#jack rollins (mentioned)

[winter-angst]

Jack forcing himself to say to Brock, “maybe widow isn’t the play” instead of “maybe if you hit your shots as often as your dad hit you we wouldn’t be losing” is PEAK growth 🙌🏾

[aki-draws-things]

Just a little thought I got while trying to get my hair back cause ugh, heat.

Jack, during a mission lasting too long, unable to get enough gel to keep his hair out if the goddamn way (his words, not mine), ending up stealing a hairband from whoever (actually, it's Jenkins. And yeah, she carries more because of that. For winter too sometimes, guys, we don't want our pretty asset to suffer the heat, right?) and trying to tie them, with very little success, but now he carries on the mission with that spiky thing of a ponytail.

And no, rumlow is definitely not distracted by that. Or by the hair that escape the hairband and gets a little curly. Nope. Not at all.

[anika-ann]

Paperweight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, prequel, canon-ish (see A/N)

Pairining: (pre) Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4000

Summary: Falling in love with Steve Rogers is easy. Hiding it while your friendship blooms is considerably harder. Especially when he’s being absurdly loveable and perfectly hot during a training.

In which you stay behind after a work-out, bear witness to a training session led by Steve and are asked for assistance. How could you say no to the man?

Warnings: FLUFF, mentions of canon-typical violence, language? Hopeless idiots in love.

A/N:  a slice-of-life standalone or a one-shot set about half a year before Love on the Brain series; reader is called “Agent Jones”; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

If there was one thing you had known long before you joined the Avengers Initiative, it was that falling for a friend tended to be a complicated thing. It was even more complicated if one was worried it might not work out – which was practically always. The growing affection and attraction were not easy to hide, especially from perceptive people. People like Black Widow. Or worse, Steve Rogers himself.

The one thing making it easier was that everyone and their (grand)mother – in this case, the saying was way more accurate than in all other cases you were aware of – had a crush on Steve Rogers too. That meant that if someone caught you staring, lingering, or even gushing (usually meaning defending) Steve, it was hardly something unique to you. No one would think twice about it. Even as his friend, you were a person with well-working eyes and blood pumping your veins and it was indeed very hard to miss that Steve’s body was literally boosted to perfection to become the peak of man. That was fine.

However, the one thing making it insanely difficult was Steve. His irritating goodness of heart that was actually way more attractive that all typical bad boys from the movies made it seem. When he added the mischievous side to his persona, his wit, his warmth, both physical and in demeanour… and the numerous numerous occasions where he could show off not all his character qualities, but also his strength, it was impossible to stay within the lines of a simple crush.

Growing affection and attraction were never easy to hide, but god damn, in the case of Steven Grant Rogers, it was task fit for titans. And you were just a walking mass of bones, flesh, blood and hormones with a brain that might be rather well-developed, but could still short-circuit when Steve showed off the biceps that could probably bench press you without breaking a sweat – or flashed you an easy smile with the sweetest edge or a spark of being up to no good.

Now, it was given that Steve was a fan of mixed groups in training. Newbies with old dogs who needed to accept they needed to learn new tricks, men with women, different departments and teams mingling together and sharing tips. But Steve, for most part, was also a very reasonable man. He did see that there were advantages to training in groups divided according to sex as well. As someone who had spent the bigger part of his fully conscious life in a body more similar to those of women, he was aware that women needed to learn how to use their agility and how to turn the weight and strength advantage of their opponents against them for instance; men, on the other hand, needed times where they would not haveto hold back completely during training in fear of making the match unequal.

Apparently, Steve also believed that men needed to build their strength in a drool-worthy way.

You had lingered after the training session you had with your female colleagues led by the infamous Natasha Romanoff – or Nat, for you – feeling the need for extra stretches. Nat said it was fine and there was an area in the largest gym designated for stretching even as the main area could already be occupied by someone else. The someone else were men, led by Steve and Jack Rollins; you expected no issues.

You did not expect the training session to turn into a drool-fest so fast. But maybe you should have.

The architectonic genius designing the gym must have indeed been a genius, because even as the group of agents and recruits would have been out of your earshot due to the distance, you could hear Steve’s voice clear as day. You refused to believe it was because you were tuned to his gentle and yet commanding timbre he used whenever he switched to the role of a teacher, the role of the Captain.

You listened. You simply couldn’t help it: not only because it was Steve, but because of what he was saying was, in fact, intriguing.

Squats with weights, front lever. One thick iron pole, three people. As he described it, you admittedly couldn’t imagine how that would work.

And then he asked Rollins to help him demonstrate, picking an agent whose name you couldn’t recall to help by performing the front lever, which alone was a feat because of the strong core muscles and arms it required, along with incredible bodily awareness and coordination. At first, you were grateful Steve wasn’t the one showing that, because seeing him control his body so perfectly as he held onto the pole to basically levitate above the ground would send your mind to the gutter real fast.

Your mind ended up in the gutter anyway. Because the two remaining men – Steve and Rollins – were holding the pole on their shoulders while Agent Whatshisname performed his task. Steve already had to be slightly crouched because he was a good foot taller than Rollins, so it was truly difficult for you not to stare. But then… then they made a squat. Using the agent as a damn weight.

The pole rested on Steve’s wide shoulders with ease as it was nothing but a paperweight, the expanse of his back muscles dancing under his white tee. His sweats hugged his defined ass the way your hands itched to. Your stretches were forgotten.

It was just a brief moment, even if generous enough, and then he and Rollins rose to their (almost) full height. And then they repeated the motion just to show off and to test you. You were just a breathing walking mass of bones, flesh, blood and hormones indeed; you felt physically unable to avert your gaze. As for your brain, well. It circled straight to the thought of being stretched in a whole different way.

Being Steve's friend and only think about him as such was truly an impossible task.

“Easy for you, you could probably lift him on your own!” a voice called out from the crowd, clearly referring to Steve and you internally cursed and used all your willpower to snap your gaze away at last, hearing Steve’s chuckle and the murmur of agreement.

Gee, Mr. Mouthy, thanks for that mental image.

“True. But that is not the point,” Steve explained, thanking the agent for assistance in their demonstration. “This is not all about strength. If you're thinking why bother with this when you could simply lift weights...”

More murmurs of agreement followed and you asked yourself the same, for you could have lived without another image added to the collection haunting the better of your sleepless nights.

“This is not an exercise to build strength, not primarily. It's a group exercise. It’s about cooperation. It took us a hot minute too before we could show you. Come here, Agent Stalinski, please. If you didn’t mind, you’d help us demonstrate why.”

Once again, you did not find it in yourself to resist watching them; this time from genuine curiosity. At least this time, you made a point of laying your chest on your knees and only peeking at them for a few seconds, as Agent Stalinski, who seemed to regret his decision to speak up already, obediently walked to the pole. He could have refused, but he clearly didn’t want to look like a chicken – and didn’t want to disrespect Steve. It was never easy to decide and disrespect a kind man without looking like an idiot and feeling that part too. Giving a choice and respecting it was part of Steve’s charm and strength as a leader.

Without another word, Agent Stalinski performed the front lever as Rollins and Steve held the pole.

“If I use all my strength to show off, we'll fail... ready?” Steve said, waiting for Rollins to nod before they squatted.

And then Steve held back his bodily superiority considerably less than before and stood up with vigour.

It was an exhilarating sight; not only because poor Rollins nearly toppled over and even importantly, because Stalinski saved himself half a second before falling on his ass hard, but obviously also because Steve showing off his skills was a treat to watch. More so when he was proving a point; that was always fun.

And your heart could melt when Steve offered Agent Stalinski a hand to help him up, effectively shutting up the cackles that sounded among the other agents with one single glare; because humiliate the agent for mouthing off was not the point.

Goddamn Steve’s golden heart. He truly wasn’t making things any easier for you – and probably half the agency who was in love with him too.

You could hear a smile in his voice when he spoke up again, almost as if he knew.But you, in return, knew he was simply satisfied with proving his point and the agents understanding the task and the goal of the exercise. Understanding that bodily strength wasn’t everything and they needed to believe both in themselves and in each other; like Peggy Carter or Dr.Erskine once believed in him even if others didn’t.

“Like I said. It's about cooperation. One weak link – weak in working with others, not necessarily in bodily strength – and this isn’t going to work. So… let's group up and try."

As the group of agents begun to move around, you returned your full attention to your stretches, breathing in deeply, slowly releasing the air as you felt your muscles cry in both strain and relief. Remaining in position, you closed your eyes, breathing through the slight pull of pain further. You would sleep like a baby tonight; Natasha did not hold back on you, but that was part of the thrill. She pushed you all, but with enough kindness to make it worth it and a lot of more satisfaction when you could see and feel your progress.

You heard the steps as soon as you felt the floor vibrate under you, and your heart involuntarily fluttered. You should truly not be able to recognize Steve’s jog, because that bordered on creepy and obsessive, but you did go running with him quite often so you could blame it on that. At least that was how you reasoned with yourself. It had nothing to do with the fact that your mind tended to gravitate towards him too often, feel his presence, because it felt like first warm sunrays of the approaching summer.

Easing your position, you looked up as he approached you with a slightly bashful smile, a brief sparkle of mischief in his eye.

Before he could even open his mouth, you glanced behind him, noticing the issue and already guessing why he was here with you instead of the trainees.

One agent stayed alone. That meant that either both Steve and Rollins would be in a group with him, leaving the others without proper supervision and assistance or the one agent would be left out. Or you could join them for a bit. The choice of letting Steve use you – for the exercise, as a faceless agent only to even the numbers in an exercise – was a real no-brainer.

Once again, you reasoned that leaving the poor loner without a chance to train would leave you feeling evil when it was no problem for you to help; and it really would, if you were being honest with yourself. If you got to see Steve up close, either working out or directing other agents with his leadership skills, as a bonus, that was simply a nice coincidence, wasn’t it?

Raising your hand with a tired smile and gesturing for him to help you up, his grin widened, pulling you up without a second thought.

“Hey Sparkles,” he hummed gently, squeezing your hand before releasing you. “Could-“

“Sure, GG,” you interrupted him, rolling your shoulders and pretending your heart didn’t skip a beat when his eyebrows rose, one corner of his lips quirking.

“Well, now I’m tempted to ask anything.”

You gulped. It was nothing but a friendly teasing, you knew. But damn if it didn’t make your stomach somersault a bit, if you didn’t think you saw something flash in his eyes.

The thing was, he could ask you anything. And your little foolish heart would probably command you to do it. Especially when he smiled like that as he towered over you, eyes roaming over you with slight concern in his expression.

“Thank you. You don't even have to do the horizontal workout-“ he noted, a genuine worry in his voice as if he didn’t just said the words horizontal workout in a completely different context than you would like him to. He had to know about how you felt about him and was doing this on purpose, wasn’t he? “Just...”

“Be your paperweight?” you suggested cheekily, hopefully masking how the probably unintended innuendo made your face hot.

“I mean-“ You raised eyebrows when he looked as if he was about to deny it. Really? “Well, yes, basically. It’s an important role either way. And I know you could do it, but you already have one session behind you and you were already almost done with your stretches. I understand if you don’t want to undo all of that. So really, any way you’re willing to assist us, we’ll be grateful.”

It truly would have been easier if Steve was only attractive; or only kind, considerate or passionate. But the fact he was all of it was a deadly cocktail you had got addicted rather fast. He was like a magnet, calling out for every part of you and pulling you into his orbit with ease and inevitability. How could you say no to him?

“Sure, whatever. We'll see. But if I’m joining you, I might as well go for the full experience, right?”

Steve smiled at you, a proud edge to the soft curl of his lips, as he beckoned to the agents. The warmth spreading through your body was already well-worth the hard work you had ahead of you.

“Right. Let’s go.”

People who even suspected that they were in love should be stripped of their lawful right to make decisions and be declared temporary insane for the time being. Or maybe that just applied to people in Steve Rogers’ vicinity. That was what you thought of as you wiped the sweat off, feeling your hands trembling minutely with exhaustion.

Of course you had gone for it. You went for the work-out with all you had and maybe even what you didn’t have, but how could you relent for even a second when you had Steve’s proud grin directed straight at you whenever you tried another rep and succeeded at least partially? Your abdomen muscles burned, but when something flashed in his eye, admiration and something you couldn’t quite decipher beyond the emotion being a good one, the pleasant warmth in your belly simply took over and you gritted your teeth once more.

Your body was utterly ruined, all thanks to Steve; and it might not be in all ways you sometimes dreamed about, but the satisfaction it brought you was still well worth it.

The shaking not so much.

The other agents went to run a few laps under Rollins’ command as Steve followed you back to the stretching area, smile all soft and playful even if a little concerned since you walked with a slight wobble. Your core muscles were so overworked that it even affected your ability to walk.

You’d be sore tomorrow; very sore. If there was a chance to prevent at least part of the pain awaiting you in the morning, it was only natural you would take it, right?

That was how you reasoned with yourself. That was how you justified that when Steve’s gentle giant hands carefully took yours with an unspoken question, thumbs pressing into your right forearm just right, you let out the words ‘yes please’ with as little moany quality in your voice as possible.

You must have succeeded, because Steve didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he was polite enough not to mention it. Needless to say that you were grateful you could blame the flush in your face on your previous work-out.

Working his way up your arm in a perfectly collected manner, Steve pressed against the tendons and muscles with precision and well-calculated amount of strength; he wasn’t rough at all, yet he made sure you felt it.

You would bet there were a lot of things which he could make you feel it, but you tried to steer your mind away from the gutter as much as possible. Once again, you blamed your momentary inability to do that more than usual on exhaustion, the lovely visuals you had been offered, and Steve’s more than pleasant touch.

“Thank you, Sparkles. You did amazing,” Steve spoke simply but sincerely, an easy smile on his lips as if his thumbs weren’t kneading the exact spot you needed, flooding your body with the relief you craved; your muscles. Your muscles craved.

Focus.

The gush of wind created by the running agents helped you ground yourself in reality.

You weren’t alone. There was a purpose – a very platonic purpose – to what Steve was doing. He was thanking you for being a good colleague and teammate and it was time again for your brain to switch into that mode. Because there was no romantic mode in your relationship with Steve. There were two people needed for that and if all Steve was offering was his absolutely exquisite friendship, the best-friendship as it seemed to bloom lately, you’d grab it and never let go. Not for anything.

And you’d take a quick massage to your exhausted muscles too.

To sweeten the deal, it felt really good to be praised by Captain America himself. You would be lying if compliments from the Steve Rogers, the ultimate good man, were the only ones that mattered to you; the side to Steve which carried the mantle of the Captain and appreciated you wasn’t exactly something to sneer at, quite on the contrary.

“I didn't want him to feel out if I could help,” you shrugged, earning a slightly scolding look as you moved your shoulders, the arm under Steve’s touch tensing when it was supposed to be relaxed. You grinned apologetically. “And you know you're a good motivator- I mean--- motivational speaker... whatever.”

The gentle rumble of Steve’s chuckle was nothing short of warm even as his grin gained a teasing note.

“Why thank you. I'll consider a career change to a motivational speaker indeed.”

You chuckled too – and instantly regretted it as your belly spasmed minutely, trembling due to the way you overdid the work-out. Steve’s fingers ceased their movements, simply gripping your arm in support. Glancing up, you found his brows furrowed in worry.

Bless the sweet man. But if he was so concerned about your abdomen muscles, maybe he could massage them too- stop.

“Yeah, okay, maybe I pushed myself a bit too much,” you admitted with another chuckle, gritting your teeth to stop the hiss threatening to escape your lips. “Glad I could help. But you mister, are forbidden from making me laugh for the next 48 hours.”

He glanced at the finger you pointed at him with slight offence.

“But I like making you laugh?”

You glanced up on instinct. There was the faintest pout to his lips as your eyes met his and you found yourself on the receiving end of the warmest gaze. His hands were cradling your elbow now – giant and gentle still, thumb brushing over your bicep.

Yes. It was a true shame that Steve’s feelings towards you were merely platonic. Because at this moment, the blue pools of his irises seemed so inviting you’d follow him anywhere, to hell and back; and you knew he’d keep you safe, held your elbow tenderly but firmly when the need would arise and he’d protect your heart too, because Steve Rogers was as much of a fighter as a protector. You already knew as much. You wanted to know even more.

You wanted more. Selfishly and wistfully, you wanted more, especially in moments like this, moments that felt as easy as breathing with him even when your chest felt so full that breathing in seemed difficult – useless. Had he leaned forward, had he taken your lips, you wouldn’t care for oxygen, you’d- stop.

You had to stop and take a cold shower in the evening.

“GG-“

“Cap? What’s next?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Rollins’ howl reached your ears.

Whatever you were about to say died in your throat, whatever your hazed brain planned. You had to admit it was rather satisfactory to see Steve jump a little too, his hands practically dropping your arm and realizing last minute you had obediently left it completely limp and it might hurt. So he gingerly pressed into your bicep two more times, slowly manoeuvring your arm back down, wary of any rapid movements.

“Be right with you!” Steve called back, turning to you with another smile. You probably only imagined the hint of regret and yet; it was a nice feeling to see you’d be missed.

“Well, the crowds call your name, Mr. Motivational Speaker. Thanks for the quick massage, GG.”

“Thank you. Now go get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

You cackled at his unamused face when you addressed him as such, quickly replaced by a brief smirk at how you instantly regretted your actions, your belly protesting again. Serves you right, that smirk said, but quickly blended into the signature worried frown.

“Rest, Agent Jones,” he bit back good-naturedly, shooting you one last glance before he jogged back to other agents under his wing.

You watched him retreat, allowing yourself one last indulgence in the form of the glorious view of his back and ass, before you sighed and turned to walk away, the wobble in your step still present. You hoped a hot shower would ease the tension in your abdomen; however, you did not forget about the need for a cold shower either.

You supposed such was the price for being friends with Steven Grant Rogers.

You didn’t mind paying it, more so when you were gaining too.

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did: the evening found you with a knock on your door from your sweet neighbour and a sweet aroma of sugar, cinnamon and apples. Steve stood in your doorway with a slightly bashful but brilliant grin, holding a plate with at least a third of a freshly baked pie that might as well have been prepared by Martha Stewart herself, but was baked by her biggest competition in the baking department.

“Is this allowed or does it fall under don't make me laugh category?” Steve questioned innocently and this time, you remembered to lay your arm over your belly when you laughed a bit, smiling wide, something so painfully soft, gentle and just a little heavy humming in your chest.

“Well, I think this falls into making me smile category, so I'll allow it,” you said, not even pretending you needed to think too hard.

“Good. I like making you smile too.”

The acute feeling in your chest grew – warm, tender and bright – an echo of outrage in your ribcage that Steve could say the words so easily as if they couldn’t be a declaration of love as well as friendship.

“Yeah. I like it too. And same,” you hummed, stepping back to let him in. “Come in, neighbour.”

As you invited him into your apartment, you knew that you were – all over again – inviting him into your heart too.

Maybe that was a dangerous thing to do; but in your line of work, a little danger was an occupational hazard. Of all the risks you could take upon, carrying love for Steve Rogers was one you’d take upon gladly. You’d happily taken the burden; because the weight you’d carry couldn’t be heavier than a paperweight. And even if it was, if that was a weight you were allowed to carry, at least platonically, you’d do so with pride – and with your whole heart.

Because Steve Rogers deserved nothing less.

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Saw a video of this specific work out and my mind couldn’t let go of it… and it’s no longer available, sorry 🤐

Re-reading this, I am genuinely shocked they lasted so long and that it took the Love on the Brain case to break them… well, put them together, whatever :)

I hope you enjoyed this little floofy blurb and that autumn is being kind to you 💕

[pegasusdragontiger]

"FUBAR"

Avengers AU - Chapter 1

Characters: Brock Rumlow, OC!Reaper, Jack Rollins, others mentioned

Posted: July 12th

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, cursing, guns, knives, aliens, tagged per chapter

A/N: yup a new one. I might be a little obsessed with him. Anyhow, couldn't stop thinking of "Save Her" and this was born. No idea where it's gonna go but...

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

Read On Ao3

They had worked with other teams before.

More often than not they had been the ones to clean up after them and drag them out of alien infested FUBAR situations.

Brock's strike team was made up of five.

Jack: second in command, communications, reliable

Elliott: jack of all trades, the guy was the second MacGyver.

Kevin: medic and their personal miracle

Joshua: demolition and explosives expert

Ben: sniper

What else did he need?

They didn't need anyone else, they worked perfectly together.

*

*

It was the millionth op out, two teams had gone into the HYDRA facility, the Avengers would be in next but his team had been closer. Jack had nodded agreeing they should go in.

How else could they collect a paycheck?

They were four floors down when they found themselves backed into a corner. "These things stink-"

"Sulfur," Brock bit out.

"Great, fucking demons?" Ben's voice rasped.

"Too many coming in–"

"Elliot?"

"Just a hit to the head, good thing he was wearing his helmet," Kevin supplied, still kneeling next to the larger man.

"This isn't gonna be pretty," Ben said.

"How far out are those damn Avengers?" Brock asked, gun up at the ready.

"Fifteen minutes," Jack supplied.

"Shhhh," Brock hushed and the group went silent. He sucked in slow precise breaths, watching as the enemy came around the corner, the same way they had come only to find this dead end.

Ben had been right, Brock noted as the ugly creatures entered, claws clanking against the flooring and wings fluttering out behind them. They snapped at each other, chattering, and glancing around. Brock itched, body tense, he knew the fight was gonna be hard, he would be surprised if they survived fifteen minutes.

He signaled to those behind him, Jack inches from him, that their enemy was making their way closer.

As the group closed in on their position he was ready to move– but Brock saw a body come flying from above them, he briefly remembered why they were here- two previous teams had entered the HYDRA base as he watched the fully masked agent slam into the body of one demon, knives sinking into the back of its neck with satisfying squelch.

"Contact–"

"REAPER!! REAPER GET THE FUCK BcACK HERE!!" came a booming voice.

"Get out of here–" the agent cried, the demon they crouched on blindly reached back as its legs buckled under it, the agent dug their knees in before managing to straighten and kick off as another swiped where they had been, the demon under them slamming into the ground, the fully geared agent slamming into another body and stabbed blindly.

"FUBAR," Brock breathed as he watched this rogue agent wreak havoc, ugly demons scattering from the grouping as the small body ducked under a swipe of claws. Jack chuckled beside him. "Jack on me, Joshua keep an eye out," he felt the men nod before he stepped out gun raised, shots firing off and echoing through the room. He kept an eye on their new friend and made his way out, Jack came up beside him, both of them dropping their guns and switching to hand to hand when in close range, Brock came to a halt staring down at the young man that had so recklessly come flying out. Vibrant green eyes stared up at him in bewilderment. Did he even know they had been there?

"The fuck did y'all come from?" came the distorted voice from behind the mask, they shook their head suddenly, "doesn't matter– time to go!"

"STRIKE TEAM MOVE IT!" He shouted out.

Green eyes widened as they watched his team come barreling out. "A team of five?"

"Avengers inbound," Jack bit out.

There were two teams, just not the full roster.

Brock met the lead for the second, keeping an eye on the short guy that hurried to where the squad was grouped.

"Pollaki," he said by way of introduction.

"Rumlow, quite a handful you got there." Brock nodded at the kid, Jack snorted behind him, knowing for Brock to say such a thing meant he had been somewhat impressed.

Pollaki nodded, "that's Reaper," he paused, eyes flicking over Brock's team, "they're gonna need a new home. Just two of my team made it out– I'm headed out for retirement," he added with a bone weary sigh.

Brock squared his shoulders.

Jack leaned into him, "could use a good fighter. He handled himself well enough."

"He's insane," Brock bit out.

Pollaki shrugged, "Just an offer, the kid will likely end up with Fredericksburg."

Brock growled at the name, he knew that idiot and glanced at the kid that had literally given them an opening to get out. Shock of green hair looked out from over the top of their gaiter mask, helmet having been pulled off. He watched the kid follow a teammate into the safe zone the medics had set up. "I'll put in for the kid, what's his name?" Fredericksburg would get the kid killed and replace him in days, Brock could at least look into it.

Pollaki looked surprised but grinned, "call 'em Reaper, I'll get the paperwork started once we get back to base, have it done in a few days."

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 8

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.    

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 17.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Angst, revelations, confessions, emotional vulnerability! Oh, and fingering. Summary: Physical and emotional healing is in the cards the day after Jack rescues you from the Rollins boys. Notes: Guys, I’m not going to lie. I just keep crying. Writing, editing, proofing, crying. All day every day.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Exhaustion and an adrenaline crash combine with Ginger’s injection to keep you knocked out all the way back to the campus in Louisville. Six hours is all Ginger said you would need to heal completely and she was right - almost down to the minute. It’s past sunrise outside when you wake up, not that you can see the sun in Ginger’s lab, but when you groan slightly in your sleep and turn your head, the world doesn’t spin the way it had just hours before.

Jack grunts, leaning forward in the seat Ginger had finally relented and put next to the capsule where you were healing. Watchful for any tiny movement, he reaches out to the glass between the two of you with the need to touch you, to reassure you. “Come on sugar, open those pretty eyes for me.”

It isn’t easy to do. The lights are blindingly bright, and you’ve forgotten where you are, causing you to panic immediately before seeing Jack’s face staring back at you outside the pod that you don’t really remember Astrid explaining to you. It only calms you slightly though, seeing him, before guilt and a different kind of fear set in. If Jack is here, and you’re in one of Ginger’s isometric pods, then it wasn’t all just a terrible dream.

“Shhhhh shhhh it’s okay.” The chair scrapes back as he stands. “Ginger, open this fucking thing!” He doesn’t want you to panic and he can see the whites of your eyes already. At least they aren’t filled with blood anymore where vessels had burst. He punches in buttons and yanks on the handle for the door, opening it up. “It’s okay, sugar. You’re safe.”

“You’re here.” Though it’s obvious that you’re questioning why, with your voice so quiet it comes out almost awestruck.

“I’m here, sugar, I’m here.” Jack promises, reaching in and smoothing back your hair gently and cupping your cheek. He hadn’t been able to touch you for six hours, not even hold your hand and it’s burning through him to just reassure himself that you are here and okay. “You did so good, sugar. Hangin’ on. You’re so—” He swallows harshly, remembering how swollen your cheek was. “You did good. I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

“I didn’t tell them anything.” Not even understanding who they were or what they wanted, all you could really go on was that not telling them anything was the only appropriate course of action. Apparently all those spy movies were good for something after all. “I—I promise I didn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter, sugar.” Jack murmurs, kneeling down and looking up at you seriously. “They’re never gonna hurt you again. You don’t hafta worry about that.”

“They wanted you.” That much was abundantly clear. Knowing what you do about Jack, you know they never would have managed to corner him without leverage. And apparently you made excellent leverage. “I’m…” You shudder with tears that won’t come. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” Jack frowns, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. It’s me they wanted. They used you to get to me. You were innocent, sugar. I’m sorry you got caught up in something that you shouldn’t have.” He means the feud with the Rollins, not because you’re his soulmate. He’s so fucking guilty because they targeted you. Still unsure of why they decided to try to get into Statesman after all these years. Maybe they had been all along, and the restaurant was the opportunity. Doesn’t matter, they’re dead now.

“I wasn’t wearing the bracelet.” The one he gave you. The one you had faithfully put on your wrist beside the bangle from your little sister. “I was…I was mad…so I took it off…”

“Just means I need to track your earrings.” He jokes, the halfhearted smile that he had attempted sliding off his face when you are staring down at your hands and he sighs softly. “It’s okay, sugar. I— I found your bracelet. The one you dropped. Did you do it on purpose?” He pulls the charm out of his pocket and offers it to you.

“Yeah…” Tired despite feeling better, picking up your hands feels like weightlifting. “I thought…if you realized…you might recognize it.” It was a longshot, but it’s good to know it worked.

“You did perfect, sugar.” Jack’s hands are incredibly gentle, and he takes your wrist and puts the bracelet around it again. Making sure the clasp is secure and then brushing his thumb over it. “There it is, back where it belongs.” Just like you are back near him where you belong.

“Did Ginger…” Here, in her lab, she is Ginger. Her code name seems irreversibly attached to this place. “Did she…I asked her to get rid of everything.” Your hands are free of the nicks and cuts, arms bearing no trace of burns you had gotten all through your career. You’re unmarked. Unattached. So he should be, too.

Jack sighs softly, nodding. “Why did you do it?” He wants to hear you say it. He’ll hear you say that you want nothing to do with him and then he’ll leave you alone. Go work in the New York office or go back out to the field. Just as long as you are safe.

If you were feeling stronger you might have laughed. Or at least snorted. Some derisive sound of disbelief would have been much more intelligent than the way you stare at him in the blinding light of the lab. If he really doesn’t know then he’s an idiot, and if he’s just making you say it for his own satisfaction, then he’s cruel. Either way, you swallow thickly when you look away from him and shut your eyes. “For you.” You tell him honestly, because you don’t have the emotional energy to be mean spirited. “So you can be free.”

So he could be free. Jack swallows slightly and shakes his head. It doesn’t seem like you hate him now although maybe you’re just shellshocked. Shock does weird things to people. “Honey, it doesn’t work like that.” He murmurs softly. “We’re still soulmates.”

“She was your soulmate.” If you could, you’d be sobbing by now. Wracked with them. In agony. You’d be a sniveling, pathetic mess instead of the broken version of yourself you’ve become. “I’m…I don’t fuckin’ know. But at least you can pretend I don’t exist. I know that’s what you want.”

“Sugar, I was— fuck, I was so wrong.” Jack grabs your hands and holds onto them. “I was— I thought I was bein’ disloyal to her memory. Betrayin’ her by having another soulmate. You never did anything wrong. I just— I was scared of how easy it was bein’ around you and how quickly I could—” He cuts himself off, knowing you don’t want to hear about him falling in love with you. You’d never believe it, not after what he’s done to you. “I know I traded my life for yours in a heartbeat and I’d do it again.”

“Why?” In the moment it had made no sense to you, and no clear, shining light has shone on your confusion since then. Hearing Jack agree to take your place without hesitation had flared so much hope, despair, and confusion in your heart that it was like having a chorus of screaming fury in your mind. “I still don’t understand. You could’ve—” He could have let the men kill you. He could have been free of you that way instead and it might have hurt less than believing your soulmate hates you. “Is it just…company policy?”

Jack chokes, hating that you think it’s company policy to not let anything happen to his soulmate. “No sugar…it’s not.” He murmurs softly, knowing this is all his fault. He’s done nothing to make you believe he likes you. “I couldn’t let him hurt you anymore. I would have never let him hurt you if I—” he shakes his head. “If I hadn’t been a goddamn fool.”

He’s clinging to your hands almost desperately, and you could swear you heard his voice crack but it’s just wishful thinking. Even after what you just went through - what you survived - you still find yourself grasping at the impossible fantasy of him someday caring about you. You won’t even go all the way to love anymore. Just as long as he doesn’t hate you, that’s all you’re really asking for. “It’s okay.” The words feel almost alien, but you look over at him and offer him a pinched smile. “You’re a good agent, Jack. And you can go back in the field now. I’m sorry I was stubborn.”

“The field…sugar, someone from my past nearly killed you and you’re talking about me goin’ back to work?” He’s totally bewildered, wondering if you are in shock or denial about the entire damn thing. He knows that Ginger will set you up with the Statesman therapist. “I went to therapy for you.” He blurts out.

“I’m talking about you getting your life back after I—” You started in so quickly that when he blurts out the word ‘therapy’ you turn back to look at him with bewilderment. “What? Why?” Sure you’re both stubborn, but that’s not exactly therapy-worthy.

“After I—” Jack flushes with shame. “After I exploded on you, I – I knew I needed to fix it. Fix me.” He squeezes your hands gently. “You deserve more than a fucked-up soulmate who had his head so far up his ass he couldn’t see if the sun was shinin’.”

“Plenty of people have platonic soulmates.” It’s been a mantra for you for weeks now. Reassuring yourself that the world won’t end if he doesn’t feel the same way about you that you do about him. It’s not going to end your life. It will be okay. That’s what you told yourself, as you tried desperately to shake the blazing sensation in the memory of kissing him months ago. “I just don’t want you to be unhappy anymore, and…and I know you’ve been unhappy.”

“I’ve been unhappy because I want you.” Jack confesses softly. “And I didn’t think I deserved another soulmate because I couldn’t protect Abigail and I felt guilty because I thought it would be like forgettin’ her.”

“You could never forget her. You love her.” But the mere wisp of the idea that he doesn’t hate you? It seems to light you up from the inside out like a lawn ornament. Hope, as powerful and resilient as any other force in the universe, encouraging your heart to try beating again. “Honestly? I’m jealous. I never got to know anything about my first soulmate. But…I never would have asked you to forget her.”

“I can— I can show you his file.” Jack offers quietly. “Everything Statesman has on him. They had to, you know, investigate.”

“Thank you.” It isn’t quite the same, but you squeeze his hands in gratitude and try to remember to breathe. This is a much heavier conversation than you ever thought you would wake up to. “I don’t know what things would have been like with him, but he deserves to be remembered.”

“He seems like he was a good man.” Which made Jack killing him even harder to accept.

“I don’t blame you for protecting yourself.” Since you can’t ever say what you would have done in his position, and since it won’t bring the man back in the first place, there was no point in hanging on to that anger. It did nothing but make you upset and keep you from moving forward. “Not anymore. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I’m sorry sugar, I know I’m the worst possible kind of soulmate you could ask for.” Jack lifts a hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it gently. “I’m sorry for denying you the possibility of gettin’ to know him. He worked at the hotel. Where the weddin’ was.”

"That's why you backed out?" That little act of affection, as simple as it is, has you squeezing your mouth shut quickly so you don't sigh wistfully or something equally ridiculous. "If you had told me, I would have understood."

“I—” He shakes his head and sighs. “I’m— it’s been a long time since I’ve had to explain myself, sugar. And I was feelin’ fucking guilty because of - well, that kiss. Because if Diana hadn’t interrupted us, I would have had you spread out on your counter.”

"I think my exact words were that I would have worn a dress if I'd known you'd come by horny." It stings, still, but you have to laugh at yourself. If you don't you'll just...shrivel up somehow. "I would have let you. Happily."

“I know. I know you would have. And it scared me.” Jack presses another kiss to the back of your hand. “Because I know how easy it would be to love you, sugar. So I ran like a damned coward.”

"I stayed away." It's almost like you're begging somehow, pleading to be told that you did the right thing, even though you're fairly certain that there is no right or even better thing to do in this circumstance. You would genuinely be shocked if anyone in the world had ever been in this situation ever before. "I stayed away and I never asked you for anything except friendship. I tried to do what was going to make you happy, I swear."

“Honey, you were never the problem.” Jack assures you, looking up and begging you to believe him. “I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me. Never. You are kind and good and sweet and sexy, I— I fucked up.”

"Hate you?" You huff, shaking your head. Your reaction is instant, disbelieving, and out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. "I love you, you idiot. I've done everything you ever asked no matter how much it hurts because I love you."

Jack closes his eyes and inhales shakily. “Sugar, I don’t deserve your love.” He whispers softly. “I pushed you away, I didn’t protect you, I hurt you.” He opens his eyes and there’s a definite wobble to his chin as he tries to compose himself. “But all I could think about was getting to you. Making sure that the other portions of my soul was safe.” He swallows. “I love you too, sugar. I do.”

There's nothing in his face that tells you he's lying, or that he's forcing himself. If anything, he looks...relieved. Your eyes roam every minute expression you can see, trying to digest the situation and realizing that you might both have come around to this in the most monumentally dramatic and fucked up way possible - but that you still both came around to it. Whether that's the soulmate connection or the threat of almost losing each other making you be honest with yourselves, you can't ever know. "Really?"

“Really.” Jack bends down and kisses your hand again, one and then the other. Inching closer to you from his position on the floor in front of you. It’s not something he would do for anyone but he had meant it when he said he would grovel. “It’s why I ran, why I fought it so hard. Because I knew. I fucking knew that I was going to love you. And I do but I don’t want to fight it anymore.”

"What do you want, then?" Whatever it is, if there's any way for you to give it to him, the way your heart has jumped up into your chest tells you with absolute certainty that you'll give it to him.

“I wanna take you out on a date.” Jack decides, knowing that things need to be taken slow. “I want- would you go to therapy with me?” It surprises him that it comes out of his own mouth, but he’s not going to take it back.

"That's the weirdest damn proposal in history." He's down on his knees asking so formally that the whole thing would just read like a comedy routine if it weren't so serious. "Get up, Jack. And...help me sit up? I feel like an astronaut in this thing and this is an important conversation."

Jack pushes to his knees and helps you sit up. “Slowly— you can feel a little dizzy when you’re first gettin’ out of one of these.” He knows that firsthand.

He's completely right, annoyingly so, and you cling to his hand for a second while you adjust to sitting up again and the dizziness subsides. It reminds you of the time you got vertigo at that theater in Boston years and years ago. "Okay." Once you're feeling a little more like yourself, you breathe out slowly and tilt your head at him. "So...you want to take me on a date...to couples therapy? Do I have that right?"

“No.” Jack chuckles, shaking his head and rolling his shoulders down. “I’d like you to go out on a date with me. But then I’d also like to attend a couple’s therapy session with you. To work out the problems between us. To let you get out your issues and better explain mine.” He shrugs. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

"Our issues aren't a little..." You cringe slightly. "Classified? Unless...Statesman probably has a therapist on staff, doesn't it?"

“They do.” Jack nods. “It’s the one that I saw before I – when I was such an ass to you. Got my tail handed to me for that.” He confesses, embarrassed at his behavior.

"Jack..." His hand is still in yours from helping you sit up, and you hold onto it a little harder out of nerves. "I don't want you to do this just because of what happened. But if you actually want to give us a chance?" You might just be able to muster some tears if he actually wants to be with you. Joy instead of sadness or fear. "Then my answer is going to be yes every time."

“I was watchin’ your cabin.” Jack murmurs softly. “Waitin’ for you to come out so I could talk to you. Apologize and ask if you would have dinner with me. To let me try to make it up to you.”

"Yes." It's as simple as that, as far as the request goes, and you rub your thumb gently over the back of his hand. "Anytime, anywhere."

Even though he’s relieved that you would be willing to entertain the idea of stepping out with him, Jack chuckles. “I don’t deserve you, sugar. At all.” He promises, staring into your eyes and wondering how you can be willing to do that after being beaten because of him. “Is there anything you want to know? Right now? About— what happened?”

“I don’t understand most of it,” you admit, wishing you could live in the glow of Jack’s willingness to give you a try but knowing that questions and answers will be less traumatic now than they would be down the line. Letting worries or wonderings fester won’t help either of you in the long run. “He liked to hear himself talk, so there was a lot that he said that I didn’t understand. But…who was he? Just someone from your past?”

Jack sighs, lifting a hand and smoothing your hair back again. “Do you want me to tell you here, or do you want to go home? Curl up with a hot toddy?” He offers softly. He knows your throat doesn’t hurt anymore, but it might be more comfortable than in Ginger’s lab.

“Will you ask Ginger if it’s okay for me to leave?” Going home and curling up with Jack sounds monumental, but you’ve never been one to go against a doctor’s advice. If she says you need to stay put, you’ll keep sitting here. Although the things you’d do for a shower and some clean clothes are pretty extensive.

"Ging?" Jack knows that Ginger is going to respond immediately when he presses the button on his watch.

"Yes Jack?" The answer comes through the speaker and allows you to hear her as well.

"Can I take her home?" He asks, keeping a hold on your hand and giving you a small smile.

"All the injuries are healed; she is okay to go home but I do want to follow up tomorrow after she's rested and get her scheduled with Dr. Masters." She tells Jack before he addresses you. "I want you to rest. Don't go into the restaurant today. Or tomorrow. Your sous chef is taking care of everything and your family has all been assured that you are okay. We are sending the jet for them to come see for themselves tomorrow. I managed to hold them off until then."

“What did you tell them?” Knowing your family, they would have demanded details. A journalist mother and a nosy father are not the kind of people that take ‘no’ for an answer or accept vague assurances.

“That you had been involved in a corporate espionage ordeal and the ATF was in charge for now.” The slight misuse of government names had proved ideal to get them to back off.

“My father is going to be making rum runner jokes for a year once he sees I’m okay.” You laugh, shaking your head and relishing the warmth of Jack’s hand still firmly in yours. As much as you want to resume your normal life and just put your head down at work, you know they’re right. You need rest and distance. At least the rest of your staff is excellent - Tripp Rollins notwithstanding. “Okay. Home, then. Home to rest.” Your eyes move to Jack and find him watching you intently. “And to talk a little bit more.”

Jack nods, helping you stand up and if he didn’t think you would yell at him, he would just pick you up and carry you. The clothes you had been in were ruined and cut off of you, so you are now in just a clean set of scrubs that were used when the lab gets messy. “We’ll get you home and I promise we will talk about whatever you want for as long as you want.”

“And maybe eat something?” The smile you shoot him is sheepish, but you’re just starting to realize how hungry you are. “I think the last time I ate anything was days ago.”

“Shit, yeah. I’ll— I’ll make you something.” Jack promises, hating how you’ve been treated. They could have fucking fed you.

“We’ll manage.” You’re not about to let go of him, but you do feel okay other than being tired. Jack walks you through the building, holding every door and helping you down every step, and you have a feeling that if he could he’d have just carried you all the way to the Bronco to make sure not so much as a pebble even got in your way. Once he has you settled in the truck it takes no time at all to get back to your neighborhood, and you sigh in quiet relief to see your little house again.

“Sorry I went inside.” Jack moves the lever into park and looks over at you once he’s parked beside your cabin, his Bronco tucked in next to the little car that was yours. “But I didn’t really go through anything.”

“It’s okay.” Being home again - and you really do think of it as home - is more peaceful and reassuring than you had expected, and you lean on his shoulder for a second. “If you hadn’t, who knows what would have happened to me.”

“I don’t even want to think about that, sugar.” Jack’s voice breaks and he opens the door to the Bronco to step out and help you out of the truck.

“You’re getting soft on me, Jack.” You tease, nudging him a little on the porch. The biometric scanner that opens your door isn’t satisfying like a physical key is, but you appreciate the security of it now more than ever.

“I don’t think you understand how badly I wanted to— how I hated myself for not getting to you sooner. For every second you spent in their gasp.” Jack murmurs, guiding you inside and closing the door behind you. He guides you to the couch and helps you down even though you can walk. “I’ll make you something to eat.” He promises, knowing that you would have plenty in your fridge, even if it was just the makings for some kind of sandwich or omelet.

“I really don’t understand.” The care with which he’s tucked you in on the couch makes you not want to get up again, convinced he’ll just come back to retuck if you fuss. But you twist around a little to be able to watch him in your kitchen, surprised when your chest clenches watching him in your space. Your sanctuary. “I thought you hated me. And even if I understand now why you were acting the way you were, it still…” You bite your lip momentarily and look down at your hands, remembering the scars you had removed for him. “It’s going to take a while for me to process, that’s all.”

“I’m not asking for anything, sugar.” Jack promises you. “Take all the time you need.” He opens the fridge and hums when he sees all the options and looks over at you. “What are you feeling like eatin’? You want some tea? Or that hot toddy I promised you?”

“A hot toddy sounds good.” Deciding that you don’t care what time of day it is, you nod. Surely being a victim of kidnapping disqualifies you from petty things like waiting until the afternoon to drink. “I’m pretty sure there’s leftovers in there from the night before I left. Probably enough for two, if you’re into reheated chicken pot pie for breakfast.”

“How about some chicken pot pie and some garlic bread?” He asks, finding half a loaf of French bread on the counter. “Unless you want me to make you an omelet? I’m not as good as you are, but I won’t kill ya with my cookin’.”

“Good garlic bread is worth its weight in gold.” Even the sound of it has you salivating and your stomach rumbling. “Let’s use the leftovers. I’d hate for them to waste.” You’re tempted to suggest omelets for dinner - one of your favorite comfort meals - but don’t want to presume that he’ll be spending the entire day with you.

"Okay. I'm going to use this garlic you've got in the fridge." The pot of garlic confit is only recognizable because Abigail craved it while she was in her second trimester. She would slather it on everything, making Jack joke that at least they knew she wasn't carrying a vampire. He chuckles to himself as he pulls it out along with a hunk of cheese to grate over the top.

“I have a feeling that if I offer to help I’m going to get a dirty look, otherwise I’d be in there with you.” It’s equal parts soothing and wrenching to watch him, and if you were feeling a little saucier you’d probably be focused on his ass as he moves around your kitchen.

"You're gonna sit your pretty little ass right there and let me take care of you." Jack warns, raising a brow at you before he flips the kettle on to boil water for your tea. "I was helpless when you were unconscious. All I could fuckin' do was hold you and pet your damn hair. Now I can make sure you're okay."

“You stayed with me?” After everything he’s said today, you’re not really sure why that surprises you. But reconciling Jack’s apparent true feelings for you to how he’s acted around you for the last few weeks isn’t exactly easy.

"Haven't left your side since gettin' out of that fuckin' warehouse." Jack admits, not looking over at you and instead focusing on mixing the garlic confit with butter to spread onto the soft interior of the bread so he can toast it.

“Shit…” The curse is soft under your breath, but it comes with a shake of your head and a fond smile that he can’t see. “We really have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

"We do and I guess that we should start at the beginnin'." Jack sighs, knowing that telling the story of his background would be easier while he's concentrating on something other than talking. It's not something he enjoys rehashing. "The Rollins boys and I have a history that is long convoluted. My family and his, settled into the same valley in the 1800s and started ranches."

“Hatfield and McCoy style shit?” It’s the first set of names that comes to mind with the whole ‘blood feud’ thing, which is certainly what all of the crazy shouting had sounded like.

"Kinda....'cept my family didn't engage in the crazy. It started as a land dispute. Which I'm sure was violent back then. But..." He shakes his head. "It seems like they've always had a few screws loose. And when our ranch was surviving when theirs was goin' under, it seems to make the grudge even worse."

“I don’t even know where you’re from.” It seems to occur to you out of nowhere, even as you watch him studiously avoid looking at you while he cooks. “I mean I would have guessed Southern, but I’m not exactly an ace with accents. You could be from Alaska for all I know.”

"I'm from Montana, but I've picked up more of a twang since I've been here." He tells you with a small grin. "Settlin' into my surroundings it seems."

“So you’re telling me I’ll be saying y’all in no time?” Small smiles are still warm ones, and you can feel your cheeks burn a little. He’s handsome no matter what, but when he smiles it’s a whole different level. “Go on. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He starts grating the cheese on top of the breath and butter mixture. “Abigail was— I knew she was mine from the playground. We were—hell we were swingin’ and I saw the scar I got from bein’ thrown from my horse and breakin’ my arm when I was nine. But Hank—” Jack shakes his head. “He always wanted what I had. Claiming that he was her soulmate. So we kept things quiet until high school.”

“I heard him claim it.” It was nothing you could have seen, obviously, but you heard every word that passed between the two men in that room. “He faked her scars, didn’t he? To try to pretend?”

“Yeah. Crazy bastard.” He growls, Hank’s confession of being behind Abigail’s death rocketing through him again. “I— we got married after high school. I was gonna run the ranch, take over for my daddy and let him enjoy his golden years. Although the man would have still poked his nose in and gotten up before the sun.” Jack chuckles. “She got pregnant right away. Everyone swearing she was expectin’ on our wedding day, but we actually waited.”

“Oh god…” You barely muffle a gasp. “You were just kids…”

“I’m not that old, sugar.” Jack huffs, turning around and placing the bread into the oven so he can work on heating up the chicken pot pie. “After - after she and the baby died, I took off. Joined the military and tried not to go back. Only went home when they buried my daddy.”

“Military?” That part surprises you a little, but the line from active service to private sector spy probably isn’t that difficult to traverse.

“Had a death wish.” He admits with a shrug. “Didn’t give a damn about anything, especially that fuckin’ valley, so it seemed like a good idea. Champ recruited me from there.”

“For what it’s worth?” You’re sitting up, hands in your lap as you play with the blanket that he spread out over you. “I’m glad that wish never came true.”

“I don’t know about that, sugar.” Jack hums, feeling guilty about all of it. “If it had, you woulda met your original soulmate and wouldn’t have been tortured at the hands of a fuckin’ psycho.”

“And who knows what that might have been like?” You’ve thought it over and thought it over so many times that you feel like you’ve tried to imagine every possibility even if that’s not possible. “Having my little tearoom has been my dream for my whole life and I know for a fact that I got it because of you. What would I have gotten in Boston? Definitely not a big enough paycheck to open my own place, that’s for sure.”

Jack wondered when you were going to bring up why you got your restaurant. “Champ is still thrilled at the idea.” He murmurs. “The word is spreading and Diana is tellin’ everyone comin’ in for tours.”

“Diana’s the one who ‘fessed up,” you admit. “We have lunch together at least twice a week…it’s kind of a ritual now.”

“You deserve it.” Jack insists, his reaction to your food hadn’t been an act. He loved everything you let him try. “Though they do try to make soulmates happy. It’s not easy bein’ with an agent.”

“I do…want to, you know.” Now that you’ve come to it – to the topic. The possibility. It makes you nervous. Something else could happen. Someone else could consider you a target. But…for Jack? You would have died zip tied to that chair for Jack. You had accepted that inevitability. “Be with you, I mean.”

Jack looks up from his task, spooning the chicken pot pies into bowls to heat up and he stares at you for a moment. “I— I want that too.” He confesses softly.

“I know it won’t be perfect.” Slipping out from under the blanket, you stand from the couch to cross the small divide, and you end up smiling at him like a dopey schoolgirl with her first crush from the other side of the kitchen counter. “But I would rather have something imperfect than have to spend another day pretending I’m not in love with you.”

“It’s another reason why I want to do therapy with you.” Jack admits, looking up and smiling at the expression on your face. “I come with a lot of baggage and I’ve hit you with a lot of it, but I don’t want you carryin’ it for me.”

“Don’t worry.” The soft look of love turns to one of teasing so easily. “I think we’ve proven that we’re a lot more likely to fight than to not speak up.”

“I’m tired of fighting.” Jack huffs, shaking his head. “And it’s not worth it when I know for a fact that I’m sunk.”

It’s like your own private miracle to hear him say it, and you inch closer at the counter while he works. “You don’t have to decide any time soon, because I feel like we should probably be slow and steady and all that…all things considered. But if you don’t want to get married again, I’ll understand completely. I’m not trying to take Abigail’s place and we don’t have to say another word about it ever again if you don’t want to. I only want to do what will make both of us happy.”

Jack turns around and shoves the first bowl into the microwave and covers it with a paper towel. “Sugar, I don’t want to count that out.” He tells you as he turns back towards you. “And I don’t think that you are tryin’ to take her place.”

“I just want you to know that I’m not gonna be sitting around here counting days for you to propose, that’s all.” Most soulmates would have been married already, at least from what you’ve seen and heard. The fact that you and Jack have known each other for months and only kissed once is extremely rare. “If we get there, we get there. And if we decide not to, that’s okay, too.”

“We’re kinda in uncharted territory here, aren’t we sugar?” He murmurs, stepping closer to you and sighing. “Second soulmates and tip-toeing around each other.”

“Seems like...” The forgotten tea kettle on the stove hisses angrily, shrieking to life with a shrill whistle that makes both of you cringe and laugh, spoiling the thick tension for now but easing some of the mood in the room.

“Why are you willin’ to forgive and forget?” Jack asks curiously, his turn to learn more about you. “You should hate me.”

“Maybe I should. I don’t know.” Since he hasn’t shooed you back to the couch, you move to pour hot water into the mug he has waiting for you - tea bag and whiskey already at the ready. “But the second you walked into the kitchen that first day Champ was pretending to interview me, you— you just took my breath away. And maybe all the bullshit would make some people pause. Maybe it should make me pause, I don’t know. But it just seems like a test to me now. That first week, getting to know you and spend time with you was everything I wanted. But the universe had to make sure I knew that things wouldn’t be easy, and maybe we’ll have plenty more bumps in the road in the years to come. But at least we know now that we can get past it, ya know?”

“I agree.” Jack murmurs, turning back to check on the garlic bread so he doesn’t burn it.

"I think we got dealt a difficult hand." You shrug, stirring your tea. "It's how we play it that counts."

“Yes it is.” He pulls the garlic bread out and right after that the microwave dings, making him hurry to put it down so he can pull out the bowl and put in the next one.

"I hated dating after I found out you're my soulmate." Studiously avoiding his eyes, you pull forks out of the drawer and plates for garlic bread out of the cupboard. The tray you keep on the counter can easily transport everything into the living room all at once. "Trying to force myself to not think about you was its own special kind of hell."

“Well, it seems like we are more alike than we thought.” Jack admits. “Because I hated you dating. Do you know how many nights I sat on my porch wishing those bastards would leave?”

It pains you to realize that you hurt him even accidentally, but you had been doing what you thought he wanted: moving on, trying to let him live his life, not force a new soulmate on him. If you had known what he was feeling, you never would have done any of it. You would have sat tight and let him work through things until he was ready to talk to you. "Never again." You can promise him that easily. "From now on the only person spending the night is you. Ya know...when we get to that point."

“You were doing what you wanted to, sugar.” Jack brings the bowl over to the countertop and searches for a knife to cut the bread. “I’d rejected you. Didn’t expect you to live like a monk. It just— I couldn’t— I hated that I wasn’t there instead of them and I hated myself for wantin’ that.”

"I was doing what I thought I was supposed to." The bread knife from your block is within arm's reach and you place it gently in front of Jack. "I'm glad to put it behind me."

“Me too.” Jack won’t tell you how many sleepless nights he had because of you, because of the entire situation. It wouldn’t be fair, but you know he wrestled with this ordeal a lot. “Thanks.”

With everything ready, Jack loads up the tray but only lets you carry your mug into the living room. You settle in again, letting the large throw blanket cover both of your laps, and eagerly reach for the garlic bread he made when he seems satisfied that you have everything you need. "Oh, holy shit." The hum turns into a throaty giggle, a pleased sound that comes with an expression so blissful that your eyes have closed on their journey to rolling back in your head. "It's so fucking good."

“I have made a lot of garlic bread in my day.” Jack chuckles, watching you enjoy yourself as you eat something he has made for a change.

“I’ll be calling you up every time I want to make Italian for dinner.” It’s a nice little thought - domestic - and you feel like you ought to be pinching yourself over this reality. One where Jack actually returns your affection.

He hums and nods. “Let me know. Like I said, I became an expert.” He takes a bite of your pot pie and moans at the flavor.

"So." His reaction makes you grin, always pleased when he likes your food. Which is every time, granted, but some things he obviously likes more than others. Your pot pie, apparently, is a big thumbs up. "Do you want to have our first real date tonight, or do you want to wait until after my family visits?"

“That is up to you.” Jack decides. “But you need to rest. You—it was a lot for you to go through. I know agents that could crack in that situation. You deserve a night off.”

"I can't decide if it will be more wildly uncomfortable for them all to be able to interrogate you about your intentions before or after the fact." Knowing that the only thing that could stop your family from being well-meaning but overbearing, you take a sip of your tea and shrug. "We can just not tell them yet. About...what we are to each other."

“You’re my soulmate.” He’s come to accept that, tired of fighting it even though there isn’t a mark on your bodies to distinguish that fact anymore. “I’m not going to hide that from your family.”

"Well, then prepare yourself for childhood stories, endless teasing, and extremely unsubtle hints about how my sister didn't fit into my mother's wedding dress so it's my moral obligation to wear and fulfill her life dream of passing it on." It warms you right from the inside to hear him actually say the words out loud, tingling through you like sparks crackling under your skin.

Jack snorts and shakes his head. “We just have the Daniels family veil.” He tells you. “It’s considered a requirement for any wedding in our family.”

"Then I hope they match." Your head shake matches his, and you both end up smiling a little more sheepishly than before. "My family is great. Don't let me give you the wrong impression or anything. They just get really excited."

It’s strange to think about weddings, but he’s not panicking, so it’s an improvement. “You can tell them whatever you want. I’m actually easy going.” He manages this lie with a straight face.

"Bullshit." You snort, reaching for your garlic bread with a smirk. "I'll tell them the truth, and you just be yourself. Your not-at-all easy going self."

“I’m complicated, but I’m also a professional spy sugar.” He reminds you with a smirk. “It’s a part of the package.”

"I don't mind that you're particular. It's a hell of a lot better than guys who have no opinion about anything and half the time you feel like you're just playing a guessing game trying to figure out if they even care about anything at all." Just being able to sit and talk is more relaxed than you've felt in weeks, even if sometimes it does make you a little jittery. It's the good kind of jittery. Excited.

“What do you want to do?” Jack asks, sitting back and watching you closely. The swelling is gone, the contusions healed, bones mended, but he can see that every time he glances back at you. Never wanting to see it again.

"When we go out?" Go out. With him. On a date. You hope you're hiding your beaming smile well enough behind your drink. "I'm the easy going one, Jack. We could go sit in the backyard and watch the stars and I'd still love it." All you need is for him to be there, but you're afraid that saying it will be too overbearing.

He huffs at you and shakes his head. “That’s not a very good date.” He grumbles at you. “Although it’s a romantic one.”

You tilt your head at him, wondering how many dozens or hundreds of dates he's been on over the years with women he never wanted to spend serious time with. How many times it might have been boring, or he might have wished he had chosen something else altogether. How many times he actually had fun and didn't want to admit it to himself. "What's something you've never done before?" You ask him, wondering if there even is such a thing.

Jack thinks about it for a moment and grins. “Never took a girl up in the Pony Express.” He answers finally. “Always wanted to.”

"You're on." You agree immediately, knowing that he loves that plane and genuinely finding yourself surprised that he's never used it to impress anyone before. That would have been a go-to move if you were him.

He raises his brow and grins at you. “Really? You want to take a ride on the Pony Express?” He asks, shuffling closer.

“Well now you’re making it sound dirty.” The grin on your face as you set down your bowl is pronounced, but you’re not going to pretend you don’t like how excited he is at the prospect. Like a kid getting to show off his favorite toy.

“I mean, it could be dirty.” He grins at you and sends you a small wink. Flirting with you has never been hard and now it seems as natural as breathing.

“And here I was thinking you would want to go slow.” It seems an almost silly thought, since you had been on the receiving end of the mild form of his flirting right when you had first known him.

There is a serious look to his eyes even though the wicked curve of his lips is there. “Sugar, we can go as slow as you want.” He promises.

“I want us to do what feels right for us.” Maybe it’s a cop out, you don’t know. But since you would have happily taken him home with you after that trip to Shootouts the very first day you met, you have an inclination that maybe ‘slow’ isn’t in the cards. “I just don’t want you to feel pressured.” That’s the key.

Jack chuckles and shakes his head. “Sugar, I would have taken you to bed the first night. Especially if I didn’t know who you were to me.” He puts his own bowl down and picks up your hand. “I just don’t wanna make you feel like I’m tryin’ to make up. I want you to feel like I’m here. In this.”

“Then let’s just see what happens naturally.” It’s good to know you’re both on the same page. To know that what you had felt right from the start was mutual and natural. “It might not be slow,” you admit sheepishly. “But it will be what’s right for us.”

“Right now, you need to eat.” Jack squeezes your hand before he lets you go. “Then I want you to take a nap. The hyperbaric chamber wasn’t sleep, it was you healing.”

“You don’t have to babysit me while I’m sleeping.” The offer is made gently, trying to be courteous and not be possessive of his time even though you want to be. “If you sat up with me while I was in that thing, then you need sleep too.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Jack insists, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stand having you out of his sight. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just stretch out on your couch and shut my eyes while you nap.” What he doesn’t say is that he will be checking on you every two minutes for his own peace of mind. The kidnapping had rattled him to the bone and it’s gonna take a while for him to settle down.

“This couch will wreak havoc on your back.” It’s stylish and attractive, and comfortable for sitting, but definitely not a good sleeping space. You found that out in your second week here. “If napping together is too forward of me to mention, you can at least use the guest room.” It doesn’t matter that you desperately want to find out what waking up with him is like. If he’s not comfortable with it, it’s a nonissue.

“No!” Jack jumps at the opportunity to curl around you and protect you while you sleep. “I—I mean, it’s okay if you want to nap together.” He tries to play it off subtly but is probably failing miserably. “I don’t…mind.”

The urge to tease him about it is so strong on the tip of your tongue, but it’s fully overruled by that blossoming, pleased feeling of warmth that unravels through all your limbs. “We’re both adults,” you reason, as though you’re not doing a happy dance and giggling on the inside. “We can survive a nap together, I’m all but certain of it.”

“We’re adults.” Jack nods, pointing at your food. “So finish your food, missy.” He teases. “This old man is tired, and you look like you need some sleep too.”

You roll your eyes at him dramatically but comply, picking up your bowl again to finish off your leftovers quickly. The warmth and calming effect of the hot toddy isn’t lost on you either, and by the time you’re done eating you’re smothering unsubtle yawns behind your hand. He doesn’t even let you load the dishwasher, shooing you upstairs to change into your pjs and get into bed. It seems like Ginger had gotten you cleaned up when they cut away your ruined clothes and got you into the scrubs, but you’ll probably shower after you wake up anyway. Just to feel clean again.

Jack takes his time, going through your home and securing it. Ridiculous, but it makes him feel better. Finally, he’s walking up the stairs, leaving his sports coat tossed over the back of a chair and hovers just outside the door. “Ready, sugar?”

“You’re not getting under these covers with your boots on,” you tell him, aiming for an amused tone and ending up grinning as you pat the empty space beside you with butterflies launching themselves around in your belly. “C’mon Jack. I don’t bite unless given permission.”

Huffing at you, Jack moves closer, toeing off his boots and placing them beside the bed before he looks at you again with his fingers on his belt buckle. “You sure? You want me to get comfortable?”

There’s a part of you that wants to tear that belt buckle open with your damn teeth, but it’s not the loudest part of your brain right now. It’s deeper than anything physical, and that’s the part that makes you hesitate. Honesty, you decide, nodding slowly. “I would feel safer.”

He’ll accept that. Slowly starting to undress as you slip under the covers and settle into your bed. He would feel more comfortable out of the tight jeans and button down, but he leaves his boxers on as he joins you. “Now we can get some sleep.”

It’s about safety, you tell yourself sternly. It doesn’t matter that he’s stripped down and your mouth is practically fucking watering. It doesn’t matter that your threadbare t-shirt and shorts are all that’s between you. It’s about safety. “Yup.” You gulp. “Sleep.”

“Do you mind if I hold you?” Jack asks as he turns towards you. You are tired but still so damn beautiful. “Maybe— I mean, you might feel safer.” He offers. “Knowing that I’m right here?” He will feel better, touching you but it’s your decision.

Mind?! You would have begged for it if necessary. But it’s also just…how you sleep if there’s someone else in the bed with you. “I would have ended up cuddling against you,” you admit, shutting off the light so he doesn’t see the embarrassment on your face. “I’m a cuddly sleeper. Sorry…I should have warned you.”

“That’s good, sugar.” Jack coos, drawing you into his arms with a happy rumble in his chest. Feeling relaxed for the first time since he discovered you were missing. You are safe, healthy (again) and in the protection of his arms. “You just curl into me and sleep as long as you like.”

******

It’s a good four or five hours that you sleep, held fast against his chest and so deeply that when you do toss or turn - the product of nightmares that you’re sure you should think about talking to that therapist about - you end up settling down with his shoulder as your pillow again before too long. The midafternoon sun is shining brightly through your windows when you start to move one last time, shifting lazily as though you’re trying to burrow even deeper into his side.

Jack actually sleeps, cradling you in his arms and feeling your gentle breathing against his hand. Reassuring him that you are safe and secure. Your warmth combines with his and creates a little cocoon under the sheets. Your leg wraps over his hip and he kisses you hair, settling back down and falling back under the sweet waves of sleep.

Even with the nightmares it might qualify as the best nap you’ve ever taken, and you try not to move too much when you finally open your eyes to the sight of Jack looking so peaceful in his sleep. Lips barely parted, skin flush with warmth, and immaculate hair mussed from the pillow, this might be your favorite sight in the whole world. The way it makes your heart swell and clench all at once is a beautiful new sensation. One you want to hang on to for as long as possible.

For his part, Jack is blessed with dreamless sleep. Or maybe it's more that his brain is still fucked up from being shot, he can't be sure but he doesn't dream about seeing you bound to a chair and head covered with a gun to your head, thankfully. He grunts, feeling a slight movement and he starts to stir before tightening his arms around you. "'s okay." He mumbles. "'m here."

“I know.” Taking a chance that the gesture won’t be too forward, you place a kiss on the back of his hand where it holds yours on his chest and revel silently in how good it feels. “Go back to sleep, Jack. Everything’s okay.”

He grunts again and hums, twitching slightly and stretching in the bed with you. "''ou awake?"

“More than you.” You laugh softly, almost more of a single breathy chuckle.

Finally managing to peel one eyeball open to tilt his head down and try to focus on you. "Makin' fun of me?" He huffs when he finally manages to clear the haze of sleep.

“Maybe a little.” The grin that splits your face is beaming, and you don’t care to hide it. “You’re cute when you’re all sleepy.”

It's natural, the way his lips pout, shooting you a narrowed eyed playful glare. "I didn't get any sleep."

“Close your eyes, then.” It’ll keep you from kissing the pout right off of his face if he does, and that might be the only thing that can stop you. “I know you stayed up to keep an eye on me. We can spend today drifting in and out of sleep.”

"Is that what you want to do?" The rasp of his voice is deep, laced with sleep and the need to clear his throat. "Or do you want to get up?"

“Nah.” Shaking your head and nuzzling closer feels like an absolute dream. “I wanna stay right here with you. We’ll order pizza for dinner and I’ll text my mom to see what time they’re flying in tomorrow, but let’s stay in bed.”

Jack grunts and rolls you over to where you are on your side, facing away from him so he can wrap his body around yours. "Then go back to sleep, sugar." He murmurs in your ear.

It’s easy to do just that, letting yourself be absorbed by the comfort and safety of Jack’s broad frame at your back and his steady breathing in your ear. There are no more nightmares, mercifully, just good dreams. Specifically dancing, hips swaying in your sleep like you’re having a premonition of some wonderful date that has yet to happen.

Jack Daniels had always had a healthy sexual appetite and since you’ve been in Kentucky - hell, since he killed your soulmate, he’s been abstaining. So it should surprise no one that he ends up hard as a Texas rock in a heat wave, pressed up against your ass like he is melted into you. Still sound asleep.

It might have been what woke you up. Or it might have been the way your dreams turned to other things with Jack - not just dancing. Either way, the evidence of what brought those thoughts on is pressed snuggly against your ass when you start to stir again hours later. You practically groan at the feeling, realizing that it’s not because he’s moving beside you but because his thick hard on is twitching eagerly against your ass. If you were any kind of decent you would ignore it. You would just take the subtle, unconscious compliment and not say a word later on. Besides, you shouldn’t even be thinking about anything sexual after what you went through over the last two days. But maybe that’s exactly why your body reacts the way it does. The need to feel alive and more like yourself overwhelming you, melding with your attraction to your soulmate and making your hot cunt flood with arousal as you studiously try not to guess how long Jack’s cock is. He’s sound asleep, you tell yourself when you shift a little and he just keeps on dozing. He’s sound asleep and he’ll never know. This is just your secret. That’s what you tell yourself when you crush your eyes shut and slip your hand into your pajama shorts to coat your fingers in slick that will make them glide over your clit so gorgeously.

Jack’s breath huffs against your neck, deep and slow as he sleeps. Groaning quietly as his arm around you tightens. Lost in the best damn sleep he’s gotten in weeks; he sighs softly as his cock throbs.

Being as careful as you can not to move his arm, the tight circles that you rub around your aching clit barely scratch the surface of the deep need that has built up so quickly. If you can manage to get yourself off without jarring him awake it will be a miracle, if he wakes up you'll have to pretend to be waking up and pray he doesn't smell your arousal in the air.

It takes another two seconds before Jack wakes up. A great thing about his training is that he doesn't change anything. His breathing stays the same and there is no movement this time. Allowing him to wake up more alert this time, listening to the sounds you are making.

It takes biting down on your lip to keep from whimpering out loud. To hold in the sighs and whining as tightly as you can. As much as instinct makes you want to drag this out and enjoy it, you have no idea how easily Jack might wake up and you do not want to have to explain that you just couldn't fucking control yourself imagining his thick cock sliding inside of you to throb and pulse in your pussy instead of against the curve of your ass.

You move subtly, softly grinding back as you work your clit. Jack's cock throbs even more and he doesn't want to interrupt you, he wants to take over. The beautiful pants that you are letting out are steadily gaining. Instead of speaking, Jack moves quickly, plunging his hand into your sleep shorts and pushing your fingers away in favor of his.

"Oh my— oh my GOD." The original exclamation of surprise is swept away by a deep moan and breathless pant, the sound finally breaking free of your lips as Jack's calloused fingers replace yours faster than you can blink. Your heart leaps into your throat but doesn't manage to stifle the gasp when he doesn't miss a beat, keeping the pace and pressure of how you touch yourself expertly.

"Imagine my surprise waking up to find you playin' your pretty pussy like it was a fiddle." He coos in your ear, wrapping your arm around your waist and pulling you back against him even more. "Apparently you're a dirty girl, sugar."

"How could I n—not?" You shudder in his arms, grinding back against his hard on shamelessly now that you have such obvious encouragement. "Waking up with you hard as fucking stone."

“’Course I was hard.” Jack rasps in your ear. “Always hard around you, sugar. You should have known that.” He knows that you didn’t know, because he’s been an ass, but with every swipe of his fingers, his cock pulses against your ass. “Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Don't know how you h-hide it," you pant heavily, moaning again when his fingers slip for just a bare second and nearly push inside you. "You wear the tiniest fucking jeans in the world."

Jack chuckles, the sounds vibrating through his chest. “Tucked under the belt, sugar.” He teases, wanting to push his fingers inside you but he doesn’t. He keeps the pressure on your clit.

"Fuck Jack." That thought is going to live rent free in your mind for an extremely long time, and you cling to his arm a little tighter with every firm rotation of his fingers. "Of course you're a fuckin' tease."

“How am I teasin’?” His tone is syrupy sweet and full of mischief, teasing. “I’m givin’ you what you want, aren’t I?” He hums, lips pressed against the shell of your ear and his thumb swooping in to press against that little button while he plunges two thick fingers into you like he had been wanting.

"Fuuuck." The gasp you let out is sharp, keening as you grind your hips down on his fingers shamelessly. Every time you rock back you end up feeling the heat of his cock against you and when you push forward his thumb is pressing against your clit with that perfect amount of extra pressure that makes you want to cry his name so loudly the neighbors will hear. "Your hands are so fucking big."

He chuckles again. “Use ‘em then, sugar.” He croons softly. “Want you to pour that sweet honey of your cunt into my hand.”

With his arm pinning your hands down there's no way you can do anything to help him except continuing to rock your hips, doing your best to ride his fingers like he so gorgeously requested while still giving him some kind of friction to enjoy for himself. What you really want is to strip away the thin fabric between you and find out exactly how thick that cock would feel inside you, but this is already crossing the line into definitely not moving slowly, so you're going to thoroughly enjoy this moment for all it's worth.

This is so wrong right now. Not because of who you are to him or anything. No, Jack’s accepted that. He accepted that the moment he knew that he was going to tear your kidnappers limb from limb for touching a hair on your head. This is because you are freshly healed. He shouldn’t take advantage of you like this when your emotional state is so off kilter. Still, he continues to grunt into your ear, pouring praises in it for you. “Good girl, sugar. I know you can do it. Ride my fingers.”

Good girl, sugar. You shudder, whimpering at how good he feels touching you and how he managed to goddamn guess at your praise kink. Or else it’s a perfect accident, making you cling to him that much tighter as you move. The coil of fire in your belly says you’re so near to your peak that you can practically taste it but the getting there is so sweet.

He can feel your body tensing, priming to explode under his hands. “Come on baby.” He urges you, letting go of your side to snake his hand under your thin shirt to squeeze your breast as he pushes his fingers deep and curls them up in a beckoning motion. Drawing you to your prize. “Cum for me.”

It feels like someone gave him a map of your pussy, letting him find all of your most sensitive points perfectly. When his fingers curl it’s like your whole body locks down. Your back arches against his chest and your cunt clenches down on his fingers, squeezing them tight as your orgasm slams into you with a strangled cry of his name dripping from your lips.

Jack loves it. Loves how you cry out his name. It's hoarse, but not because of your throat being bruised from screaming, but because you are overwhelmed. His cock pulses against your ass and he swears that he would cum if he slipped inside you right now. Instead he concentrates on your pleasure, making you ride out the sensations until you are limp against him.

"Fuck." The deep, throaty giggle that blossoms in the middle of your chest bubbles out of you as you catch your breath, and you bury your face in the pillow momentarily. "I know I was trying not to get caught but I'm really okay with you waking up."

He chuckles in your ear, squeezing your tit one more time before he reluctantly lets go and starts to unwind himself from your body. Easing his hips back so he can calm down. "Happy to help, sugar." He promises.

When he moves away you turn around, a frown painted on your otherwise relaxed face. "You don't want me to take care of you?" It's okay if he doesn't, obviously. Not pushing him into anything clearly includes not pressuring him into any kind of intimacy. But he should never doubt that you want him.

“Sugar— you’re still recovering.” He huffs towards you. “I don’t want to push that on you. I’m okay.”

"I'm okay, honey." You promise him, letting the little pet name warm through you. "When you're ready, I'm ready."

Jack knows that physically, you are probably better than you’ve ever been, but he knows what it’s like to not take a moment after a big ordeal. “Believe me, I want you sugar. That’s not the problem.”

"Then what is?" There's a box of tissues on your bedside table, and reaching for one or two to help him clean up seems kinder than sucking his fingers into your mouth like you want to. If something is bothering him then offering him the chance to open up is the best thing you can do. If he isn't ready to take it, that's up to him.

Jack wonders why you are grabbing tissues, but maybe it's because you don't like the way cum feels between your thighs. His fingers slip into his mouth and he groans at the tangy taste of your juices, imagining drinking them from the source and tasting you in his mustache. "I— I got shot about six months ago. In the head." He tells you quietly.

You barely manage to stifle a groan of your own, watching your slick disappear past his lips before you register what he's saying. "You—in the head?"

"Pointblank." Jack still doesn't remember anything beyond demanding the antidote from Eggsy and then waking up in Ginger's lab a completely different man. The man he had been after Abigail had died and he had gone through his whoring ways – ignoring the hole in his heart. "We have something called 'Alpha gel'. It's what saved my life."

"I'll be sending Ginger an incredibly large 'thank you' basket for that invention." It had seemed almost cartoonish when it was described to you during your tour of the lab after learning the truth about Statesman. "What the hell happened? Was it a mission?"

"It was." Jack sighs softly. "I – we were dealing with that Poppy Adams incident." He tells you, nodding when your eyes widen. "For obvious reasons, I held a very long, very personal grudge against drug dealers, drug users, drug pimpers, all of them." He frowns when he remembers that it hadn't been druggies. It had been Hank Rollins and his personal brand of crazy.

"I'm so sorry, honey." Whatever he's thinking, you'll let him get there in his own time. The fact that he's opening up to you is a very good thing. You just wish there was something more you could say to comfort him.

"That's not the point." Jack shakes his head and frowns more. Knowing that what he might say could possibly change your opinion of him. "After I was healed – in the hyperbaric chamber – I was different." He explains. "I would have never – ever – let my personal feelings get in the way of a mission, but I did. I wasn't thinking fully like myself." He takes a breath and meets your eyes finally. "I almost let everyone in the world who was affected die because of it."

Letting it sink in takes a moment. Working out his meaning until you shift your head on the pillow to find worry in his deep, brown eyes. "You're worried that I'm not myself?"

"You have to admit that you don't exactly know how you were affected in that chamber." Jack murmurs softly. "I wouldn't want you to wake up and realize that you wouldn't touch me. Or feel like I took advantage of you."

"Jack, I promise you didn't take advantage of me." If anything, you were the one pushing the envelope first, but you'll just leave that aside for now. "But if it will reassure you to wait a little while so you can see that I'm still the same me, then I completely respect that." Leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, you offer him a smile and squeeze his hand for good measure. "But the least myself I've ever felt is these last two months trying to pretend that I didn't want to spend every spare minute with you. This finally feels right."

"Let an old man worry." He gets it, he really does, but he needs to be sure. The feelings that are budding in his chest aren't ones that will be pushed away easily. Losing another soulmate for real might actually kill him this time.

"Alright." You'll concede it for the sake of this brand new whatever you are-ship, but you don't make any moves to get out of bed or even out of his arms. "Let's make sure we go over it with the therapist, then?"

"As soon as we can." Jack promises, knowing that he wants nothing more than to slide into you right now and make both of you happy, but he needs to do the right thing by you, for once.

"It might be better if we distract ourselves?" You offer, knowing that the proximity of him and knowing what he can do with those overly large hands of his is going to make you focus on him alone unless you bring something else into the equation. "I can turn on the tv? Or order dinner if you're hungry? We've slept most of the day away."

"Whatever you want to do, sugar." Jack sends you a wry smile. "I can restrain myself from attacking you and making you scream my name." He teases with a small wink.

"I'm not so sure I have your restraint." A rueful shrug of your shoulders is the best you can do while you try to wipe the sheepish grin off your face, but you grab the television remote for the flat screen in your bedroom and turn on a movie channel on low for background noise.

"Are you saying you would have your wicked way with me?" Jack sounds scandalized but the grin on his face is undeniable. Mischievous and spread from ear to ear.

"Not without your eager consent." When you settle back down there's a smirk on your face that you try twisting into a dramatic frown, but it just doesn't work at all and you end up huffing a laugh. "Wanted you since the second I laid eyes on you. But I can wait."

"Believe me, sugar. I think you have more than enough proof that I want you." He glances meaningfully down between you and chuckles himself. "I just want to do right by you, for once."

"Which is why I turned on the tv." It would be completely awful of you to push, but you settle down again against his shoulder and pick up your phone from the bedside table. "And find out what time my family is getting here tomorrow. Distractions, so I don't take a peek under the blanket."

Jack snorts and shakes his head at you. "You can look all you want." It's fun to tease you, and he knows that things are going to progress faster than he would probably want, but that's okay.

"Not if you want me to keep my tongue to myself." You throw him the same kind of wink he used to aim at you when you first met and pull up the family text thread on your phone. There's been plenty of activity in these texts over the last few days but you ignore the worried and panicked messages for now. You don't have the stomach to read them right now.

"They are going to fuss over you." He reminds you. "Just like I'm fussing over you now."

"They'll see that I'm okay." There is no reason to involve your family in anything that happened in that warehouse in Brooklyn, and you're certainly not going to describe any of it to your siblings, so you'll probably keep the nightmares and any future possible PTSD bullshit under your hat as well. "I don't want them to worry about things they can't have helped or changed," you explain, when his brow furrows slightly. "I think...I might see the Statesman therapist on my own, too. For a little while at least. Just...to make sure I work through everything that happened properly. Pretending it wasn't a big deal isn't healthy."

"That's a good idea." Jack can firmly get behind it, knowing it will be good for you to talk it out with someone who had no part in what happened. You can talk to him, but he will always have a biased slant on you, so it is best you work with someone professionally.

"Turns out my soulmate has a few of those." Smiling when you put down your phone, you slip your hand into his easily.

"I'm glad you think so." Jack huffs playfully, squeezing your hand and giving you a soft smile.

"Well it was a damn good way to wake up from a nap, and you picked out the most beautiful dress I've ever worn in my life. So that's at least three excellent ideas you've had, counting therapy." Lifting his hand to your lips lets you leave a soft kiss there, and you revel in the ease of just being with him like this.

It's almost laughingly easy how this thing seems to flow between you when he's not fighting it. Making him shake his head at the irony of it all. "Sounds like I need to suggest orderin' pizza now, to make it four." He teases, remembering how you had mentioned wanting a pie later on.

You grin, letting the playful tone of his words warm you through until you giggle quietly and pick your phone back up again. "Do you have a favorite place to order from?"

"There's a secret place. Hole in the wall. It's called Tony's pizza shop. Best fuckin' New York pizza outside of the five boroughs." Jack groans. "Guy moved down from the city and I swear it's the only reason I don't have pizza flown in on the Statesman jet."

"Tony's it is." Handing your phone over so he can make the call feels as natural and low-key domestic as just lying in bed together could possibly be. "Whatever your favorite thing is from there, that's what we'll have for dinner."

"Porcini and truffle pizza coming up." Jack hums as he dials the number he knows by heart and waits for it to connect.

“Thanks for calling Tony’s.” The underwhelmed sounding teenager on the other end of the call smacks his gum into the receiver. “Pickup or delivery?”

"Delivery." Jack declares, rattling off the address of your cabin on the Statesman property and he looks over at you. "Can I get a medium porcini and truffle...and, uh, you got any special pies?" He asks, knowing that Tony was always creating something in that pizza oven of his. Feeling like you would enjoy the man, what with your own culinary creativity.

“Special of the day is the shakshuka pie with lamb sausage and a fried egg and fresh herbs on top.” The teenager reports, trying not to sound like he’s drooling over the phone. “It’s absolutely killer.”

It sounds like it would be right up your alley and Jack nods. “Lemme get one of those too.” He decides.

“Sure thing, Mr. Daniels.” It’s not like Jack isn’t a regular customer. Every employee there knows his voice after just a couple of words. “That’ll be thirty minutes. You want it on your tab?”

"Sure thing kid." Jack grins. "Tell the driver that if they get it here in twenty, it's a double tip." He promises, disconnecting the call after the boy agrees and waggles his brows at you. "Pizza'll be here in seventeen minutes."

Instead of sinking into him for a kiss like you want to – despite the fact that his fingers were inside you twenty minutes ago – you just smile and take your phone back to see if your mother has texted about their flight. “What kind of specialty did they have?” You ask, genuinely curious as to what passes for specialty or experimental flavors around here. If you were home you’d be fighting with your dad not to order clams or something equally bizarre.

“Shakshuka?” He asks, not quite sure what that means. “Lamb sausage with fried eggs and herbs?” He shrugs. “I just know if Tony sells it, it’s worth eating.”

“Ohhhhh I love shakshuka, that sounds amazing.” You’re instantly in a state of near-drooling that can normally only be achieved by sweets or a very attractive and usually naked man. “It’s basically a spicy Middle Eastern tomato sauce that sometimes has meat in it but can be a really killer vegetarian meal. You crack eggs into it and bake them like that to dip bread in.” A small, proud smile graces your lips but it’s just the warmth in your chest filling again. “If you like it, I’ll make you my version some morning for breakfast.”

“Sounds delicious.” Jack has always loved spicy meals anyway, though he might have to have an antacid now after dinner. Getting older changes things. “I think you’ll love Tony’s.”

“I hope so.” He has good taste, generally speaking, so you aren’t worried. Instead you lay back against your pillows and tap out a quick reply to your mother before putting your phone away. “My family are landing at noon tomorrow. Mom says Champ offered to send the jet for them, so they’re coming straight here. No airport trip.”

“I figured he would send the jet.” Jack hums. “Plus they have to get the Pony Express back.”

"And it looks like my brother-in-law is staying behind with the kids, so you'll be spared diaper changes while they're here." Who knows if he minds or not. If being around little kids still reminds him of his son. You wouldn't blame him if it did. "I say it like that, but I love them. My siblings are my best friends in the world."

“Why are the littles staying behind?” Jack asks, frowning slightly. “Between my cabin and yours, there should be enough room for everyone.”

"If you want to meet everybody at once, I can tell them to come." Anybody else might have considered it a blessing to be able to only meet a portion of your loud, enthusiastic family the first time, but Jack looks positively offended that they aren't all descending on Louisville en masse. "They know I only have one guest room here, so they probably figured there wasn't enough room. I don't...you don't have to give up your space to my family, Jack. I can't ask you to do that."

"I don't mind." Jack shakes his head and twists to look at you fully. "You deserve to have all of your family here. I'm sure they all want to be here." He sends you a half smile. "Family comes first, sugar. If I need to bunk somewhere else, I can - but you tell all of them to come."

"There aren't so many of them that we'd run you out of your own home." That would be unforgivable in your opinion, and you're fairly certain your grandma Jane's spirit would rise up and smack you upside the head for it, as well. "Champ's sent an email that I'm not supposed to go back to work at all this week. Only doctor's appointments and spending time with my family. So I promise I'll keep them busy. You'll only have to spend time with us when you choose to."

Jack snorts and gives you a shrug. "I can make myself scarce sugar, you don't have to make it seem like it would be a blessin'." He promises, sure that once you explain how he had treated you, he wouldn't be well liked by your family anyway.

"That's not when I meant." Embarrassment flushes hot in your cheeks and you sink under the covers. "I would love for you to spend time with us. Time to get to know my family and time that you and I can spend getting to know each other better. I'm just apparently more paranoid about you feeling forced into anything than I thought I was."

"How 'bout this?" He poses seriously, sliding down to where he was once again eye level with you. "You tell me where to be and when to be there and I'll be on time." He offers, sending you a small wink. "Plus, I have a bigger kitchen and three spare bedrooms."

"If you let me use your kitchen I might never leave." It's a joke, of course it is, but it still makes you smile and you shift forward on your pillow until you're almost nose to nose. "Thank you, Jack. You have no idea how much it means to me."

"It's not a problem, sugar." Jack loves the way you light up at the prospect of having your entire family around you and he wants to encourage it. "You can always bunk with me to make another bed available if needed." He teases, winking at you playfully.

"Sure," you huff playfully, adding a dramatic eye roll to make him laugh. "If you wanna see how really little self restraint I really have, I will absolutely share a bed with you."

Chuckling, Jack reaches out and cups your cheek. "You mean you couldn't restrain yourself with me walkin' around my room naked as a jaybird?"

"No. Absolutely not. No way in hell." The answer is immediate and sure, and you shake your head emphatically. "I can barely restrain myself now and you've already gotten me off once today."

Jack's grin blooms on his face and he leans in, raising a brow at you. "Sounds like you're needin' to get to the therapist then, sugar." He's not above a little blackmail to make sure you get the help you need to process everything. So that you don't end up as fucked up as he is.

"Ugggggh." Groaning even more dramatically this time, you practically wail in hysterics that you can barely get through without giggling at yourself. Throwing one arm over your eyes, you toss yourself onto your back and sigh as loudly as you can. "Why did I have to get the only man in the world who wants a healthy, lasting relationship and won't just tear my clothes off?"

That makes Jack stare at you for a moment, realizing what you are saying is true. Normally he would be that man, but he’s not. Just like with Abigail, he is taking it slow. He hums. “Sorry sugar, clothes ripping will happen later.”

"Just as long as it happens eventually." You tease, peeking out from behind your hand and grinning at him. "Physical strength is a turn-on and I will never deny it."

“Is it?” He contemplates that seriously and smirks. “So sweeping you off your feet literally will get me into your panties?” He asks, arching an eyebrow at you as he asks, as if there would be any answer other than ‘yes’.”

"Since you've already technically been in my panties, I don't see the harm in being honest." It's easy. So easy with him. Even as much as you've enjoyed other men's company, no one has ever made you feel quite the way that Jack does on a basic level. It's almost its own kind of therapy right here in bed. "The night we went to the bar together?" You raise an eyebrow right back at him. "I touched myself thinking about that barfight for days."

“I might have been showin’ off just a bit.” Jack admits, smirking slightly. “Believe me, I wanted to show off, fuck– I probably could have bent you over the hood of the Bronco in the parking lot, couldn’t I?”

The groan that elicits from you is pitiful, as much a whimper as anything else as you squeeze your thighs together and consider yourself lucky that he can't see you doing it. "Yeah," you admit, not even upset about it for a second. "In a heartbeat."

“Hmmm.” Jack grunts, the conversation not helping his throbbing cock, but he is learning about his soulmate. “Exhibitionist.” He intones solemnly.

"Only a couple of times." It's barely a defense, and you bite your lip for a second while you contemplate how much to tell him. "Three times grand total." He stares at you for a moment in shock before he throws his head back and laughs. A deep belly jiggling laugh that echoes through the room. "What?" Your cheeks burn all over again and his contagious laughter takes you right along with it. "I'm just being honest!"

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, not wanting you to think that he’s making fun of you. “It’s a good thing, I promise.”

"Have we got matching kinks or something?" It's one of those things that people with soulmates - like your sister - talk about all the time. That sexual compatibility is supposed to be part of the package.

“I have no problem with anywhere, anytime.” He assures you with a wink.

Saved from whatever dramatic groan your mind is about to make, your ringtone cuts through the boisterous tone of the room and you glance at the unsaved number before realizing you shouldn’t send it to voicemail. “That must be dinner. You want me to throw on my robe and go down while you answer, or the other way around?”

“I’ll go get the food.” Jack shuffles out of the bed and grabs his pants so he can slide them on and take his wallet out to pay.

Meeting him downstairs means throwing a sweatshirt over your thin t-shirt, and you're just walking down the stairs when he shuts the door with two pizza boxes in his hand. "I'll grab drinks and plates if you want to bring those into the living room."

“So you aren’t an eat in bed type of girl?” He asks, smirking slightly at the very messy look that you have going for you. It’s cute and he can imagine you cooking just like this.

"Snacks or a drink, maybe. But not so much for meals." You do crack a grin, though, reaching the floor and wiggling your toes on the cool wood floor. "And washing tomato sauce or oil out of my bedsheets doesn't sound like fun."

“No, it doesn’t.” Jack has to admit that and the special pie sounds like it could potentially be messy. He brings the pizzas into the living room and decides that the floor seems like a good spot to eat, pushing the coffee table back to make more room and layering throw pillows to cushion your backs.

A moment later, you reappear with beer bottles, plates, and napkins, and grin at the little sitting area he’s set up. “Do you want to watch a movie while we eat?” It’s the sort of low key, comfortable, domestic little thing that you honestly just love and the fact that you didn’t suggest it at all makes it even sweeter.

Jack watches as your grin gets wider and you nod. Feeling like he’s making the right choices and he frowns for just a second. “Is–” He sighs and tries again. “Would you be offended if I talked about her?” He asks quietly.

“Honey, of course not.” You drop down amongst the pillows he’s set up and reach for his hand immediately. “She’s important to you. If you ever want to talk about her or share a memory or something, then I want to hear it.” It’s such a peculiar situation and - as far as you know you’re the only two who have ever been in it. There is no blueprint for behavior here. The best you can do is go with your instincts and your instincts are always for honesty.

“I just– I don’t want to upset you if I mention something about her, or things we used to do together.” He explains. “I was going to tell you how when we were younger, these were our ‘dates’. Curled up on the floor watching movies and eatin’ junk. When I wasn’t workin’, of course.”

“I’m not going to be upset if you want to share with me.” Holding his hand in both of yours, you press a kiss to his palm, somehow still afraid that kissing his lips could lead to losing that careful thread of control. “If it gets to be too much, or overwhelming somehow, I promise I’ll tell you.”

“Please.” Jack begs softly. “I don’t–I don’t want her to be a taboo subject, but I also don’t want you to feel like I’m hanging on to a ghost.” It might be the first time he’s ever said those words out loud before and they are profound for him.

“Jack…” One of your hands leaves his to cup his cheek, finding so much sadness in his eyes when you meet them. “I think you loved her very much, and she was taken from you unfairly. You deserve to be able to remember and talk about her. Hell, I’ll probably talk about my exes sometimes and they didn’t mean anywhere near as much to me. We’re just going to have to check in with each other sometimes; that’s all. Just to make sure we’re balanced and equal and all that.”

He nods after a moment, feeling emotional and instead of pushing it down or letting it fester inside him, he faces it. “He was gonna take you too, sugar.” Jack’s face turns deadly at the thought. “I couldn’t let that happen. Not twice.”

“I didn’t think you would come.” There’s shame in it, you can admit that, and you drop your hand back into your lap as your eyes fall away from his face. “I still thought you hated me…and I didn’t know how you ever could have found me anyway…”

“Never.” Jack promises you. “I’ve never hated you and I will always come for you. No matter what.” It’s easy to promise that to you now, but he wants you to know that no matter what ever happens, he will protect you with his life.

“It’s done now.” It was literally just yesterday, but the part of you that’s trying to cope with how it made you feel is analyzing it like it was a decade ago or more. “It’s done and you’re here and that’s what matters.”

He stares at you for a moment and then snorts. “Hell, sugar. I think you’re better than some of our agents. Myself included.”

“I definitely prefer my kitchen.” His laughter is contagious, though, and you end up cracking a half-smile. “Gives me a hell of a lot of respect for what you do though. Shit.”

“Never been scared on a mission before.” Jack admits. “This time, my heart was in my throat the whole fuckin’ time.”

"We're both okay." You promise him softly. "We apparently just needed some extremely dramatic bullshit to happen for us to get our heads out of our stubborn asses and talk to each other."

“I don’t like you thinkin’ that I wouldn’t have come for you.” He murmurs, reaching out and taking your chin in his hand. “I’d die for you, sugar. I promise.”

"I know that now." Then, just a day ago, you hadn't had any reason to think that things would ever take a turn for the positive between you. "But I'm hoping we never have to put that to the test."

“Me too.” Today doesn’t need to be weighed down by the maybes or what ifs. Jack smirks and nods towards the pizzas. “You ready to have the best pie you’ve ever put in your mouth?” It’s a bold claim, but he knows this pizza backs it up.

"You talk a big game Daniels." Plates, drinks, napkins, and slices are distributed and you settle on just leaving the television on whatever channel it's on and heckling the movie that's playing if you decide you don't like it. Your first bite of the mushroom and truffle pizza is accompanied by such a groan that anybody else would have thought that Jack had his hand in your shorts again. "Holy shit you weren't kidding."

He chuckles, not even denying how sexy that noise you make is. “Told you.” He hums. “Best fuckin’ pizza. And it’s fresh, every day that man is makin’ his mozzarella. Or at least that’s what he told me.”

“I’m a convert,” you declare about four bites later when you can finally force yourself to come up for air. Everything is perfectly balanced and gorgeously fresh and if this isn’t the best pizza you’ve had in years you’ll eat your hat instead.

“Knew you would be.” Jack grins, his own slice already halfway devoured. “Tony is why I knew you would do well here. The artistic food setting is starting to grow.”

"I can't believe there's only a couple of weeks left before the restaurant opens." It feels like every possible second has been spent in that kitchen since you got here, but only in the best possible way. Sometimes it's hard to remember that you haven't actually been serving customers this whole time. But that is mostly because there is such a handful of fellow Statesman employees who have been steadily dropping by to act as your taste testers on their lunch breaks.

“Do you need anything?” Jack asks you seriously. “I know that Champ has given you carte blanche to design and set it up like you’ve wanted, but is there anything we are missing?” He’s already talked to Champ about flying your family down again for the opening. It’s only fair they witness the celebration of your achievements.

"A new line cook for the savory side." You blow out a regretful sigh. "I'll have to go back through the resumes I kept on file and bring in some more interviews, but other than that?" A slight shrug of your shoulders is one thing, but you offer Jack a small smile. "I just really want my favorite people to be there. The opening night party is all reservations and almost every seat is sold already. So...I wasn't going to ask, obviously, but...do you want to be there? I mean I want you to be, but you don't have to."

“I will be there.” Jack rolls his eyes and grins. “Of course I’m going to be there. You think I’m missing out on your cookin’?” He tuts and shakes his head in disappointment. “Besides…I’ve already got the jet reserved for your family to come in again for the openin’.”

"You do not?" The squeal that accompanies the question is shattering, and you throw your arms around his neck so carefully so the residue from pizza on your fingertips won't stain his shirt. "Honey, that's so fucking sweet of you, oh my god..." No one had come down to visit yet specifically because of the cost of airfare, because you had talked it through with your mother a month ago and decided to split the cost of the five round-trip fares plus hotel rooms that would be needed for them to come to the opening. Even with everyone doing well, the cost of existing in the world today is high. With your face buried in the crook of Jack's neck, you sniffle quietly. "You're incredible, you know that?"

Jack chuckles, basking in your adoration and kisses the side of your head. “I have a lot to make up for, sugar.” He murmurs softly. “But this was something I had done before I came to my senses. Your family should be here. It’s not every day you open your own restaurant.”

"If I do this right, this will be the last opening night of my career, and the only one I've ever been chef for." You squeeze him tightly before sitting back, knowing that your face reads nothing but awe and excitement. The opening night party is set to be an incredibly special event and you've been looking forward to it with equal parts anxiety and excitement.

“You will do amazing.” Jack promises. “We decided that we are cracking open a barrel of the whiskey to go along with it. If you want, of course.”

"It will be perfect." To a certain degree, it has to be. Your career rides on the success of The Rabbit-Hole, even if you came by it in a sort of round-about way. You have no problem acknowledging the fact that Champ wouldn't keep a failing restaurant open just to appease Jack. "We'll open a barrel as a surprise sneak peak. We're going to have both the afternoon tea menu and the full dinner menu available that night so there will be no shortage of good things to pair it with."

“It’s going to be amazing.” Jack promises you. He looks at the other flavor of pizza. “Ready to try his newest creation?”

"Absolutely." You press a kiss to his cheek before you move away again, and pick up the slice of tomatoey, spicy smelling pizza. The first bite has you moaning again, doing a happy little dance in your seat on the floor beside him. "'S so fuckin good," you mumble happily, grinning while you eat.

Jack grins, watching you eagerly as you eat. “Good to know what I can order on nights where you’re too exhausted to do anything but lay on the couch and let me take care of things.”

"That's some real domestic talk there, Jack." The grin on your face spreads, cheeks warming through, and you put down your half-eaten slice to wipe your hands. "I like it."

“What can I say?” He teases with an exaggerated drawl. “I’m just a simple, traditional man.” He sends you a small wink. “Besides, I like the way you look when you’re flustered and still looking like the cat who got the canary.”

"That's pretty much how I feel." You can admit that fairly easily, and being able to open up to him even a little is such a relief. "I guess I would technically consider myself traditional, too. At least I wanted to be. But life throws you curveballs, ya know?"

Jack nods, frowning slightly since he was the one who hurled the curveballs your way. “I can see that.” He murmurs, wondering if you regret removing your tattoos. Now there is no proof you are soulmates.

"Now, why does that upset you?" As you both sit and eat, the noise of the television fades into the background and you shift your position to face him fully. "I already said that we don't have to push any of that."

“It’s stupid.” Jack shakes his head and gives a small shrug.

"Your feelings aren't stupid." You promise him, frowning slightly yourself.

“I was just thinking about the marks you got removed.” He admits, rolling his eyes at himself. “There’s zero proof we are soulmates now. Beyond us knowing.”

"I know I should have talked to you about it." There's more than a little guilt attached to that decision, especially now that you've talked and decided to explore whatever it is that's between you. "But now you can go back to work. And isn't that a good thing?"

He can’t deny it was what he wanted, but now that he has it, he’s not happy with it. Maybe it’s because it had been meant to cut ties with him visually. He’s a selfish asshole and can confuse himself sometimes. “Yes and no.” Jack huffs, reaching for your hand and taking it. “I’m just– you loved that tattoo and I don’t want you to, hell, regret it.” He tells you. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“The situation isn’t exactly cut and dry,” you remind him. “It’s okay to feel conflicted about something complicated.” God knows you do, and you have nothing like his reasons for having such conflicting wants. “Which part upsets you more? That I gave up a piece of art that I loved, or that there’s no proof we’re soulmates anymore?”

Jack sighs, rolling his eyes at himself again. “That there’s no proof.” He admits quietly. “Everyone always wants to see proof.”

“But is there any way to have proof that’s safe?” Given what you’ve just gone through, safety is officially at the top of your list of concerns.

“Not until I come out of the field.” Jack shakes his head sadly. He looks down at his hand. “Used to have a bullseye tattoo right there.” He muses. “Hated having it removed.”

“I’m not asking you to give up your job.” Nothing could be further from your mind, especially with how much he’s been itching to get back to things and how he begged you to remove the tattoo before this. “You love your work, and the fact that I’m sitting here right now is first hand proof that you’re good at it.”

“I…could give it up.” Jack murmurs slowly. He’s made being an agent his entire life because he had nothing beyond that. It wasn’t exactly the case anymore. “I do love it, but…”

“Jack.” You shake your head fiercely, squeezing his hand in yours. “You’re miserable with nothing to do. I’ve only known you for a few months and I know that. Please don’t make any rash decisions?” The fear in your eyes is obvious, and you sigh quietly. Honesty. Honesty. “I don’t want you to give up your work so there can be proof of us and end up resenting or regretting the decision down the line.”

“How about a compromise?” He offers quietly. “The second I’m ready to come out of the field, you put that tattoo back and however many others you want?”

“We’ll talk about it again when you start to think about it.” That is an easy enough promise, and one that you can make sincerely. “You can get your bullseye back, too. But not before you’re ready.”

There’s a moment where the two of you just stare at each other, gazing into each other's eyes and seemingly coming to an agreement. Jack tilts his head once and flashes you a grin. “Yes ma’am.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101​

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My Masterlist!

[nekoannie-chan]

The perfect trap part I

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Enhanced!Mutant!Reader X Jack Rollins, Steve Rogers X Enhanced!Mutant!Reader (platonic).

Word count: 1141 words.

Summary: The reader is in a relationship with Brock and Jack; she has the task of introducing Steve to our era, something that obviously neither of them likes, but they have no choice.

Warnings: Poly relationship, the reader is an agent of HYDRA, mentions of smut.

A/N: This was requested by @azulatodoryuga. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

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2011

"Have you decided where we're going on vacation yet?" you inquired of your boyfriend as you adjusted your bra.

You were busy when you got the message from S.H.I.E.L.D., in which they told you that they needed your presence immediately at the facilities; you had to get dressed quickly.

"Y/N, there is no time for that; we must get there as soon as possible and see that none of that interferes with our plans," Jack scolded you.

You turned indignantly to see him. "What did you say?"

"Jack, don’t bother her; you better hurry up; you know that if you make her angry, she won't let you do to her that thing you like so much," Brock intervened, causing Jack to leave the room grumbling.

"What's going on?” It's four in the morning," you commented, breaking the silence in the car.

"Something too important; otherwise, they wouldn't have called us, but we're not the only ones, so it's a big deal," Brock said as he drove.

"I don't like this."

"Did you see something?" Jack asked.

"I don't have visions; I just move things around, and, well, you know... you made a sign to indicate that you could kill someone using your powers.” But I have a bad feeling."

"Do you think we've been discovered?" Jack's voice sounded nervous; that wasn't like him at all.

"If that were the case, we'd have several teams breaking into the house to catch us instead of being called in.” It's something else," Brock clarified.

"I hope we don't have to use the Soldiers," you said.

"Does innocent little Y/N want a repeat of last time?” I believe you're a sex addict," Jack teased.

"Jack, shut up; you're the sex addict," you defended yourself.

Brock Jack was waiting for the other one to agree with him.

"Sorry, but Y/N is right; I'm starting to think you really are." Brock backed you up.

"I hate you."

"You're lying, you know you love us, or do you want me to tell you what we were doing before we were interrupted?" You've already scoffed.

Jack grimaced; he knew he had lost the battle.

"Why did you come together?" Natasha asked you when you sat down next to her. It was going to be very obvious if the three of you sat together.

"I spoke to Rumlow, who lives near my house, but my car broke down and I had no way to get there," you answered. You usually made excuses, and you didn't want anyone to know about the relationship you had to avoid putting others in danger. "Do you know why they called us?" You nimbly changed the subject; you knew that she would keep questioning you if you didn't do it.

"They found someone," she answered.

"Someone? Who? "

"They're not sure yet, but they say is Captain Rogers."

"Captain Rogers? You mean, Steve Rogers, Captain America, "you couldn't believe what you had just heard; you had to tell Jack and Brock as soon as possible."

You managed to send them a text message, and they made a great effort to keep their reaction from being obvious. What was going on was confirmed at that meeting, where they explained it to you.

None of the three knew exactly the significance of what was happening, but you were beginning to imagine the consequences. Evidently, Pierce would not be at all happy, and above all, in a few days, he would also gather the agents who were on the mission to intervene with S.H.I.E.L.D.

You were startled when Fury named you at the end of the meeting; he required your presence in his office. Brock and Jack exchanged glances, somewhat panicked, and as much as possible, they stayed close to Nick's office; they were very worried.

"What do you need me for, Director?" you asked, doing your best to appear calm.

"You will take care of Rogers; I need you to help him integrate into our time; you are one of the best agents we have," Nick ordered.

"Is he awake yet?" You were trying to get as much information as you could. You, Brock, and Jack had to come up with a plan quickly.

"This morning, but I need to keep it a secret still," he replied.

You nodded, and he continued to give you instructions. Now that you were trying hard to keep from smiling, maybe it wasn't all bad news; that could mean that maybe you could move up the ranks in HYDRA.

As you left the office, you motioned for them to follow you; you were to talk in a private place where no one could hear you.

They didn't like the idea at all; they didn't like at all that you had to share your time with the enemy or what could happen; they didn't want to share you with anyone else in any way; you were only theirs.

"When are you going to start that?" Brock questioned.

"In three days."

"I don't like the idea," Brock said. He didn't want to think about what might happen; the mere thought made him angry.

"I know, Brock, but if we look on the bright side, we could get a lot of valuable information, and that would make Pierce very happy," you said.

"Y/N is right, but we'll still be close, and if he dares to touch you...

"Is the big guy jealous?" interrupted Jack.

"Pierce wants us to meet, well, all of STRIKE with him tomorrow," Brock interrupted as he saw the message that had arrived.

"Then I guess we have to make the most of the time; we don't know when we might get some alone time together again," you proposed mischievously.

Obviously, you didn't waste that night, so much so that the next day you couldn't even walk, but you didn't deny that you enjoyed it.

Day D

You knew you had to carry out your mission perfectly, although now that Pierce has found out about Steve, you feel more pressure.

"You know you can call us whenever you need us," Brock said, then gave you a kiss and a little box with a necklace he had bought for you.

"We'll be waiting for you; everything will be so boring without you," Jack said as he kissed you on the cheek.

You had never been separated for more than a month, but somehow you were going to get Steve to be part of HYDRA; somehow you would convince him without him noticing.

With the Soldier and the Captain on your side, the world would be yours.

You took a breath of air before knocking on the door, and you opened it slowly when you heard you could come in.

"Captain Rogers, I'm Agent Y/N Y/L/N. I'll be in charge of helping you integrate into our time. Nice to meet you."

[serenasoutherlyns]

have my cake/eat it too

Cabenson, mature. ao3

Alex Cabot was going to drive her insane. She knew it must be happening, but she didn’t need to see it with her own two eyes. Alex at the bar next to some woman, Olivia couldn’t place where she recognized her from. She had dark features-- like Olivia herself. Alex wore that blue silk dress that exposed just the right amount of skin, her collarbones, her elegant shoulders. She had worn that dress on a particularly enjoyable date. She had her hair curled and pulled half back. Olivia felt her ears burn, and left. Whatever, right? It’s not like she owned her. Technically, they weren’t even together, right now. It wasn’t like Olivia wasn’t doing it too. She still felt sharp, twisting anger.

Callie was a journalist she knew. She had short brown hair that was showing early signs of gray at the temples. Shorter than Olivia, and curvy. Olivia called her and was unsurprised at her immediate answer, nor how she came over within the half-hour. Olivia kissed her with energy, nipping, sucking. Callie matched her intensity all night and left as fast as she came. Olivia couldn’t help falling asleep with Alex’s lithe body filling her head. It made her sick.

---

At work, she tried her best to act normal, professional. Alex was cold and simple in their conversations: did you get the file, what did the suspect’s lawyer say, good job on the witness stand. Olivia was similar. Despite this, there was a simmering tension that Munch picked up on. What was going on, he wanted to know. Olivia brushed it off as nothing. Munch was less than satisfied. What’s more, Alex didn’t stop driving her crazy. Olivia found herself nearly salivating at Alex’s tight sweaters and the way she would tuck her hair behind her ears, at the click of her heels on the cement floors of the precinct. She wanted her so bad. But they weren’t together. Right now. It was just too complicated-- they had agreed on this.

It was good to know she still had it, Olivia thought, after picking up a stranger at the lesbian bar one night. The woman was tall and blonde, but Olivia justified it with the fact that they looked nothing alike in the face. Olivia was on autopilot, this time, her mind swimming with Alex, Alex, Alex.

---

They couldn’t avoid working late together forever. Olivia couldn’t help herself: she brought it up.

“I saw you, at Penelope’s. With a woman,” Olivia mentioned in a quiet moment. Alex sighed back.

“I thought we were sticking to work at work,” was her reply.

“It’s not like we talk outside of work,” Olivia said.

“That’s true. Why do you care that I had drinks with a woman?”

“I think you could guess, Alex.”

“We’re not together, Olivia.” Olivia looked at her with what she could only imagine was seething anger, because Alex seemed taken aback for a moment, then she smiled. “You agreed, it’s too complicated.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t need to see it.”

“It’s not like I meant for you to,” said Alex, laughing with indignation.

“I mean, she looked like me, Alex, just say you want me back.”

“No,” said Alex. “Now can we get back to work?”

“Fine,” said Olivia, “fine.”

She didn’t mean for Rollins to be one of them, but she was unsurprisingly insistent and tipsy when she called, and Olivia was just horny enough to let her come over. She wondered if it had been a spur of the moment decision for the other detective or if she had a crush. She didn’t care that much. So much for limiting complications, so much for not sleeping with her coworkers-- whatever. Things would be fine, they were both adults.

The woman was surprisingly gentle, though clumsy. Olivia got her into bed giggling. A reddish-purple spot bloomed on Amanda’s neck, and Olivia found she didn’t regret it. Amanda wore a comfortable-looking gray turtleneck to work the next day, and they shared a little knowing glance.

---

Jack McCoy was running for reelection again, and Olivia wasn’t surprised to get an invite to the big fundraiser downtown. The campaign rented some big hotel ballroom. It was a little gauche, but that was to be expected. She appreciated the excuse to dress up a little, and the excuse to bring a date. Amanda was as easy as anyone else. They had talked about their rendez-vous, and decided to leave it at once, but she didn’t mind her company for a night out. She really didn’t regret it when she saw the scowl on Alex’s face when she saw the two of them sharing a joke.

“Counselor,” said Amanda, who knew nothing about the situation, beyond rumors. “Bad hors d'oeuvres?” Those cop manners, Olivia cursed.

“Hi, Detective,” Alex said curtly, not answering her question. “How are you doing?” The words were cold and slicing. Olivia got some satisfaction out of it. Jealousy was a two-way street, it seemed.

“I’m alright,” said Amanda. “Liv tried to class me up for the night.”

“I see that,” said Alex.

“It didn’t take,” said Amanda, “it usually doesn’t.” She let out her charming grin, and Alex’s expression soured even further.

“I think you look lovely,” said Olivia, playing into the game. She almost saw Alex roll her eyes. “Darling.”

“Well, nice to see you, detectives,” Alex said before pretending to see someone across the room and striding off with purpose. Olivia watched her walk away.

“What the hell is her deal?” Amanda asked her when she was (barely) out of earshot.

“Oh,” said Olivia, “my guess is bad hors d'oeuvres.”

---

Olivia pulled Alex in by her waist, kissed her with intention, though languidly, lips moving slowly, enjoying every millimeter of her, every little movement. Alex moaned softly, and it sent a shiver through Olivia. Alex’s soft hands interlaced behind Olivia’s neck, pulling her impossibly closer, letting Olivia’s tongue into her mouth, exploring the familiar space eagerly. They dropped down onto the couch and their hands roamed more, eventually, Olivia’s hand was hot under Alex’s shirt, feeling urgently. Alex moaned again, louder this time, and Olivia needed the fabric gone. Without even telling her to, Alex pulled the thin v-neck over her head. Olivia kissed her shoulder, then looked up, making eye contact with her, admiring her kiss-swollen lips and glassy eyes.

Her alarm went off. Olivia blinked in the early morning dark. She couldn’t shake it off all day.

---

Olivia was incensed. This was her coffee shop, she had been the one to introduce Alex to it. And here she was, with Abbie Carmichael. How dare she, honestly. Olivia was just trying to enjoy her Saturday afternoon. It wasn’t even some stranger like last time, but someone they both knew. She must be visiting from Washington. Olivia didn’t want to talk to them, but Abbie stopped her.

“Liv, hey,” she said in that raspy drawl of hers, “long time no see.”

“Abbie,” Olivia said, trying to keep the contempt out of her voice. “It’s nice to see you.” Alex was staring into her mug like it was going to tell her what to do. “How’s Washington?”

“Busy,” said Abbie with a laugh. “Crazy.”

“Better to be busy than idle,” Olivia said. Alex looked up. Her face was pink.

“That’s what my mother says,” said Abbie. “We should get drinks while I’m here.”

“That sounds like a great time,” said Olivia. “Well, nice to see you two,” said Olivia, and waved. As she left, she shot a look back at the table. Alex had a hand on her forehead.

---

“Olivia, can I talk to you?” Alex asked that Monday. Olivia expected it to be work, but it wasn’t. Alex walked into her office and crossed her arms in front of her. “What the fuck is your problem, Olivia?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, fake-oblivious.

“Bullshit,” said Alex. “You know I wasn’t even on a date with Abbie? That was just friendly. You embarrassed me in front of a friend, it was so out of line!” Alex’s voice was a whisper but she may as well have been yelling.

“Out of line is you interrogating my date at the fundraiser,” said Olivia.

“Yeah, because you were being so mature.” Olivia scoffed at her.

“Why do you even care?” Said Olivia. “What’s your problem, Alex?”

“You’ve been trying to make me jealous.”

“I haven’t, but good to know that you are,” said Olivia. At that moment she realized they were inches away from each other. Her eyes flitted to Alex’s lips, then her eyes, briefly to her hands. She opened her mouth to talk, but was cut off by Alex kissing her. It was a quick but intense kiss. They were lucky it was late because Alex’s blinds weren’t closed. Olivia pulled her in again and Alex let out a muffled mmph sound.

“You’re,” said Alex breathily, pulling back, “You’re infuriating.”

“Then go,” said Olivia. “If I piss you off so bad.”

“It’s my office,” said Alex.

“True,” said Olivia, who dropped Alex’s hand and turned to go. Alex gripped her stronger. “Do you want me?” said Olivia, her tone a mile away from moments ago.

“Desperately,” said Alex. “Do you know how, how mad I’ve been?” She laughed a little.

“I think I have some idea,” said Olivia.

---

“So, do you think it’s too complicated still?” said Alex in the morning.

“No,” said Olivia, “I think you’re worth any complication.”

“Sap,” said Alex, kissing her shoulder.

“What time is it?” Olivia asked. Alex rolled over to look at the clock.

“7:30,” she said.

“Good,” murmured Olivia, “plenty of time.”

[marvelrarepairbingo]

Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Round 3 Wrap Up

As we are into our 4th round of the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo, there are still some great submissions from last round that we'd like to share with you in the cut below so please check out some of the fantastic works our participants put together under the cut!

Title: ImageAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: I2: Is the image of Steve Rogers Pairing: Steve Rogers & Clint Barton Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: Clint saved the daySummary: Steve's plan gone wrong Word Count: 501 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/750358291351273472/image?source=share

Title: Saving herAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: I3: Stalker Pairing: Chase Stein x Gert Yorkes Rating: teen Major Tags/Warnings: Time travel, different timelinesSummary: Chase saves Gert Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/750448881709563904/saving-her?source=sha

Title: Stranded Author:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: I4: Stranded in a blizzard Pairing: Steve Rogers & Janet van Dyne Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: Snowstorm Summary: Is Steve and Janet vs snowstorm Word Count: 549 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/750992472055922688/stranded?source=share

Title: ViolentAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: I5: Angry mob Pairing: Marcos Díaz & Carmen Guerra Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: PurifiersSummary: Carmen asked Marcos for help Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/751084345272532992/violent?source=share

Title: RunAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: N1: A locked trunk Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Sinthea Schmidt Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: Locked trunk, mission, mention of dark dimensionSummary: Brock and Sin escaped from Steve Word Count: 555 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/751264256556711936/run?source=share

Title: Helping Author:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: N2: Helping a stranger Pairing: Tandy Bowen X Tyrone Johnson a.k.a. the divine pairing Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: Escaping Summary: Another way that Ty and Tandy meet. Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/751717237791080448/helping?source=share

Title: For Brock's sakeAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: Free Square Pairing: Jack Rollins & Sinthea Schmidt/ Brock Rumlow x Sinthea Schmidt Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: ArguingSummary: Is Brock's best friend Vs Brock's girlfriend Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/751898433587150848/for-brocks-sake?source=share

Title: CookingAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: N4: Cooking with love Pairing: Karolina Dean X Nico Minoru (Deanoru) Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: FluffSummary: Karolina and Nico tried to cook cookies Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/755794103790436352/cooking?source=share

Title: Candy storeAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: N5: Candy store Pairing: Lorna Dane & Esme Cuckoo Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: FluffSummary: Esme's first time in a candy store Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/755884102873432064/candy-stor?source=share

Title: FrappuccinoAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: G1: Spilling a drink on a stranger Pairing: Gert Yorkes x Chase stein (GertChase) Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: Spilling a drinkSummary: An unexpected mission Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/756065893491032065/f?source=share

Title: Together?Author:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: G2: Odd couple Pairing: Lorna Dane & Maria Guerra Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: TenseSummary: Lorna and Maria had to fight together Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/756156490530930688/together?source=share

Title: SingingAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: G3: Karaoke night Pairing: Brock Rumlow & Jack Rollins Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: Drunk, bad singingSummary: Karaoke drunk night Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/756337689129811968/singing?source=share

Title: Dream?Author:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: G4: Talking one’s way out of trouble Pairing: Clarice Fong & Sonya Simonson/ Clarice Fong x John proudstar Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: TenseSummary: Clarice and Sonya had a conversation Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/756428284917694464/dream?source=share

Title: No more hopeAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: G5: Loss of hope Pairing: Karolina Dean X Nico Minoru (Deanoru) Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: SadSummary: Karolina and Nico lose the hop Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/756609475901833216/no-more-hope?source=share

Title: ZooAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: O1: Visiting the zoo together Pairing: Sinthea Schmidt x Brock Rumlow Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: FluffSummary: Brock and sinthea visit the zoo Word Count: 507 words Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/756700073188048896/zoo?source=share

Title: FishingAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: O2: Fishing trip Pairing: Sue Storm & Johnny Storm Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: NoneSummary: Sue and Johnny go on a fishing trip. Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/756790670484717569/fishing?source=share

Title: The encounterAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: O3: Hypnotism Pairing: Steve Rogers & Past!Steve Rogers. Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: TenseSummary: Steve has to hypnotism his past self. Word Count: 509 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/756971865811140608/the-encounter?source=share

Title: Dance of soulsAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: O4: Dancing Pairing: Helstrom siblings & Marduk Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: Tense, confusionSummary: A weird dance for what? Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/757062461869473792/dance-of-souls?source=share

Title: Problematic trainingAuthor:  Annie Card #: MRP-066 Square Filled: O5: Train job Pairing: Steve Rogers & Brock Rumlow Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: Arguing, thoughts of revenge.Summary: Steve and Brock had a problem during training. Word Count: 100 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/nekoannie-chan/757153065696706560/problematic-training?source=share

Title: I miss youAuthor:  Wick Card #: MRP-055 Square Filled: I5: Bookstore AU Pairing: Steve Rogers/ Clint Barton Rating: Mature Major Tags/Warnings: Partial nuditySummary: Clint had been training to be an Olympic archer for half his life. He never thought the hardest part would be being in another country without Steve. He missed Steve and their dogs so much it was a physical ache. But someone needed to be home running the bookstore. Steve never thought he'd be upset to have inherited his grandparents old bookstore in Brooklyn. He'd loved it since he was a child and had always wanted to be there. Until the love of his life went to Paris without him... as an Olympian for Team USA Archery. Word Count: NA (Moodboard fiil) Link: https://www.tumblr.com/wolfarrowepz/757560042832723968/marvel-rare-pair-rd3-fill-1?source=share

Title: Getting Ready - Chapter 1: Oh, crab, Mr. Pie!Author:  Muffin Card #: MRP-058 Square Filled: O5: Odd Couple Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow, Brock Rumlow & Jack Rollins, Darcy Lewis & Scott Lang Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: swearing, language,Summary: “Or a certain someone's number.” Jack hid the comment behind a laugh. Brock had been dieting the last couple of days to look his best in the costume they had to wear after Brock lost a bet with a certain bespectacled astrophysicist. He still didn’t know why he was included in their bet—at least, it wasn’t illegal this time. Word Count: 1113 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55865374/chapters/141851593

Title: Waiting for a Reply (Matchmaker Femdom Edition - The Dating App: Chapter 2)Author:  Muffin Card #: MRP-058 Square Filled: O2: Taking Care of Someone Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, Yelena Belova & Darcy Lewis, Steve Rogers & Thor Rating: Mature Major Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Tower AU, language, D/S dynamics, gentle femdom, submissive!Steve, domme!Darcy, dating app, it’s all Nat’s fault, kink negotiations, self-doubt, Yelena is a good friend, Thor is a good bro, alcohol, mentioning of other drug useSummary: Two days went by without a reply to her message. It was not only eating on Darcy but also Steve felt bad for not opening the app. Thor and Yelena helped their friends to overcome their self-doubt. Word Count: 942 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53898709/chapters/136884361

Title: Reassurance (Holiday Hangover: Chapter 14)Author:  Muffin Card #: MRP-058 Square Filled: G2: Hugs and Kisses Pairing:  Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, polyamory, twins, fertility god, blessing, royal traditions, pre-wedding jitters, anticipatory grief, Fandal is flirting with Brock’s momSummary: Darcy leaned into his back as best as her baby bump would allow. “Planning our or your escape?” "Neither." Brock took her hands in his, squeezing them tenderly. "Why? Do you need rescuing?" “No.” She lay her head between his shoulder blades. “Just a little nervous. I know we discussed it, but ...” Word Count: 838 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44305264/chapters/138631783

Title: Getting Held Up - Chapter 2: Oh, crab, Mr. Pie!Author:  Muffin Card #: MRP-058 Square Filled: I5: Bodyguards Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow, Brock Rumlow & Jack Rollins Rating: Teen Major Tags/Warnings: swearing, language, sharing air by kissing, men kissing but for sharing air, nearly drowning, pulled underwaterSummary: Mr. Pie made a great entry. It grabbed Brock. Jack and Darcy were doing their best to free him. Word Count: 821 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55865374/chapters/142294804

Title: Dating Trouble: Birthday Boy (Happy Birthday, Steve: Chapter 2)Author:  Muffin Card #: MRP-058 Square Filled: G1: Kinky Lingerie Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Major Tags/Warnings: sex tape, restraint, bondage, exhibitionism, Voyeurism, light d/s, spanking, gentle dom, femdom, praise kink, light choking, edging, orgasm denial, bows and frills, man in panties, man in stocking mentionedSummary: It was Steve’s birthday. His first since he not only had one partner but two. For years, it was only him and his daughter Maggie. So, they had a tradition. And his partner sent him a little something to last the day without them. Word Count: 945 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48475162/chapters/145499017

[itwasthereaminuteago]

¦¦ The Hand That Feeds ¦¦

Bucky Barnes x Brock Rumlow

Tags/Warnings: Hydra Trash Party, Using the Winter Soldier as a plaything, Non-Con oral sex, mentions of abuse, brief blood and violence, happy ending! :D

Also on AO3 for those that prefer it!

When the command came to sit, he got to his knees and waited. The order could be followed up by a number of possible different scenarios, or none at all. Just a test of endurance as the cold from the concrete flooring seeped into his bones.

In the shorter periods between missions when he wasn't being stored in the deep freeze, Hydra's agents got to let loose on the Asset. The Winter Soldier. Anything went really, as long as it wouldn't ultimately compromise his functionality. You might be surprised at how huge a window that left for the things that could be done to him.

From the rhythmic taps and slaps on the cell door as the keycode was punched in, he knew that today it was Rumlow, one of his main handlers, and that he was in a good mood.

“Hi honey I'm home,” he hollers as he enters, “did ya miss me?”

The soldier bit his tongue just in case he ever answered in the affirmative. After all, Rumlow was the gentlest with him and he knew it. He treated him with some amount of respect while the others just used him like the tool he was supposed to be. In spite of his accelerated healing capability, Jack Rollins had still left him shitting blood for a day after one of his ‘recreational’ visits.

Brock swings around the metal folding chair he's carrying, snapping it open in front of the soldier and sitting down in front of him.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.” He drawls.

The soldier had noticed Brock using this nickname for him more recently. He didn't like it. It made his head swim and hurt. 

“What a day… what a fucking day!” Brock is grinning widely as he leans back in the chair and the metal creaks under his muscled bulk. 

The soldier remains still and silent, though when he hears the sound of the zipper his mouth floods with saliva. He likes to think that it's a conditioned response but he's actually not so sure anymore.

Rumlow eases his cock out of his pants and the soldier has nowhere else to look but straight at it, watching as he runs his hand slowly up and down the thick-veined length of himself a few times as he looks down into the blank blue eyes before him. When he pauses his movements and gives a nod of his head the soldier leans forward to wrap his lips around the tip of him, his tongue pressed up wet beneath the bulbous pink head, a bead of precum searing across his tastebuds. Rumlow groans, a low chuckle bubbling out of him as he closes his eyes and lets him get down to it. He trusts him enough not to bite his dick right off. There was a time early on in his conditioning when he would have, Brock was grateful he wasn't that guy, but that nasty little habit was electrocuted out of him soon enough.

Rollins claimed he had trained the gag reflex out of him, although Brock had joked it couldn't have been that hard given the small size of Rollins’ dick. Regardless, the Winter Soldier sucked cock like he was born for it. 

“Fucking hell…” Brock groans as he watches him take him fully into his hot mouth  “I said it before and I ain't afraid to say it again, you're better than any woman I've had, Jesus Christ!” 

Rumlow liked to talk. It was a reliable indication of when he was going to finish when the filthy words just kept spewing out of his mouth like a river. But for now he was just getting warmed up.

“Ohh yeah, there we go. Fuuuuck me.” Brock purrs as the soldier gradually takes him deeper, sucking his entire length down his throat, drool starting to drip from his chin. “You get to be the fucking cherry on top of my glorious day, you know that?”

The soldier shifts on his knees, metal hand sliding to the base of his handler’s thick cock to cup his balls. He knows he likes the feel of the cool plates against them. His flesh hand sneaks down between his own legs, tugging at the canvas tac pants to give his own erection some room to swell. Rumlow is the only one that tolerates him touching himself. Every other basic need of his is taken care of, albeit in a regimented, carefully controlled way. This is the only part he has any modicum of autonomy over. He might be a legendary assassin but his body still yearns for carnal release sometimes.

Brock pipes up again between the echoing slurps and gruff groans they trade. 

“Oh yeah, such a good fucking day. I got to kick your little boyfriend’s all-American ass up and down the compound, and it ain't often - fuck - that a guy can say that!” 

The soldier didn't answer, kinda difficult to with a cock stuffed in his mouth anyway but he'd often hear Rumlow and the others refer to this person; ‘his boyfriend’, ‘Cap’, but to him he was just another target. Enhanced like he was, but just another target to take down when ordered.

Rumlow continued, his fingers combing through the soldier's lank hair. “God damn, if he knew I got to come back to this, oh yeah, I don't think he'd be too happy.” He laughs again, his hand gently guiding the man between his thighs as he swallows his cock down to the hilt and makes a strangled moan as the tip of him hits the back of his throat. “Not too happy at all.”

Rumlow grits his teeth as he feels himself getting close to going off. “Such a perfect fucking slut mouth on you, mm! Fuck it ain't gonna be long today, you ready for it, huh?”

Whether he's ready for it or not doesn't really figure into anything. The soldier turns his watery eyes up to meet Brock’s blown out dark brown stare, humming around him in answer, almost gagging as the man starts pumping his hips up off the chair, fucking his thick shaft down his abused throat, chasing his impending release. 

“Oh shit, yeah yeah that's fucking right! Man if Steve fucking Rogers could see this… see his good ol’ pal Bucky taking my load like a fucking bitch-” 

Steve . The soldier turns the name over in his fractured mind as everything else fades into the background. Why does it sound familiar, why does he feel the essence of it in his bones? No other names he had heard in his decades of service had shone out of the dark like this one did.

He's whipped back to the present. Rumlow’s face contorts as he starts spurting his warm salty cum over his tongue with a loud shout.

Then, something's different. Clearer.

He's standing at the open cell door, looking back at Rumlow screaming on the floor in a puddle of crimson clutching at his groin. Somehow this feels like the way it's supposed to go. 

Bucky spits out the blood and cum, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. He twists his foot, the plastic and wires of Brock’s communicator crushing to trash under his boot before he turns and stalks down the corridor.

He sharply rolls the shoulder of his left arm as he walks, the plates rippling into place all the way down, resetting. Everything is clicking into place. Just like his brain. 

If he's lucky he's bought enough time to pay a visit to Rollins and the others before the alarm is raised that something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, subjugation, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, societal issues, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, onlyfans, predatory behavior, gender politics

Summary: Bucky is not pleased when he finds out that his parents tricked him and he's being forced to stay at the school.

Author's Note: *reformatted with a few age and plot changes to adhere to Tumblr's ToS*

(Wait! I haven't read Part 1 Part 2 yet!)

Part 3 - A Pedagogy Steeped in Tradition, cont'd

Previously: “How long until you whip him into shape?” Ransom asks as they return back to Steve’s office. They’ve just walked in the room, and James is turning around to look at them as they come through the door.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Steve hems, catching the boy’s gaze and giving him a warm look. “I bet you he’ll be a new James by spring break.”

James’ eyes narrow. “Bucky,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Bucky,” he repeats peevishly. “Nobody calls me James except my grandparents.”

Steve nods, ignoring the boy’s tone. “Nice to meet you then, Bucky. I take it Sharon had to leave?” Bucky shrugs in lieu of an answer, and Steve allows the attitude to go unchecked only because the boy’s parents are still present. “Sharon is a wonderful Handler,” he tells him instead. “I’m sure the two of you will get along famously.”

Bucky glowers at him. 

Steve catches the eye of the security officer. “Mr. Rollins, you can take up your post in the hall. Thank you for waiting with him.”

“Sir.” Jack nods and heads out.

“Oh, Bucky, just wait until you see this place, it’s so neat! It’s got such history.” Winnifred gushes about it to her son, trying to get him excited, telling him about all the different things they saw on their tour of Cragside. She calls it a “castle,” which draws a bit of a laugh from Steve. 

“Hardly, Mrs. Barnes,” he chuckles.

“Oh, it’s Drysdale,” she corrects. “My name.”

Steve looks over to Bucky. “Oh. But I thought—”

“I’m remarried,” she explains. “Bucky is from my first marriage. He chooses to use his father’s surname.”

“Ah. I see. My apologies, Mrs. Drysdale.” Steve doesn’t miss the sour expression that flits over Bucky’s face. Steve clears his throat and gestures towards the couches. “I’m just having the paperwork drawn up. It should arrive soon. Would you care to take a seat while we wait? Afternoon tea’s an entire thing over here, and it is about that time.”

“Paperwork?” Bucky says, attention sharpening on them. “What paperwork?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, little one,” Steve says, very aware of the displeasure that flits across Bucky’s face at being addressed that way.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “I’ve already decided I don’t want to go here anyway. It’s an all omegas school. Did you guys know that?” He’s asking his mother and stepfather, and Winnifred sighs while Ransom scoffs.

“It’s exactly the sort of environment you need, you little punk. Can’t be a skank here. All you can do is study. That’s what school’s for.”

“Ransom,” Winnie scolds.

“That’s the sort of thing pompous losers who can’t get laid say,” Bucky tosses back, and Steve makes a quick assumption that there is no love lost between these two.

“I’ll call for the tea,” he says, trying to stop their bickering. It works, somewhat, and the Drysdales sit across from Steve on the room’s conversation couches when the service has been delivered and set out on the coffee table between them. Steve catches Rollins’ questioning look through the doorway as the servants are leaving, but shakes his head smally, confident that he can handle an unruly pup like Bucky all by himself, if things get testy.

Predictably, Bucky stays standing while the real adults have tea. He ignores his mother when she suggests that he have a seat, and he keeps making aggressive eye contact with Steve each time he comes over to grab another petit four off the tiered stand to eat.

“Oh Bucky, honestly,” Winnifred scolds after the fifth one. “They’re not all just for you.”

Bucky doesn’t respond to her, just shoves most of the scone in his mouth while he confronts Steve with a blunt, “I’m not even gonna apply to this place.” Steve stares him down, but Bucky doesn’t break eye contact, the little shit. 

“Well,” Steve says calmly, “We’re not a university. We’re a boarding school. Our students are enrolled by their guardians. It’s more a transfer of custody than it is your traditional college application.” He watches as Bucky’s face screws up in confusion.

“What?” he says. “What are you talking about?” He turns to the couch where Winnifred and Ransom are sitting. “What’s he talking about?”

WInnifred leans forward anxiously. “Well, honey, we didn’t think you’d agree to come if we told you.”

“Told me what?” Bucky expression is rapidly darkening. He turns on Ransom with a scowl. “What is this place?”

“It’s a reform school. And you’re attending,” Ransom says.

“No. … You’re joking me right now … right? Are you shitting me?”

He shrugs. “I’ve already paid your tuition. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?! I only agreed to this stupid trip because you promised we could go see Stonehenge and some castles and shit! Not so you could imprison me at some fucking oldworld boarding school in the middle of fucking nowhere! Fuck you!” 

Winnifred nearly chokes on her tea. “Bucky!”

“This is a very prestigious, traditional, very expensive school, you little shit,” Ransom grits, pointing at Bucky. “Maybe they’ll actually be able to drum some manners into you, teach you how to be a proper omega. You need some good old fashioned discipline. ”

“I really don’t care what you think I need, Rancid,” Bucky snaps. “God. I should’ve known the second I saw that one guy on a leash.” He looks over at Steve with a nasty expression. “You’re one of those red pill Alphas, aren’t you? One of those incels who can’t get laid and blames all your problems on the omegas of the world and modern society and feminism and shit, right?”

“What’s with the obsession with getting laid, Mr. Barnes?” Steve drawls, completely unaffected by Bucky’s tantrum. “This is The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence. We’re a finishing school and reform facility aimed at older teens and young adults; exclusive, secure, and very well-equipped to handle whatever hissy fit you might decide to throw at us. This is a school for the rich and overindulged, but not in the ways you’re probably used to. We tame some of the most spoilt brats in Europe here. So I’d advise you to behave. Things will go much harder for you if you don’t.” Steve knows immediately from watching Bucky’s face fall that this is the first time the kid is hearing the full name of the school said out loud. He resists the urge to laugh about how clueless that makes him. The school’s emblem is printed clear as day all over the place, but Bucky has clearly missed every single sign that litters the campus. “Kids these days,” Steve simpers, staring down the boy’s rapidly darkening expression. “Noses always buried in your phones, huh?”

Bucky’s fingers grip tighter around the cellphone in his hand, glaring, and then he whips around to scowl at Ransom instead. “You,” he growls. “You tricked me!”

Ransom looks like his mind is already elsewhere—perhaps on the rest of the vacation he’s already unashamedly told Steve he plans to take without his pesky stepson in tow. “What can I say? You’re pretty easy to trick.”

“You can’t just leave me here!” Bucky squawks from around another mouthful of food, crumbs scattering to the carpet as he flings the hand that’s holding his scone. “I didn’t even know places like this were a real thing anymore! Like a fucking convent? Like some sort of fucked up juvie-meets-Hogwarts?!”

“Bucky, really,” his mother scolds, lips pursed. “You’re making a mess on Principal Rogers’ floor.”

Steve waves her off. “That’s alright, Mrs. Drysdale.” He looks at Bucky. “You’ll be surprised just how well it works, Cupcake. You’ll have no distractions from your education here.” The ‘Cupcake’ obviously goes over like a lead balloon with Bucky, if his continuing glower is anything to go by. Steve ignores the kid’s petulance and turns back to converse with the parents. “The girls’ school still operates down in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, at our original campus. A generous benefactor donated this estate, so now all of our male students attend here at Cragside.”

“Finishing school,” Bucky grumbles over to the side, still displeased. “This is bullshit.”

 “Language, Mr. Barnes,” Steve corrects blithely, and keeps on with Winnifred, “My business partner, Ms. Carter, she’s to act as Headmistress there moving forward. ‘Carter Girls’ Academy’ is now its own entity and will operate independent of this institution.” He looks back to Bucky and locks eyes with him. “Sorry to disappoint you, but out here it’s just us boys, I’m afraid.”

It’s laughably obvious how Steve does not fit into any category with Bucky, let alone that of “boy,” and Steve is pleased to note a light dusting of color on the kid’s cheeks after that. Bucky goes tight-lipped once again, and Steve leaves him to his teenaged sulking as he finishes entertaining the parents and assuring them that their son will be well looked after during his time at school. The paperwork for Bucky’s admission arrives and is reviewed, and soon Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale have signed their son over to Steve’s care and are saying their goodbyes.

Winnifred pulls him into a long hug, which Bucky tolerates with limp arms. “Be good,” Steve hears her say. “And remember how generous your stepfather’s being.”

“Forty grand a semester,” Ransom mutters on the way out, reminding Steve that money can’t buy class.

One of the school prefects is waiting out in the hall to act as escort, Rollins standing directly against the opposite side of the hallway in his security guard gear. Steve catches Bucky looking at the man like he’s gauging his chances of making a run for it, but luckily the boy relents and turns away from the door with a huff. Steve sees the parents out and then finally pushes the heavy office door closed.

The room is suddenly twenty times more silent than it was before, though not much has changed other than who’s occupying it. 

Without turning to look at Bucky, Steve walks leisurely over to the office’s wall of windows. He waits there for a moment, until the Drysdales appear in the courtyard below. He watches placidly as they walk to their car and get in, heading off down the drive within the next few moments. Cragside is abutted by forest on every side but one, and soon the trees block the car from view, and there’s nothing more to see. Still, Steve remains standing there, looking out the windows at the grounds and letting the silence stretch out, the tension build, as the boy behind him stares his fill. (Steve is not unaware of what he looks like from the back in a tailored suit.)

Finally, he turns around. Bucky is still standing there in the middle of the room, looking rooted to the spot. He seems apprehensive now that it’s just the two of them, some of his earlier bravado leached away. But after a moment he seems to collect himself, and he winds up jutting his jaw out again. 

Steve’s mouth quirks at that lingering bit of defiance. He always has enjoyed the process of breaking in a new student. “Alright, Honey,” he says softly. “That was fun back there. But now it’s time for the two of us to get properly acquainted, don’t you think?” He beckons him closer with a finger. “Come over here and let me have a look at you.”

Bucky doesn’t move, so Steve sighs and goes to him, fitting one hand to the front of his neck when he gets there. He holds him right underneath his jaw, pushing up to make Bucky look at him. Steve’s hand looks massive against the boy’s delicate throat, and he digs in with his thumb against the glands. Bucky lets out a sweet little gasp of sensitivity that Steve absolutely relishes. “You’re nervous,” he observes. He watches the fluttering of Bucky’s eyelids at his firm touch, his deep tone. Something between fondness and yearning flares in Steve’s belly, pleasurable and aching, like pressing on an old bruise. He ignores it, instead murmuring, “You’ve never had an Alpha, have you?”

Bucky’s eyes flick up to him. “I’m not a virgin,” he sneers. “I’ve fucked alphas before.”

Steve scoffs. “That’s not what I said.” He sees Bucky’s brow furrowing, so he cuts him off with a little scruff. “I said: you’ve never had an Alpha before.” He pulls against his jaw a little harder, watching the reaction it elicits in those angry blue eyes. “Don’t play coy with me, boy. Answer the question. You haven’t, have you?”

“No,” Bucky answers tightly. “I haven’t.” 

Steve nods. He relaxes his hand some. “Then that means most of this is all going to be new to you. You’ve had a liberal education, a lax upbringing. A lot’s going to be asked of you while you’re here. There’ll be a lot you don’t know. You’ll make mistakes, you’ll struggle sometimes. And that’s okay. Rome wasn’t built in a day, now was it?” He strokes softly over the boy’s fluttering pulsepoint and Voices, “I do, however, expect you to be respectful and obedient. Do you understand?” 

Bucky whimpers, though Steve isn’t being unkind. In fact he’s Voiced very softly to him just now, letting the dominant tone of it creep into the words he’s saying, letting it enrich them without hardening them, so that Bucky can really start to get a taste for it. The boy’s eyelids visibly flutter and his lips part as he starts to breathe open-mouthed. Then his tongue darts out to lick his lips as he tries to get a handle on himself. It’s cute. 

Steve circles the pad of his thumb over his bonding gland. “Has anyone ever Voiced to you before, baby?” 

Bucky nods. “Uh huh.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Steve gently corrects. “Who?”

“Who ... huh?”

Steve chuckles. “Aw, don’t go stupid on me yet, honey. I asked you: who’s Voiced to you before?”

“Oh. Just, um, just some … some guys … n’ a girl, from school. Hey,” he frowns, “M’not stupid.” 

“Hush. You get worked up too easy. Just try and stay calm for me, yeah?” A thrill travels through Steve’s body as he watches Bucky’s lips part and his face slacken. He’s so easy for it. In his slacks, Steve’s cock pulses with interest. “Oh Sweetie,” he coos. “You don’t know what Voicing is, if you think one of your little classmates did it to you.” 

Under his hand, Bucky shivers. “What?” he croaks.

It’s no wonder. If all he’s ever experienced are the best attempts of a few pubertal teenagers, then a grown ass man like Steve is bound to feel like a lot. It’s like giving a shot of hard liquor to a kid who’s never drank before. The poor thing has no tolerance. Steve guides him over to the couch, where he sits and encourages Bucky to kneel with a guiding hand pressing down on his shoulder. “There you go,” he praises as Bucky’s knees hit the floor, not missing how the boy’s brow furrows adorably at the change in positioning. 

“I … I don’t …” He looks insulted and confused about how he arrived there, staring down at his knees on the carpet as if they’ve just betrayed him by folding so easily.

“It’s okay,” Steve soothes. “That’s normal. I know it can be a little unsettling at first, that won’t last. You’ll learn to enjoy it, embrace it, even. And it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Ashamed of … what?” Bucky asks, swallowing thickly when Steve touches his neck again. He jerks back, the Alpha’s hand left hovering in the air between them. 

Steve sighs sadly and lets his hand drop. “Submission, Sweetheart. That urge to bare your neck? Going to your knees for me just now? It’s what made that feel right.” He watches the realization bloom on Bucky’s face and the fear leak into his eyes, the way he glances back down to his own body like he’s never seen it before. Steve makes sure to be gentle with him as he says, “It’s not a bad thing to give in when you get the urge. Your body craves it. Your brain thrives on it.” 

“On what?” Bucky growls nastily. “Getting into blowjob position for my principal?”

Steve forces himself not to laugh and instead raises an eyebrow that he hopes looks threatening. “Thrives on submission,” he corrects. “It’s already in you, an innate reflex, but for whatever reason you’ve trained yourself out of it. You’ll have to relearn those behaviors.”

“What behaviors,” Bucky asks, “grovelling?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Hardly. Things like humility, and subservience, thinking before you speak. Don’t worry, most of our matriculating students are out of practice at best, we know you need a lot of help. That’s why you get the staff, your teachers, me. And of course your Handler, who’s in charge of you completely.” He sees Bucky’s expression sour and sternly adds, “Completely, Bucky. When your Handler asks you to do something, it isn’t a request. If they tell you to kneel, or to sit on their lap, or even strip naked in front of them in a public space, then that’s what you do. That’s how it works here. And if you resist, you can count on punishment.” He watches as Bucky’s visage darkens, a storm of contempt gathering behind his eyes.

“Naked?” he says, scowling. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 “Shh,” Steve chides, trying to calm him with a pet to the head. Bucky hisses in rejection though, trying to jerk away, so Steve acts decisively. He grabs the back of his neck, scruffing him and forcing him in close. “Don’t fight, Bucky. Just calm down, rest your head down here.” Bucky grunts and pulls, but that only lasts a second before the Hold and Steve’s Voice make him go limp with a confused whimper. Steve hushes him and strokes his hair. “You’re okay … Take a deep breath ... There you go, good girl.” He waits. “… Now, I'm going to explain a few things for you. I want you to listen.”

Bucky grumbles unhappily from his spot between Steve’s legs, his cheek smooshed against the Alpha’s thigh muscle. “What punishments?” he growls.

“Hush.” Steve presses Bucky’s face against his leg and waits until he feels the next shudder of submission travel through his body. “Okay. Okay, good.” He inhales. “So, punishment. That can be lots of things. It can be spanking, or lines, or restraints at bedtime. It just depends on the situation and what your Handler feels is going to help you best in that specific situation. Often it’ll involve losing privileges of some sort; to your favorite activities or your clothing, or even bathroom privileges if you—”

“What?!”

Steve squeezes his neck again. “We can start right now if you need it,” he purrs, the threat coming through loud and clear despite his calm tone. He waits, and is pleased when Bucky offers no further bratting over the issue. “Okay, good.” He returns to petting him, fingers carding through his short, soft hair. There’s product in it, and Steve would bet money it’s blow-dried. He finds himself wanting to feel it in its natural state. “If you leave your hair alone after a shower,” he murmurs. “Does it dry curly?”

Bucky whines and squirms and completely ignores the question. “You just wanna humiliate me.”

“No, baby,” Steve tuts sadly. “That’s not it at all. I know it’ll seem that way sometimes, especially in the beginning. But this is all for you, I promise. To benefit you in the long run. To make you happy. Everything we do at this school is based on what the science has proven, okay? Evidence-based practice, that’s all. We wouldn’t use these methods if they didn’t work.”

“... what methods?” Bucky asks, voice tiny.

Steve hums and rubs behind his ear. “I’m sure a lot of it will seem old fashioned to you. It is old fashioned, or ‘traditional’ if you like. You met Sharon earlier, yes?” He waits for Bucky’s grunt of acknowledgement before he continues, “She’ll be your Handler. She’s personally assigned to you and nobody else, so she’ll be with you every day all day, almost everywhere you go.”

“Great,” Bucky complains

“It’s a good thing. She’s here to help you with your needs. Just think of her like … like a service animal, yeah? Just a tool to help you succeed.”

“Does she heel and sit?” Bucky mutters, and Steve laughs in surprise.

“No. The other way around, if anything. You have a schedule. You’ll attend the classes and activities that’re set out for you, and you’ll comport yourself with dignity and respect.”

“You assume I know how to do that,” Bucky grumbles, and Steve scoffs and scruffs him playfully,

“Don’t worry about if you don’t know certain things, Sharon will guide you. You’ll never be punished for not knowing something, Buck. Only for disrespect or disobedience.” He pauses for a moment, letting the information sink in. He pets Bucky’s hair and watches where the kid’s got his eyes closed tight. “Do you understand?” he asks, but Bucky doesn’t answer, not even after a few seconds, so Steve gives the back of his neck another firm squeeze. “You don’t have control anymore, Sweetheart. Not over anything. And far from upsetting you, that should make you feel relieved. By the time you leave here it will.” 

Not shockingly, Bucky growls. It’s just a piddly little thing from high up in his throat—an omega’s weak attempt at a sound their bodies aren’t equipped to make—but the intent behind it is clear. He struggles to pull away, Steve Holding him and pushing his face against his thigh until it passes. “Shhh. Calm down. Stop pulling away from me.”

Bucky continues to fight it for a second or two, but eventually he breaks off in an angry little sob. “Lemme go,” he grunts, embarrassed. “What is that? What’re you doing?”

“Holding you,” Steve tells him calmly. “Another thing I suspect you’re completely virgin to.”

Bucky huffs and shivers against him. “Shuddup,” he sniffles. “That’s not true.”

“Mhm. Some more of your school buddies?” Steve guesses, unsurprised when the kid’s flaming face tells him that he’s got it pegged just about right. “I see,” he says sadly. “So it wasn’t what people made it sound like, right? It didn’t make you feel any better. Then you got disappointed and you thought: ‘that’s it?’”

“No …”

“Mmhm. And since it wasn’t good enough, you decided you wouldn’t bother behaving the way anybody said you should. You figured there’s something wrong with you, so what’s the point in trying? Might as well act out, get attention that way. Because at least then you’d be getting a response from people. Am I getting warm?”

“Lemme go,” Bucky mumbles miserably.

“I’d like to, Sweetheart. But I don’t want to let go if you’re not ready.” Steve maneuvers his hand so that his thumb can dig more directly into Bucky’s glands. The omega moans, though he obviously hears himself and tries to stifle the sound. It’s both sweet and pathetic, and it makes Steve wince in sympathy. “It’s okay to react,” he tells him quietly. “Do you know why it feels like that?” 

He isn’t expecting an answer from the kid, and he doesn’t get one. Bucky just cringes and tries to hide as much of his face against Steve’s thigh as possible, holding back the sounds that obviously want to come and making a face like he’s trying with all his might not to pass gas.

Steve tuts in gentle reprimand. “They call them the ‘happy hormones’. Dopamine, Serotonin, Oxytocin, Omgestrin.” He lets up on the pressure of his Hold when the smell of omega arousal hits the air. Bucky exhales hugely and slumps against him, all the tension from holding back his vocalizations leaving him in a rush. Steve hums knowingly. “You’ll learn about the science behind it in your classes.”

“I have to go to class?” Bucky asks, sounding wiped out. “Today?”

“No baby. Today is just for getting you settled in.” Steve tilts his head as he considers him. “Do you think you’re ready to work with me, or do you still feel like you’re gonna act up if I let go?” He waits him out patiently, knowing that when it’s new and unfamiliar, the first response most omegas give to having all of their control stripped away is fear and discomfort. “It’s okay if you need time,” he offers. “We can stay here for a little while longer.”

Eventually, Bucky gives a strained little shake of the head, his flushed cheek moving against Steve’s pants leg. But it’s more the fact that he’s visibly thought about his answer before giving it that convinces Steve they might be okay to move forward.

“Okay, good,” he praises, letting up most of the pressure from the back of Bucky’s neck. He smiles in relief when the boy doesn’t pull away. “Very good, Honey. I can tell you’re trying, and I appreciate that. You’re doing okay.” Bucky makes an unhappy little sound in his throat, but it’s more privately grumpy than it is bratty, so Steve lets it pass. “You’re a smart boy,” he tells him, carding a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen your transcripts, so I know you’re very bright. Smart omega like you, I’m sure you’ve got an idea about what’s landed you here. Some clue about why you’re in my office right now instead of back home in Boston. Am I right?”

“... yes,” Bucky whispers, like he’s still recovering the ability to articulate.

“Mmhm. Thought so.” Steve pets his hair. “Think you can tell me a little bit about that?” 

“... I get in trouble for things.”

“Yes. Your parents told me that.” Steve feels him start to tense at the mention of his parents. “I know you disagree with them on this. Hell, you probably disagree on most topics, right? You don’t want to be here, don’t think you need to be, and they think you do.” Bucky nods teresely and Steve hums. “Well don’t worry, I’m not going to make you lie and say you’re happy about being here. I know you’re not. But can we at least agree on one thing? That for whatever reason, and no matter where you think it stems from, you’ve been uncomfortable for a while?”

Against Steve’s leg, Bucky is tense. He gives a tiny nod. “Yeah,” he breathes.

“Okay. And could we maybe agree that the way you’ve acted hasn’t exactly gotten you where you wanted to be?”

Bucky scoffs. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Okay. Okay, good. So that’s two things we can agree on. I bet I have your parents beat on that front, then, huh?” He scritches playfully behind the kid’s ear, but stills when it doesn’t elicit anything positive. “So, why do you think that is, Bucky? Why do you think you’ve had these issues?”

“Dunno,” he pouts. “I don’t think about it that much.”

“Well why do you think a judge agreed that your parents should have custody of you for an extra two years?” Steve asks. “Would you say you do things impulsively?”

Bucky shrugs. “I guess.”

“Hm. That doesn’t surprise me. I’ve met a lot of boys like you. Even helped a few of them, if you can believe it.”

Bucky grumbles at that, shifting restlessly on his knees. “You don’t know me,” he mutters. He tucks his face farther down, and then Steve catches the angry little “... this is bullshit” that he whispers under his breath. 

Steve pulls his hand away abruptly and widens his legs so that no part of him is touching Bucky. The omega sways in place and makes a fragile noise of surprise. He looks up at Steve and blinks, looking bereft. Poor thing hadn’t even realized he was taking such comfort from the contact until it was gone. 

“Stand up,” Steve says sharply, using his Voice and the abrupt switch in tone to catch the boy off guard. Bucky obeys without even thinking about it, rising to his feet in front of Steve with a light frown, once again looking like he can’t quite understand why he’s obeying Steve’s commands. Steve nods at him. “Good. Now take off all your clothes.”

“What?”

He prevents a tantrum by reaching forward himself and undoing Bucky’s belt. “Your clothes,” he repeats. “Take them off and show me your body, right now.” He plays on the boy’s pride by tacking on a scornful, “What? I thought you said you weren’t some shy virgin. Gotta get over that embarrassment real fast, Little one.” 

It works like a charm, Bucky’s countenance screwing up in anger before it smooths out again with false bravado. He squares his shoulders and makes direct eye contact with Steve as he toes off his shoes and finishes undoing his pants. He pushes them down and kicks them off to the side, then pulls his sweater hurriedly overhead. He stares at Steve once it’s off, and he probably thinks he’s acting so big and brave, but Steve sees him for exactly what he is: a scared little boy who doesn’t think he can depend on anybody else. 

“Panties too, Sweetheart,” Steve prods, and when Bucky can’t seem to bring himself to do it, he leans forward to help. He gently pulls the omega’s underwear down, easing the waistband past his genitals and down his thighs. He encourages him with gentle touches to step out, and then Bucky winds up holding onto his shoulders for balance as he helps him step out of the socks, one foot at a time. By the time Steve’s sitting back on the couch to have a good look at him, Bucky’s standing before him completely naked. 

Steve’s eyes track down to where he holds his arms ramrod straight at his sides, hands curled into tight little fists in an obvious effort not to cover himself. “Good girl,” Steve praises. “That was very good. Thank you.” He lets his eyes rake obviously up and down Bucky’s body, enjoying the sight of him, but more importantly letting Bucky see that he’s enjoying the sight of him. “You’re just lovely,” he tells him. On the Persian carpet, Bucky’s feet shuffle, shifting his weight in disquiet. “Shhh,” Steve chides softly. “Be still now, Honey. Let me look.”

The looking is, of course, not so much for Steve’s benefit as it is for Bucky’s. Steve’s already seen pictures and medical charts detailing every square inch of the omega’s body. This is about giving Bucky a taste of what it truly means to be vulnerable. He needs to feel seen, exposed, before he can ever truly learn to give in to his submissive urges. And he needs to learn to trust. Trust that the person caring for him won’t hurt him or let him down after he’s made himself vulnerable. It’s something that can only be gained through moments like this; experiences where he shows his metaphorical belly and bears his metaphorical neck. The more he learns to do that, the easier it’ll be to give in to what his body needs.

“Turn around and face the other way,” Steve says quietly, though still using his Voice to help him along in these first few moments of nakedness. Bucky obeys, turning, and Steve makes sure to rumble low in his chest for the boy to hear his approval. “Good girl,” he praises.

“M’not a girl,” Bucky grumbles, annoyed.

Steve tuts. “Come on, Buck. I’ve got two masters degrees and a Ph.D. And I just saw your little cocklet, didn’t I?”

“... yeah,” Bucky admits, though he also sullenly repeats: “M’not a girl,” under his breath.

“It’s a term of affection,” Steve scolds, eyes raking over the omega’s pert little backside. “Now be a good girl and stand still while Alpha looks at you.” 

Bucky’s buttocks tense, the sides flexing gorgeously in response to the domination of being called a “good girl” all over again. That flex of muscles is involuntary, and a dead giveaway that if Steve were to grab his cheeks and spread them right now, he’d probably find his little hole clenching and releasing, too. In his slacks, Steve’s cock thickens with renewed interest. Bucky starts to whine almost subvocally. He shuffles his weight on his feet again, and the motion causes the room’s light to catch on a faint sheen. It’s a small amount, but it’s there. Right by his taint and the swell of his little sac, he’s got some slick smeared on his inner thighs.

Steve has to take a deep breath and give his dick a cruel pinch while he’s still got Bucky facing the other way. “Good,” he murmurs, letting a few more seconds tick by. “Very good.” 

Bucky’s ass keeps flexing, muscles tensed and his hands still clenched up into tight little balls at his sides. “Can I move?” he grits.

“Not yet. Be still.”

Steve knows what’s going on in the kid’s mind and body right now. Most people watching Bucky would only recognize the anger, or the fear. It is those things, to an extent, but that’s not all it is. Even without that tantalizing little smear of slick, Steve would know, because can detect the deeper scent of satisfied omega. Bucky’s responding well to the orders and directions, miniscule as they are.

“Nobody wants to bully you here, honey,” Steve tells him gently. “It might feel like that at first. I bet that’s how you feel right now. I know you’re not used to such a … traditional pedagogy. But I want you to know I’m not doing this to be mean. Nothing that happens to you during your time here is done just to humiliate or demean you. It might make you feel that way at first, but in the end you’ll see that this is about helping you.”

Bucky’s facing the other side of the room, but Steve still hears the disbelieving scoff he gives. “I don’t feel like this is helping,” he says, tacking on a sarcastic “Sir” at the end.

Steve calmly leans forward and flicks the boy’s sac. Bucky yelps and all but jumps out of his skin, looking back over his shoulder with wide eyes and an outraged scoff. “Hey!”

“Hush. Turn back around and stand still.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like another?” It’s almost amusing, how fast Bucky’s lips seal themselves into a thin line and he shakes his head with wide eyes. He turns around as ordered, and Steve softens. “Look,” he says gently. “I’ve been doing this for a long time now, and I’ve helped a lot of boys like you, okay? 

“You think you have,” Bucky counters mutinously, shoulders tensing a second later as he anticipates having his balls flicked again for brattiness.

The only reason Steve doesn’t do so, is because this is a point worth addressing. “No, Baby,” he counters sadly. “It works. It really does. This isn't just an Alpha’s ego talking, or whatever you may think it is. I haven’t been Headmaster at this school for almost two decades for nothing. Trust me, we produce the desired results.”

“... whose, though?”

“Excuse me?”

Bucky shifts nervously. “Whose? Desired results?”

Steve has got to smirk at Bucky’s backside, at that one. Even cowed, it’s clear this boy is going to be a challenge. “Let’s just put it this way,” he drawls. “If my methods here didn’t produce well-behaved omegas, parents wouldn’t still be sending me their children to educate at sixty-grand a semester. And if that doesn’t carry weight in your book, then think of this: If my methods didn’t produce happy, grateful omegas, then all of my omega alumnus wouldn’t still be donating millions of their own dollars back to their alma mater each year, now would they?”

He can see from the way that Bucky’s posture slackens, then stiffens, then slackens all over again, that the boy can’t come up with a counter argument to that one. “Good,” Steve says with finality. “Remember that. I really do mean it, Bucky. I want you to take it to heart when I tell you that everything that happens while you're here is for you. To make you happy and healthy.” He can practically hear Bucky’s brain working up there, and sure enough it only takes a moment or two more of bare-assed vulnerability before the omega is snottily asking,

“Any other advice, Headmaster?”

“Oh sure,” Steve says cheerfully. “For example, I’d definitely advise you to try and reign in your attitude while you’re here. You and your ass will have a much easier time of it, if you do.” He’s laying it on heavy right now, but he’s had plenty of students like Bucky, and he’s always found that it’s best to come in hard and fast with the dominance, take them by surprise and play to their bodies’ own instincts before they can gather too much of a defense. Still, he switches to speaking in his most gentle and reassuring Voice as he tells him, “You’re handling this well, Bucky. I’m pleased with you so far.” He gives it another long moment, and then he murmurs, “Okay, Honey. You can turn back around now. Face me.”

Bucky turns slowly, one foot at a time, shifting on the carpet until he’s made a full turn. Steve isn’t surprised to see his little cocklet at half mast. He smiles gently to let him know it’s okay. “I expected that,” he tells him. “Did you know that it’s normal for your body to react that way?” He waits, but Bucky gives no answer. He’s glaring at the floor and quite obviously clenching his teeth. Steve hums. “You’re probably pissed at me right now, yeah?”

“Yes.”

Steve chuckles. “I appreciate your honesty, Bucky,” he teases. “And I know you’re pissed. It’s obvious. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.” He pauses, waiting until Bucky’s eyes flick up to him before he pointedly looks at the boy’s penis. “But you’re also aroused. Why do you think that is?” Bucky’s lips tighten into a thin, unanswering line, and Steve sits forward on the couch cushion. “C’mere.” He spreads his legs wider and pats his knee. “Step closer to me,” he Voices, and that time Bucky does listen and come closer, despite the attitudinal little huff he gives. Steve stills him with hands on his hips. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, before reaching to take him in hand.

Bucky gasps, his stomach sucking in and his body tensing up like he’ll pull away. Steve’s palm makes a loud ‘clap!’ as he delivers a quick smack to the side of his ass. “Be still.”

“... what’re you gonna do?” Bucky squeaks.

“I’m going to touch your genitals,” Steve tells him calmly. “And you’re going to hold still, unless you want to earn your first spanking.” He looks up at him, meeting those wide eyes with a calm nod. “I’ll put you over my knee right now if you need it,” he promises. Then he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need it, boy?”

Bucky’s face screws up, and Steve is honestly surprised when he controls himself enough that the only thing out of his mouth is a terse, “No.” 

Steve smacks him again. “‘No Alpha’. Let me hear you say it.”

Jaw working in frustration, Bucky acquiesces with a gritted, “No, Alpha.”

Steve gives him a few seconds more of the warning look, just to make sure that he knows he’ll make good on the threat if he needs to. “Good,” he says, looking back between Bucky’s legs. “You know,” he muses, as he takes his time admiring the omega’s little prick. “This school isn’t just a place for academic learning. We teach all the classics, of course, but that’s probably the least important part of our curriculum. There are a lot of other things to learn: Manners, etiquette, self-care … and how to listen to your own body, how to understand what it’s trying to tell you, how to interpret the things you feel.” He cups his hand over Bucky’s cocklet and balls, holding them delicately in his palm. “I’ve barely touched you, yet you’re harder now than you were even thirty seconds ago. Do you know why?”

Above, Bucky gulps. “... fear boner,” he whispers, and when Steve snorts at that, he pouts and asserts, “It’s a thing.”

Steve smiles. “That’s cute, but no.” Gently, he takes Bucky’s stiff little prick in hand and plays with the wrinkle of foreskin that’s bunched at the tip. “Omegas are less than four percent of the population,” he murmurs. “And alphas not even double that. Which means, that despite your natural inclinations, you wind up spending most of your time around a bunch of betas. Of course it wouldn’t have been that way historically. Those things used to be arranged, but in modern society it has unfortunately become all too common.” He peeks upwards, pleased to see that Bucky’s staring down at him with parted lips and flushed cheeks.

“S-so?” he breathes.

“So, right now you’re in a room with an adult alpha male who’s touching you, and talking to you, and dominating you. And you’re biologically geared to respond to those things, especially when you haven’t had much regular exposure to alphas. That just increases your sensitivity. So that when I use my Voice, when you smell my scent, or when you see my big hand covering your tiny sex …” he cups him fully between his legs again and gives a little jostle “It’s all hardwired into your brain as positive, pleasurable. Your body likes it, seeks out more of it. That’s why you’re even getting a little wet right now.”

Bucky bristles in defense, “I’m not—”

“Shh. You don’t have to do that, honey. I already know.” Steve holds his prick and eases the foreskin down, revealing the delicate pink tip of him with an approving hum. “Mmhm. There it is. Look at that sweet little nubbin.” 

Bucky all but stumbles into him, whispering a breathless, “Alpha …”

“That’s right. Good girl.” Steve steadies him with a chuckle. “You’re okay. Don’t lock your knees, honey. See what happens?” He trails a fingertip over the adorable little line of Bucky’s erection, eliciting another whimper from the boy. “It’s okay for you to call me that. I am your Alpha while you’re under custody here, and you may not think you care about that, but your body does. So even though you’re feeling all these other kinds of other emotions right now—anger, fear, embarrassment; your mind and body are still going to fight you on it. They’re gonna prioritize and respond to what you need, and if you don’t change your behavior to reflect those same priorities, then the only outcome you’re gonna get is dysfunction and illness.”

“I’m not,” Bucky says weakly, brow furrowed. “M’not dysfunctive.” 

Steve smiles sadly. “Well first off, that’s not a word, baby.” He pulls on Bucky’s hips and leans back further into the couch, urging the boy to come down to sit on his lap. When he does, Syteve cups his chin and pecks him gently on the lips. It’s the most chaste kiss to ever exist, but the boy is still blushing when Steve pulls back enough to see his cheeks. Steve wraps an arm around his waist to draw him in against his larger body. “Now Bucky, I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to answer right away. I want you to take time to really think about it. And when you’re ready, you tell me.” 

The boy’s looking up at him with wide, confused eyes that pluck at Steve’s heart, and Steve swipes his thumb just under his plush lower lip. “When’s the last time you were happy?” he asks quietly. Bucky’s expression instantly screws up, but Steve hushes him. “I don’t mean just happy from having fun in the moment, or from a specific thing that happened. I mean ‘happy’ as in content, consistently and thoroughly. When’s the last time you can remember when you felt truly settled in your skin?” 

Bucky frowns. “I …”

“Shh. Remember what I said. Not right now. You just think on it.” Steve offers him a tender look and squeezes his chin. “You think you can do that for me?”

“... okay,” Bucky whispers. 

Steve smiles. “Good girl.” He claps his hand on Bucky’s leg. “In the meantime, we’ve got quite a few things we have to do to get you set up: administrative and practical. Are you ready to see your room, get your uniform, a tour of the grounds, all that good stuff?”

Bucky nods, looking almost faint in relief—likely at hearing that he’s going to be given clothing. “Yes,” he breathes eagerly. “Please.”

Steve chuckles and pats his waist. “Thought you might say that. Alright boy, get up. We’ve got a lot to do.”

This story is an ongoing commission for an amazing supporter who wishes to remain anonymous. If you have a story that you'd like to see custom written, send me a message on Tumblr or reach out on my Kofi.

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[ao3feed-hydrahusbands]

SOULLESS

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/04L2EeS by winter_angst Brock and Jack have been living off the grid after Jack commits a horrific crime and takes an enamored Brock with him as prisoner. Jack grows tired of hiding and is ready to go out in a blaze of glory. Words: 2177, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Captain America (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Categories: M/M Characters: Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Serial Killer Jack Rollins, Murder, Shooting, Rape, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Mentioned Skull Fucking, Suggest Child Death, suggested cannibalism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abuse, Dark, Blood and Gore, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, Age Difference, Pseudo-Incest, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Unreliable Narrator read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/04L2EeS

[mostbelovednjpwtournament]

Most Beloved WWE Wrestler Tournament: Round 2 Statistics Dump

Followers: 251

Total Votes: 22,087 + 13,398 = 35,485

Times I realized I was not in-depth enough with my checking of wrestlers and forgot at least one which I only found out because I heard an old wrestler was being accused of murder and the name didn't sound familiar so I checked and it turns out he isn't included but have to remind myself that if no one mentioned him being missing from round 1, he probably isn't the most beloved anyway: once, thank god

Beloved By Gender:

We started with a split of 81.7% men to 18.3% women, which moved to 75% men to 25% women after the first round. After the second round of voting, our percentages are:

Voting Trends:

During round 2, the voting totals ranged from a low of 360 votes per day to 554, with the average rising from 387 votes per day to 462 votes per day (Also I figured out how to add a date marking line how cool is that??)

The 100%ers:

While all the 100%ers from Round 1 have since gotten a vote against them, there were a couple of wrestlers in Round 2 who got through unscathed

Billy Gunn (138 + 50)

Taz (53 + 51)

Asuka (58 + 60)

R-Truth (57 + 71)

Public Opinion:

A great many more publicly adored favs have been voted out, so here are the updated lists

Sports Illustrated’s 101 Best Wrestlers Of All Time (2016)

Ric Flair (18, lose)

Shawn Michaels (53 + 57, win)

Steve Austin (29 + 18, lose)

The Rock (23, lose)

The Undertaker (53 + 55, win)

Dusty Rhodes (46 + 42, win)

John Cena (47 + 51, win)

Hulk Hogan (10, lose)

Sting (51 + 53, win)

Andre The Giant (56 + 38, win)

Randy Savage (37 + 32, win)

Roddy Piper (54 + 33, win)

Chris Jericho (27 + 31, win)

Harley Race (17 + 18, win)

Mick Foley (58 + 47, win)

Bret Hart (52 + 59, win)

Randy Orton (58 + 48, win)

Kurt Angle (45 + 36, win)

Antonio Inoki (28 + 38, win)

Ricky Steamboat (28 + 47, win)

Daniel Bryan (61 + 51, win)

Triple H (31 + 12, lose)

Buddy Rogers (21 + 17, win)

Edge (41 + 49, win)

Bob Backlund (26 + 22, win)

Brock Lesnar (23, lose)

Stan Hansen (22, lose)

Bruno Sammartino (30 + 6, lose)

CM Punk (57 + 40, lose)

Ted DiBiase (27 + 26, win)

Bruiser Brody (33 + 31, win)

Hideo Itami (34 + 35, win)

Rey Mysterio (48 + 40, win)

Vader (32 + 17, lose)

Dory Funk Jr (17 + 17, lose)

Mr Perfect (37 + 25, win)

Eddie Guerrero (53 + 43, win)

Jake Roberts (32 + 29, win)

Arn Anderson (25 + 30, win)

The Sheik (31 + 30, win)

AJ Styles (40 + 46, win)

Goldust (70 + 34, win)

Samoa Joe (61 + 84, win)

Terry Funk (27 + 37, win)

Verne Gagne (14, lose)

Mil Mascaras (10, lose)

Rob Van Dam (43 + 45, win)

Tatsumi Fujinami (25, lose)

Rick Rude (35 + 29, win)

Owen Hart (56 + 41, win)

Jeff Hardy (52 + 32, lose)

Goldberg (23 + 22, lose)

Ivan Koloff (15, lose)

Chris Benoit (17, lose)

Larry Zbyszko (4, lose)

Ultimo Dragon (9, lose)

Scott Hall (44 + 40, win)

Trish Stratus (38 + 42, win)

Dean Malenko (37 + 29, win)

Ultimate Warrior (28 + 20, lose)

Fabulous Moolah (18, lose)

William Regal (62 + 45, win)

Gene Kiniski (14, lose)

Scott Steiner (44, lose)

Rick Steiner (26 + 9, lose)

Chyna (68 + 49, win)

Seth Rollins (55 + 54, win)

Kane (40 + 29, win)

Jimmy Snuka (9, lose)

Davey Boy Smith (22 + 24, win)

The Iron Sheik (49 + 40, win)

Pedro Morales (20 + 9, lose)

Michael Hayes (10, lose)

Johnny Valentine (14 + 4, lose)

Shinsuke Nakamura (58 + 60, win)

Diesel (39 + 35, win)

Batista (53 + 54, win)

Lita (46 + 65, win)

Christian (56 + 47, win)

Ron Simmons (25 + 33, win)

Big Show (41 + 60, win)

JBL (10, lose)

Christopher Daniels (26 + 10, lose)

The Miz (34 + 30, win)

PWI Wrestler Of The Year

Pedro Morales (20 + 9, lose)

Jack Brisco (17 + 13, lose)

Bruno Sammartino (30 + 6, lose)

Terry Funk (27 + 37, win)

Dusty Rhodes (46 + 42, win)

Harley Race (17 + 18, win)

Bob Backlund (26 + 22, win)

Ric Flair (18, lose)

Hulk Hogan (10, lose)

Randy Savage (37 + 32, win)

Sting (51 + 53, win)

Vader (32 + 17, lose)

Diesel (39 + 35, win)

Big Show (41 + 39, win)

Lex Luger (25 + 4, lose)

Steve Austin (29 + 18, lose)

The Rock (23, lose)

Brock Lesnar (23, lose)

Kurt Angle (45 + 36, win)

Chris Benoit (17, lose)

Batista (52 + 54, win)

John Cena (47 + 51, win)

Triple H (31 + 12, lose)

Randy Orton (58 + 48, win)

CM Punk (57 + 40, lose)

Daniel Bryan (61 + 51, win)

Seth Rollins (55 + 54, win)

AJ Styles (40 + 46, win)

Adam Cole (47 + 40, win)

Dean Ambrose (58 + 54, win)

Roman Reigns (51 + 64, win)

PWI Woman Of The Year

Joyce Grable (30 + 24, win)

Susan Green (21 + 27, win)

Stephanie McMahon (26 + 4, lose)

Lita (46 + 65, win)

Trish Stratus (38 + 42, win)

Victoria (27 + 23, win)

Candice Michelle (24 + 39, win)

Mickie James (47 + 46, win)

Michelle McCool (29 + 10, lose)

AJ Lee (48 + 46, win)

Sasha Banks (44 + 47, win)

Charlotte Flair (45 + 42, win)

Asuka (58 + 60, win)

Becky Lynch (58 + 53, win)

Bianca Belair (34 + 66, win)

Top 10 Voted In Round 2:

Samoa Joe (84)

Damian Priest (81)

Big E (78)

Sami Zayn/Rhea Ripley (77)

Jey Uso (74)

R-Truth (71)

Bianca Belair (66)

Lita (65)

Roman Reigns (64)

Iyo Sky (63)

Top 10 Voted Overall:

Naomi (223)

Billy Gunn (188)

Damian Priest (150)

Samoa Joe (145)

Rhea Ripley (134)

Sami Zayn (130)

R-Truth (128)

Big E (125)

Jey Uso (123)

Asuka/Shinsuke Nakamura (118)

Thank you so much to everyone who's been voting thus far. We've got less than 300 wrestlers left to sift through and the competition is starting to seriously heat up. Keep an eye out for Round 3, starting tomorrow!

[smolderingflame]

New Fic Alert (One-shot)! Love And Heels (Steve/Bucky) Captain America/MCU by SmolderingFlame

Love And Heels by SmolderingFlame for @april2007

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Captain America/MCU

Completed Fic

Relationship: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

Characters: James Barnes, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Sharon Carter, Brock Rumlow, Loki, Thor, Alexander Piece, Jack Rollins, mentioned John Walker

Summary: Miss Infinity is one of the biggest drag pageants in the country, attracting talented performers from all around. Two of those competitors are Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, rivals who have a messy past and will do anything they can to win. But things quickly get messy when feelings start to get in the way.

Tags: AU, Modern Setting, Drag Queens, Crossdressing, Feminization, Enemies to Lovers, Crack, Total Crack, Crack treated seriously, Fluff, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Sassy Steve Rogers, Romantic Comedy, Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts, Competition, Pageants, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slutty Bucky Barnes, Sugar Baby Bucky Barnes, Seamstress Steve Rogers, Artists, Steve Rogers big dick and big tits, Top Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bitchy Bucky Barnes, Strong sexual content

[ex0rin]

Easy Intel (E)

ShieldBones, WinterBones (mentioned) - 15440 words Additional: Jack Rollins, Sharon Carter

wet & messy, blowjobs, gagging, deepthroating, anal fingering, spit as lube, first time, anal sex, barebacking, begging, dirty talk, pet names, rough sex, still a Hydra Trash Party

Rumlow’s not expecting the pretty blond who ducks into the hallway with timing a little too perfect for Rumlow to mark down as accidental, she glances up as they pass and, oh, he certainly knows her well enough that he could blow her cover when Steve says a friendly and neighbourly 'hello' in passing; he makes a mental note to update their Intel later and make sure to include Sharon Carter’s name as a possible risk before giving her a wink on the way by while Rogers isn’t looking. It’ll be twice as fun tonight if Steve’s place turns out to be bugged by SHIELD as well as Hydra.

OR: Rumlow has a thing for sticking his cock in super soldiers that could snap his spine; more Intel on Steve Rogers was just an added bonus.

READ ON AO3 HERE.

[thequietesthing]

SHADOW & BONE SEASON 2 THOUGHTS

SPOILERS AHEAD - read at your own risk

Ok, I think I made it clear enough

So, yesterday I finished watching the second season of S&B and I have contrasting thoughts.

Let's start with the good ok?

THE ACTORS. Cannot stress this enough. That is definitely a bunch of very talented people. They had one job and boy if they delivered. I liked everyone but my favourite performances were the ones of Freddy Carter (the Bastard of the Barrel psychotic gaze couldn't have been done better, and also his relationship with Inej... chef's kiss – straight out from the books) Amita Suman (if possible she did an even better job than in the first season, I loved Amita in every scene, from the fight ones to her SCENE with Kaz, and especially what she says to him after that "Hope is dangerous", which I don't think is very much in line with the Inej from the book, but it fits really well in the storyline of the tv series) Daisy Head (THE WOMAN WAS AMAZING, thank god she was given a bigger role in this season! the way she portrayed Genya was brilliant, the hurt, the shame, the fear you could read everything from her face, simply brilliant) Patrick Gibson (my love Nikolai, he also did a very good job and I liked his transitioning from a very swaggering and outgoing performance of Sturmhond, to his portrayal of Nikolai – I've seen some critics in the way he portrayed Nikolai, but in my opinion it couldn't have been better. Sturmhond is not the same as Nikolai otherwise it wouldn't have made sense to create the alter ego; for as much as he has the confident exterior, Nikolai is extremely thoughtful (and I think that you can recognise that by reading KOS/ROW) and Patrick was able to show the thought process that we read in the books, so I liked him). All the others were all extremely good, Ben Barnes off the charts as always, Jessie Mei Li and Archie Renaux did a brilliant job to give us Malina (sometimes definitely too diabetic but alright), the rest of the Crows, Danielle, Kit, Jack and Calahan were AMAZING, they embodied their characters perfectly (Wesper was done beautifully, different than the books, but Kit and Jack are so good that it just came flawless anyway; Helnik was pure angst and I LOVED IT). Also special mentions to Lewis Tan and Anna Leong Brophy because they NAILED the twins performance.

Then we have the plot. Now I wouldn't discard the thing as necessarily bad, because in its own right it wasn't. The issue with book adaptations is that we have such high standards given by the books that we always expect too much. I have to say, some things I liked some things I didn't. Shadow & Bone parts I have to say I'm partial to the second book, especially the whole attack at the Little Palace is just one of my favourites scenes ever and it felt a bit meh. Other issue they have not tackled at all was the religious role Alina had (especially with Tamar and Tolya that in the tv series look more like Nikolai's sidekicks) that instead I wanted to see. A character that basically disappears is the Apparat: I don't like the guy but he was kind of important (how he always schemes around, how he imprisoned Alina, now he's just a guy that gives shady advice to everyone who'd listen). I wish I could have seen more Zoya simply because I love her very much and the fact that she and the Darkling didn't have any type of scenes together is absurd to me. All the scenes where Nikolai was were better in my opinion but I may be a little biased, but I just don't want him to pine over Alina for too long! Not with Zoya right there! But we'll see. Also the whole thing Mal/Alina/Darkling was done in a pretty good way; could have been done better? obviously, but since the objective was not to copy word by word from the books I think it went well. Six of Crows parts I liked how they portrayed Kaz (his childhood story I wanted to cry everytime), very on point BUT I didn't like how rushed it was the vengeance against Pekka Rollins; it was done too quickly for the sake of giving the Crows something to do the first half of the season and it deserved more time for me. I like the new dynamics with the integration of Nina and Wylan, but once again we couldn't really see much of it because there was always someone else and never just the Crows. I've said it before but I'll say it again, Wesper was majestic, Jack must have understood Wylan to a soul level because it was the same as reading Leigh words. I don't particularly mind the fact that Wesper had a thing before rather than not having met at all. Also Jesper embracing its powers was really nice if not a bit rushed. Then, KANEJ SCENES PEOPLE. The talent of Amita and Freddy shone through so brightly it's amazing (the "How will you have me" scene pierced me to the core – not to mention Inej's dream.... ughh so good). KOS foreshadowing They killed David and I was so not okay with that, but then I thought "Did they though?" bc there was no body no anything, so maybe and I say maybe he still alive somewhere (he better be bc he has to marry Genya and be happy and I'll be in denial until it is confirmed). WHEN THE BEE LANDED ON ZOYA SHOULDER the scream that came out of me people thought I was possessed I swear. Nikolai as he finds out he's the nichevo’ya was really well done. What Nina said to Zoya "someone will sweep you off your feet so hard you won't know what hit you" I wanted to cry, I swear if they don't give me Zoyalai next season I'll riot. I didn't particularly enjoy the Genya,Zoya and Alina triumvirate, but I'm feeling it may be short lived. (Also Zoya's "I could fix him" energy is what we want in S3)

Now for what may happen next, I'm really happy about the jurda parem storyline because it affects everyone in different ways. I hope that now that they'll tackle KOS it won't become the Alina show pt 2 but they'll give Zoya the story she deserves. I need Zoya to be the general and right hand of the King and Alina is kind in the middle of that but then I thought that Alina will probably go on her own journey with the fact she has the sword to return to Shu Han and now dark powers and so she may enter her villain era with maybe Mal bringing her again on the right path (also let's not forget that the tree the Darkling goes into is in Shu Han, so I think they'll play around with that a bit), idk honestly all I care at this point is that by the end Alina's hair have to be white. I hope the Crows finally free poor Matthias from Hellgate and finally finally go do the Ice Court heist, that it has been a long time coming.

All in all I honestly liked the season, there was only one main issue that affected everything else: too many characters. In Italian there is a saying "troppa carne al fuoco" which means literally "too much meat on the fire" which translates to the fact that there were too many things to follow to do it properly. Too many stories to follow, too many people on the move with too many things to accomplish, and even with good writing it can easily become a shitty thing. So whatever it is to come (hopefully season 3 and also the rumoured SOC spinoff) I'm glad they are planning to separate the cast.

Ok I'm done.

[marveltrumpshate]

December 2023 MTH fills

The best way to see all the fills that have been shared with us is our monthly roundups tag or our #MTH-fills channel on our Discord, but you can also view them through the following methods:

Our Tumblr tags: 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023

Our AO3 collections: 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023 (only has works posted to AO3)

Completed works tag list

To find specific content, use our completed works tag lists above which includes instructions on how to search for a particular character, gen or romantic relationship, universe, and fanwork type. 

SOLO CHARACTERS

Jack Rollins

Sammy Smiles - Big Jack Rollins plushie in tac suit for @kalika999 (MTH 2021)

Kurt Wagner

@say-cyke-rn - Art of an injured Kurt crouching on a ledge for whichwitch

Loki

RoseRose/@tehroserose - "Jörmungandr (It's all circles)" (MCU Loki catena rondo hurt no comfort, unhappy ending poem) for @kerravonsen

Ronan

@deehellcat - Small crocheted Ronan doll with his weapon for @pocketcosmic

GEN/PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS

Alpine & Bucky Barnes

@scootcommander - Diary pages of Bucky's mental health journey while taking care of Alpine featuring mentions of Clint, Natasha, and Steve for @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy

SHIPS

Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton

dr.girlfriend/@drgrlfriend - "The Storm Shall Not Wake Thee" (post-TWS Bucky/Clint fic where Bucky is a selkie) for @ghostcwtch, @buckyismybicycle, @hawksonfire, @bulkyphrase, and Fox (MTH 2022)

@secondalto - Cross-stitch piece of winged Bucky and Clint embracing for @rufferto9

Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov

Eustacia Vye/@eustaciavye28 - "Shelter" (MCU Bucky/Nat fic where Bucky rescues Natasha from General Ross's custody) for @drivingyelenabelova

Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark

swtalmnd/@amysnotdeadyet - "To Arms" (Witcher!Bucky/technomage!Tony AU fic) for @saganarojanaolt, newtypeshadow, and @rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter (MTH 2021)

Kitty Pryde/Illyana Rasputin

Jason K Jones/@jkjones21 - Art of Kitty/Kate following Illyana through a portal to a beautiful landscape for KellyLynn

Loki/Mobius

WinterRaven/@ravensonata - "Under the Moonlight Eternal" (pre-American Civil War vampire!Loki/human!Mobius AU fic) for asgardian (MTH 2022)

Matt Murdock/Jennifer Walters

yellowwclouds/@lesbiandardevil - Art of Jen and Matt having fun rollerskating at a roller rink for @nostalgicatsea

Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

@nostalgicatsea - Mood board of Steve and Tony yearning for each other in their dreams for @captainneverever

Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Golden_Asp - "A Bargain Made" (MCU Stephen/Tony demonic possession fic) for @sirleafheart (MTH 2022)