one day and never again until you would fly to Germany during the holiday season. 

You never told Sara nor Wes how you felt about Joe because you didn’t want to be the one who created the drama in the group. You wanted everyone to get along and so, when you had visited Germany again, you would let yourself drown in conversations with Wes and Sara. Your eyes would shift from time to time with Joe, and you would hear him chuckle or reply to Wes in a conversation. You tried your hardest to not let it bother you and let the conversation flow normally. 

That was easier. 

It was easier when Sara and Wes were around because then, you could just focus your attention on them. It was harder when Sara and Wes would go galloping to some stand at the Christmas market and check out the things that they were selling. It left you and Joe behind in an awkward silence. You didn’t blame them though. They deserved to spend time with each other but you spending time with Joe? 

Absolutely not. 

So, you busied yourself and went to check out the other stands and what they were selling. You tried your best to focus on what was in front of you, but you couldn’t help but notice how Joe had followed behind you. You understood that he didn’t want to interrupt what Wes and Sara were doing but couldn’t he just go somewhere else? Leave you alone? You studied the Christmas dolls that one of the stands were selling and saw from the corner of your eye how Joe just stood next to you. He didn’t say anything, so you just continued to check out the dolls and picked one up. 

“You like dolls?” 

You were taken aback from his sudden voice. Did Joe really just talk to you? Did he have too much Glühwein that he was probably drunk enough that he just started talking? 

You hesitated for a moment and thought maybe he was finally being nice, so you gave him a chance.

“No, my grandmother used to collect them.” You answered, setting the doll back on the table. 

“Ah,” He nodded his head and picked one up that was a little boy, wearing a Christmas outfit. It was a porcelain doll, and it almost looked too fragile to hold on to. “They look a bit creepy, don’t they?” 

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, agreeing with him. “Yes, they do. I have told my grandmother the same thing.” 

“I don’t blame you. I would say the same thing.” Joe grimaced at the doll before setting it back on the table.

Were you two really having a normal conversation right now? Almost too good to be true. 

From the last three years of knowing Joe, you both never had a conversation like this. Maybe he really was drunk. Who knows… but you were just going to go along with it. If it was going to make hanging out with your friends easier this way, you were going to go along with it.

You picked up another doll that was in front of you and realized this one looked a bit more raggedy. Very old. It had a red Christmas dress, but it looked like the hair wasn’t as great as the other ones.

“That looked a bit like you.” Joe commented. 

Well, that good conversation lasted only a minute. Was he kidding? Did he really just call you old and raggedy? You certainly had enough of him. Sara and Wes might like Joe, but you were tired of his behavior. You were tired of being nice, and you definitely were tired of trying to understand him. Your expression turned bitter as you set the doll back on the table and made your way around Joe, walking away from him.

“Hey! Wait.” He called out, touching a part of your arm with his fingertips. Almost like he was scared to touch you. “I’m sorry. I was just joking.”

He was sorry? He was sorry that he called you ugly? Was he also sorry that he has hated you ever since you two met three years ago? You’ve had enough of him, and you were ready to give him a piece of your mind. You couldn’t let him keep treating you like this.

“Hey guys!” 

You were interrupted by Sara, waving at you two to come over to where they were. Your lips parted, ready to yell at him but decided to shut your mouth. You dropped a glare at him before walking over to where Sara and Wes were. You heard Joe exhale sharply before following behind you and a fake smile tugged on your face as soon as you saw how excited Sara and Wes were.

“So, Wes and I were thinking…” Sara gazed up to Wes before they both exchanged looks and turned their attention back to you and Joe. “Maybe next December, we could spend the month in London?”

In London? 

Your eyes widened at the sudden suggestion that Sara had made. She wanted to spend a month in London? The holidays? The cold winter? Well, it wasn’t like Germany wasn’t cold but still… She wanted the four of you in London? 

You pursed your lips, thinking how you were sort of hesitant about this idea. That meant coming over to where Wes was from. Where Joe was from. He was already an ass in a foreign land, how was he going to act in his own city?

“You haven’t been there yet! We could show you around.” Sara added, pulling you into a hug. “It will be so much fun.”

Maybe she had too much alcohol. Maybe she will change her mind by tomorrow. You watched as Sara started pouting her lips and gave you her puppy dog eyes. Your eyes shifted to Wes, who was just chuckling at his girlfriend. He was no help at all. 

Of course, he was enjoying this. 

You turned to glance over at Joe from behind you. He didn’t say anything, but he had a big frown on his face. You could already see how he didn’t want you to be there but the petty and revengeful part of yourself wanted to torture him more. Plus, Sara was still standing in front of you with her puppy dog eyes, begging for you to agree. 

He was going to be an asshole? Then, you will torture him more with your presence. 

“Fine.” You agreed as Sara squealed in excitement and hugged you tightly.

“Oh, this is going to be fun! You will love London.” Sara exclaimed. 

This was going to be fun, alright. 

*********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @munsonluvrr @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf @mvnsonlover

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 8

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 7 | Series Masterlist | Part 9

Chapter Summary: You talk with some of Bucky's friends and witness what happens to someone who disrespects you.

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.2k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, mention of stalking, inner conflict, insecurities, manipulation, possessiveness, violence (not against reader), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You didn’t respond to the comment and did your best to ignore the stares from the others. Intrigue filled their eyes and you suddenly felt as if they placed you under a microscope. Being the center of Bucky’s attention was smothering, but the weight of their gazes settled so hard in your chest that you worried you wouldn’t breathe properly again.

You looked around in the hopes it would distract you. A nice office, just as you expected. A high ceiling like his penthouse, but with carpet instead of a marble floor. The dark, expensive desk and furniture added to the vibe, powerful and ominous. A bookshelf along one wall lined with books reminded you that Bucky really liked to read. You also wondered who painted the lone piece of art that hung above his desk. A black dahlia, symbolic of sadness or betrayal.

Why that flower?

The wall to your left pushed that thought away. Monitors took up the top half and displayed various parts of the club. You weren’t sure why it took you by surprise, especially since he mentioned seeing you in the VIP section. The man was a control freak. At the same time, the club belonged to him and he certainly wouldn’t be the first business owner to have eyes and ears everywhere around his place.

“Quick introduction before we get into specifics,” Bucky said, nodding around the room. “Thor Odinson, Nick Fowler, Sam Wilson, and Steve Rogers.”

A large blonde with long hair clapped his hands together. “Finally! The future Queen of The 107th! And a beautiful one at that. It’s a pleasure.” Your eyes widened as he stood, his stature as booming as his voice before he bowed. He actually bowed to you. “Are the rest of you not standing? Fowler, Wilson, on your feet with Rogers. This is not just a woman, this is Barnes’s woman. Show her some respect.”

“I swear, you aren’t from this world,” a brunette in a sharp black suit mumbled, but got to his feet along with the others. The unexpected gesture stunned you into silence. “We were starting to wonder if you stood us up.”

“Took a bit of convincing to get her here, Nick,” Bucky explained, making you bite your tongue when he kissed your temple. “She wanted a quiet night.”

The handsome man had a menacing glint in his brilliant blue eyes. “And how exactly did you convince her?”

“You know, you can all sit back down,” you cut in. “There’s no reason to stand just because I’m here,” you added, though you appreciated Thor’s genuine enthusiasm. It was kind of endearing.

“Nonsense. You’re all he speaks of, so you are a Queen in our eyes,” Thor said.

“Future Queen does have a nice ring to it. Maybe I can buy you a tiara,” Bucky smiled. The men chuckled in unison, with the exception of Ray.

Hyenas.

Whatever expression you had on your face made Bucky frown. “Are you okay?”

You wanted to scream how you weren’t okay at all and how terrifying the entire situation was, but Bucky took your hand before you could answer and kissed your fingers. It somehow soothed a bit of the nerves, which wasn’t fair since he was the one who tangled you in this web in the first place. “Just not used to so much attention,” you admitted.

“Let’s sit,” Bucky suggested, leading you to the remaining empty sofa. Instead of giving you space, he kept you at his side once you both sat. Was it a display of ownership in front of everyone or did he just want you right beside him? “Ray, bring her some water.”

Your heart thumped against your ribcage and the gentleness of Bucky’s hand on your cheek startled you. It was different on the club floor. Even with his men teasing you, there were tons of others around. Here in the office, the spotlight was solely on you. All because Bucky wanted you. Otherwise, you’d be invisible.

“I’ll have you home soon,” Bucky whispered, grounding you with the reminder that you didn't have to stay all night. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Told you it was too soon to bring her here,” the dark-eyed gentleman beside Thor spoke, a mildly sympathetic look on his face. “But, no, you never listen to me.”

“And I told you where to shove your opinion, Sam,” Bucky snapped, thanking Ray in a softer tone when he placed a bottle in your hand. At least you knew it wasn’t drugged or tampered with since you had to open it yourself.

“So, Barnes tells us you work with flowers?” Thor questioned.

You nodded, not sure if it should bother you that he spoke about your job or impressed that his friends took the time to remember. “Yeah, I’m a florist. I enjoy it.”

“That is a lovely profession. He also mentioned you occasionally bring flowers to the local hospital at no charge,” Thor continued before the others gave him a look you couldn't decipher. “We do not see a lot of kindness like that around here.”

“Yeah, I sometimes…” you trailed off when you noticed Bucky’s jaw clench. It wasn’t something the two of you talked about during your date, but he clearly knew. You’d have to revisit this conversation later. “Bucky, why don't you tell me about your friends?” You suggested. Anything to take the focus off you.

Bucky blinked and gave you a smile after a moment. “Sure. Years ago, Steve decided to drag me to a veteran support meeting after we served, which is how I met Thor and Sam. They invest in real estate,” he explained. “Sam focuses more on the commercial end and Thor on homes.”

The military background didn't surprise you. Brotherhood. Loyalty. Respect. There was an unmistakable bond there.

“Wilson and I were just discussing our newest acquisitions before you walked in,” Thor said, tilting his glass toward you. “Barnes didn't tell us you lived in such a nice area.”

Your stomach tightened with nerves. “Excuse me?”

Sam looked like he was considering his words when Thor’s gaze flickered to him. “Bucky may have mentioned a property or two in that neighborhood that might be a good investment. He’s right.”

Your gaze jerked to the man holding you. His lips curled, knowing and unashamed. His promise to have you out of your home… “Is my apartment building one of those properties?”

Bucky shrugged. “It might be.”

Your heart gave a hard thud. If he was serious… If his friend bought the building… No, he couldn’t do that to you.

“Nick deals with investments, too, but he focuses more on businesses over real estate. We actually introduced him to Bucky,” Sam said, effortlessly shifting the conservation back to the group. He seemed nice, but how nice could he be if he was Bucky’s friend?

“It really is nice to see the future wife in person.” Nick gave you a quick once over, but there was no judgment, unlike that jerk at the bar. “I can see exactly why he broke into your place just to talk to you.”

Bucky rubbed your back when you coughed. Nick was almost as nonchalant about the situation as Bucky was. “So, everyone really is aware that he’s a stalker,” you said.

“He prefers to think of himself as passionate or intense.”

“Pay no attention to him,” Bucky advised.

Nick simply smirked. “I was giving her a compliment.”

“Jax and Hal have already hit on her and I don't need you bothering her, too.”

“I’m not bothering her. Maybe you're the one bothering her.”

“Please, you don't have to talk about me like I'm not here,” you interrupted. Wanting to be invisible was one thing, but you wouldn't be treated as such.

You shut your mouth when everyone looked your way, but relaxed when all the men laughed again. “I like you,” Nick said. That brought a small smile to your face. It wasn't like you wanted the people in Bucky's life to like you, but it was nice to see that others weren’t phased by his power.

Bucky shot him a look for a split second before the latter put his hands up. “I don’t like her that way. We all know she's your girl,” he promised before looking at you again. “But I do like your spirit. It's good for him.”

Bucky shifted his gaze back to you adoringly as you shrank back into the sofa. “Thanks,” you whispered.

“And since you’re here, I wanted to ask what you think I should get Brady and Addison for their upcoming wedding,” Nick smirked again, but it was much softer this time. “I asked Bucky, but he thought I should ask you since you're so close to them.”

A chill ran over you. How did… “Nick,” you whispered, recalling your earlier conversation with Addison. “You’re Brady’s new boss, aren't you?”

“Smart girl.” he smiled, impressed. “I’m a boss of sorts. He’s a hard worker. Loves his fiancé. I hope they're enjoying their dinner.”

“Check their registry. Everything they want is there,” you said as evenly as you could manage, wishing you had the strength to bolt from the room.

You swallowed back the urge to get sick as Bucky rubbed your side. This wasn't just meeting his friends. This was a not-so-subtle way to tell you that you weren't getting away from him. And how could you? There was a chance that Sam bought your building. Nick had a way to get to people you cared about. And Steve showed up at your job, one of your only safe-havens. What was next?

It would've been easy to feel hollow to it all as Bucky wove himself into your life. Was it just control he sought? Or did he want to be in as much of life as possible so you couldn't forget him if you tried? No matter where you went, where you looked, who you saw, it would now trace back to him. Like he wanted everything to begin and end with him.

You looked toward Ray, but he looked at the floor. Sighing, you shook her head. You were all alone. “So, Bucky knows how to get into my home and pretty much knows everywhere I go. Sam or Thor might be buying the building I live in. Nick is working with someone close to me. And Steve… clearly knows where I work. Am I missing anything? Is this totally normal behavior for all of you?”

You could still see the intrigue in their eyes at your clipped tone. “You seem unhappy by that, but it is a dangerous world out there and you are a guarded treasure who needs to be looked after,” Thor spoke, looking to the others for support. “All of our women are.”

Nick nodded after a moment. “Varying degrees with our approaches, but yes. It’s dangerous out there.”

You huffed. Did they think they were the good guys? Were their significant others like you? Trapped? “It’s dangerous here, too.”

“You’re not in any danger with us.” Bucky turned your head toward him. “But Thor's right. You are my treasure, Kotyonok. I found you and I’m not letting you go.”

A possession. Something to covet. “You could’ve just left me buried in the sand or at the bottom of the ocean,” you whispered, ignoring the hurt in his eyes. “I didn’t ask for you to dig me up.”

“This is all overwhelming. I know it is,” Bucky whispered back, like the others weren’t listening. “If you’re upset that Steve went into your shop or for anything else, you can blame me.”

Of course that was the thing he commented on. “Oh, don’t worry. I do blame you.”

The men laughed again as he ran a finger along your neck. “Another thing I’ll make up to you.”

You huffed again. “And how will you do that? Jerk off while I’m on the phone with you? Because you already did that earlier.”

Bucky smirked at your sass when Sam coughed and said, “Steve, you’re being awfully quiet over there.” You almost forgot he was there since he hadn't said much else since you walked in.

“Who cares about Steve?” Nick grinned as he sipped his drink. “Let’s hear more about that phone call.”

“Just observing, Sam.” Steve cut in and crossed his arms as his gaze swept over the group. “And don’t be rude, Nick.”

“Is it rude if I also want to hear about the phone call?” Thor asked.

Heat flowed to your cheeks and you wished you just kept your mouth shut. “Please, forget I said that,” you begged. Because now that you mentioned it, it would play on a loop again in your mind.

Bucky said low enough for only you to hear, “Next time I get off, I want you right there with me.” The heat in your veins turned to molten lava. “But since you want to change the subject, Steve has been my best friend since we were kids and now he helps out around the club and with other endeavors,” he introduced, a hint of pride and fondness that wasn't fully extended to the other men. “I think you two are going to get along very well.”

“I think so, too.” Steve smiled and you did your best to return it, but it fell flat as you remembered the flowers at Bucky's penthouse. “Thank you for making my best friend happy. That’s all I want for him.”

“Thanks,” you said. That was all you wanted for your best friend, so you understood to an extent. “Did your girl enjoy the tulips or did you make that whole thing up?”

You weren't exactly sure what Bucky told him to do when he went into the shop, or what he told any of the men to do for that matter. Spying, keeping tabs, it was just a reminder of the eyes and ears your pseudo-boyfriend had around the city. Your brain begged you to get out of there, but you couldn't move.

“She really does love tulips and was very happy with them,” he assured you. “So I should thank you again for making her happy, too.”

You shouldn't dig the knife in after he complimented you, but you couldn't help yourself. “And are you like Bucky and stalking her, too?”

A hint of pink showed in the blonde’s cheeks when Bucky and Nick chuckled, but he gave you a lopsided grin and didn't seem at all offended. “I've actually done a little bit more than that,” he said, your heart dropping as he looked at Bucky. What did he mean? “Did you get a chance to introduce her?”

Bucky shook his head as Steve’s face fell. “Didn't stop at coat check,” he answered before he added, “His girl works here part-time, but I thought it would be better for you two to officially meet when we go on a double date.”

“A double date?” You asked.

“Yeah, the four of us. Steve and I already have a few ideas on where to go.” Another thing that wasn’t a suggestion. Wouldn’t be a choice. Did Steve’s poor girl have any idea?

“What does coat check girl’s boyfriend think about the double dates?” Nick said, typing out something on his phone.

Steve's smile slipped. “Soon-to-be ex and she has a name.”

“That's right, I forgot. You're going to ‘handle him’,” he said, your body tensing at the implication.

“I'm sorry. Didn't you break your future brother-in-law's arm?”

“I almost broke both arms,” he shrugged when you gawked at him. “My girl’s a best-selling author, but her brother is a piece of shit.”

Thor downed the rest of his drink. “That reminds me of the time I broke my father-in-law's fingers. My brother advised against it, but…”

The voices blended together as you took a sip of the water. You weren't a violent person, didn’t speak casually of violence the way they did, but the urge to hit or throw something became stronger with each passing second. All things considered, you were extremely patient with everything. How much more could you take?

“I want to go home, please,” you told Bucky. You had to get out of there. “I mean it. I met your friends and-”

The room went silent as someone knocked on the door. No one made a move, except for Ray and Steve who both reached for something in their jackets. “Expecting someone, boss?” Ray asked.

“Actually, I am.” Bucky checked his watch. “Should be Ari and a guest.”

“What guest? Not Ransom,” Steve said, his body still tense.

“And not Andy or Scott. They’re out of town,” Nick added.

Bucky’s wolfish smile was back on his face. “You’ll see.”

The doors opened and in walked the man who insulted you at the bar, looking around like he owned the place. Ari followed with a glare that had you shrinking into the sofa again. The night was just getting better and better, wasn't it?

“John?” Sam didn't look impressed. “Really?”

Bucky stood up to shake the man’s hand and you suddenly missed his warmth. “John. Enjoying your evening?”

“Yeah. That shirtless bartender gave me drinks on the house.”

“I’m glad Hal took care of you.” You could smell the liquor coming from him the further he stepped into the room. “And I think you know just about everyone here.”

While the men had smiled and welcomed you, none of them extended the same courtesy to John. Steve and Sam looked like they wanted to punch him. Nick didn't even glance up from his phone to acknowledge him. Thor simply got himself another drink.

“I do.” John hiccuped. “‘Bout time you invited me up here.”

“Yeah, I guess it is about time.” The look on Bucky’s face gave you chills as he grabbed John’s arm and stopped him from sitting down. “Oh, no. You don’t need to sit. You won't be here long.”

“Is that right?”

“That is right.” The grip on John’s arm tightened enough to make him wince. “You see, I told Hal to give you free drinks until Ari came to get you. And the only reason I had you brought up here was so you could officially meet my girl before I have you kicked out.”

“Kick me out?! What the fuck are…” John had a noticeable twinge in his cheek as he spotted you. You wanted to cover yourself up even though you weren’t exposed. “That's your girl?”

“She’s my everything.” Bucky briefly looked away from John to gaze at you. “And from what I understand, you knocked her out of the way at the bar and made a rude comment. I’d like to know exactly what you said to her.”

Nick glanced up from his phone, more interested in the conversation now. All of the men were. That wasn't good. Not at all.

“Look, I may have bumped into her, but I don’t…” John cleared his throat as Bucky stared at him, underlying rage in his eyes. “I don’t recall mouthing off to her or anything.”

“Bucky, it’s fine,” you said. You told him that earlier. What was he doing?

“Kotyonok, do you remember what he said to you since John’s memory is so terrible?” Bucky asked, his gaze still fixed on the man in front of him who was starting to sweat. “It’s okay. You can tell us.”

The others stared at you expectantly. You shifted, not wanting to blurt out exactly what the guy said. Lying wouldn’t make it any better though. Bucky clearly knew what happened.

“See? Nothing happened,” John tried to dismiss you when you stayed silent. “How about a drink?”

Bucky pursed his lips in disdain. “How about I have Ari beat the words out of you instead?”

You gasped when Ari pushed himself off the wall, fear all over John’s face as he advanced. He looked like he was going to piss himself. “He called me an ugly undressed bitch,” you said loud enough to make Ari stop.

Something in the room shifted, the silence extended and uncomfortable as the men rose to their feet one by one. Thor made a show of cracking his knuckles after he winked at you. You had nothing to fear. They didn't want to hurt you. So why were you still trembling?

Steve slipped his jacket off and strode forward until he was beside his best friend. “You said that to her?”

John bravely or stupidly attempted to deflect. “The music is loud and-”

“You better shut your fucking mouth if you even think of calling her a liar. Not that I need anyone else’s word except for hers, but Hal also heard you. Even told you to apologize, which you chose to ignore. I can pull up the camera if you want to see the footage.” Bucky’s even tone had you trembling in your spot just like John. “You really have the nerve to come into my club and speak to my girl like that?”

John scrambled for words as he pointed at you. “I didn't… I mean, look at what she’s wearing! How was I supposed to know?”

“That should've been your first clue that she was special. Everyone else down there has to abide by a dress code, but not her. That’s how much power she has. And you tried to make her feel bad for that?” Bucky held a hand up when Ari stepped forward again. “No. I won't let that stand.”

“Bucky.” John swallowed when the rest of the men shifted to surround him. The only exception was Ray, who stood closest to you. “I…”

“Apologize to her,” he snarled. “Get on your fucking knees and say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” John glanced at the floor. “Don't make me get on my knees.”

“That’s enough! I don't want his apology anyway,” you spoke up. An empty apology from a jackass was meaningless. “I appreciate that you want him to say sorry, but I’d rather he just leave if that's okay. Please.”

Bucky let out a slow breath. “My girl has a kind heart.” He briefly took his eyes off John to offer you a soft smile before turning his attention back to him. “But I don't. You’re banned from my club. And by the end of the day tomorrow, you’ll be banned from just about everywhere in the city.”

John laughed, a broken, nervous sound. “This is a joke, right?”

Bucky cracked his neck. “I’ve never liked you. None of us do. We tolerated you, but I won't tolerate you insulting my girl.” He signaled for Ari to open the doors. “So you have two options. You can leave on your own and be permanently banned from this establishment. Or I can make you leave and you’ll be permanently banned from this establishment. Your choice.”

“You can't ban me for one comment! That's insane!”

“I consider it harassment,” Bucky corrected him. Ironic coming from him since he invaded your life. “I take it I'll have to make you leave?”

“You know what? Fuck you. This club sucks anyway.” John moved toward the door before he stopped to look back at you. “And you think you’re special since you're up here? You’re just an uptight bitch who-”

Bucky’s fist connected with John’s jaw before he could finish his insult and you could only shriek as he hit the wall and crumbled to the floor a heartbeat later. Steve hauled him to his feet by his collar before he could recover and punched him in the stomach hard enough that you flinched. Ray shielded your body as best as he could as everyone took turns punching him.

“Don't look,” he whispered.

“I don't know if I can do this,” you whispered back. You were trying to stay calm, but this…

“Yes, you can. Just breathe. In and out,” Ray urged. His face didn't give much away, but you sensed his relief when you took a few deep breaths. “There you go. And don't look.”

You didn't look. It still didn’t block out the sounds, fists connecting against skin and bones, and John’s pained groans. Nor did it stop you from shaking. It couldn't have lasted more than a minute, but it felt like a lifetime until the room went quiet again. Was it over?

“What did you guys do to him?!” You asked, loosening your hold on Ray’s arm. When did you grab him?

“We taught him a lesson.” Bucky flexed his fingers with a sigh. “I have an abundance of patience for you, it's less so with people who are disrespectful and vulgar with you.”

Ray still shielded you when you tried to look where John lay in a heap, but was careful not to touch you. “...Is he breathing?”

“He is and he's lucky for that,” Bucky replied, nudging him with his foot. “Looking strong, John.”

“About time we shut him up,” Nick said, plopping back down in his seat. “Should've banned him months ago.”

“No one deserves a beating more than John,” Steve said, gazing at you like a big brother who just beat up a schoolyard bully for picking on you. “And don't worry. He won’t speak to you like that again.”

“He won’t be speaking much at all after that,” Sam said, taking a drink from Thor’s outstretched hand. “No big loss there.”

“Ari, would you mind taking out the trash?” Bucky asked, tilting his head as he looked down at John. “And can you get the cleaners up here to do something about the blood on my carpet?”

“On it.” Ari effortlessly picked John up and put him over his shoulder as you tried to process what you witnessed. You were past processing any of it, your brain nearly broken from the stress.

In fact, the only one phased by the violence was you as everyone went about their business again. It made your head spin. That was all from a guy insulting you. What would they do if someone actually tried to do anything to you?

Ray stepped aside when Bucky made his way back to you, the anger gone from his eyes. “You’re shaking,” he whispered, pressing his lips against your forehead. “I'm sorry if that scared you.”

“Of course, it scared me! You all beat the hell out of him,” you scolded. On instinct, you grabbed his hand to check it. You had no idea why you wanted to make sure his hand was okay after everything. “None of you had to do that.”

“We don't like bullies,” Steve said as Bucky let you inspect his hand, your fingers gently brushing over his knuckles. “It was bad enough what he said, but he knocked you out the way, too, and didn't apologize. He deserved it.”

“Yeah, he did,” Bucky agreed, taking the opportunity to grip your hand before you could let him go.

“That was a bit much,” you said. It was overkill in your eyes. “I'm not worth beating someone up over.”

He met your gaze with a smile. “You’re worth more than I can ever give you. And he won't be bothering anyone in this club ever again.”

“You're really going to ban him?”

“Absolutely. I have a reputation to uphold. He's only going to mess that up if I let him stick around.”

“Ari isn't going to…” You weren’t sure what he would do to John since they were out of sight.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing.” Bucky moved his hand to your cheek. “I only wish I could hit him again for how he spoke about you.”

You rolled your lips between your teeth. Defending you that way was a lot, but a morbid part of you liked that he stood up for you. “Thank you, but no more hitting people in my name. I can't stand it if someone else was hurt because of me.”

“His actions got him hurt because he hurt you first. I know he did. And I said I’d step in if someone hurt or upset you.” His gaze dropped to your mouth when you bit your lip again. The insult did bother you, but it didn’t matter now. “You really do have a kind heart and you’re making it very difficult not to kiss you right now,” he added, brushing his thumb over your lips.

Goosebumps rolled over your skin at the touch, but you stepped back before he could push his thumb into your mouth. He was still dangerous. Still taking over your life. That was enough to wake you from any spell he tried to put you under. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Just returning the favor.” He held up his hand again with a small smile. “You sure you don’t want to give it another look? A little kiss might make it feel better.”

You rolled your eyes. The man was utterly ridiculous. “I’m not kissing your hand, Bucky. We both know it’s fine.”

“One little kiss? Please?” He winced for show as he flexed his fingers again, but you wouldn't budge. “C’mon. You were worried about my hand enough to check it for damage.”

You shook your head. “I wasn't worried. I just wanted to make sure you didn't injure yourself because that would just be one more thing you’d hold over my head,” you deflected, glancing around to find everyone staring at you again with smiles on their faces at the exchange. “Thanks for defending me.”

“Nothing to thank us for,” Thor held his glass up to you.

Steve looked at the monitor that displayed the coat room. “We take care of our own.”

An alarm on Bucky’s phone went off before you could say anything else. “And look at that? It’s time to go.” The men groaned before he shut the alarm off. “I promised I’d have her home and I’m keeping that promise.”

Steve looked the most disappointed of all. “I barely got to talk to her,” he grumbled.

“Next time, okay? And the double date soon.” Bucky smiled at his friend.

“It was wonderful to meet you,” Thor said as Nick and Sam nodded in your direction. “And I hope to see you at my party next week. Everyone will be there.”

“Maybe,” you said, putting as much emphasis on the word as possible. How would you get out of that? And the double date?

“Okay, you’re all welcome to hang out, but we’re leaving,” Bucky said.

“Maybe I should find my own way home,” you said. Bucky didn’t just have his claws in you, his friends did, too. You needed a breather. Some wine. “I really don't mind getting a cab.”

“Not happening,” he whispered. It was worth a shot. “I need to make sure you get in bed safely.”

“In bed?” You repeated, almost laughing until you saw his serious expression. “You seriously don't expect me to invite you in, do you?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said, steering you toward the door as Ray followed. “Besides, who else is going to tuck you in?”

Was tucking you in going to be enough to satisfy him tonight or would he take it further?

You’d find out soon enough.

Now we know what happened to John! What do we think of his friends? Will Bucky be good when he takes you home? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[urmomsbunkmate]

Accidents happen ?

Kirishima x femreader

Potential series if u BOOTYFUL people would like

Warnings- nude taking? Boobies, hot sexy momma y/n, female masturbation if u squint. suggestive shit rn but if we do more then the suggesting will be literal. I cannot think of anything else rn

Synopsis-Y/N SENDS ACCIDENTALLY SENT NUDE TO A KINDHEARTED and CUTE BOY.

OR

EIJIRO KRISHIMA GETS SENT NUDES FROM THE PRETTY GIRL IN ART CLASS.

———

The sun was long gone as Y/n released low sigh, situating herself in front of her large mirror, sitting on the ground practically nude. The pink lace accentuated her perky breasts and her hardened nipples after rolling them between her fingers, contrasting against her soft tan skin. She slightly angled herself to the left making her ass curve into the picture. The lingerie wrapped around her tailbone wearing as a thong. although the lining was moved to the side as she teased herself, knowing this Denki guy wasn't going to send anything cum worthy back. They were all just so useless.

The brushed her wavy pink hair cascade down her boobs, a messy look that is arousing in this context. Her lips were glistening in glistening lip gloss, the upper part of her face was never included in the pictures of course.  She drew a line at that. Her future had some have some hope.

Y/n knows she's pretty. She knows. But she hates when other people only treat her as a pretty face, expecting sex or nudes just because she's a beautiful girl. Her old boyfriends did that. People still do that. She's treated like a plastic barbie with this box she lives in, a box people think her whole life revolves around. People think the box contains booze and sex and nothing nice - she's just a pretty face, what more can she be? The box cannot possibly contain anything other than those things, like intelligence and integrity.

The girl sighs, the thought of what she has become haunts her. She never wanted to be this: this Barbie in a plastic box, one who says yes to sex and nudes and doesn't refuse, one who goes through the motions like a robot as greasy jocks have the best orgasm of their life, one who longs for a sense of stability, of integrity. Your quirks pretty much define you for the rest of your life, and she could do nothing to change that. Y/n wants a nice boyfriend, one who actually cares about her, one who knows her birthday and gives her a kiss on the forehead out of the blue, one who isn't afraid to be her person despite the repercussions that come with her. She's said to be too pretty for a relationship, too much of a whore. Who'd want to date her?

So many people have called her a whore that she just sticks with it, knowing she'll be nothing more.

Y/n snaps from her trance, looking at herself in the mirror before continuing what she prepares herself for. Y/n settled on the perfect one, and she's tempted to send it to the chat since she debates it's her best one yet. The lingerie is just perfectly in place, her lips are slightly parted, breasts pushed up and shadowed from the light, making them bigger.

She knows this'll give Denki what he wants.

Putting on plaid shorts and a large sweatshirt, she yawns, seeing the time is nearing midnight. It's usually around the time she goes to bed on a school night, given her homework is massive and she normally spends the majority of her time doing school related things.

Padding against her carpet floor, she lazily walks to the other side of the room to turn on her fan, something that is background noise and allows her to sleep with ease. Her eyes are lethargically glued to her screen, blinking sleepily as she types out the number clicking the K and selecting the first number she saw.

Choosing the photo and pressing send without any further thought, the clueless girl goes to bed, not knowing what she has done.

Where as the boy just trying to work out before he falls asleep get the most jaw dropping notification from an unknown number.

Y/n

(1 attached photo)

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

Um I don't think u meant to do that

Y/n

oh my god

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

It okay don't worry we all make stupid mistakes

Y/n

hello kind person, that was not meant for u 🥰

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

I didn't look for more that 2 seconds if it makes u feel better

Y/n

Not really but I'm so fuckin sorry

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

😭😭 it's okay

Y/n

Can u delete it please 🙏

For the sake of the people

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

Oh I did that ages ago

I kinda worked out it wasn't for me

Y/n

thank u ☺️ i could literally kiss u

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

Like what else am I supposed to do?

Y/n

The male race has no boundaries

I'm not willing to push what is already not there

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

On behalf of the male race I'm sorry!🫶

Some of them just aren't manly

Y/n

ur an angel

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

So I've been told

Y/n

It means a lot that u delete it btw

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

That what I'm here for saving the day

U look pretty in pink

(Deleted)

Y/n

Don't go a heroic on me

Is that all u 1-A kids do?

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

Nahhh we also braid each others hair when the times right

It's good team bonding

Y/n

😬

Imma assume it's a joke but my hearts telling me otherwise

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

I'll guess u will never know

Y/n

I like u red

Ur nicer than I though you'd be

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

Compliment? I'll take it

Y/n

Good choice

I gotta go sleep

See u in art red

KIRISHIMA ( art class)

Good night

Kirishima dropped his phone upon his aches and let out a loud sigh. His cheeks flushed a red colour, imitating his face. The whole situation was utterly insane but somehow, in some weird fucked up way his ultimate classroom crush had initiated conversations. Well not conversation of such, but now he felt like he could say hello or wave when he saw her without making it utterly weird

Oh actually he could probably take that back. It will probably make his crush on her 10 times more awkward. Unless she didn't find it awkward, wait did he make her uncomfortable.

The boy grabbed onto his pillow and shouted a loud "you idiot!" Into the fabric. What is wrong with him.

“Shut your fucking face shitty hair!” A shout followed by pounding on his wall echoed into his room.

“Sorry.”

———

Omg okay let’s not idk if I’m feeling it, I tried not to hold back or go all the way in. So this is what I’ve got.

Please like and comment if I should continue on?? Does our fake red baby ever get to see the big titi queen again ?

Like people what should I do👎🫄🏿🍋😁🔛🚶🏿‍♀️🤪🫶🏃🏻‍♂️🔛☺️😊

[covetyou]

stars and stripes

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: nipple play, novelty underwear, balls, anxiety, democracy, the pledge of allegiance, friendly brotherly contest, alcohol, prelude to oral sex (m! receiving) word count: 5k summary: Roles are reversed this Fourth of July when you surprise Joel with a little festive treat of your own.

A/N: happy 4th of July to folks in the US and happy general election day to my fellow UK pals! If you haven't exercised your right to vote yet, and you're registered, you have until 10pm BST tonight to get to your polling station - as long as you're in line by 10pm, you'll be able to vote. do dress up Joel proud, and go do a democracy.

I make absolutely no apologies for anything in this fic. not a single thing. especially not that thing. tis the season. happy ballidays, pals!

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

As it turned out, Joel knew a guy who knew a guy who could fix your AC, and within two days your house was a safe haven from the burgeoning Texas summer.

Easy as that, apparently. Your desperate attempts to call around HVAC companies the week your AC busted seemed stupid now that it was all a matter of simply knowing a guy.

Not that it was all easy. Letting someone else into your house after everything that had gone on suddenly felt scary, and it took Joel promising you he'd dip from his own job for the afternoon to keep an eye on things for you to feel okay with any of it.

But, even that left an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You'd told him to let himself in, though this time you'd given him a key, and that felt like something. For as many times as he'd broken in, and for as long as you'd left your house open and vulnerable - and, by extension, yourself - handing over your spare keys to Joel for the day felt more vulnerable than you'd ever felt with him wandering your house at unknown hours of the day and night.

It felt like something all over again when you handed them over to him the next week too - there was a jammed drawer he wanted to fix, and he said he could get in to see to it before work one day.

Even when you opened the door to him on the nights he didn't have Sarah - his daughter, you'd learned - it felt like something. Especially knowing that that spare key now sat attached to his own, jingling in his pocket each time he walked into your home, invited.

And the more somethings it felt like, the less you felt like figuring it out.

It continued the same way for weeks. Him moving back and forth the short distance between his home and yours, while you stayed safely cocooned in your own, cool, four walls.

Then, barely one month into this officially unofficial something that you were, it was finally time for you to make that short journey down the street to Joel's.

Being honest, the thought of it had terrified you, and you'd almost backed out multiple times.

Not because it was Joel, or Joel's house - at least, that's what you told yourself - but because a "the whole neighborhood is invited, bring snacks or beer" type of Fourth of July party wasn't the kind of way you'd envisioned your first time in Joel's home. You figured maybe it'd be dinner, or a movie, or a quick fuck against the stairs with Joel's balls trussed up in something. Normal things.

Not loud peopley things.

Still, you readjust your top once more, take the briefest of glances in the mirror, and head out the door anyway, nerves be damned. You can totally handle a Fourth of July BBQ at Joel's house.

You think you can all the way up to Joel's driveway, when the nerves come back with a vengeance and you stand there, feeling sick, listening to the sounds of people and music coming from the backyard.

You try to tell yourself it all makes sense. It's a new place, a place that should mean so much because it's his, but try as you might you can't fight back the panic rising as you think of the very many faces that are going to be in this new place too. Familiar faces, faces you'd seen most days as you went about your life down this street you called home, people you'd shared small talk with and said good morning to almost every day as you left for work.

Then there's this stupid outfit you're wearing. The you from weeks ago chose it the very same day you said yes to Joel's invitation, and the you of today didn't have the energy or inclination to think of anything else. Wear whatever, Joel had said, it's just a casual thing. So, you'd gone for casual.

Braless is casual, right?

Not that that was a specific choice, more a necessity. You'd chucked the third bra on the floor in a huff, cursing your shitty outfit choice and lack of bra to fit it, and instead decided to stick on some nipple pasties and be done with it.

All that's done now, and now here you are, still standing like an idiot in the driveway, closer to Joel's home than you have ever been, psyching yourself up to go inside.

With a deep breath of the dry Texas heat, you head for the open back gate, the soft sound of your shoes on the paving stones so loud in your ears as everything wooshes and fizzes in your head.

It's somehow both better and worse than your expectations.

You're immediately greeted by a sea of recognizable faces, the bottle of wine you forgot you were even holding whisked out of your hand and taken inside before you can even get your first round of hello's in. You don't have much of a chance to be nervous, or self conscious, or any of the things you'd worried about being in the days leading up to being here, because there's just so much of everything around you. Noises, smells, people.

Everything, except for Joel. You've not caught a single look at him since you got here - minutes ago - and you wonder if he's even here and not relaxing back at your place on the couch.

Then you see him. At least, you think it's him. His back is to you, locked into conversation so fierce he hasn't noticed the commotion about your entrance.

You think it's him, but you're also certain you don't know of anyone else who would dress head to toe in red, white, and blue candy stripes. The sight of it makes you forget your own outfit worries as a grin forms on your face, and that familiar rumbling of something in the pit of your stomach comes back all over again.

"Not eyein' the very slightly younger model, are you?" comes a gruff voice that has you twisting rapidly on the spot, the smile barely given chance to fall from your face when you spot the actual, real life Joel standing right there next to you, cold beer in hand.

In your own defence, real life Joel isn't dressed much better than the other Joel stood over the other side of the yard. He's probably dressed worse, actually. He's head to toe in stars, all the way from the novelty headband on his head to the flashing star lights clipped to his shoes. It's gaudy, and camp, and so perfectly Joel that the smile that dipped from your face for all of half a second is back, and you're grinning up at him, that feeling in your belly violently boiling away now that he's right there.

"Oh, him?" you say with a wave of your hand. "Nah. He's like a dollar store version of you."

"Really? I'll be sure to tell Tommy he's Dollar Store Joel from now on. He'll love that. Hey, Tommy!" he calls over the yard, before slipping his free hand behind your back. "C'mon. Let me introduce y'all."

He guides you over, hand never leaving the small of your back, touching you out here in front of all these people as if you are actually officially the kind of something that everyone should know about. And maybe you are.

But then, you're looking into familiar friendly eyes, so similar to the ones you've been staring into and dreaming of since Christmas, and watching this familiar strangers face light up so brightly you briefly wonder if his joy is misplaced until he's wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

"Shit, he weren't lying," says Tommy as he rocks on his feet with you in his arms before releasing and looking down at you. "You are real."

Before Joel can land a firm whack to Tommy's shoulder, Tommy's pulling you in for another hug, telling you how nice it is to finally meet you, because he's heard all about you, dropping in a few choice words about his asshole brother here and there as he chatters to you, and Joel, and even himself.

At some point, whether it's during the fourth hug or the eighteenth, you're not sure, Joel slips off to grab you a drink, leaving you with his bizarrely dressed brother.

"Ain't never seen him smile so much without Sarah around," he says, the moment Joel's out of earshot, giving you a nudge and another fond smile. "Y'know, I think he might like you."

"Mm, I think I might like him too."

Small talk with Tommy is easy - the man's a talker, if you ever met one. He's a charmer too, and if you met him in a bar you might think he'd be coming on to you with the way he so attentively talks to you, only directing his attention elsewhere for the briefest of moments.

"What's with the outfits?" you eventually ask, with a flick to his striped top hat. "Joel never said it was a dress up party."

"Oh it ain't, this is just a family tradition. Dad always used to dress up in dumb shit for the holidays, make us laugh, and it just sorta stuck. 'Course, added in some friendly competition over the years too, and then this," he says with a dramatic sweep down his body, "was born."

"Competition?"

"Mhm. Joel'll tell you, won't you brother?" Tommy says with a wink over your head before ducking sideways to raid the snack table.

"What am I s'posed to tell you?" he says, handing you your drink, letting his fingers linger near yours and stroke a trail of burning heat gently up your arm before falling back to his pocket.

"The competition."

"S'easy. Stars or stripes," Joel points to himself, decked out in stars and then to his brother where he stands loudly chatting to yet more guests in his candy stripes. "You gotta pick. Most votes, wins."

"I've got to pick?"

"'s the rules, darlin'."

"So you want me to pick between you, or some costumed guy I don't know - a practical stranger?" you say, with a glint in your eye, watching Joel's face drop in faux offence.

"You wouldn't."

"Don't underestimate me, Joel. I think you know exactly what I'm capable of."

Your eyes meet in a silent stalemate, the glint in your eye never leaving as Joel bites at his cheek to hold back a laugh. Tommy was right - you do like Joel, some days too much, and moments like right now, you think maybe it's reciprocated, and you like him just the right amount.

Poking him in the chest, finger pressed to the middle of one of the sea of stars decorating his body, you let yourself break first. "Stars, Joel. I pick stars."

With a roll of his eyes, and a kiss pressed lightning quick to the side of your head, Joel's hand winds back around your back.

"Thank fuck for that. Let's get you a votin' card so you can make that official."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

As the evening draws on, you think you've talked to just about everyone in your street several times over, and then some. It also turns out that Joel and Tommy take their little competition very seriously, and always have, if your neighbors are to be believed.

By the time the votes have been counted and Joel in his star spangled outfit is declared the winner, Tommy has sunk to his knees, his hat toppled off in his despair as he hangs his head in shame.

You're still listening to them bicker as you sneak off to use the bathroom, their voices only disappearing when you've slid the patio door shut and taken your first official step into Joel's house.

"The headband swung it."

"The headband is Sarah's, and your massive skull is breakin' it..."

Even through the mess of the party, you can see that this place is distinctly Joel, with hints of a 10 year old girl dotted around the place. From the pictures on the wall to the cushions on the sofa - mostly a rich navy, but one soft pink nestled in with the blue - through to small ornamental carvings on a side table and the drawings stuck on the refrigerator.

You're looking at one - not a masterpiece by any means, but very decent attempt at a bluebonnet - when the pressure inside the house changes again with the slide of the door.

It's Joel, arms laden with bottles, and the headband flopping forward pathetically on his head. "You snuck off quick," he says, dumping the bottles onto the counter. "Get lost findin' the bathroom?"

"Distracted. Never had chance to sneak around your house looking at your shit before," you quip with a smile, trying to get comfortable with the very uncomfortable thing that brought you two together in the first place.

"Then shoes off. Lemme take you upstairs, give you a little tour, and you can use the bathroom up there. Probably in a better state than the one down here now anyway."

He holds your hand in his all the way up the stairs. That something rears its head again, igniting your palm where it meets his, your brain not registering a single word he says as he points to various doors before dragging you through one, into his bedroom.

His lips are on yours immediately - or yours are on his. You can't quite work out who started it, you just know that you're a tangle as your hands roam each other, biting and licking kisses into each others mouths. His hand finds your ass, and you're moaning as he presses you forward, into him, and the soft lump in his pants. You want to grind yourself against him, but the angle isn't right, and a nagging forgotten thing is worming through your brain when Joel pushes your bodies together once more.

Oh. Right. You remember now.

"Joel - mmph - Joel," you say with urgency through his kisses. He pulls back, searching your face with panic and a pinched brow. "I really gotta pee."

With a kiss to your forehead he lets you go, pushing you toward his ensuite. When you exit a few minutes later, he's exactly where you left him, stood with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish as he possibly ever could.

"I'm glad you came," he says, looking at you and setting that something off roaring through your body again.

"Me too. I... I've had a nice time."

"Just wanted you to know I didn't invite you here just for, y'know," he says, with a gesture to his bed. "Didn't bring you in here for it either. Just, sorta missed you. Not used to not bein' alone with you. It's weird sharin' you."

You don't want to remind him you've barely left each others sides all night. You don't want to draw too much attention to the something, just in case you scare it away.

"Damn. Got nothing for me? Nothing at all?" you joke instead.

"Got nothin'. Nothin' planned anyway," he says with a look around the room, his eyes focussing briefly on a drawer before flicking back to you.

Really, you should be leaving space between you and Joel. Space for the something to flourish, space that is just enough to not magnetize your body to his, smashing yourselves together and turning the nothing into something. What you should do doesn't have the power to stop your feet from slowly pulling you toward him again though. And it doesn't stop you from putting both your hands on his chest when you finally reach him.

"No? Got no magic tricks up your sleeve? I was hoping for a wand or a rabbit or somethin', you do look like you ran away from the circus."

"I'll have you know this shirt is the finest polyester you can find at Party City."

"Mm, sounds sweaty."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"So you're sweaty and gross, and you have nothing to wow me with? I'm starting to wonder why you invited me." Which is a lie. You know why, and so does he, and you're glad for it, even if it still frightens you to think about it too much. You suspect he knows an awful lot more about you than you've told him. He's perceptive like that.

"Maybe I'm retractin' your invite."

"You wouldn't."

"No?"

"What if I've got a little something for you instead, am I still invited now?"

Joel's eyes light up and soften all at once, turning so bright and sparkling you think he might cry. It's not exactly that you've never done anything for him in the ways he has for you. When he mentioned his favorite snack, you got some in the house for nights you spend watching a movie before devolving into fucking on the floor. You bought new lingerie, which only ever stayed on if it was too difficult to get out of, and once or twice he'd caught you wearing the heart shaped butt plug before leaping on you and pounding you into whatever surface was nearest, thumb pressing down on the base and making you see stars.

Still, for all you had done, you never swapped positions in the little game you'd been playing with each other for over seven months. Each time, he was the one who came to you with some silly thing or trick or toy to tease you with, and each time you loved it. You hoped he would love this too.

"You do?"

"Mhm," you say as you put some distance between the two of you again. Space to breath, space to move, space to let the something calm back down into the pit of your stomach and curl in on itself like a cat settling down to sleep.

Your let your fingers glide up your body, gently pulling your skirt for a moment before they coast up your belly and reach your shirt, flirting with the hem before curling around it and tugging, letting your tits jiggle behind the fabric.

With a final soft tug, you peel the fabric up your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out the bottom of your top.

"Holy shit, baby," he says, a whisper of a moan on his lips. His eyes have been glued to you, wide and curious, ever since you suggested you may have something for him. And now, they're darting from your chest to your face then back down, taking in the sight of your covered nipples.

You had made some choices earlier today, in your nervous state. Going braless was only one of them. The pasties too, were another. And then, there was the shape. You has flowers, hearts, circles, straight tape and, finally, stars. It was a no brainer when you'd rifled through the packet for two that matched that white stars were the perfect choice for today. It'd only really occured to you when Joel had worn his own stars, that you were perhaps better matched today than you thought, that maybe you could have your own little game with him for once.

"Told you I was all in on the stars."

"Damn right you are," he says as he approaches, his hands finding their place on your waist, itching to move upward. "They don't hurt?"

"They're just pasties, Joel. They're soft. Feel."

And fuck, does he feel. His hands cup you, gently squeezing the softest part of your breast before letting his thumbs dance across where the pucker of your nipple should be. The sensation is muted, infuriatingly muffled by the feel of the pasties covering you.

"S'good?"

"Imagine I stroked your dick over your pants. It's good but it's not the same."

"Damn," he curses, thumbs still gently rubbing over your nipples, watching them slowly come to life and prickling beneath the coverings. "They come off easy?"

"Like a bandaid."

"Shit."

And you just know what he's thinking, because you're thinking it too. There's no real way you can take them off right now and let Joel have his way with your nipples like you're both desperate for, even if time and the swathe of people downstairs wasn't an issue. You have nothing else to cover up with and the soft breeze combined with the cold drinks and the age of some of the guests here means it's probably not a good idea to go without them.

That doesn't stop Joel from kissing you again though, more restrained than he has any right to be with your tits in his hands. You know from his frustrated groan when you bite at his bottom lip that he's two seconds away from telling everyone the parties over, only to come back up here and continue with a party for just two.

To your surprises, he pulls your top back down. Not before kissing one breast, then the other, then back to the first. You know he wants to sink his face into them, but he doesn't let himself, and he rises from his crouch with a groan and pulls you out of the room.

"Don't show Tommy," Joel whispers to you as you make your way back down the stairs. "He'll say the contest was rigged."

"Damn, I was so hoping to show your brother my nipples."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Joel's eyes keep flicking to your chest for the rest of the night. More than once he drags you away inside, either upstairs or into the garage, just to ask you to show him one more time. If you weren't covered, your nipples would have been rubbed and pinched raw by his eager fingers by now, just as your lips were swollen by his eager mouth.

By the time it's all over, you're positively exhausted, propping yourself up on the arm of a chair and talking to Tommy as Joel waves off the last of the guests and closes the back gate.

You had barely left his side all night, and if anyone had anything to say about it, you hadn't heard it. Neither had Joel. And Tommy, a clever man when he wanted to be, hadn't made a single joke about it either. All in all, it was as much of a successful day than you could hope for, initial nerves aside.

Tommy, continuing to be a clever man, doesn't put up much of a fight when you offer to be the one to stay behind and help clear up. Of course, he's already gone around and collected most of the trash, and put the leftover food inside, but he relents at your insistence he head home - you do only live down the street after all.

Neither you or Joel get much further with the cleaning. Once trash bags are dumped in the garage and you've both washed up, his hands are back under your top, damp fingers cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

"Stay?" he asks, as if there was any other ending to this night, as if Tommy hadn't left precisely for this reason.

You barely agree by the time his mouth is latched onto your neck, drawing unrestrained moans out of you right there in the kitchen now that you're finally alone.

His hands, of course, find their way back up to your top, stroking over the edge of the pasties once more.

"You really like 'em, huh?" you ask as his thumb brushes the edge of one, starting to curl and pull the point of one of the stars.

"Like that we match. Feel like you picked 'em for me," he mumbles into your neck, releasing one breast and tucking his hand into the waistband of your skirt. "Like that I've had somethin' to think about, somethin' to play with, even with all these people here."

Fuck, if you haven't liked that too. Letting him play had been one of the highlights of your night so far. Being manhandled into the garage, giggling and pushing Joel as he clasped his hands together in a plea to please see your tits. The souvenir love bite you'd let him suck into your left breast after dragging you back upstairs for a second time. You'd spent half the night flipping between Joels hands and mouth on your tits, to being dragged back out to socialize. Your pussy had given up trying to regulate itself after the third session of Joel's teasing, and you'd spent the rest of the evening wet and waiting.

This is a fact he finds out now, as he slides his hand down over your mound to cup you over your panties. You both let out the same curse as he presses and wiggles his fingers back and forth over you, rubbing your clit over your underwear. You had hoped to peel the pasties off before you fucked him, giving him full access to your nipples for the first time tonight, but you don't think you're going to make it that far, not now his hand is pulling your panties aside, feeling for the slick wetness between your lips and dragging it up, up, up to swirl around your clit.

Not a second later you're scaling the stairs for what you know will be the final time that day, this time you dragging Joel as you both kick of your shoes and stumble up the steps. You already ache from all the standing, and if you have it your way, your legs are going to be shaking and trembling too much for the rest of the night to possibly be of use to you.

With his door pushed open, left wide now the house is empty, you pull yourself back into him, only for him to slip his still wet finger between your lips, letting you taste yourself before he captures your mouth, licking your taste from your own tongue.

Then, your hands find his chest, that ridiculous shirt, and pull at it, tugging the fabric taught to his body, eager to get it off and tumble into his sheets with him.

You were right about how sweaty he'd be under the shirt when you finally get your fingers on the buttons, working your way down until you can pull it off. He's shining underneath it, the dark hair of his body slicked down as you drag your hands up over his chest, to his shoulders and then down to his belt.

He suddenly stops you, pulling your hands away, pressing kiss after kiss to your mouth as he fumbles with the buckle. In a huff, after a few failed, distracted, attempts, he pushes you away and pulls off his belt before unzipping his pants.

Joel has barely tugged them down his legs when you're staring wide eyed, howling with laughter, staring directly at his cock. Only, this time, it stares back.

At least, the bald eagle on the front of his boxers does.

"What are those?"

"Nothin'," Joel says, covering himself and trying to tug his boxers over his erection with one hand still trying to pull off his pants. Grabbing his hands, you stop him, pleading as you tug them away from his crotch.

"Show me."

"Look, s'nothin. Just another stupid thing Tommy got me and I thought it'd be funny but..."

"Sure looks like you got somethin' there for me. All this time you were sayin nothin'. Don't tell me you're getting shy on me now. C'mon. Please."

You pout, trying desperately to get him to give in when you have an idea and you're tugging your top off over your head and throwing it to the side, brandishing your star covered nipples to him once more.

"Pretty please," you say with a small shimmy, and Joel's hand immediately falls away, coming up instead to cover his eyes with a sigh.

It's a sight to behold. Really, it is. The eagle is staring back at you once again, still bolstered by Joel's solid length and the heft of his balls behind it. What you hadn't noticed before is it's sitting on a canvas of United States flag, stars and stripes covering his thighs, his hips, his ass.

"Oh wow. Joel those are -" you cough out a laugh "- those are amazing."

He's rolling his eyes. You can hear it in his voice and see it in his posture. "Yeah, real funny, I know."

"No, I like them. Very festive. And y'know what," you say, cupping his cock right over the eagle print of his boxers as you clear your throat. "I pledge allegiance -"

"No, don't you d-"

"- to these balls -"

"Stop."

"- and the cock they sit under -"

"Oh my god," he says, fighting through a laugh, your fingers squeezing and massaging as you pledge yourself, whole heartedly, to the appendage in your hand.

" - one - uh, cock and balls? Is there even a collective word for cock and balls? - under Joel -"

"It's just gettin' worse."

"- definitely indivisible, no divisible balls here - "

"You're killin' me."

"- say it with me now - with liberty and justice for balls."

You try to keep a straight face as you finish. Really you do. But as Joel's whole body shakes and ripples, his balls jiggling in your hand as laughter wracks through him, you can't help but fall into him, letting yourself be propped up by him as you crumple in on yourself in delight.

"You callin' my balls Liberty and Justice now?" Joel finally says through a laugh.

You slide a finger up the leg of his boxers, pulling gently on them as you stare down at the flag adorning his ass and balls.

"Yep. You're Star Spangled Joel with your side kicks, Liberty and Justice."

You give his balls a little squeeze again as you name them.

"Now that you pledged your allegiance, you gonna keep yappin' or you gonna prove it?"

But it's too late, because you're already sinking to your knees, right there in his bedroom, a place you both know you're going to wake up in the morning, wrapped in each other as the sunlight peeks through the curtains.

"Just try to stop me."

next part

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[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Postcard Marks the Spot

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Canon typical torture that's about it in this one.

Author’s Note: Soooo..... I lied. There's definitely going to be more parts to this. All because I can't control myself. And if the muse wants to see this through, then I'm gonna do just that. You'll need to read the first two parts of this to understand what's going on. Don't forget to follow @xxwritemeastoryxxlibrary and turn on notifications just in case tumblr doesn't notify you with the tags.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

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Her throat was raw from screaming. If it hadn't been for the mouth guard she was sure she would have broken teeth from clenching her jaw tightly as the electricity pulsed through her. The numbness she felt once the machine stopped barely gave her relief. 

Fight it. You can fight it. The words she constantly repeated on a loop from the moment they first placed her into the chair. You are strong enough to fight this. You made it through worse.

"Who are you?" A woman's voice filled the air but she refused to find the source. 

This wasn't the first time she heard the question and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. It was a question to see how much of her memories had been taken. To gage how much more they needed to subject her through. 

Her answers varied with each time. At first she only told them to fuck off. Or occasionally she'd get the chance to spit in the face of the doctor that stood too close to her. The more they began to chisel away at her, the more her answers changed. 

Just a random stranger. 

The person that's going to kill you when I get out of this chair. 

An ex Avenger.

Y/N. 

Phantom

The moment the mouth guard was pulled from her lips. She panted out her birth name. The name she had barely remembered from her time in the Red Room. The name that had been taken from her the moment she sat in the chair for the first time. 

It was the name that held no real meaning to her anymore. She had felt more of an attachment to the fake name she had been going by for the last handful of years than the name she had been born with. Yet at that very moment, that's the only name she remembered. 

She watched as the woman standing in front of her wrote on the clipboard after she had spoken. As she did, she tried to remember how she had gotten there or how she even ended up strapped to the chair. The more she tried to remember the more her head hurt, and not just from the process they subjected her to. 

"Do you know who this is?" 

Another question they kept asking her before holding up a series of photos. Sometimes it'd be a group photo of the Avengers at a press conference or individual photos of each of them. Other times it'd be a photo of her original handler or several other faces recognizable through Hydra’s history. And each time she gave the appropriate answer to ensure they knew her memory was fine. 

Until it wasn't. It was taking her longer to answer. Longer to figure out if she actually knew who she was looking at. At the beginning she'd easily say their names without any hesitation. But as each session progressed, she'd fight harder to remember their names. Sometimes she couldn’t at all. 

A photo of Bucky was held up for her to see this time. By the looks of it the photo had been taken on a mission. His brows had been furrowed in concentration as he held a gun up, ready to pull the trigger when needed. 

There were plenty of things going on in the photo, but she could only get her eyes to focus on his eyes. How familiar they had been to her no matter how many times she had seen them before and during her current situation. 

With the familiarity came a sadness that filled her chest. A pain that she no longer understood why it had been there as she looked at his eyes. But it lingered in the pit of her stomach. But she knew him. Otherwise there'd be no familiar feeling as she looked at the photo. 

Her brows furrowed as she tried to get her brain to work. To pull the information out from behind the wall that is being put up. After a moment an echo of his laugh filled her mind. 

His laughter had been contagious the whole night. It was a sight she hadn't seen before and she was enjoying every moment of it, committing it to memory as if it was the last time she'd ever hear him laugh like that.

His vibranium arm had been holding several bags filled with merchandise he had acquired through the night. Y/N had enjoyed watching him go from booth to booth and taking everything in before deciding that what the vendor was selling was worth the price and bought it without second guessing himself. 

Taking Bucky to a smaller fantasy based convention for his birthday was something that he never once expected to ever do. But seeing the excitement on his face as he went through the whole day pulling her to the different booths that caught his attention had been worth it. 

For the first time since completely turning her back on Hydra, she got to really get to know who Bucky was. And from the moment she found the flier advertising the convention, she knew she had to take him. 

"You have no idea how much I needed this." Bucky said as he pulled her closer to his side and put his arm around her shoulder. "I don't know how to express how much I appreciate you pushing me to give this a chance."

"Seeing you this happy and excited is all the expression I need." She kissed his cheek before giving him a smile. "Happy Birthday Bucky."

"His name is James Barnes." She said a moment later as she lifted her head up slightly to look at the doctor in front of her. "He's an Avenger. Former Winter Soldier and hostage of Hydra, just as I am."

A small tsk followed by a sigh came from the doctor. Before she knew it, the mouth guard was being forced back into her mouth. 

She braced herself for the blow. But no matter how many times she had experienced it, her body was never prepared for the current of electricity being sent through her. 

At the sound of the door opening, the doctor didn't bother to look up from the page she continued to write notes on. "This process would go a lot faster if we had her book." 

"That was never recovered." A soldier responded as he came to a stop beside the doctor. His eyes moved over to chair the moment a new wave of screams left her mouth. "We can only go by the pages we've found that Pierce had copied during his temporary time as her handler." 

"And nothing has come up from when you captured her?" The doctor looked up at the soldier before checking the watch on her wrist. 

"No." The soldier responded. "For all we know she could have destroyed it along with the base." 

"What are the chances of inserting new commands?" The doctor asked as she wrote a few more things on the clipboard before nodding her head to her assistant, indicating to turn off the machine. 

He watched as Phantom sagged in the chair, panting. He had seen the fire in her eyes the day they brought her in. As she opened her eyes, he could tell that fire had been snuffed out. There would only be a few more times needed if they were lucky.

A small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "There's only one way to find out. "

___

It wasn't long after Bucky explained the meaning of the postcard that the team found themselves back on the quinjet. There was no actual plan of action or data to go off of. Only a destination based off of the location on the front of the postcard.

"What are the chances of her still being there?" Natasha asked, looking over at Bucky. 

Their destination was only a few minutes away and all of them, especially Bucky were getting antsy. They weren't sure what would come from this trip. For it being 3 weeks since the postcard had been sent, they expected to almost find nothing once they landed. 

"Slim to none." His attention was on the postcard in his hand. He hadn't put it down since Sam had handed it to him. His fleshed fingers would occasionally run along the grooves of her writing. "For her to send this, there had to be no other way of getting out of it." 

"Then why send the postcard?" Sam asked. 

Bucky’s eyes looked over the writing on the back for the millionth time. He could hear her words play through his mind. Okay, worst ever possible case scenario. He realized now that it wasn't just a random scenario. It was a just in case idea if either of them would ever need it. 

He now understood why she had done it. They both had a past with Hydra. It was only a matter of time until someone attempted to get them within their grasp. Y/N knew she would be the easier target with the programming still locked within her mind. 

This was her way of subtly adding in the details just in case something came up. And while the first stake out with the potential scenarios had been a few months after her escape from Hydra, she wanted it embedded in any way she could. 

"It lets us know where to start looking." He responded a moment later. "Someone could have seen something. Or if she was keeping anything with her, that'd be where she left it. If we're lucky, we'll find something that will let us know at least in what direction Hydra went."

"Not to be the downer on the thought process," Sam began as he leaned forward in his seat. "What if that is the only thing we have to go on? She's been damn near impossible to even get a trail on after she stopped using the safe houses. For Hydra to find her, they've got something we don't and any trace of that could be gone." 

That had crossed Bucky’s mind several times on the way over. Each thought process comes to the same two ends. On one hand there was a possibility that there'd be nothing else to go on. On the other, there was ache in his chest that screamed she'd leave something behind for him to find. 

"What is it?" She asked as she finished wrapping her wounded hand in gauze. Bucky's brows had been furrowed as if he'd been thinking hard about something.

"Your hypothetical today." He said with a sigh. "I couldn't stop thinking about it." 

She ran her good hand along her face. "Was it the Hydra question?" She watched as he nodded before she closed the distance between them. "If there's one thing I know, you'll always be free from them." She placed her hands on his cheeks as she looked up at him. "You're strong enough to fight without them getting into your head. And I'd be there guns ablazing to pull you out before they could try anything." 

He chuckled as he placed his hands on top of hers. "Humor me. What's waiting on the other side of the postcard?" 

She shook her head slightly, a smile pulling at her lips. "There’d be hope waiting on the other side. Whatever we have with us. My heart." They both chuckled. "If I ever needed to use Siberia, I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be." 

"You just have to trust me when I say this might be more than just a postcard." Bucky said as he looked over at Sam. 

____

Once landed, the team had split up. Bucky took one look at his surroundings and gave the others several locations to search. Especially places he knew would have vantage points of the town. While any other time he'd willingly go searching for any sign of Y/N, he knew he had to be the one to go to the shop on the postcard. 

He, along with Tony and Natasha, began making their way through the center of the town. Vendors lined both sides of the street. And as the town normally did, crowds gathered at each vendor.

Bucky’s eyes had constantly been scanning the area. They never settled in one spot for too long. They were scanning for the shop or anything that could be lurking around. If Hydra was still around, he didn't want to be caught off guard. 

When the small shop came into view, Bucky’s pace picked up as he made his way over. He hadn't cared if the others had taken a second longer to realize where he was going. He hadn't cared how the bell rattled loudly against the door as he roughly pulled it open moments later. He just hoped that there was something. Anything to lead him in the right direction of Y/N. 

As he scanned his eyes over the shop, he noticed three things. One, the way a glare formed on the shop owner's face before his eyes widened in surprise. Second, was the empty spot in the aisle that Bucky could only assume once held shelves. And third, his nose could pick up on the lingering scent of bleach. 

There was no doubt that something had happened within the shop. He felt some relief that something had happened instead of coming up empty the moment he walked in. He felt it in his gut that she had been there. That the postcard hadn't led to a dead end. 

He could almost imagine the path into the shop she would have taken before she reached the rotating shelf of postcards. The back and front entrance was visible no matter where she was within the shop. Several aisles filled with anything she could possibly grab to help her. He understood why it had to be this shop. 

"You're the Avengers." The shop owner noted as Tony and Natasha began to walk towards him. Bucky followed behind shortly after and noticed how the shop owner's face quickly steeled over as if he was supposed to be that way from the beginning. 

"At least that makes things easier." Tony said  as he looked at Bucky and Natasha before looking back at the shop owner. Tony opened his mouth to continue when the shop owner quickly interrupted. 

"Are you safe?" Bucky watched as the man asked Tony. He seemed not to care about what Tony may have wanted to ask and it made Bucky curious as to why. 

"Safe?" A confused look formed on Tony’s face. "Of course I'm safe." Tony then pulled up a projection of Y/N. "Have you seen her come in?" 

The owner looked at the projection for a moment before shaking his head. "No." He looked towards Natasha. "Are you safe?" 

The three of them looked at each other for a moment before Natasha nodded her head. "I'm safe. We're all safe. We're just looking for our friend to make sure she is safe." 

It was Natasha’s words that clicked something in Bucky’s mind. Anyone else would have just given an answer about if they had seen Y/N or not. But this man had been intentionally avoiding any questions about Y/N. 

All he cared about was asking if they were safe. A question that seemed pointless given the current circumstances. But Y/N had sent him a postcard with a coded message. A code that had been tied into the steps he had created with a scenario she had come up with for the sake of making a stakeout easier to handle. 

The owner shook his head slightly before looking at Bucky. There was a look in his eyes, almost pleading that one of them knew how to respond. "Are you safe?" 

An annoyed sigh passed Tony’s lips at the words but Bucky nodded his head. "Pancakes."

"What?" Both Tony and Natasha said at the same time. 

"I'll explain later."  Bucky shrugged. 

A smile pulled at the shop owner's lips as he kept his eyes on Bucky. "Your preference?"

Bucky chuckled at the memory that crossed his mind. One that left him and Y/N tangled in each other before the smoke alarm went off. "Regular, but the burnt ones made the memories." 

The shop owner nodded his head quickly. "One moment." He moved away from the counter and made his way towards the back room. 

Bucky looked over to find Natasha and Tony sharing the same look of curiosity. Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "Y/N played this smart. Anyone else would have given you an answer about if they saw her. Not look directly at an image of her and lie before asking the same thing to the person standing next to you." He looked over at Nat. "He completely ignored what you said after asking. But when you mentioned we were making sure Y/N was safe, it hit me what the phrase was. So I gave it to him." 

Before Natasha or Tony could respond in any way, the shop owner came back carrying a decorative box. One that was decent in size but small enough to be held in one hand. 

"Your friend said to give this to you." He held it out for Bucky. Bucky gently reached out to take it from him. "She told me she'd only trust the person who could answer correctly. Said what was left of her life was in that box." 

"Thank you." Bucky said as he brought the box closer to him. His eyes never left the lid of the box as he had. 

I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be.

Part of him was afraid to even look inside of it. If this was all she had kept with her, it added to the guilt that was already hooked within him. The other part of him wanted to know what items the box contained that would help put him in the right direction in finding her.

"Was this where she was taken?" 

Bucky had heard Natasha’s voice ask the question. But his brain wasn't fully latching onto the conversation as his focus was now on opening the box. 

"No. She killed two of them here before she left. Tourists saw soldiers take her down at the next block over." 

She fought her way out.That would explain the empty space and smell of bleach. Bucky thought as he placed the box and the lid on the counter top in front of him. The box had been filled halfway with items Y/N had put in there. 

At first glance Bucky could see some pictures. Pictures that made a small tick of a smile pull at his lips. A strip of photos from a booth stuck out and he gently pulled it out taking in the images. 

His heart longed for the moments the camera had captured. The smile on both of their faces as they looked at each other instead of the camera. How her eyes had shined so beautifully as she looked over at him. Or how he kissed her at the right time for the last photo. The first time he ever kissed her was captured for them in a small square photo. 

His face fell as that guilty feeling poked out at him. He hated himself for forcing her to leave. He hated that he waited so long to start visiting safe houses and leaving her messages. Messages that had been left unanswered as those safe houses stayed vacant. 

Sighing, he placed the picture strip back on top and lifted the pile of photos to stand against the edge of the box. Underneath the photos were a few folded maps. 

Maps of the different locations she had been in over the last year and a half. Circles and Xs were visible in certain locations. No doubt places she deemed safe and places to stay clear of. On the top right corner of the first map, her writing had caught his interest quickly.

If you're reading this, thank you for coming. You didn't have to, but you did. You are the only person who would understand the contents of this. Keep it safe. Keep it hidden. I trust you with it. 

His eyebrow raised as he lifted the maps. Beneath them were two journals stacked on top of each other. One of them he recognized right away. The other not so much. 

The one he recognized had been Y/N’s journal. One that she had kept with her on every mission, every vacation, and that she wrote in nightly. Her favorite color protected the pages she had been writing on. And by the simple glance of it, there were only a few more pages left untouched. 

When he pulled the second journal out, his heart dropped. The black leather journal stared right up at him. The white lettering on the front was bright against the cover. The journal is newer in comparison to the one that still occasionally haunts his dreams. 

His fleshed fingers ran over the etched lettering in the leather. Each letter he traced with his finger proved further that Y/N did her best to make sure no one could just come along and surprise her. She'd go down as herself and not as the asset they made her into. 

As his fingers came to the last letter on the cover, flashes of a red journal appeared across his mind. How he loathed the memories of sitting in that suppressing machine and seeing the soldier in front of him read from the journal. How a journal such as that one, and the one in his hand, had the capability to take away a person's free will in an instant. 

Phantom. The front of the cover stated. It wasn't a symbol like the one he had seen being used during his time in Hydra’s hold. A single word that held more secrets than a symbol. 

Every detail about her time as Phantom was sitting in his hand. Her trigger words, the torment and conditioning she had been subjected to, along with notes from her handlers about her missions would be within the pages of the journal. The one thing that kept her from ever falling into the wrong hands without a fight and he now had it. 

She trusted him with the very detailed past she tried so hard to keep hidden from him. Trusted him with the very thing that could be used against her time and time again if allowed. He had it in his hand and he wanted nothing more than to watch it burn.

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