#put some Marvin Gaye on

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is. 

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away  The blues walked in and met me  Oh, yeah if he stays away  Old rocking chair’s gonna get me  All I do is pray...’ 

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you. 

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones. 

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent. 

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue. 

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight. 

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line. 

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.  

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized. 

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides. 

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive. 

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang. 

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness. 

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here. 

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward. 

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?” 

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily. 

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top. 

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America. 

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses. 

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly. 

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm. 

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.” 

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place. 

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right? 

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs. 

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?” 

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.” 

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow. 

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?” 

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.” 

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint. 

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?” 

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek. 

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl. 

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.” 

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?” 

���Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction. 

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.” 

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him. 

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.” 

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers. 

“Sure, it’s three.” 

“Number?” 

“310.” 

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign. 

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him. 

“It’s unlocked,” you say. 

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table. 

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly. 

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through. 

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” 

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.” 

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you. 

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.  

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath. 

“You okay?” He turns the question on you. 

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile. 

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance. 

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...” 

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.” 

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.” 

“Right,” you work more diligently. 

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?” 

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are. 

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial. 

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?” 

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach. 

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut. 

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.” 

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand. 

“You must be pretty far along,” he says. 

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.” 

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?” 

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.” 

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack. 

“So, you want some?” You ask. 

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.” 

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.” 

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--” 

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say. 

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.” 

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.” 

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...” 

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods. 

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.” 

[the-californicationist]

This will be the first request I’ve ever made, I want you. Only if you can. Price coming home in this, whatever mission it is, needs and wants his princess. Marvin Gaye, Sade, maybe? And naughty shenanigans, kisses!!! Thanks thanks and hugs!!! 👑💜

And He Spoke of His Dreams

Song inspo: Like a Tattoo by Sade

Thanks for the ask! Hope this is what you wanted! TW: fem reader

It was late, too late, when John's keys finally rattled in the door. In front of you, meticulously placed on the table, was his icy cold dinner, two candles burned down to their ends, their wax dripping onto the pale tablecloth, and an empty bottle of wine you had meant to share. Your lips were stained red, as if your mouth was bloody, like a lioness over her kill, panting and wrathful. Stained. Stained with it.

He sighed, but he didn't say anything. He was wearing The Suit. He only owned the one. It was the funeral suit, and the wedding suit, and it was the suit that he wore when Laswell called him down to the base for these late-night chats about all the things he should be doing more (or less) of. About how it was his fault that Makarov escaped. About how it was his fault that all of the intel had been tainted. About how it was his fault.

What were you going to do? Tell him he was late to his own birthday dinner? Tell him you hadn't seen him in days even though he should have been home from duty? Tell him you had been waiting for him, pacing for him outside of the door to his home office, hoping that you could find a reason to barge in there and demand his attention?

What good would it do? What were you against the importance of Terrorism?

"Hey, love."

His voice was smoke and brimstone, sparking even though his ire wasn't pointed toward you. He had been yelling. You'd been married to him long enough that you could hear it in his timbre.

"Have a seat, John. I'll warm it up for you."

You tried to hide your frustration, but it oozed around your words like a fetid stench, and he could smell it.

"Sit down."

You sat. He was still a commander. Sometimes he shed that mantle on the drive home... and sometimes he didn't. You could tell he was fighting it. You could see how he heard his own command and winced from it, flogged from his own whip in some sort of self-inflicted flagellation. He hurt himself when he struck you with those words.

John pulled out the chair and drug it across the floor unceremoniously and without care. The legs banged along the ground and slammed down as he fixed the seat in position right in front of you. He sat and you heard the wooden chair groan. He kept his knees spread wide apart, framing you inside of them. As he leaned forward, his black tie fell into the empty hole between you. His hands played with the hem of your dress, and you could feel the backs of his knuckles on his skin.

"Laswell wants me to send me and my men back to the field, and I told her I wouldn't. Bad intel. Went round and round and round..." his volume started low, but it began to increase, like a rising flame in a pile of tinder, "It was like she couldn't hear me. Like she wouldn't..."

He had more to say, but he stopped. You knew that he had a whole rant bottled up in there, but if he let it out, he'd be back in that familiar rage, wearing it like a second skin, and he promised you wouldn't see him in that way. Not again. There had been such a peace.

You weren't sure what made you do it, but you kissed him. You felt your lips purse and press into his mustache, tickled by it, wetting the hairs. You felt the fullness of his soft lips as he responded to you, kissing you back but pulling away.

"Darlin'..."

You attacked, deciding to show him just how darling you could be, deepening the kiss, and giving your tongue to him. If he wouldn't eat his dinner, you would feed him something else.

He relented, enticed by your surprise offering, and any part of him that wanted to hold onto that old, comfortable anger was happy to put its paws on something softer.

John wrapped his arms around you, devouring you with his mouth, pushing at your jaw and forcing you to collapse into him with his immense body leaning on you. He pulled you up, making the chairs scream again as your legs jostled them away.

"C'mon, love. C'mon."

He was speaking into your mouth, filling the hollow of your cheeks with his own words, groping you and caressing you wherever he could manage. As he held you, he moved you into the bedroom, bullying you into an awkward, all-encompassing dance, eager to lead.

His shirt buttons caved under your effort, and he managed to loosen his tie enough to let it flutter down to the floor, trampled by your feet. You found his undershirt and tugged at it, using your hands to venture underneath to pet his belly and make him gasp.

"Bloody hell. Wha's gotten into you, missus?"

His shirt peeled away from his back.

"Don't wanna hear about your shitty day," you hissed.

The top two buttons of your dress were undone.

"Oh? Why's that?"

His hands rucking up your skirt, trying to pull it off of you.

"I wanna feel your shitty day," you smiled, licking your lips, "I wanna feel every bit of it. Give it to me. Let me feel you. I wanna feel you."

You prayed that he understood you. He seemed to, grinning as your hands pried away his trousers from his waist, yanking at his zipper and seeking out his hidden warmth.

John was already as hard as a stone, and his smooth, velvety cock filled your hands and reminded you of just how much of him there was. You pumped at his length, slicking the precome over his head, teasing him just enough to make him wild.

His eyes held a bright fire within them, and you could tell how much he wanted to take control, so you forced his hand. He was always so careful with you, but that's not what you needed. You needed him to bind himself to you, like a bone once broken that was now healed.

Your knees hit the floor and you rubbed your cheek over his length like a cat. You did it again, enjoying the look on his face and the brief uncertainty about what he should do with his hands. He stumbled back, just a half-step, but enough to tell you that you were doing the trick.

His hands were in your hair, and he groaned for you, watching you in furious disbelief as you took him into your mouth. You could only fit his head, but you suckled from it hungrily, pulling it into the wet warmth of your mouth and rolling it around with your tongue.

"Fuckin' hell. Fuck..."

John got rough with you, pulling you up by your scalp, gripping you at the base of your skull, slowing his pleasure down and staring at you like you were a ghost, something unreal.

Then, he kissed you again, letting you both fall to the bed, pressing you down with his weight so that you couldn't move. You couldn't even shift your hips; you were fully at his mercy, ready and very much willing to be used like his toy.

He slid into you without resistance or help. Your body welcomed him in, not asking you for your opinion.

"Mmff... fuck!"

John growled out mid-kiss, trying to reel himself back in. You gasped and moaned, feeling the same effects as your husband, reveling in the magic he had crafted between you.

All of his rage melted from his visage like butter in a pan, soft and frothing and bubbling in a place that was once rigid and cold. You tried to grind your hips for him, milking his pleasure one tiny motion at a time, stoking that fire to dangerous heights.

As if he was being forced to comply, he began to thrust into you over and over. You felt his cock slide all the way out and all the way back in like a shining piston.

It made your eyes water. Your pleasure was so enhanced by his ferocity, and his intensity burned its way through you with every selfish push and lustful pull.

Greedily, he picked up his pace, slamming himself into you and hugging you to him, desperate to be closer and not having a way to make that true. He began to talk to you, telling you his secrets,

"Needed you so bad."

More and more of his cock seemed to find a way to fit itself inside of you, and you couldn't remember ever feeling so full.

"This fuckin' pussy. My pussy. Mine."

His possessiveness made you want to scream, and you could tell he was pleased with your reaction to his declaration of ownership. His smug, satisfied look turned you on even more.

"So wet for me, pretty thing. Wet. Wet. Wet."

The sounds he was making inside of you were straight up pornographic, and you loved hearing the result of his work. He was a master at drawing out your pleasure, and you thought you might blackout if he didn't let you come soon.

"John, please -" you said, but you were interrupted.

He plastered a huge hand over your mouth and chuckled darkly,

"Smells sweet," he licked your neck, sending chills across your arms and chest, "Like you've been wantin' me for a while. That true?"

You nodded, unable to respond. Then, you basked in the pleased look on his face. It was delicious to see him so enamored with you, and you wanted to roll around in it like a dog.

"Gonna come on me, missus? Wash away my fuckin' day, yeah?"

You nodded again, weaker this time. You felt your body decide to divert its attention to your core and the pressure building in your womb. It was like the end of a lit sparkler, glowing and spitting, sparkling and hissing and then... it was the explosion.

Your orgasm spread like wildfire across your skin, blazing in your hips and rushing through your veins, burning you inside and out.

"Tha's it," he was shouting over your screaming, "Lemme hear you. C'mon! Fuck!"

John pressed his cock inside of you as deeply as it would fit and felt the climax as it rent its way through you. He allowed himself to follow, pouring his joy out into you like warm, melted sugar, sticky and cloying.

Shorter, shallower thrusts painted his come inside of you, and your senses were overwhelmed by it. Everything was golden and silver and glittering with his love. Everything was bright. Everything was John. There was no you. No him. You were bathed together in this cosmic light, forever entwined by it.

More than anything, he looked relieved. It was exactly what he had needed. He needed to let himself out, to let his wildness run free, and you celebrated being the vessel for such reckless abandon.

He was petting your breasts, kissing them and studying them like there was a test. Occasionally, he would return to your mouth, slanting his own over it and languidly using it to kiss you. He would lick and taste and kiss and suck and you would allow it. You would be his toy for as long as he needed, and in turn, he was yours to command. Your captain.

"I like you like this," he confessed, keeping you pinned beneath him, "All mine. Trapped, hm?"

"All yours, John. As long as you need me."

"I'll always need you."

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Let’s get it on

Pairing: Lucien Flores x afab!reader x Frankie Morales

Words count: 12779 💀 (I humbly apologize, please don’t hate me)

Rating: +18, absolutely NSFW, please if you’re a minor don’t interact.

Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears a skirt, has breast and vagina, other than that no other description is given and I made sure she doesn’t blush, she has hair but it is not described what it is like and no one runs their hand through it, unprotected p in v (it's fiction, no one gets pregnant or gets infections in this world, please use protection in real life), unprotected anal, oral (everyone receiving it LOL), spit roast, a little bit of choking (very lightly), spanking, manhandling, rough sex, masturbation, dirty talk, use of “daddy” once, mention of anxiety, mention of cheating, brief Santiago appearance, angst, fluff, Lucien, reader and Frankie are bi af ❤️, pet names (baby, kitten, good boy, princess), soft!dom Frankie, sub!Lucien, everyone is horny af, reader is basically a menace along with the guys, alcohol consumption, cum eating, cream pie, a lot of nipple play just because I love it (don’t look at me like that, boobs are gorgeous ❤️), Frankie is PEK but also a boobs man in this because I said so, frottage, pussy pronouns, balls sucking, Lucien's chain (only one, sorry) makes a series of glorious appearances *wink*…listen, I don't know what other kind of smutty things I wrote anymore, If I notice something is missing I will add it right away.

This was written for @baronessvonglitter’s Fuck-tober challenge , thank you so much for the opportunity and happy birthday again 🩷 She assigned me Lucien and the song Let's get it on by Marvin Gaye, I had a blast! And it drained me, but that was only my fault because I couldn't stop writing LOL Sorry if I've been more of a pain in the ass with this, I promise I'm done. It’s the very first challenge I’ve participated and it’s also my very first Lucien fic, I’m so nervous about it💀

As usual, English is not my first language so please be patient with me, no beta and no proofreading, I reread it a couple of times today too and I hope there are no mistakes, please forgive me if you find any.

I really hope you’ll like it!

Lucien: hey baby, long time no see, how you doing?

You: I was alright before this text came

Lucien: I know you miss me and you know that too.

You: Not even a little bit.

Lucien: baby… I’m sorry. Can we meet? Please?

You: and why on earth should I do this?

Lucien: I just want to give you back something that you left at my place.

You: fuck, okay, just one time, in a public place and don’t you dare to have expectations.

Lucien: come on, deep down you still love me.

You: sure, so deep down that I can't find it

Lucien: cruel woman. Shall we meet at the usual bar at 9?

You: I’m not the one who cheated, asshole. Fuck, ok. See you there.

You put down your phone letting out a sigh, cursing yourself for accepting to see him.

Lucien. Your ex. The unreliable man that broke your heart.

——————————

You entered the bar looking for him, scanning the place and seeing few people at the tables drinking and chatting.

He was sitting at the bar counter, rolling a bottle of beer between his fingers, staring intently ahead.

The bartender was with his back to him loading a dishwasher.

You watched him from a distance, he hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him.

He was wearing one of his colorful shirts that he wore all the time, even when you went to your mom’s for lunch on Sundays and she obviously never failed to point it out to you “Can't he just wear a normal shirt for once?”.

You didn’t know what to do about it, Lucien has always been a stubborn guy and anyway, despite what your mother said, they suited him well.

Light wash jeans hugged his legs, his hair was a little longer but as messy as you'd always seen it, and a short beard covered his cheeks and jawline leaving some patches.

You had always liked his aquiline nose, the way you felt it press against your cheek as you kissed, and even more the way it rubbed against your clit as Lucien moved down between your thighs.

You shook your head.

“This is only going to bring me trouble” you thought as you approached “well, fuck, maybe I’ll even get a decent apology” you rolled your eyes as a whiff of his perfume reached you, a perfume that you had given him before he left you and that had caused you to have one of the worst fight in history that lead into a very painful break up. It was persistent, woody, with a very fresh citrus note, quite unmistakable.

You still remember the day you entered your friend’s house and you distinctly smelled that perfume in her living room. That day you had discovered that Lucien had been cheating on you. And to add insult to injury, as soon as he had heard you enter he had hidden behind a cabinet in the kitchen like a complete idiot. It took you 30 seconds to find him. You were already suspicious seeing your friend’s messed up hair and smeared lipstick, you had asked her if she was with someone and she had replied that no, absolutely not, she was taking a nap. But you knew her well, she had never taken naps, especially in the afternoon, she was a hyperactive person who needed to keep herself busy all the time. Apparently she had found a way to do it by fucking your boyfriend.

“Hey” you nodded at him, without trying too hard. Seeing his face again was already enough to bear with.

He turned and greeted you with a smile “Hey babe” UGH. You couldn’t stand that casual innocent smile on his face.

“Lucien, if you call me babe one more time I swear I'm leaving”

He pouted, putting those puppy eyes on you that you once liked so much and now only made you angry.

“Okay, I’m going to behave, I promise. Would you just…sit down?”

You huffed “okay, just for a moment”

This bar was another place you never went back to after you broke up, you often came there together after work to have a beer and meet friends.

It was a nice bar, actually, but you had given up and now you were meeting your friends on the other side of town.

The counter was made of dark wood, as were the stools, and some industrial-design lamps hung over it, enveloping the place in a relaxed and soft atmosphere.

Frankie, the owner, was former US special forces pilot, as soon as he turned around and saw you he greeted you like an old friend “Hey beautiful, how are you?”

“I’m good Frankie, thanks, can I have a beer?”

“Blanche on tap as always?” He still remembered your usual order, which put you in a good mood despite the presence of that asshole of your ex.

“That would be wonderful, thanks” You looked at him with eyes full of gratitude.

Frankie must have understood the reason why you hadn’t come anymore and he must also have understood how little you wanted to be there at that moment.

Lucien was silent and watched you interact, you could feel his gaze still on you.

Frankie moved to pour your beer and you resigned yourself to turning to him.

“So, let me get this straight, what the hell do you want exactly?” you asked him with a serious look.

“I wanted to give you that” he replied by putting a hand in his pocket and taking out a ring you were hoping to see again.

“Oh good, finally you did something right” It was a ring that your grandmother had given you and that you cared about a lot because it was one of the few memories you had left of her. This was the measure of how little you wanted to see Lucien again, you had even given up on it.

Deep down you knew, or at least you hoped, that Lucien wouldn't get rid of it.

If he had pulled another nasty thing to you could have redone the side of his car with a key or something. He would have deserved it and wouldn't even have had right to complain.

What bothered you the most about the whole thing was that he had done everything behind your back, if he had spoken honestly to you and told you that he wanted an open relationship or if he had confessed that he wanted to leave you you would have accepted it more easily.

“I was sure you would be happy to have it back” he smiled

You had looked at him askance and replied “well then you could have done it sooner”

“I thought it was better to let some time pass” he had shrugged at which you had sighed because he wasn’t entirely wrong but you had replied peeved anyway “Six months?!”

Lucien didn't know what to say, he just stammered "s-sorry" and looked down at his legs stretched out on the stool.

You growled and rolled your eyes again, he was impossible. “I don’t think I can expect much from you though so it’s okay”

Frankie put the beer down in front of you and smiled sweetly, “here you go, I missed you by the way”

“I missed you and this place a lot too” and took a long drink, feeling the beer slide cool on your tongue.

You could see Lucien out of the corner of your eye and he was smiling, he always told you that you drink beer like no other girl which he thought was a compliment… a really poor one actually, but for some reason you liked him saying that. You were probably blinded by love, because you were really in love with him once and there was no denying that having sex with him was amazing, he always knew how to push the right buttons and make you feel incredibly sexy in his arms. Not to mention the fact that he made you squirt and that had never happened to you before.

His kisses, the way he touched you, how he knew how to use his hands on you, his amazing cock, the scent of his skin, everything about him drove you crazy.

As much as you hated to admit it, you missed him. Just for the bed part.

“What’s that pretty little head of yours thinking?” Lucien ventured, giving you a crooked smile.

You stared at the bubbles of your beer rise up the rim of the glass and get lost in the foam.

“What a shitty boyfriend you were, if you really want to know”

And how wet you made me, but you would never have told him that.

Lucien took a sip of his beer, shifted on his stool and replied, “I know. I’m sorry.”

You hummed contentedly as you took some peanuts from the small bowl Frankie had placed in front of you along with your beer. It wasn’t such a bad thing to hear him admit his flaws after all, better late than never.

“I know I was terrible to you and I don't know how you put up with me for so long,” his voice sounded strangely sincere, as if he had actually thought about what he had done wrong.

“Well, that's not bad to hear. Thank you very much” you granted him a smile, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Lucien's eyes lit up "it's nice to see you smile, finally"

You were losing it, just a little. “No no no. I won’t fall into this again.” You thought, “I won’t let it happen.”

“We’re not okay, though” you added “don't get any strange ideas”

“Of course” he smirked “Are you dating someone?”

“Actually yes,” you replied right away “a good guy.”

“Oh. And what’s his name?”

“Simon”

He chuckled, shaking his head

“What?!” you asked him, widening your eyes, “what are you laughing so much about?”

It was unbelievable how Lucien could go from melting your heart to irritating you in a matter of seconds.

“You can't be okay with someone named Simon”

“Why not?!” You frowned, looking at him, waiting for the most stupid answer ever

“Because it sounds like an accountant's name. Or that little Chipmunk guy's name. I can't believe you're happy with him”

“I am.” you replied, offended, “he’s very good. And anyway it’s none of your business”

Simon was simply the first name that came to your mind, there was no boyfriend, you just wanted to keep him from knowing you were still alone.

“So tell me,” Lucien asked, coming closer to your ear, “does he make you come like I did? I remember how you moaned while I fucked you”

You felt a jolt down your spine as his words kept reverberating in your ear and inside your brain and then you hurried to answer “Of course he does”

Lucien’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile “I don’t believe you”

Best fuck of your life but still an asshole.

“You cheated, Lucien, so you lost every chance you get over me, shut the fuck up already” you snapped, almost on the verge of tears.

You held back with all your strength to not give him the satisfaction.

Frankie turned to you immediately “Hey, it’s all good? Should I kick his ass out?” He asked looking grimly at Lucien.

“Thank you Frankie, there’s no need, I’m going home”

You took your wallet out of your bag to pay but Frankie waved his hand in the air “no way, it's on the house”

“Well, thank you then. I hope to see you soon, without this asshole around” you squinted at Lucien who seemed finally mortified.

Being with him was like riding a roller coaster, it was fun and breathtaking and then in an instant there would be a downhill slope and everything would go to hell.

You rushed out after saying hello to Frankie again and completely ignoring your ex.

Lucien followed you after leaving some money on the counter under Frankie’s stern gaze.

He grabbed your wrist and you glared at him “I know, okay, I’m an asshole, I didn't want to make you suffer! I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I’m sorry about everything”

“Well you could have not acted like an idiot in the first place. We’re done, Lucien, let go off my wrist” you didn't even raise your voice, you used a coldness that surprised you.

You turned and walked away without even listening to him anymore.

You were tired, so damn tired. You just needed to go home.

_____________________

It had been a horrible day at work, your boss had loaded you with deadlines and you had left the office after 2 hours of overtime with your head exploding. On your way home you thought that after a day like that you really deserved a beer and without thinking twice, instead of going home, you headed to Frankie's bar.

It was Friday night, after all.

You entered the bar, pushing your way through the crowd to reach the counter. The place was full and Frankie was busy.

As soon as he saw you, his eyes lit up under the cap he never took off and he smiled at you “It’s so nice to see you again!”

You smiled back thinking how stupid you were tm so never have noticed how cute Frankie was before.

He placed a beer and a small bowl of peanuts in front of you without you having to ask.

“Frankie, you’re my savior” you told him, noticing his beautiful brown eyes, his strong nose just like you loved in a man, his lips and jawline made to be kissed.

He was gorgeous.

“Don’t mention it, knowing what others want is my job after all” his mouth curved into a soft smile and you felt something, like a little fire that was ignited inside you.

You sat there exchanging jokes with him between one cocktail and another that he prepared.

He was funny and kind and you loved spending time with him.

When the place had started to empty a little, it was already 1am, Frankie had poured himself some whiskey and leaned against the bar counter in front of you.

He looked tired too.

“The bar is really doing well, isn't it?” you said “you should hire someone to help you”

He smiled “Santiago took a share, he'll help me from next week. You remember him, right?”

You nodded. You had met Santi one evening when you were there with your friends. He was a nice guy, a former special forces agent just like Frankie.

“Great!”

“Listen…” Frankie hesitated for a moment “I don’t want to sound cheeky but… would you like to go out sometime?”

You looked at him, saw his hopeful look, and agreed. He was too handsome to say no.

You both smiled and you ended up helping him set up the bar while the jukebox played old rock songs.

You felt at ease with Frankie, the horrible day you had just had no longer mattered.

When the last chair had been turned upside down on the tables and the floor had been cleaned, you went out into the back alley to throw out the garbage.

“What do you say about Monday? It's my day off,” Frankie suggested.

“I think it’s perfect”

Frankie’s gaze lingered on you, making you hot and bothered.

You had moved closer to him, just an inch from his face and you had placed a hand on his broad chest, letting it slide slowly over his shirt “I don't want to seem cheeky but… could I kiss you?” you asked him raising your chin and watching him through your lashes.

Frankie chuckled “Hey. You're good, miss. Sure you can.”

As soon as you put your lips on his you felt it, a rush of adrenaline that went through your entire body. That dark alley wasn't exactly the most romantic place in the world but when you kissed him it seemed special. Frankie returned your kiss on the lips a couple of times, as if he was respectfully trying to understand how far he could go.

You pulled him by his shirt to bring him closer to you and deepened the kiss.

Your tongue caressed his lips and he didn't have to be asked twice, he let you in immediately and wrapped his arms around your waist.

Frankie was different from Lucien's, your ex was greedy and impatient, it almost seemed like he was in a hurry while kissing you.

Frankie took his time, tasted you like a ripe fruit, licked inside your mouth expertly, knew exactly what dance he wanted to involve your tongue in, tenderly nibbled your lower lip.

You felt your knees buckle, as his hands slowly moved towards your ass, you placed yours on his to invite him, to give him silent consent, and you moaned into his mouth when his big hands squeezed your ass cheeks.

You pushed him against the wall, sliding a hand between you and touching his erection over his jeans.

Frankie chuckled, his voice hoarse “hey, someone’s hungry”

“I haven’t eaten,” you replied, pouting and then bursting into laughter. Frankie pulled you back into his embrace, kissing you again, trailing down your jaw and then your neck.

You moaned again.

“Well, you should eat something. There’s a place around here, they make amazing tacos, how about that?”

“I prefer to eat you” you replied mischievously, fumbling with his belt, Frankie looked at you in ecstasy. You took his cock in your mouth right there in that alley, dirtying your knees on the asphalt without caring. He was big, about the same size as Lucien, it pulsated deliciously on your tongue and you greedily swallowed every drop of his cum.

You started dating that same Monday, he took you out to dinner and you ended the night at his house where Frankie served you three orgasms with his mouth.

It had been unbelievable, Lucien was good at it but Frankie put a special dedication into licking you like he was pussy drunk and determined to giving you the best experience you could have had.

That evening, held in his arms, your face resting on his chest, you felt completely satisfied after a long time.

______________

You hadn't heard from Lucien for three months, you and Frankie were dated regularly and you really liked how your story was going. One day he took you flying in a helicopter. Seeing him focused, capable, totally immersed in his element made you so excited that as soon as you got off the ground you fucked him in his car, in the parking lot, with the risk that someone would catch you in the act.

He was a fantastic man, passionate, attentive and caring.

You had forgiven Lucien after all, if he hadn't asked you to see each other, your story with Frankie would never have started.

You often went to Frankie's bar after work, sat down for a drink and chatted with him and Santi, who in the meantime had started working there.

One evening while you were laughing together Lucien came in. You muttered an “oh no” under your breath looking at Frankie who immediately put a hand on top of yours resting on the counter and squeezed it as if to tell you to stay calm.

Santi exclaimed “Hey! What are you doing here?!”

You and Frankie simultaneously turned to him with wide eyes “do you know him?”

And Santi laughed and shrugged answering “of course! He’s my cousin!”

Lucien was as surprised as you were to see you all there together.

You had never met Lucien’s cousins, he had barely introduced you to his mother and only because she had insisted. He had always been elusive, you should have known from the beginning how it would end between you.

You certainly didn't want an official engagement either, anyway.

“Why the hell are you here, cousin?” Lucien said scratching his head.

“I work here, idiot, I even told you last week at your mom’s lunch but I’m not surprised you didn’t listen.”

You giggled at Santi’s reprimand, looking at Frankie and squeezing his hand tighter. You were so glad to be with an uncomplicated man like him.

Frankie promised you something and did it, he made a date with you and showed up on time, he showered you with attention and always thought of your pleasure before his own.

“Sit down, I'll pour you a beer” Santi said and moved to the tap.

Silence fell between the three of you, until Lucien broke it by noticing the way you were caressing Frankie's hand, making small concentric circles with your thumb on the back of his hand.

”So he’s your new boyfriend? Wasn’t his name Simon?”

“It didn’t work with Simon, Frankie is much better anyway,” you looked at him tenderly and his eyes returned yours with a sparkle under the peak of his cap.

“I’m glad,” Lucien simply said, looking at Frankie and then at you. Maybe he had finally learned to behave in a civil manner.

Santi placed a beer in front of his cousin and asked “so do you like this place?”

“Sure, I've been coming here long before you started working there. She and I used to come together all the time.”

Santi finally understood your triangle. “But you…” he said pointing to you “and him” pointing to Frankie and you nodded “but before you were with him… ok I understand”

Lucien laughed “it’s not that weird, you know”

And you thought that no, it actually wasn't, because of the state of mind you were in. You were very calm, finally, and Lucien's presence didn't bother you at all.

You spent the evening together, while Santi and Frankie served cocktails, chatting and laughing.

At the end of the evening you insisted on staying to help clean up despite Frankie and Santi's protests, so Lucien also felt compelled to volunteer.

“You'll finally do something useful, cousin.” Santiago said and you all laughed, including Lucien.

You and Frankie went home around 2am, while you were thinking about how tired you were he pushed you on his bed, his eyes locked on yours as he stripped you of your jeans and panties and spread your legs.

You just can’t resist when Frankie’s eyes darken in that particular way, as if he felt the intrinsic need to make you come. That night you also read something else in his gaze, the need to claim you as his.

“You really have the most beautiful cunt I've ever seen, do you know that darling? Who does this pussy belong to? hm?”

“It's yours” you managed to say as you took off his trusted baseball cap throwing it on the floor “it’s all yours”

He drowned in your pussy, coating your folds in his saliva, his tongue frantically moving up and down and his fingers teasing your entrance. He nuzzled at your clit, making you squirm with the tip of his nose bumping into your harden bud again and again.

You raised your gaze so as not to miss a single movement of his tongue and his hungry lips that were drinking from your most intimate part.

“Fuck, you’re so good at doing it, Frankie, oh my god” you whined, lacing your fingers with his soft raven curls, he smirked against your skin and kept licking you until you were an incoherent hot mess just babbling his and god name in a blissful state.

“I need you” you pleaded “please Frankie, give me your cock”

He lifted himself up to your mouth and kissed you, letting you taste your essence from his lips while with one hand he spread your lips and his tip began to push inside you.

“Fuck, you’re drenched” and you nodded completely incapable of putting together a meaningful sentence.

He filled you up, accompanying the last thrust with a groan, and waited just long enough for you to get used to his intrusion before starting to pump in and out of you with a steady pace.

Sex with Frankie was nurturing in a way that surprised you, he really took care of you, making you feel safe every step of the way, every thrust into you like a kiss on your cervix and a caress to your soul, you never experienced something so endearing before.

He really was the perfect partner and you’re never felt so lucky in your life.

———————————————

Three more months passed since the first evening spent with Frankie, Lucien and Santi at the bar and it became an habit almost every weekend, Lucien showing up late, you making fun of him and generally having a great time together chatting and laughing. Sometimes you invited some friends and one of them ended up having a huge crush on Santi.

You were happy to see them exchanging languid glances and withdrawing from you to chat alone. Claire, your best friend, confessed to you that she was crazy about Santi after almost a month and you were not at all surprised.

“I’ve noticed the way you two look at each other for a while now,” you laughed “it’s time you decided to go out alone.”

“Oh, we will, next Monday.”

You hugged her chirping “I’m so glad for you dear, you truly deserve the best! And Santiago is such a great guy!”

“I know!” She smiled “he’s so sweet and kind and such a menace sometimes, I just fell head over heels without even realizing it”

That was perfect, you with Frankie and your best friend with Frankie’s best friend, like every rom com that you loved rewatching for comfort at which Frankie laughed so hard at.

You couldn't wait to tell him that sometimes it really happened.

——————————

You were tidying up as usual, listening to music from the jukebox. It was two in the morning on a Friday like any other, since you were with Frankie your hours of sleep had decreased a bit but sleeping in his arms guaranteed you a deeper, more peaceful rest.

You and Frankie had celebrated your first six months together with a dinner earlier that week followed by two hours of intense, animalistic, intoxicating sex.

Lucien had seen you fall more and more in love, he had seen the way you looked at him, how you always sought physical contact, even if it was just intertwining your fingers with his, it was obvious that Frankie made you happy.

You would have been lying to yourself if you said you didn't feel anything for him anymore but Lucien made you lose the ground under your feet.

You needed someone stable, Frankie was your rock while Lucien was a dizzying amount of a person.

You were taking out a bag of garbage when you heard noises in the alley and low voices.

You looked out the back door curiously and saw Frankie and Lucien talking in the shadows. You stood still behind the half-closed door trying to listen. They hadn’t noticed you.

“We should tell her,” Frankie said and Lucien replied, “not now, please, she would never forgive me.”

“Lu, I love her, do you understand? I don’t want to hurt her.”

Lucien nodded “I know Frankie, you think I don’t care about her? But if we tell her now she’ll think it’s my fault, please. We’ll find a way, I promise”

Lucien rested his hands on Frankie’s forearms, caressing him and bringing his hands to his, clenched into fists along his sides “come on, don’t do that”

You were paralyzed. What was it that they couldn’t tell you? And why did Frankie and Lucien seem so close when in front of you they just acted cordially and threw each other the occasional barb?

You thought they were united by their affection for you and Santiago and tolerated each other for your sake but at that moment you weren't sure anymore.

Your blood froze in your veins when you saw Lucien approach Frankie and kiss him.

It was something you never thought you’d see in your life and most of all you never thought Frankie would do something like that behind your back. “Stop it Lu. I told you, I won’t do anything until we tell her. Kissing the other day was a mistake, I can’t forgive myself for that” he pushed Lucien away “and how can you think of doing it again? Have some respect for her and for yourself”

You couldn't see Frankie's gaze in the dim light but you knew it was similar to the first time he realized Lucien had cheated on you. You were relieved, Frankie hadn't given in, hadn't made the same mistake, because he knew how you felt.

Lucien blurted out “Look, I love her too, I don't want to be an asshole again but you also know how I feel about you. And I know you feel the same, idiot. Don't try to put all the blame on me, there are two sides to every ditch and I didn’t dig alone. Your lips were on mine the other day and I felt your hard cock okay?!”

Lucien had a desperate tone that you had only heard him use when he had tried to apologize to you months before.

You were speechless. If you had to be honest with yourself, you had noticed certain looks but you had never interpreted them.

Frankie pushed Lucien by the shoulders pinning him against the wall “Listen to me, idiot. You were the one who kissed me first. It’s incredible that you don’t even know how to take responsibility for yourself.” Lucien’s feet barely touched the ground from the way your boyfriend was slamming him into the bricks of the wall. “You may have been the first man who made me hard but that’s it and you know why? You will never ruin what I have with the best girl I’ve ever met. I want her to be part of this. Either that or we do nothing.”

He had moved away from Lucien to go back inside, you quickly left the garbage in the closet so you wouldn’t get caught, you would throw it out later with an excuse.

You walked over to the bar and poured yourself a shot of whiskey, downing it in one gulp. “Hey, where were you?” Santi asked as he came back through the front door. He had gone out to take Claire to get a taxi.

“I went to the bathroom,” you lied, and Santi raised an eyebrow, looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm fine, don't worry.”

You put the glass in the dishwasher and loaded it, mulling it over in your head as Santi talked about how great the night had been. He counted the takings sitting at the counter while the jukebox played Bruce Springsteen's Hungry Hearts.

You had always known that Lucien was bisexual, you were too. You had a girlfriend for a couple years in college and it had been a great relationship.

It must have been the first time it happened to him, you couldn't think of any other explanation.

“I want her to be a part of this” Frankie’s words were still ringing into your head.

You giggled unknowingly at the thought of Frankie being excited for another man, it was… sexy.

“Hey!” Santi snapped his fingers in front of your eyes “are you still here with us?”

“Yes” you quickly answered.

Santi chuckled “what was that little smile for?”

“Oh nothing, I was thinking about Frankie” it wasn’t entirely a lie, you were thinking about him. And Lucien. And the three of you together. It intrigued you more than you were willing to admit.

“You two lovebirds are so cute” Santi mocked you and you didn’t mind at all.

Frankie came back followed by Lucien “Are you ready to go home, baby?”

“Yes, I’ll take this to the closet and I’m ready” You lifted the first case you saw behind the counter hoping that it actually belonged there.

“Let me do it” Frankie suggested but you immediately replied “no love, I can do it, don’t worry, I’ll be right back” you smiled and gave him a kiss and then you headed towards the closet.

You picked up the garbage you had left there and went out into the alley to throw it away. You took a long sigh, feeling your cheeks hot as you thought back to the scene you had seen. You didn’t know what would happen but you had faith in Frankie, he would fix everything.

You went back inside. Lucien sat silently in the corner, looking back and forth between you and Frankie, and now you could see longing in his eyes. He looked at Frankie almost as you did.

Your heart fluttered.

————————————————-

After two days of silence you were ready to snap at Frankie. Why the hell didn't he tell you the truth? You could see his gaze drop every time you mentioned Lucien in a conversation and you knew he had the speech he wanted to give you on the tip of his tongue.

You were pissed, but you tried to stay calm.

You couldn't believe Frankie wasn't being honest with you about this when he had talked to you about much more serious things, opening up to you with simplicity. He had told you about his previous job, about the anxiety attacks it had left him with.

He had been in therapy for years and dropped out because of this.

Santiago was the person who helped him face reality, he never abandoned him and Frankie said he owed him his life. The reason he opened the bar was because they had always talked about it “we’re going to open a bar and we won’t have to deal with this shit anymore”. They had always said that and it had become a kind of mantra that had kept Frankie afloat every time he thought he was sinking into anxiety.

He was a new person now and you were lucky enough to find him.

You didn't want to lose him and you certainly wouldn't have tolerated it happening because of Lucien.

You wanted so badly to trust that Frankie would tell you about it sooner or later.

And then there was something else and you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t get the way he had pushed Lucien against the wall out of your head.

Lucien was not small and yet he seemed light as a feather under Frankie's hands.

Was that his real strength? He had obviously never used it with you and you had asked yourself many times what those powerful arms were capable of doing.

In addition to that, you couldn't stop thinking about you, Frankie and Lucien in the same bed. It was your’s greedy brain fault.

You felt guilty because Frankie never failed to please you. At the same time, however, you imagined what it would be like if Lucien had also entered the picture.

Frankie wanted it too after all, he had said so.

By the end of the week you were so pent up by all scenarios you imagined that you actually prayed for Frankie’s confession.

“Frankie” you said on Friday morning, after a night spent at this place sleeping in his arms “we need to talk”

His fingers began to fidget on the kitchen table where you were both sitting having a cup of coffee and some pancakes that you made from scratch.

“About what?” He asked

You swallowed air, carefully choosing your words “Well, I saw something last Saturday night” and he widened his eyes knowing already what you meant. You could see fear in his look so you instinctively brought your hand over his nervously tapping on the table’s wood.

“Don’t worry” you tried to reassure him “I don’t want to break up with you. I love you Frankie, and you can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

Frankie looked pale and concerned “Yes baby but that was so bad. I don’t know what to say”

“Truth is fine” you suggested and he nodded, taking a long breath “yeah, you deserve it so here it is. Lucien kissed me once, about two weeks ago and then again on Saturday. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was scared. It’s just that… I also didn’t know I was into men before. I swear it’s the first time that happened to me but I felt something. Something strong, actually. I was so confused but more than anything else I don’t want to hurt you. I love you, no matter how many men I could find attractive, you’re the most important person in my life.”

Your heart melted instantly at the puppy eyes look that he gave you.

“I trust you. I wish you had told me right away because you know I can understand, but if it was your first time I guess you needed time to process it.”

“Yeah” he murmured softly “but I’m sorry anyway”

“It’s okay. Actually… I don’t mind the idea”

Frankie spat the coffee he was drinking back in his cup “What?”

“Yeah” you admit “I mean… it’s hot” and you felt your cheeks burn at the revelation.

Frankie smirked, looking at you with that particular gaze in his eyes that you recognized as horniness “you would love to fuck both of us, don’t you? Naughty girl”

“I’d love to have a threesome, yeah” you cooed, approaching him and sitting on his lap. You put your arms around his neck and kissed him, you felt his hands wandering on your back and hold you tight.

“What have I done to have a woman like you? Really, I’m the luckier motherfucker that ever existed”

You kissed him again losing yourself at the sensation.

____________________

You saw Lucien at the bar that evening.

Santi was busy making drinks across the counter, Claire was sitting in front of him, Frankie was in the back getting a keg of beer to replace the one that finished.

You were sitting next to each other and you could feel the tension rising in your chest.

Lucien, oblivious to everything, smiled at you and told you about a movie he had just seen.

You hadn’t been this nervous in his presence since you first met and you couldn’t stop staring at the gold chain around his neck. It made you wet to think at the way the accidentally hit your face while he pumped into you.

You'd never liked it on anyone but him, just as you'd never liked anyone who wore a baseball cap all the time before you met Frankie. They were your exceptions.

You were imagining Frankie being hit while Lucien fucked him. Each time they hit your lip or chin the sudden pain turned into pleasure and that little moment had become part of your sexual routine.

The kiss you had seen, though chaste and hasty, had uncovered a series of needs inside you that you hadn't even expected. You had been seething inside all week and talking about it with your boyfriend had only partially calmed you down.

“Lucien” you said “I need to tell you something”

“Just tell me” he grinned, you could see from his expression that he wasn’t expecting anything you were about to say.

“Maybe it’s better if we go out” you sighed, getting up from the stool.

Lucien followed you with a questioning look on his face, you made your way through the crowd to the exit and you leaned against the outside wall of the place, standing on the pavement, while he looked at you “so, what do you have to tell me?”.

You twisted your hands nervously as you searched for the words. “I… I saw you. You and Frankie” you spat suddenly, not finding another way to say it.

Lucien immediately became alarmed and started babbling “oh, no, listen, it’s not what you think… I mean… nothing serious happened, I would never do something like that behind your back again, I know you’re happy with him and I don’t want to ruin it, please believe me. It was just a kiss”

“I know. Frankie told me” you said, firmly “I can't exactly say the same about you but I trust him”

Lucien looked down, as if he was scanning the pavement for who knows what. “I… I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t want to take him away from you. The thing is… I realized how happy you were and first I envied you…And one day… I saw Frankie looking at me and I… I messed up, please forgive me, I’ll never kiss him again.”

You watched him simmer and feel ashamed and you were almost tempted to leave him like that, without saying anything else, as punishment for what he had put you through months before.

You smirked “Lucien” and he wouldn’t stop piling up excuses “Lucien! Shut up and listen to me!” you snapped

“Okay” he replied continuing to inspect the sidewalk.

“Frankie I are inseparable, you know. But… we can try something, if you want”

You locked eyes with his and watched as his expressions changed from confused to intrigued. “What?” he asked, with a crooked smile.

You knew he already understood but he was dying to hear you say it.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed at seeing him gloat like that. “I can’t stand you when you do that.”

“Like what?” he pressed, moving closer to you.

“Like… you are, God, you are so arrogant. You make me regret my own thoughts.”

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered into your neck. He was dangerously close, you were practically trapped between him and the wall. If there was one thing that would never change, it was Lucien’s ability to make you feel like you were playing with fire.

“I want… the three of us…”

“What?” he insisted “say it”

“I want us to have sex, okay, the three of us. together” you squealed.

Lucien looked into your eyes, searching your gaze, you felt like you had confessed a sin. “Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. Interesting.”

“Stop gloating and tell me what you think,” you protested, arms crossed over your chest.

Lucien took your hands and brought your arms down your body, pressing you against the wall and whispering in your ear, “I’m in. Whenever you want.”

“You’re a slut, you know that, huh?”

“Hey! You suggested it, okay? And what can I do, I like to fuck with people who turn me on. So tell me sweetie, when are we doing it?“

“Tonight,” you answered instinctively, the desire to kiss him eating you up and the thought of seeing him with Frankie occupying every part of your brain.

“Woah, you’re not wasting your time.”

“You know I never liked it,” you replied, looking at him through your lashes.

Lucien had always awakened a primal instinct in you, maybe it was his disheveled look, the shirts he always wore open partially revealing his chest, the smell of his skin, the way his beard nipped your cheeks as he kissed you, you didn’t know, but you felt it strongly every time he got closer than he should have.

You came back in and your gaze immediately searched for Frankie, you saw him behind the counter and you slipped in, grabbing him by the waist “you know you can’t stay here” he warned you tenderly, placing his hands on yours “be good and go back to your stool”.

You moved in front of him and looked him intensely in the eyes.

He was so beautiful, so sweet, so attractive that you would have covered him in kisses right there, in front of everyone.

“It’s done. For tonight.” you cooed, winking at him.

Frankie smiled “you’re a little schemer, you know that?” And he kissed you, giving you a pat on the ass immediately after “Good. I can’t wait. Now get out of here”.

You dutifully went to sit down and did nothing but watch him and Lucien alternately for the rest of the evening, reading anticipation on their faces, feeling impatient and excited. You could hardly believe that this was going to happen, and yet you were one step away from having sex with both of them and you had wanted it.

______________

Santi went home with Claire leaving the three of you alone, he looked at you a little suspiciously because normally you would have protested at the fact that he was running off with his girlfriend leaving you to clean up.

He didn't know what you had in mind but he wasn't stupid anyway and he had surely noticed the glances you had exchanged all evening.

He turned around before leaving and smiled saying "have fun”

Once you were alone, a strange energy spread through the bar. No one knew how to make the first move. Lucien was babbling about the beer bottles left lying around, Frankie was busy sweeping every corner, you were lounging at the counter, rubbing the surface with cloth and detergent as if you had to mirror yourself on the wood.

You had to do something to warm up the atmosphere. You put away the cloth, washed your hands and armed with courage you took a coin from your wallet and headed towards the jukebox. You were looking for a song that could give you the push to take the initiative.

You chose Let’s get it on. Marvin Gaye. “A classic always works. It has to work.” you thought. You turned and looked around the place. The dim lights, the smell of whiskey, lime and beer, the little couches scattered around in the corners, the old jukebox, it was a place you knew like the back of your hand and it made you feel comfortable.

It was nice to watch your boys move around in there, confident and relaxed, it had been for all the nights you’d spent there.

You were pleasantly tipsy, not so much that you were drunk but enough to feel brave.

You could have done it. With the song playing in the air, warm and sensual, you felt ready.

You went to your rock first. You walked over to Frankie smiling at his obsessive sweeping of the same spot for the past 5 minutes.

“Hey. I think it’s clean.”

"You say?" Frankie leaned the broom against the wall, laughing, welcoming you into his arms immediately after. You rested your face on his plaid shirt, inhaling his scent, that intoxicating scent of tobacco and leather that you loved so much.

“I love you so much, you know that, right?” You murmured in his chest.

“I know, baby, I love you too”

You raised your chin and looked him in his beautiful chocolate eyes, he moved his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb on your skin.

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met” he said. You didn't know how but Frankie had the extraordinary talent of always saying what you needed to hear.

And he said it in a way, with that deep, slightly hoarse voice that made you tingling inside every single time.

You kissed him, savoring him slowly, his tongue brushing your lips, making room into your mouth, intertwining with yours. Frankie deepened the kiss, holding you tight.

You moaned softly into his mouth, reaching out to take off his hat and burying a hand in his hair.

“Interesting song choice,” Frankie whispered, moving his hands to your ass and squeezing “Shall we go home?”

“Yes in a little while, let me dance with you some more” Frankie chuckled, holding you close and starting to swing with you, your bodies pressed and rubbing together.

Lucien came up behind you. “Can I join?” he asked mischievously.

His arms were on Frankie’s, you were deliciously snuggled between the two of them as the three of you moved your hips in unison.

You were silent, still moving, your breaths growing together.

Lucien's hands wrapped around Frankie's strong biceps were a perfect sight. Sandwiched between the two of them, you felt exactly how you imagined.

Hot, confident, eager.

Lucien was the first to break the silence, you felt him half-hard against your ass.

“At my place or yours?” he asked Frankie smirking

“At my house. It’s closer” he replied immediately.

You pulled away and looked into each other's eyes. "Are we sure we want to do this?" Frankie asked.

“I think… yeah” you were hopeful that neither of them had changed their minds and Lucien nodded “Yes, I’m more than sure” and accompanied the sentence with a caress on your arm.

“Do you still want it, Frankie?” And he nodded too saying “of course”

“Come here,” you waved them both closer together and put a hand on the back of their heads, making your mouths collide, a tangle of lips and teeth and tongues.

Lucien's lips were impatient and needy on one side, Frankie's ones expert and sweet on the other. And you in the middle. You no longer knew who was licking whose lips, your saliva and your mixed flavors were intoxicating.

You pulled away and panted “let’s go.”

The song that had accompanied your kisses had ended, leaving a trail of desire.

You reached Frankie's truck hugging each other, Frankie and Lucien's hands intertwined behind your back.

You sat down in front next to Frankie, taking Lucien's hand that was hanging from behind on your shoulder and caressing it while with the other you squeezed Frankie's thigh, slowly moving up towards the crotch of his jeans.

He squinted at you “what are you doing, babe?”

You batted your eyelashes “nothing” and then chuckled softly.

“Well, this nothing is sending me out of space”

Lucien laughed in the backseat as you finally approached Frankie’s house.

As soon as you entered Lucien pushed you against the wall and kissed you “god, I missed your lips”

You smiled, holding on to Frankie's shirt and pulling him close to you.

Frankie's hand hugged your hip feverishly, moving up to your breast, his palm open on your shirt, right on your hardened nipple stiffing against your lacy bra.

Lucien continued his lustful path up your jaw, down the column of your neck, sucking the soft skin and smoothing it with his tongue.

Frankie kneaded your breasts with one hand while squeezing your butt with the other until he grunted “Take off your clothes, baby”

Lucien pulled away, looking at you expectantly.

You smiled at both of them, standing in front of you waiting to see your naked body appear before their eyes.

You took off your shirt, throwing it on Frankie who smiled catching it and bringing it to his nose to inhale your scent.

You could see that light in his eyes, that spark of desire that always shone when he wanted you desperately.

You continued your undressing by unhooking your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Their eyes were fixed on your nipples stiffen in the air.

Lucien instinctively took Frankie's hand and squeezed it tightly, wincing.

“You are always as I remembered you. Gorgeous,” he muttered and a rush of pride rose up to your chest.

“Yes? Touch me,” you invited him.

Lucien’s hand tremblingly approached your waist, moving up along it, stopping at the side of your breast. With his thumb he reached your nipple, brushing it with the tip of his finger.

He freed himself from Frankie's grip and took his hand again, placing it on the crotch of his jeans, turning to give him a crooked smile full of silent requests.

Frankie smiled at him, embarrassed but horny, moving his hand up and down the outline of his cock. It was a new sensation for him, he seemed totally enraptured by it.

Lucien didn't stop caressing you, a moan escaped his lips, his eyes moving alternately between you and Frankie.

Frankie in turn raised a hand to touch your other breast, you wriggled in your guys's hands, so different and yet so enhancing, both of them.

Your guys… it was so strange to think about but that's what they were in that moment. Yours, all yours.

Lucien urged you, “Why don’t you take off your skirt too, princess?”

You didn't need to be told twice, you pulled down the side zip and let it slide down your hips.

“Mmm you’re wearing my favorite panties” Frankie whispered and Lucien echoed “I remember them well. I loved the curve of your ass tight in those panties”

They looked at each other pleased and in a fit of need they exchanged a kiss. Seeing their beards rubbing against, their tongues chasing, their hungry lips capturing each other and hear them moaning into each other’s mouth was too much.

You moaned, your eyes hypnotized in front of that vision. Everything you had imagined took shape in front of you, it was like a dream from which you prayed never to wake up.

“God…” Frankie muttered “let’s go to my room”

————————————————————

You had always liked Frankie's room, it was simply furnished but comfortable.

There was a large bed right in the center, with a beautiful blue duvet that you loved, it was wonderful to cuddle up there with him.

Frankie pushed you gently against it, inviting you to sit down. He turned to Lucien, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt, looking into his eyes. Lucien was looking back at him intently.

Once undone, Frankie ran a hand over his neck, tangling his fingers in his chain, letting it slide down his chest, until it reached his jeans. He fumbled with the button, then pulled down the zipper, and let them slide down his hips. Lucien helped him by stepping on them and pulling them off his ankle, then kicking them to the floor.

He took off his shirt and threw it in a corner. He was naked except for a pair of black boxers that barely contained his erection.

Your gaze wandered on his sculpted chest that ended in a slightly soft, delicious belly, which you had always loved to nibble and you felt your panties getting wet at the sight.

Frankie was the only one still dressed at that point so you urged him “Undress, love, we want to see you”

You could recognize a hint of uncertainty in his eyes but you knew he wanted it. He wanted it so badly that his cap had been left behind at the bar and it was the first time that had happened.

He took off the flannel shirt he was wearing over a T-shirt.

Lucien sat down next to you, letting his fingers slide down your arm.

Frankie pulled his shirt off his neck, leaving his chest bare. You had a thing for his nipples, small, pink, sweet as honey under your tongue. You loved playing with them, and Frankie went crazy every time you did it, even if he wouldn’t admit it openly.

“Come here,” you asked, and he leaned in. You reached up and took one of his nipples between your fingers, pinching it.

Lucien chuckled as Frankie squirmed under your touch “he likes it huh? Good to know”.

Frankie glared at him, “only she can do that,” and Lucien pretended to agree with a clearly amused tone, “yes, of course.”

Frankie snorted, before reaching down and grabbing your knees, spreading your legs “let me see her”.

He reached for the lace of your panties, rubbing it against your folds, wetting the fabric further. “Oh yes, that’s what she needed.”

“She needs you always” you moaned.

“I know. Lie down, love, I want to give her everything she wants” he replied under his breath.

Lying on the bed, you felt Frankie's hands hook around the edges of your panties and you lifted your hips slightly to allow him to pull them down.

He began kissing your inner thigh, lingering on your skin, trailing up towards your groin.

Lucien lowered himself to one of your breasts and licked the areola all around, deliberately avoiding the nipple, looking at you with a knowing smile.

The moment Frankie dipped his fingers between your folds Lucien took your nipple into his mouth, starting to suck slowly.

They worked in sync, your boyfriend between your thighs and your ex on your tit, it felt like they were everywhere, all over your body, ready to taste every part of you.

Frankie’s fingers gathered your arousal to your clit, surrounding it with two fingers shaped in a V and stroking it up and down.

You whined their name, both of them.

Lucien was sucking at your nipple like a madman, pinching and twisting the other one with his fingers.

He parted for a moment just to ask Frankie to stop. Frankie interrupted his careful work around your clit and folds with a grunt “what do you want?”

“It will take me just a second” Lucien wetted two of his fingers with your juice and then he spread it out on your nipple, motioning in circles and then sucking at it again. “mmm even better, babe, I can taste how sweet your are on your fucking beautiful tit”.

It was something he enjoyed doing and it always made your head spin. He moaned loudly sucking at your nipple like that, overwhelmed by the new flavor on it.

Frankie returned down to lick your pussy, up and down, precise, calm, relentless. No one could do it like him, not Lucien, not anyone else you’d ever had.

His hands squeezed your thighs, holding them wide, his tongue lapped flat between your outer lips and when he reached your clit he took it between his lips, sucking it.

“Oh my god, it feels so good” you whine

“I can never get enough of your sweet little pussy,” he whispered between licks.

Your hand disappeared between his dark curls, pushing him towards your pussy, inviting him to dive even deeper and when you felt his tongue pushing your entrance you encouraged him to fuck you with it “more baby, give me more” and Frankie nudged into your hole continuing to take care of your clit with his fingers and then alternating sucking and stroking, until two of his fingers were inside of you and he curled them in a way he knows he was making you crumble.

Lucien was cupping your tit, caressing it with his hand and tongue, his beard gently brushing it, giving you extra stimulation.

They didn’t stop until you were a mess of whimpers and beg, you felt your essence running out of you, Frankie’s mouth catching every drop of it expertly, obscene squelch coming out of you as you clenched around your boyfriend’s big fingers.

“Give it to me, baby, give it all to me” Frankie incited you while you felt your orgasm flooding through your body, making you quiver.

Lucien slipped between your legs “I wanna taste her a little more, please” asking your boyfriend’s permission which drove you absolutely crazy, Frankie made room for him by placing himself next to you and as he continued on your bundle of nerves with his thumb, Lucien licked you clean, drinking from you.

They stood up and kissed as you caught your breath, Frankie's hand on Lucien's waist pulling him towards him, demanding and keen.

You stayed out it for a while watching them, leaning on your elbows, enjoying their eager mouths, tasting your flavor on each other’s tongue, their beards drenched in your juices.

Frankie was much rougher with him, almost matching Lucien’s typical impatience.

He bit his lower lip, sucking it then forcing his tongue into his mouth licking like a starve man.

You loved seeing him lose his inhibitions, it turned you on deeply the way he trailed down on Lucien’s jaw and neck and up to his lips again, rubbing his hand on his cock over the fabric.

You knelt down beside them, your hands on the elastic of their boxers. You pulled them down with their help and they stepped out of them, leaving them crumpled on the floor.

With one hand on both of their cocks you began to stroke them, feeling their velvety skin slide between your fingers, both were already hard, leaking pre cum.

“Mmmm all slippery and wet for me… I love it” you cooed and they stopped kissing looking down at you, mouths parted and running out of breath.

You brought their cocks together rubbing them on one another, touching the tips, stroking them up and down and they left out a whimper.

You had to use two hands to hold both of their big fat cocks.

You continued to smear their pre cum down their length, skin on skin, tips kissing, pleasure on pleasure building strongly as they throbbed in your hands.

They were both hypnotized by your movements, eyes locked on your hands working on their shafts.

You felt a rush of power in your chest, both of your guys at your mercy, your cunt slick again, arousal pooling at your core.

Lucien palmed the back of your head and you couldn’t help but leaning yourself at his cock licking his tip, savoring his flavor on your tongue.

You did the same to Frankie and he praised “you’re so fucking beautiful like that”

You took his length in your mouth, stroking Lucien with your hand, Frankie’s heavy and hot on your tongue as you slide down until you felt it in the back of your throat, almost gagging.

Frankie whispered “god, baby, you always take me so well”

You whined feeling your cunt dripping on your thighs, beginning to suck him.

You run your tongue up and down his length, sucking on his mushroom head, feeling salt and musk invading your mouth.

You stroke Lucien some more and then he moved on his knees right next to you.

You turned and looked him as you sucked, his dark eyes eagerly watching Frankie’s cock disappearing between your lips.

“Can I help?”

You pulled away from your boyfriend’s cock, a thread of saliva connecting his length to your lips.

“Do you want to taste it?”

Lucien nodded repeatedly.

“Say it,” you urged, “I want to hear it.”

“I want to -”

You shook your head, “Tsk. You’re not getting away easily with this. And you don’t say ‘I want’. Ask nicely.”

Lucien gulped before speaking again, visibly annoyed. You didn’t care, it was Frankie’s cock you were talking about, it belonged to you. Him begging for it seemed like the least he could do.

“Can I take it in my mouth, please?” Lucien had finally decided to submit to your will, he was losing his cockiness, pleading with his entire face, and it felt good.

“Only for a few minutes. And make sure you don’t make him come, that’s my job”

“Okay” he agreed and he lowered himself onto Frankie’s cock, mouth wide open, starting to suck where you left off.

Frankie gave you a pleased look, he was clearly impressed by your attitude and you caressed him on his tummy, just above where Lucien's head was, tracing with your fingers that happy strip of hair that led to his intimacy.

A little something only you were allowed to do, ‘cause Frankie was so self conscious of his tummy.

He gained a little bit of weight that went right there on his love handles since he retired and you worked so hard to make him feel better about it.

You loved every single inch of him, from his lovely curls, to his strong nose, from his wide shoulders to his soft belly.

His body was made for loving you, to protect you, to make you feel safe.

You grabbed his balls as Lucien continued to suck him avidly and you gently gripped on them, Frankie left out a whimper that went straight to your cunt.

You angled your face to suck on one, sliding it over your tongue the way you knew he liked it.

Your face right next to Lucien's as you took care of Frankie together must have been something Frankie would never have imagined, you had never heard him moan like that and honestly you were on the edge too as you heard the obscene sounds made by Lucien's mouth full of Frankie's cock so close to your ears.

“Jesus fuck” he muttered, taking an handful of Lucien’s messy hair, pushing him down to his length, you suffocated a little evil laugh at hearing Lucien gagging more than you did.

As soon as you felt Frankie's balls harden you ordered Lucien to move, he took Frankie's cock out of his mouth with a lewd pop and for a moment you lost concentration looking at his swollen lips.

You shook yourself, stuffing what belonged to you into your mouth, wrapping your hand around his base, sucking non-stop, Frankie pulsing on your tongue, his musky scent filling your nostrils, him praising you “my good girl, you are so incredible. You like it huh? I know love, just like that, don't stop”

You increased the pace, sucking at his tip with all the breath you had left, swallowing his whole spent down your throat as soon as he spurted it in long thick streaks, his whole body quivering, his head falling backward and his eyes shut.

“Fuck yeah, baby, oh my- fuck you swallow like a champ” His voice spent and hoarse almost cracked.

You kept it in your mouth until he softened, he looked at you so sweetly, cradling your head, repeating “I love you, baby, I love you so much” and you looked back at him with all the affection that flooded from your heart.

“Come to me, darling,” he said as he sat on the bed and motioned for Lucien to join you on the opposite side. The two of you lay down on Frankie’s bed, you were in the center again, pressed against his chest with one leg wrapped around his waist, while Lucien hugged you from behind.

Frankie kissed the crown of your head, your hair, caressing your arm, holding you tight.

Lucien left a small trail of kisses along your cheek and neck as you felt his cock press against your ass and you hummed quietly.

The three of you stayed like that for a while, snuggled together and listening to your breathing return to normal, until Frankie asked you what else you wanted to do.

“I want…” you paused, examining your desires thoroughly “I want you in my cunt and Lucien in my mouth”

Frankie left out a “damn girl! You’re insatiable” kissing your forehead and you hid your face on his chest giggling.

You raised your head admiring your boyfriend’s captivating smile and his beautiful brown eyes, a little dimple popping out at the side of his mouth.

“Yeah” you cooed “I’m always hungry for you”

Frankie provoked you “and what do you tell me about him?”

“It's a nice addition” you admitted reaching Lucien’s cheek with your hand, passing your fingers tip on his scratchy beard.

“Spit roasted huh?” Lucien whispered into your ear “such a good girl for us”

“On all fours, babe”

You willingly complied with Frankie's request and he stood behind you.

“Is she ready?” He asked and you whined a “yes, please” sticking your ass out and spreading your legs for him.

Frankie leaned down and spread your folds his fingers, looking at your pussy. “Almost” he said.

You snorted “What, almost?” You felt wetter than you’d ever felt in your life, just the thought of being taken by both of them at the same time made your clit vibrate “Yes, love, you need to stretch out a little for me, just a little”.

You protested under your breath and Frankie suddenly stuck his index and middle fingers up to his knuckles inside you. You winced, feeling your disagreement die in your throat.

“Fuck!”

“Here you are princess” he said, starting to move his fingers inside you, in lascivious squeaks and a flow of juices that coated them.

Lucien was in front of you, kneeling, slowly pumping his cock. He approached your face passing the tip on your lips, spreading drops of pre cum over them.

Your mouth instantly agape welcomed him, humming at the flavor spreading on your tongue. Its thick vein crawled across your palate, its flavor a little more pungent than Frankie's but just as pleasant.

You inhaled sharply through your nose, focusing on relaxing your mouth to let him slide in as Frankie's fingers explored relentlessly inside you, caressing your g-spot.

You were basically gushing on his fingers, squirming and crying as your orgasm rose up from your tummy, to your chest, choking in your throat full of Lucien’s cock.

“Fuck baby, you’re dripping on my wrist” Frankie groaned.

Lucien placed his hands on either side of your face and gave a couple of harder thrusts, hitting your throat.

You felt on the verge of tears but the orgasm Frankie was giving you was easing the pain, leaving you in a state of dizziness.

Frankie lined up with your entrance, hitting your folds with his cock a few times and then entering with one firm thrust. He hit your cervix and made you see stars.

He began to hammer into you, gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh.

It was rougher than usual but you didn't mind. Being fucked from both ends was blowing your mind, you had never felt so full.

“Fuck, princess, you’re taking me well” Frankie yelled behind your back while Lucien was grunting right in front of you, palpitating on your tongue.

You were exhausted, overstimulated, yet you didn't know how to stop.

Your skin was incredibly hot, little drops of sweat were sliding down your skin.

You looked at Lucien and his chains flapped on his chest while his raven curls were plastered to his forehead.

His eyes were narrowed, his jaw was slack, an ecstatic expression painted on his face.

You could have come just by watching him but Frankie wouldn’t stop thrusting into you, he was now bent over you holding onto your breasts, barely keeping his balance but you knew how much he loved grabbing your tits while he fucked you. Frankie was a tit man. He was the king of oral sex but while he was doing it he loved to pinch your nipples and could spend just as much time sucking your tits as he enjoyed doing it at your clit. No one had ever made you squirt before Lucien, that’s true, but Frankie was on another level. Making you explode like that was a mission for him and to do that he concentrated on putting his mouth where he knew it would have the greatest effect. And you had sensitive nipples. A perfect match.

Frankie was so close, you knew it because of his sounds. You knew them by heart, those guttural moans that slipped past his lips when he couldn't hold it in any longer.

He flooded your pussy a few moments later and you came right after him, the sound of your orgasm muffled by Lucien's cock still in your mouth even though you felt a storm inside.

You swallowed Lucien's seed shortly after, his hand anchored to the nape of your neck.

He sounded incoherent and delirious as he filled your mouth with his cum.

You collapsed together on the bed, a tangle of legs and arms and labored breathing.

After a few minutes Frankie said “I think I’m not done yet” and you looked at him and immediately understood. Lucien didn’t know him that well, his face was relaxed and totally unaware.

“Huh? What do you want to do?” he asked innocently. Frankie was staring at you and smiling in a mischievous way.

“Oh I know…” you grinned back at Frankie.

“Can someone explain it to me?” Lucien was starting to get nervous, probably feeling cut off from your complicity.

He would know very soon.

Frankie didn't give him time to ask any more questions, he moved on the bed, manhandling him like a puppet.

He turned him over on his back, holding both his wrists still with one hand and said “now you will take my cock. Be good and get down on your knees for me, kitten”

He let go of his wrists and Lucien, submissive like you'd ever seen him, got down on all fours for your boyfriend.

“It's time to take off that braggart look on your face.” Frankie barked.

Lucien tried to protest but before he could, Frankie's finger had already disappeared up into his ass.

He screamed a “fuck” in a broken voice and Frankie laughed “Come on, I know you like it”

“Yeah, I do. You could have prepared me though, motherfucker” Frankie slapped Lucien’s ass.

A red patch radiated across his skin. You were sitting quietly on the side of the bed, enjoying the scene. Frankie was serving you a little revenge on a silver plate.

“I think you deserve a little punishment so now you will shut up, you will take my cock in your ass and you will like it, we clear?”

Lucien moaned as Frankie moved his finger inside him, stretching him out.

“Fuck. Okay. it's not the first time someone's been hard on me though”

For a novice, Frankie certainly showed no hesitation “Ask yourself why”

He had had anal sex before, it had happened with you too but it was his first time with a man.

Lucien's breathing had become heavy again, he was literally melting under Frankie's touch.

He added another finger.

“Yeah, you like that, look how good you're taking my fingers. Tell me you like it, I want to hear it.”

Lucien moaned incoherently and Frankie spanked him again “Use your words”

Lucien babbled “I- I can’t” and Frankie's hand went down a third time on his ass

“Yes you can, speak up” he ordered.

Frankie was a vision.

Focused, relentless, you unconsciously lowered a hand between your legs as you watched him, starting to flick on your clit.

“I love it” Lucien finally managed to say “fuck. yes”

“Good boy” Frankie hummed “you can call me daddy if you like that”

You laughed and Lucien raging voice protested “I won’t call you daddy in a million years, asshole”

Frankie thrusted his fingers inside him saying “Shall we bet?”

Lucien left out a single desperate moan.

“I swear I never wanted it before but now I feel like doing it” you whispered and Frankie winked at you.

He pumped his cock it into his fist, until he got hard again, giving a few more slaps to Lucien who was waiting obscenely open for him.

He pounded into him grabbing him by his hips, thrusting in and out of him ferociously.

Lucien screamed in a frenzy.

You kept touching your clit, increasing the pace along with Frankie who sank into Lucien in long, incessant thrusts.

He grabbed him by his waist and Lucien slammed into Frankie’s chest, holding him firmly as he continued to fuck him.

“The chain” Lucien pleaded “please”

Frankie entwined his fingers with the metal “what do you want, kitten?”

“Pull it. Gently” Lucien said “I need- please”

Frankie didn’t hesitate, pulling it towards him, Lucien moaned, his breathing slightly constricted by the metal around his neck. Frankie was careful not to overdo it and the little extra stimulation sent Lucien over the edge. His neck was red where the chain dug into his skin.

You were now at your limit, flicking on your clit like crazy, two finger stuck in your cunt, wailing along with Lucien and Frankie.

You came screaming Frankie's name like a God, Lucien's body jolted against Frankie's, he pulled out of your ex's ass, stroking his cock a couple of time before painting Lucien’s ass cheeks with his cum.

You were lying on the bed again a moment after, you hugging Frankie and Lucien next to you.

You sighed, breaking the silence first “If we do this again I think I’ll cancel my gym membership,” and they both laughed.

A/n: If you've made it this far, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart for your time. 🩷 I hope you enjoyed it, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[whatsnewalycat]

Secret Admirer

Javier Peña x f!Reader - Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: It's Valentine's Day. Which means it's time to take a chance on your workplace crush, Agent Javier Peña.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Season 1 (ish), US Embassy, yearning, secret admirer, confrontation, drinking and smoking (real brief), smut, protected PIV sex, dash of angst and fluff

A/N: Yeeehaw, this was written for a valentines day exchange SOOOO Happy Valentine's Day to @typingcorgi 💌 This one is for you, I hope you like it!!!

The papers cradled in your arm dig into the sticky crease of your elbow. Your fingertips part the thick stack of faxes and run along the crisp edge of an envelope hidden inside. A bass drum starts thudding in your chest and heat creeps up your neck. 

One last peek over your shoulder at the empty, sterile mailroom gives you permission to do it. You slip the red envelope out from its hiding place and shove it into the cubby labeled JAVIER PEÑA. 

The shuffle of approaching footsteps sends your heart into an outright sprint. 

You scurry over to the fax machine and pinch the paperclip from the first fax, then slide the papers into the tray. As you punch the outgoing fax number into the machine, the footfalls grow closer, and soon start thudding against the shiny white linoleum of the mailroom. 

The low rumble of conversation between two men grows more distinct. You recognize their voices, but keep your eyes glued to the papers being sucked through the gears of the fax machine. 

“We’re gonna get a bottle of wine, candlelit dinner, put on some Marvin Gaye to set the mood,” Steve Murphy says, “Should probably get some flowers for her or somethin’, huh?” 

Javier Peña hums in response. 

They make their way over to the mailboxes. You stand there and try to blend into your surroundings as you wait for a fax receipt. The sound of them sorting the contents of their mail makes your stomach churn. 

“What’s that?” Steve asks as they start to walk away. 

“Let’s see,” Javier murmurs, then his footsteps come to a halt as he opens the envelope and he hums with curiosity. 

Steve stops, too, then chuckles, “Is that a fucking valentine?”

“Looks like it,” Javier mumbles, then directs his voice at you and says your name. 

You stop breathing and clench your eyes shut, then open them and turn around, trying your best to keep your face neutral, “What?” 

He holds up the unsealed red envelope and its folded up white contents between two fingers, “Did you see who left this?” 

You meet his dark brown eyes for a few devastating moments before dropping your gaze to the stack of faxes in your white-knuckle grip. All the moisture from your mouth evaporates. You clear your throat and shake your head, “No, sorry. I just got here.” 

“A secret admirer?” Murphy’s lips curl into an amused grin and he raises an eyebrow at Javier. 

You take another quick glance at the duo and realize Javier is narrowing his eyes at you, jaw working back and forth in subtle movements. Your skin burns and twists under his examination. 

He breaks his laser focus and looks to Steve with a shrug, “Guess so.” 

The fax machine roars to life behind you and starts printing. You spin on your heel towards the noise, and the men start off the way they came. Your hands are shaking when you go to grab the confirmation. 

—

The clack clack clack of your typewriter ricochets through the empty halls of the United States Embassy. Although you can’t see it from your desk, you know the sun outside is sinking below the horizon and giving way to the inky black of nighttime. 

Without Ambassador Noonan there to pull you into meetings for transcription, or assign you urgent outgoing faxes, or ask you to run any other number of errands she deems important, you’re able to perform the more “menial” of your clerical work. You sift through the stacks of papers at the corner of your desk, each one containing hurried handwriting scrawled by Noonan or one of her many Agents, trying to decipher their contents and transfer them into a more legible print. 

Footsteps sound from down the hall, but you’re too busy squinting at a puzzling clusterfuck of scribbles to pay it any mind. It’s not until your desk creaks under the weight of Javier leaning back against it that you notice he’s there.

With a jump, you clutch your blouse over your pounding heart and gasp, “Jesus fu—Hi, Agent Peña.” 

He comes to rest just inches away from your chair, arms crossed over his chest as he frowns down at you. Dangling between two of his knuckles is the red envelope you left in his mailbox earlier. Adrenaline pumps thick and hot through your veins. 

Your hands feel numb as you meet his gaze and manage to ask, “Can I help you with something?”

His jaw cocks to the side and he raises an eyebrow at you, then tosses the red envelope onto your desk, “What’s this?” 

“I—I—” you shake your head and widen your eyes, glancing between him and the letter. 

“Don’t play dumb,” he interjects. 

You swallow hard and hold your eyes steady on his as they bore into you. It’s a standoff. You don’t even dare to breathe. The silence is deafening. 

Javier breaks it as he clears his throat and picks the creamy white paper up off your desk, then unfolds it. Your stomach drops to the floor. 

He reads it aloud in a gravelly purr: 

“Oh, how I long to devour you. To unhinge my jaw And swallow you whole.  Do you feel it too?  Do you ache with hunger when I’m near? When I meet your starving eyes, I know.”

Your eyes stay trained on his as he peers over the paper at you like he expects you to say something. But you don’t. Your skin buzzes electric when he rolls his tongue against his pouty lips, along the edge of his dark mustache, then drags his gaze down the length of you. 

Javier sets the paper back onto your desk, taking a look around before he leans in and murmurs, “I do. I know.”

Then he digs into the pocket of his tan suit pocket and takes out a folded slip of paper. He pulls it away just as you go to reach for it. When your fingers curl back and you blink up at him in question, he searches your face, “This stays between us, ok?” 

“Of course,” you nod. 

His throat rumbles, eyes flick down to your lips for a moment, then he extends the paper to you again. This time when you go to take it, he lets it slide out from between his fingers into yours. 

“Come by when you’re done here,” he says, more of a demand than a request. 

“I will,” you try to suppress the grin stretching across your lips. 

Javier taps two fingers against your desk, then pushes off it and saunters back down the hallway, giving you a quick backwards glance before turning the corner. 

You look around to make sure no one is watching, then unfold the note, revealing an address written in his angular, messy script. Below this, it reads: 

Starved. 

—

Your knuckles rap two quick knocks against the door before Javier swings it open. His darkened gaze slides down your body like molasses as he steps back and lets you enter the apartment. The scent of his cologne wafts into your nose as you pass him. It’s light and crisp, clean smelling, contrasting his whiskey breath. 

You slide out of your heels and set your purse onto the ground, then study the dwelling with curiosity, dropping down two steps into the living room on your way to a leather couch. The walls are painted a cream color, pastel green and pink spliced here and there. It doesn’t seem to represent Javier at all. You figure the apartment was furnished by the Embassy, like yours. Cigarette smoke hangs in the air like a dense fog. It’s tediously quiet. 

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, striding over to a stand-alone dry bar, which hosts a variety of amber colored liquors. 

“Sure,” you answer as you sit down on the couch, smoothing out the black dress you changed into before walking over here. 

Javier doesn’t ask what you want to drink. He just pours two glasses of whiskey and hands one to you while he lowers himself onto the other end of the loveseat. 

Which, it’s a loveseat, so he’s still intimidatingly close. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, then swallow a mouthful of the alcohol, wincing at the burn as it travels down your throat. 

It’s not until now you realize you’ve never been alone with him. You’ve only experienced his intensity from afar. The way his eyes linger on you, seeming to study you when he thinks you won’t notice. 

But you’ve noticed. 

And you like it. 

You’ve been careful to only leave hints of your wanting. Flicking your gaze to his when you feel it on your skin. Holding it there until your heart starts pounding and one of you looks away. Letting your body brush against him in passing. No words spoken, only heated eye contact and near-touching. Following an acute awareness of the way you’re drawn to him, how fervently your blood courses through your veins when he’s near, how his presence seems to tug at the edges of you. 

“Did you write that yourself?” he inquires now. You take another sip and look up at him, meeting his eyes. 

It’s unbearable. Yet, you don’t want it to stop. Like magnets are buried beneath your skin and his, opposite poles, aching to meet in equilibrium. 

“I did,” you admit quietly, then tilt your head at him with curiosity, “Did you like it?” 

He hums and nods, glancing down at your mouth, “I’ve been watching you. I see the way you look at me.” 

“I know,” you respond in a whisper. The confession sends your heart racing… but you feel emboldened. You tip the glass to your lips and let the remaining whiskey slide down your throat, then lean forward to set the empty cup on his coffee table and scoot closer to him as you settle back into the couch. 

Javier sits up to place his drink on the table, and when he returns, he’s only inches away. He brings his breath to your ear and murmurs, “You like it, don’t you? The attention?” 

“Yes,” you answer. His hand rests on your knee, a branding iron that heats your core and steals the air from your lungs. 

“Teasing me with those short skirts,” he travels up your thigh, letting his rough palm drag along your skin. The touch sends a shock wave of pleasure across your body. 

You whimper and your eyes flutter shut. 

His voice lowers to a rasp, “Staring at me with those fuck-me-eyes. You think I wouldn’t know it was you?”

He stops at the crease of your thigh and grips the tender flesh, pulling a wanton moan from your throat as your head falls back against the couch. 

“Look at me,” he demands, so your eyes blink open and you meet his heated, meticulous gaze, “Do you want this?”

“I want this,” you nod, bringing a hand to his cheek, working your thumb against the grain of his stubble. He studies your face, dropping his eyes to your mouth, kneading your thigh, drawing closer. 

You succumb to his beckoning lips, capturing them in a kiss. Fire sparks in your chest and spreads through your veins like wildfire, spreading to him as your tongues meet, rolling soft and wet, whiskey harsh on your shared breath. 

Then he’s on you all at once. 

Pushing your back flush to the couch cushions, rocking his hand against the seam of your panties, sliding the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders, liquefying your insides into molten need. He rids you of the red lace thong, tossing it on the floor while your trembling fingers unfasten the buttons of his shirt. You splay your fingers across his chest and slip the shirt off his shoulders. It joins your abandoned lingerie, followed by your dress, then his pants. 

Javier pauses to study your naked body, lust-blown eyes trailing along every inch of your exposed skin, hands dragging up your legs. You examine him, too. His smooth, bronzed skin. His broad shoulders. His lean frame. His swollen, needy cock. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” you breathe, reaching out to him, rolling your hips against nothing, aching with lust. 

Your compliment pulls a rumble from his throat, then he returns to your body, to your lips. His warmth sends shockwaves down your spine. You arch your back into the sensation, drinking up every ounce of heat your thirsty skin can lap up. 

When he touches the slick pool between the legs, spreading your arousal up and down your slit, you both moan into the other’s mouth, and he pants, “So fucking wet.”

You slide your hands around his shoulders, whimpering, nodding, reveling in the exquisite heat stoked at your center, urging him to continue with a breathy moan, “Don’t stop—fuck, that’s so good—”

He groans and captures your lips in his, kissing you hard, messy, working you faster, and the flames licking your insides continue to grow hotter, breaking you out into a sweat, making you gasp and moan against his mouth, eyes fluttering shut and it’s just this aching, heated bliss building at the base of your spine, and your pleas for him not to stop, and his skin on yours, his mouth planting wet kisses down your jaw, your neck, his moans of secondhand pleasure vibrating down your middle, fueling this brilliant concentrated ball of fire burning a hole inside you until you reach the edge of something and push past it.

Ecstasy washes over your body and steals the air from your lungs. You release a shattered breath and start to free fall, but his touch doesn’t relent, and your body shakes with pleasure that’s too intense to bear, legs clamping shut around his arm as you start to whimper at the stimulation. 

Javier pulls back when your legs go jelly, his chest heaving, eyes wild and black and glued to yours. His pink tongue rolls against his lips, then they pout out into an O when he drags his fingers through your release. Your hips jerk at the jolt of his touch, heavy eyelids fluttering as you moan, and he smirks, “Wanna move this to the bedroom?” 

You bite down on the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip as your gaze drops to his engorged length, and you manage to respond, “Uh-huh.”

He stands and starts towards his bedroom. You follow him on wobbly legs, head swimming, ears buzzing. 

Just like the common areas of his apartment, his room is decorated tastefully and obviously courtesy of the Embassy. It’s surprisingly neat, though, the dark walnut chest of drawers cleared of clutter and personal effects, hardwood floor unencumbered by piles of dirty laundry, dark walnut four-post bed dressed with white linens. Based on the constant state of disarray his desk is in, you expected it to be messier, and wonder if he cleaned up for you. 

Javier strides over to a side table and pulls a condom out of its drawer. While he wraps himself up, you settle at the edge of his bed, legs dangling off the side as your eyes trail down his shoulders, his arms, the defined muscles of his back, swallowing hard when he turns to face you. 

He takes the two short steps to settle his hips between your knees and hums, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting your head up towards him as he presses his forehead to yours and purrs, “Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Hmm? For me to fuck you?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, linking your hands at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, feeling his breath puff hot against your mouth, grip on your chin tightening.

His lips find yours and he kisses you slowly, deliberately, with a tender sort of reverence that tightens around your skin and makes you whimper. The noise spurs something inside him. He cups your cheeks and picks up speed, climbing onto the bed, pushing you onto your back. 

It completely consumes you, the way his mouth works against yours, the way you writhe against each other, touch roaming, both of you tugging and rubbing and digging your fingers in and moaning at the fire blazing between your sweaty bodies. 

When the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, you wrap your legs around his back and arch against him, panting, “Fuck yes, give it to me.”

He stares down at you, holding your gaze as he plunges forward, working you open, and both your faces contort with pleasure. 

“Fuuuck,” he groans as he starts to rut into you at a steady pace. Every single nerve ending he rubs against buzzes with ecstasy. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull him closer, pressing your lips to his, immersing yourself in a series of messy, frantic kisses, swallowing each other's moans, working your bodies in tandem to fuel the hungry flames. You start to roll your hips against his thrusts, each one accumulating hot and gooey and tingling, tugging at the edges of you as you whimper, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—” 

“That’s it, baby,” Javier pants, his voice jumping in time with his hips as he drives into you, “So fucking good—feel so fucking good—” 

He kisses you then, and his eager lips, his soft tongue, the scent of whiskey on his breath, the burn of his mustache scratching your skin, the blissful ache of him stretching you again and again, it fully engulfs your body, like you’re melting together, the heat between you too great, the fire too intense to remain whole because this glowing molten core is growing wider and hotter with each moan, each touch, each thrust, and you beg Javier not to stop, fuck, don’t fucking stop, and he steals the words from your mouth with his own, fucking you hard and fast just like you knew he would, pushing you closer and closer to bliss, and then you reach it.

For one second, you’re suspended right at the edge, mind blank, body humming. Then it hits you, and it hits you fucking hard, euphoria breaking you into pieces and tearing a sob from your throat. Javier’s hips stutter as your muscles tense and your pussy convulses around him. He gasps against your mouth, then shudders as he finds his release. Both of your bodies slow their pace, cooling to a crawl, then a stop. 

The sound of your labored breaths fills the bedroom, heaving chests working against each other as sanity starts to return and your bodies struggle to recover. He rolls off of you and stretches out across his bed, inhaling deep and wide, exhaling a content hum. 

Then, without a word, he gets up and leaves the room. 

Your guts twist into a knot. It should give you whiplash, how fast you go from total satisfaction to nervous wreck. 

Since moving to Colombia for this job, sex has been a rare occurrence for you. And by that, you mean… it doesn’t happen. Even before the move, a series of long-term relationships have been your only claim to sexual experience. So this situation is uncharted territory. 

But you’re pretty sure this is your cue to get the fuck out. 

While staring at the ceiling, you kick yourself for giving him the note, for putting yourself in this position. Shame simmers hot under your skin when you try to imagine what it’ll be like the next time you see Javier at work. When you’ll both know what happened here tonight, but pretend it was nothing. 

Why do you have to feel this burning desire for someone like him? For someone so intimidating and closed off? And, more perplexing still, does he feel it for you? 

Your chest and throat tighten when it dawns on you that he probably doesn’t feel the same as you. Maybe he saw an opportunity to get laid and took it. Maybe… it was nothing to him. 

You sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed, peering out the bedroom door a moment before hopping down and padding across the hardwood floor into the living room. 

He’s doing something in the kitchen, so you fold your arms in front of your body and make your way over to the couch, snatching your clothes off the ground before you sit and start to get dressed. 

As you pull your dress down over your head, he returns to the living room. He’s wearing jeans now, but remains shirtless, and a lit cigarette dangles from his lips. 

You glance up at him and mutter, “Sorry, I can get out of your hair. Thank you for, um… indulging me.”

He plops down next to you and crushes the burning ember of his cigarette into a glass ashtray on the coffee table, then leans back and extends his arm along the couch behind you, frowning, “You’re leaving?”

“I—I guess, right?” you turn and search his face, meeting his eyes that are all puppy dog soft. They tug at your heartstrings, but you continue to stammer onward, “That’s—I don’t know, that’s what I’m supposed to do, right?” 

“If that’s what you want,” he shrugs, dropping his gaze to your lips. 

While you stare at him and try to understand what the fuck that means, he leans close, brushing his hand against your cheek, “Or, you could stay… we can ‘indulge’ ourselves again.”

“Is that what you want?” you ask in an attempt to parse out his intentions. 

“Is that what you want?” he counters in a low voice, furrowing his brow. 

You bite down on your bottom lip and nod, then blink and shrug, “I mean, if that’s what you—”

His lips cut you off before you can embarrass yourself more.

—

You woke up with the sun. Javier was still holding you close, his shallow, dream-drenched breath spreading across the nape of your neck in soft puffs. You wriggled out of bed and collected your things, then walked the city block to your apartment and got ready for work. 

The day passes by like any other, with the exception of your strained muscles making every movement more difficult. You don’t cross paths with Javier, but when you return to your desk after lunch, there’s a red envelope sticking out of your typewriter. 

You take a cursory glance around, then pluck it out and open it. A smile spreads across your face when you read the note inside. 

Roses are red  Violets are blue  Come over tonight  I want to see you XO, Your Secret Admirer

[luxurychristmaspudding]

frankie & bug's whisky night playlist | On Call

summary: he's fixed the sink! time to party!

read mi amigo here <3

an: i had the biggest fucking grin on my face putting this together. thank you all so much <3

sir duke - stevie wonder (from @pedroacrossthestreet)

more than a feeling - boston (from @jolapeno & @morallyinept)

second hands news - fleetwood mac (from @readingiskeepingmegoing)

gold dust woman - fleetwood mac (from @readingiskeepingmegoing)

cryin’ - aerosmith (from @readingiskeepingmegoing and @yopossum)

crazy - aerosmith (from @readingiskeepingmegoing)

dial drunk - noah kahan (from @schnarfer)

tainted love - soft cell (from @tonysopranosrobe)

get lucky - daft punk (from @tonysopranosrobe)

shiny happy people - r.e.m. (from @tonysopranosrobe)

modern love - david bowie (from @tonysopranosrobe)

love will tear us apart - joy division (from @tonysopranosrobe)

don’t stop til you get enough - michael jackson (from @tonysopranosrobe)

angel of small death and the codeine scene - hozier (from @ak-vintage)

jackie and wilson - hozier (from @ak-vintage)

you make loving fun - fleetwood mac (from @thundermartini and @schnarfer and @copperhalfcent)

dancing in the dark - bruce springsteen (@schnarfer)

let’s dance - david bowie (from @pedroacrossthestreet)

faithfully - journey (from @millersamour)

burnin’ for you - blue öyster cult (from @millersamour)

stella - incubus (from @secretelephanttattoo)

a kiss to send us off - incubus (from @secretelephanttattoo)

drive - incubus (from @sin-djarin)

are you in? - incubus (from @sin-djarin)

homesick - noah kahan (from @schnarfer)

gypsy - fleetwood mac (from @schnarfer)

rhiannon - fleetwood mac (from @schnarfer)

don’t stop - fleetwood mac (from @schnarfer)

more than words - extreme (from @copperhalfcent)

songbird - fleetwood mac (from @copperhalfcent)

love’s unkind - donna summer (from @copperhalfcent)

sabor a mí - luis miguel (from @itsokbbygrl)

la bamba - ritchie valens (from @itsokbbygrl)

can't fight this feeling - reo speedwagon (from @morallyinept)

two sleepy people - fats waller (from @toomanytookas)

beyond the sea - bobby darin (from @toomanytookas)

here i go again - whitesnake (from @yopossum)

alone - heart (from @yopossum)

pour some sugar on me - def leppard (from @yopossum)

livin' on a prayer - bon jovi (from @yopossum)

i want to break free - queen (from @pedroacrossthestreet)

crocodile rock - elton john (from @pedroacrossthestreet)

groove is in the heart - deee-lite (from @pedroacrossthestreet)

man in the wilderness - styx (from @copperhalfcent)

general picks

foreigner, journey, separate ways from @kammerstx

queen from @sawymredfox

earth wind and fire, marvin gaye, stevie wonder, sly and the family stone, bill withers, gladys knight, diana ross, aretha franklin, bob seger, neil young, blue öyster cult, tom petty from @yopossum (you had absolutely unreal picks and have outrageously good taste. we should go dancing together)

sinatra and some tejano (yes!) from @toomanytookas

lil bit of lana from @itsokbbygrl

the cure and arctic monkeys from @emeraldmoth

abba and more queen from @syd-djarin

pet shop boys from @tonysopranosrobe

fleetwood mac from @kammerstx @yopossum @thundermartini @schnarfer and pretty much everyone else who commented. and i can only say - you are so unbelievably right.

my picks (if you wanna know!)

i feel for you - chaka khan

play that funky music - wild cherry

let's groove - earth, wind & fire

candy - cameo

thunderstruck - ac/dc

money for nothing - dire straits

walk of life - dire straits

[nincompoopydoo]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ  nincompoopydoo // MCU MASTERLIST

loki laufeyson

⋆ debris and misery [series - on hiatus]: Loki crashes on Sakaar and into your home. you don’t take it lightly when you find there’s a massive hole in your roof. ⋆ to catch someone's eye: During the celebration of Frigga as the Queen of Asgard, Loki finds himself slipping away from the events to the palace courtyard. To where you unfortunately found yourself stumbling towards an escape from your parents. ⋆ in another timeline: stranded on Lamentis, the event of the impending apocalypse seem to mend the fire and fury between you and Loki as deeper feelings begin to come to light. ⋆ for the sake of us: Loki dies (The beginning of Infinity War) and is sent to a place unknown to him, with never ending fields of Asgardian flowers. there, he meets his Sigyn, his late wife. he hadn’t seen her for years ever since her unexpected death of an unknown illness that no Asgardian technology could cure.

sam wilson

⋆ trouble man: you and Sam Wilson are neighbors. never spoke a word a to one another but somewhat developed an unhealthy crush on each other. as a series of unfortunate events that began with the burning of spaghetti, you find yourself entangled in a mess of the appreciation for Marvin Gaye and your fear of cockroaches with the very man himself. ⋆ coming home: Sam’s coming home. ⋆ snowed in: you get a visit from your hot neighbour on Christmas day.

bucky barnes

⋆ whiskey: you’re waitressing at your father’s bar filled with the 107th’s drunk soldiers. In the midst of chaos, you catch the attention of a certain sergeant that goes by the name Bucky. the both of you then realize that one can still find happiness in the middle of a great war.

steve rogers

⋆ pretty beautiful: after the events of Sokovia, Steve and Sam are both on the run, along with Natasha, seeking for a safe house. thankfully, Sam knows the perfect place. ⋆ promises: platonic! you find an unexpected visitor at your doorstep during spaghetti night.

agent jack thompson

⋆ steps of the fire escape: Jack spends the last minutes of New Year’s Eve looking for the morning paper and his cat, Ginny. turns out, Ginny has a knack for discovering those who are spending the last day of the year alone. ⋆ you're gonna be fine, kid [series]: you get shot and the annoying Jack Thompson maybe you’re only hope at surviving after all.  ⋆ knucklehead: where Jack and reader are pissed at each other because you wouldn’t stay off the field and put yourself in danger during a mission while Jack was being a total prick about it although the two of you refuse to admit you love each a little too much. ⋆ pretty confessions: returning to the SSR, golden hour in the midst of New York’s traffic may just lead to some pretty confessions to a very pretty woman in Jack Thompson’s passenger seat. ⋆ unbelievable: you’re strong-witted, frank and independent, and Jack finds it a little unsettling, yet he refuses to admit that he probably adores you a little too much after that one incident at the office. ⋆ babysitter: Jack Thompson finds himself babysitting Daniel and Peggy’s baby daughter. and then realizes he has forgotten how to change nappies. ⋆ baby emergency [babysitter part 2]: you, the Sousa’s neighbour, mistakenly arrive at their doorstep, thinking it was pie night rather than date night. Yet, the sight of a dishevelled, troubled and somewhat handsome Jack Thompson convinced you to help out with baby Nancy. ⋆ call me trixie: you, an aviatrix is partnered with Jack Thompson on a SSR mission.

daniel sousa

⋆ just a gunshot wound: you were badly injured from a mission and Daniel Sousa, your fellow colleague was not the biggest fan of the outcomes of the mission. yet, things get a little heated up, in a bad way, but it may have gave Daniel the courage to act on something he had always wanted to since forever.

[thoughtdaughterdisease]

okay, so i was thinking about what type of music each one of the avengers would play in the car/quinjet, so here are my thoughts !!

Tony:

Mostly AC/CD obviously, Led Zeppelin , Styx, some lynard skynard, mostly like 80s-90s rock, (or if you get lucky, some milli vanilli.)

Steve:

Yes, a lot of 40s music, feat. Taylor Swift, Marvin Gaye (thanks sam!), Queen, some of The Beetles stuff, maybe even some Bob Marley to be honest :)

Bucky:

As he said in FATWS, he likes 40s music. secretly likes certain Billie Eilish songs, ie; birds of a feather, skinny, the greatest. Would like Hozier, The White Stripes, and Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon. loves ed sheeran songs

would have the saddest relationship with Sailor Song (by Gigi Perez) EVER.

Bruce:

Definitely Classical Music. He definitely seems like the type of person to have the most chaotic self destructive relationship with Requiem by Mozart.

But, sometimes he'll definitely listen to The Beetles and Queen, (probably had a secret addiction to *NSYNC or the Backstreet Boys.) Would lowkey vibe to MARINA and Mother Mother if had the chance.

Clint:

I feel like Clint doesn't listen to a lot of music because he needs all his senses and combined with his hearing problems, it's never really been confident. However, i think if he did listen to music it would be like, Counting Crows, Coldplay, Imagine Dragons, etc.

Sam:

This man has two sides and you cannot convince me otherwise.

1. Hip Hop, or just a range of shitty rap to good rap. so 50 cent, eminem, Dr. Dre, P-Diddy 😨, Ludicrious, Kendrick Lamar, Kanye, Travis Scott, XXTENTENTIONXX. i feel like he would've made his dislike for drake very clear from the moment he got famous

2. Marvin Gaye. Jazz. Blues. The whole shebang, all of it, the slow rock, and let's not forget; Michael Jackson.

Natasha:

Again, Like Clint, i don't think she'd really like having the vulnerability of when you're listening to music but, she does like when Tony puts on his music in the Quinjet. I also feel like she'd like The White Girl Music. She genuinely Believes there's nothing better to rock out to than Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield.

Has a hidden Apprieciation for songs like Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy, because of how much she loves to dance to them. (this also applies to movies like black swan, etc.)

Thor:

He just so in love with Disney Movies that he Unironically listens to the soundtracks when someone else shows him how. It's really the only music he willingly listens to on earth. On Asgard however, I think he'd like the musicians there but he's never paid much attention to them.

Loki:

If he found out how to use spotify, his liked songs would be filled with Classical Music, Instrumental Covers of Pop Songs that he doesn't know, some Adele songs, Partition and Hainted by Beyoncé, Some MISSIO songs, Fall Out Boy, Teen Idle by MARINA, Lords, Michael Buble, Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde, Artic Monkeys, PHOEBE BRIDGERS FOR SUREEE.

he is the embodiment of BLUE by Billie Eilish and nobody can convince me otherwise.

HAMILTON, HE WOULD LOVE HAMILTON.

----

i have a really unhealthy obsession with 2012 Avengers.

[familyvideostevie]

let's get it on (someday)

here's my fic for the delightful @roosterforme 's "Love is in the Air" Valentine's Day writing challenge! my story has the song "let's get it on" by marvin gaye in it, though it's only at the end a little. this was so fun! | meet-cute (light tw for being bothered by a random man), fluff, friends on the cusp of something more, 2k

It starts in the grocery store. It's kind of late and you're tired and don't have a lot of patience left and this man old enough to be your father won't leave you alone. He tries to talk to you by the lemons and again by the bread and it doesn't feel the wrong side of friendly but you don't like how he keeps running into you. So you look for someone to talk to in the store, but it's late and your options are limited.

Maybe you should just forego the rest of your list and head home and then you turn into the cereal aisle and see an absolutely massive guy in what you're pretty sure is a Navy uniform. He probably not going to be any worse than the clingy stranger you're avoiding, right? So you take a deep breath and go right up to him. He hears you coming and turns to look.

"Hi," you say softly. "I'm really sorry but can you pretend to know me for a second? Some dude won't leave me alone."

Navy man's eyebrows raise and his eyes narrow down the aisle behind you. "Are you okay? Should we get someone who works here?" he asks. His mustache twitches. "Is it the guy in the polo?"

"Yeah, that's him. And no, we don't need to. He just...won't stop talking to me." Your tight smile and firm dismissals had not been enough.

"Gotcha," he says. "I'm on it." You take a step closer to him and he turns back to the cereal, clearing his throat. "I don't know what you have against fruit loops," he says, much louder than before. "They're clearly the best cereal and I'm sure they'd make you a morning person for once."

You feel your mouth lift at one corner and you huff a laugh. He's studying the cereal boxes like it's his job, so you take the chance to quickly look him over. His basket has only a few things in it -- protein powder, bananas, and cookies. His uniform says BRADSHAW; he's not the first Navy guy you've seen, since the base is close, but he's the first one you've talked to.

You hear the cart wheels behind you slow and then speed up. "Well, they make me feel like I'm gargling sugar," you say. Bradshaw laughs, bright and loud, and the cart fades away.

Your shoulders drop. "I think he's gone. Are you okay?" he asks again, turning to face you. He doesn't move any closer, keeps his posture relaxed. He really is quite big, you realize. Broad shoulders and rather tall.

"Yeah," you tell him. "I was probably overreacting." Bradshaw shakes his head.

"No, trust your gut," he tells you. "I'm sure you know that. You gonna be okay? I could uh, walk with you, or something?"

"I'm about to check out, so I'll be fine." You smile at him and his brows unfurl. "Thank you so much, and I'm sorry again for bothering you."

"No need to apologize," he tells you and grabs Raisin Bran from the shelf. That makes your smile turn into a grin. Not a Fruit Loops guy after all, it seems.

You put the whole episode out of your mind as soon as you get home. Just another day in the life, right? The guy was cute but the whole thing was kind of mortifying so you forget about it.

The next week you go out with your friends to a bar near the base to meet some people they know. The Hard Deck is clearly a Navy bar, based on the sheer amount of uniforms around. You get introduced to a round of aviators with callsigns like Phoenix, Fanboy, Hangman, and Bob. And then --

"Rooster," says the last guy, turning towards you, hand outstretched. "Oh, it's you!" You let out a laugh of surprise as he pumps your hand once, his palm warm and callused. He's not in his uniform this time, instead in a tank and busy looking short-sleeve shirt.

"You guys know each other?" the blonde one, Hangman, asks.

"Kinda," says Rooster, just as you say, "Not really."

"Interesting," says Hangman, sounding very interested indeed.

"We ran into each other at the grocery store last week," you say. Rooster follows your lead and shrugs, not providing any more details. "Bradshaw, right? Or should I call you Rooster?"

"Bradley," he tells you. Everyone seems to lose interest in you two, including the blonde, though you notice he wiggles his eyebrows before going to get a beer. "You can call me Bradley, if you want."

You tell him your name and he smiles. "What are the odds, huh?" he says. "Glad that this time it's under better circumstances."

"You and me both." He sticks a hand in his pocket, running the other through his hair. He looks carefree here, relaxed, and the energy spreads to you.

"Can I get you a drink?" Bradley asks.

You get to chat a little over some beers before you're roped into a game of pool that pulls you from him. It continues to go like that for the next few weeks -- you see him here and there when you go out with your friends as your circles merge. It's enough to admit that you're nursing a small crush on him and his sun-kissed skin, his bright eyes, his warm tone. But you don't spend enough time alone for you to consider yourselves friends, not really.

When the time comes to finally hang out one-on-one, it's just like your first meeting. You're at a bar you haven't been to before waiting for your friends but they're late and unfortunately for you, you run into a guy you went on a few dates with while trying to order a drink.

"Do you want to come sit with me? I'll buy your drink," he says, and you look around desperately for an out.

And then.

Bradley walks through the door. He looks around before sliding up to the bar with his usual confidence, though it's not his usual haunt, on the other side of the room.

"Nice to see you," you tell the guy. Alec, or Aaron, or whatever. "But my boyfriend just got here." You walk off without another word and make a beeline for the only familiar face in the room, trying not to think about how glad you are to see him and the lie you just told.

"Bradley!" you call and he looks up immedietly, a slow grin spreading across his face at the sight of you. You squeeze close to him, closer than you've ever been. "Hi," you say, a little out of breath.

"Hi yourself," he replies, looking a little amused at how in his space you are.

"I just ran into a guy I went out with a few times and he wouldn't stop talking to me--" Bradley's brows furrow, so you rush on, "--not being inappropriate or anything but I told him you were my boyfriend so he'd lay off--"

"Hey, hey, hey," Bradley says. "Slow down." He looks across the bar, eyes narrowed, and it's just like the grocery store. You manage to contain your exasperated laugh. "Is he wearing a salmon shirt? Damn, ugly color."

You nod. "Is he looking?" Bradley nods.

"Well, let's scare him off. I'm going to touch you, okay?" His words make something tighten in your chest but you nod and his arm comes around your shoulders and pulls you even closer, your sides totally pressed together. His lips ghost your hairline and you instinctively wind your arm around his waist.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, your jaw moving against his shoulder.

"Waiting for the crew," he says. "Wait, did Natasha invite you, too?"

Sneaky, sneaky Natasha. She's almost certainly caught on to your crush on Bradley and you suspect she didn't tell you he was coming on purpose. "She did," you laugh a little. His arm squeezes you once.

"Looks like we're waiting for the same bunch." The bartender comes over and Bradley orders a beer. You ask for the same and he opens a tab.

"You don't have to do that," you tell him. He removes his arm from around you to grab his beer and presents his empty hand, palm up.

"Don't worry about it. I think salmon-shirt is gone, so do you want to find a table?" You answer him by lacing your fingers with his and he leads the way through the crowd, finding an empty booth in a corner that you slide into. Bradley lets go of your hand and you sigh at the loss before you know you're doing it.

"Thanks for the help," you tell him. "Again." He scoots a little closer to hear you better and your legs press together.

"You don't have to thank me," he says, shaking his head. "Shouldn't be happening to you in the first place."

"Well, I'm glad to have you around anyway." You lift your glass and Bradley clinks his with yours.

"Am I interrupting something?" A drawl causes you to start, sloshing a bit of your drink onto the table. You look up and see Hangman watching you both with raised eyebrows.

"Hi, Jake," you say. He's kind of a dick, sure, but you think he's funny and he riles Bradley up in a way that you find endlessly amusing. Hangman scoots in to the booth and Bradley's arm drapes a few inches above your shoulders.

It's a nice night out once the rest of your friends get there and you forget how the night had started -- and that Bradley pretended to be your boyfriend as a ruse. It felt good to be close to him at the bar, and still feels good here in the booth. His arm gets closer and closer to being across your shoulders all night, and your legs remain pressed together. He gets you another drink and then water when you both switch to it. It feels like every time he looks at you when he sits back down he's smiling just for you.

When the evening comes to a close, everyone drifting out to their respective rides home, Rooster leans close, his lips to your ear.

"Do you want a ride home?"

"Oh," you say, pulling back from him a little so you can look at his face. You look at the small nicks and scars that dot his skin, the glow he always has, the deepness of his eyes. Even though you've only been around him with other people, Bradley always looks at you full on when he's talking to you, when he's listening to you. "Sure. You okay to drive?"

"Yeah, been on water for at least two rounds." He stands and his hand hovers over your lower back the entire way to his Bronco.

He backs out of the lot, his hand on your headrest. "Did you have fun?" you ask him. He hums and turns the radio on low. The song playing is "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye. "Oh, I love this song."

Bradley grins. "Me too," he says. "It was a good night, I'd say. You think so?" He grimaces. "Well, good night after the guy went away, I mean."

You laugh a little. The streetlights bathe Bradley in their glow and your chest pangs at how lovely he looks. "We really need to stop hanging out because some guy is following me," you tease. "I mean, it's only happened twice, but..."

Bradley barks out a laugh as you trail off, startling you. "Sorry," he says, running a hand over his mustache. "I'm not laughing because it's happening to you, I swear." He looks over at you for just a second, seemingly coming to a decision. "It's just funny because I'll hang out, just us, anytime you want."

He's totally blushing. "Yeah?" you say.

He nods. "Yeah," he echoes. "I'd love to."

Marvin's voice fills the cab of the Bronco.

"Okay," you tell him. "Let's."

Let's get it on, let's get it on

Maybe someday, you think. You keep your eyes on Bradley and think about how nice it was to have his arm around you, how safe you feel with him, how his smile makes your stomach swoop. Someday soon.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[findafight]

you're so right. i will never understand the hold rockstar eddie has on ppl. his character immediately becomes insufferable if he's super famous and successful, esp in no upside down aus where he never experiences some form of ego death/being forced to reassess his own bullshit. not to mention he is just not someone who would become uber famous like he does not have the personality to either pull it off or handle it well if he miraculously did imo. steve really screams child star to me tho in an au. plus his entire character arc kind of speaks to him being able to handle fame (ie the fact that steve is a v reflective, adaptive character that was capable of actually changing and improving his behavior even w/o knowing about the upside down originally) and knowing/learning who he should be surrounding himself w. like i firmly believe steve could actually handle being famous in a way eddie could not.

I do enjoy rockstar eddie to a point? it depends I think. Rockstar/musician aus are popular in fandoms of all sorts an I like them sorta...hit or miss? haha.

But you're right that it's become...idk over saturated? And yeah absolutely Eddie's ego death and the shattering of the Munson Docterine is kind of pivotal for his character growth. Like I know the duffers don't think Eddie's problem is that he's stuck in highschool clique mode (They seem to think his flaw is that he's a coward...which is a different meta but his reactions are reasonable to the situations he's thrown in), because they only think "jocks" are the problem there, but he is. Him realizing that actually Steve is pretty cool is the stepping stone to him not hating jocks on principal, and broadening and nuancing his view of people outside his assumptions on who are "Proper" nerds. No- upside down aus, regardless of any other trope in them, often fall flat for me in that aspect, yet always make sure to remind us Steve was a bit of a stuck up dick in highschool (until the beginning of grade 11) and it's tiring to nt see Eddie allowed to be wrong and have that moment of self-betterment.

And yeah, I can maybe see eddie becoming semi-famous session musician (not a musician that is a session musician AND recording/performing artist by themself like Glen Campbell or Marvin Gaye) through a series of events like. Playing one of his hyper specific songs at a small gig, someone in desperate need of a guitarist is there and sees he is incredibly talented as a guitarist, asks him to help as a session musician in like two days, he plays, someone at the studio is like hey. wanna be on-call for us? and eddies like sure. ok. So sometimes he's on hit records but they aren't his. royalties are decent from the amount of work he's done. He's a pinch hitter guitarist, and he's good, so he gets a rep in the industry for that. He doesn't seem like the kind of person that could thrive in the high pressure, has major deadlines, environment that being a famous musician woudl be. I mean a lot of rockstars aren't either and it's not healthy for them? I can see Eddie crashing and burning, which I know a lot of fics cover but I also find it super depressing haha. He would probably be too standoffish and anti-authority and possibly refuse outside input for stuff, so he'd be off putting in the industry. not that musicians are always pleasant to work with but i think you get it.

Child star Steve would be so neat tbh. Look I love famous athlete Steve. but also the allure of him being famous young... Maybe as a little piano prodigy? (I love piano prodigy steve hehe) or an actor? like canon era he could have been a Mousketeer! Maybe he did a couple movies (what if he was in a few cult-classic scifi movies...that the party just so happen to love....but don't pay attention to the name of the child actor in...or maybe he used a stage name?) And then him fading away and living his life a little bit, before he decides to come back into the limelight?

I think that often we forget that Steve's "come-to-jesus" moment happened without the upside down. He talked shit, got hit, and then decided that he owed Jonathan (and Nancy) an apology. No one made him help clean up the grafitti! He had no idea there were monsters he just had a shit 48 hours where he went off the handle and then decided he had been an ass and to fix himself. When he was 16! He'd have made these changes to himself without the Upsidedown. Somehow the party knew his full name, and I love the hc that he won a major game/championship for Hawkins as a junior/sophomore so was a minor town celebrity. These lend to Steve being able to handle the pressure without too major a fallout or a long-term downward spiral of self destruction.

Except (okay operating as like a post-canon thing, because I love canon-divergent aus more than no-upside down aus but could still work?) now he's battle scarred and obviously not the rosy-cheeked boy he was when he was a tween. I'm thinking maybe he goes back in '89? give some time to heal from the upside down and Robin is moving for Uni, he's obviously going with her, so he figures acting would beat dead-end minimum wage jobs. Or at least spice things up in between shifts. Maybe he starts with theatre, and decides to see if there's some screen auditions he could do. Maybe he still has people in the industry who remember working with him (he's a good team player and a natural leader) and they help in slip back in. He does some bit parts, a few semi-recurring characters. Maybe he's even on an episode of Law and Order, and people go hey! That guy who's crying over his dead girlfriend (he's a red herring) is the kid from that 70's scifi movie!

Eventually someone actually offers him a role without him auditioning, and it's a bigger part, a side character but one with lines and even a semi decent arc in a b-list movie. he's a good fit. Charming and handsome, plus there are some intense scenes and on set Steve's proved himself capable of handling most things and supportive of coworkers (actors and crew alike.) Except there's a shirtless scene. While his scarring isn't extensive, it's definitely noticeable and not as easy to cover up as the faint discolouration around his neck. it's hard to explain, and usually movies want flawless skin. He tells them this. They still want him.

So he takes the role. And he has a blast on set. He loves working as a team, and even though days are long, he feels everything sort of...coming together. A feeling that this is what he wants to do. that he was right to get back into acting even though he started so young because of his parents.

He makes lasting friendships with nearly everyone he meets on the set. There's a few child actors, and he tries to give them tips and pointers, and be a role model or support for them. he knows what it's like to be little and surrounded by adults a lot of the time, and feeling pressure to be perfect. (They think he's actually the coolest, even if he's also kinda a doofus.) (there's probably a scene where he picks up on of the kids, and then the rest of them on set want piggy back rides too...)

It's considered his comeback role, despite being a few years after he actually came back. The pressures of fame come back again, but he's older now, and he's killed monsters. He has Robin beside him. A few paps don't scare him. Everything he has to hide (besides his bisexuality...and maybe his shitty relationship with his parents) is covered up by the government anyways. He gets bigger parts, and gets an even bigger rep for being a delightful (if viciously sarcastic) and supportive co-worker, especially if there's kids on set. (child stars of the nineties will look back on working with steve and think he was one of the few adults to get it. to understand how big your emotions are as a kid and how most grown ups [often even/especially their parents] didn't let them actually feel what the were feeling, instead wanting them to be acting all the time, instead of only in front of the camera. How he told them to never let anyone do anything they weren't comfortable with, no matter who it was. How he'd stick up for them, no matter what, and would ask how they were doing throughout shooting. They'll look back on being on set with Steve and remember how even if he called them little shits when they tried to prank him or were goofing off, he said it with a wink and a smile.)

I'd say, (please forgive me) he sort of becomes a (90's era) Tom Cruise kind of actor (before he went on oprah and went viral for jumping on the couch and then only did action movies after that) (also steve doesn't become the face of a cult) Like he does action flicks, but can definitely pull his weight as a dramatic actor. (I realize that I already have a movie star steve au but thats a different era I can have overlapping headcanons for the aus!!) His cute heart-shaped smile and amazing hair entrances audiences. He can make emphatic speeches about justice and also carry at least two children out of a burning building. He has range.

idk steve going from child actor to highschool athlete to monster killer to broke thespian to movie star again entices me!!!

[nolita-fairytale]

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter two

summary: you and phoenix make plans to dinner on saturday, instead of going to the hard deck. (rooster x reader-heavy chapter)

warnings: enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of death, strong possibility of military inaccuracies, second person pov, no use of y/n,

wc: 5.2k

listen to: you're all i need - marvin gaye & tammi terrell | the playlist

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

“Will you slow down, Whiskey? Run’s over,” Phoenix says, trying to catch her breath as the two of you walk back up the beach. 

“Just trying to keep up with you,” you shoot back, slowing down your power-walk pace as you make your way up the beach. “So damn competitive.”

Nat had in fact set a blistering pace for your morning run, and now, you were on a roll, using every muscle fiber in your body to propel you uphill to your first cup of coffee. You can already tell that you’re going to be sore tomorrow. Why did you think it was a good idea to go on a beach run this morning? It was practically a hike just to get back and the two of you had your first meeting back on base at 0800 sharp. 

“And you’re not?” she quips, causing you to laugh. 

“No, you’re right,” you concede to her, making your way up the steps that lead off of the beach. 

There’s a coffee place across the beach entrance and it’s the first place you intend to go before heading back to the barracks to get changed. 

You and Nat order your coffees, taking them to go as you cooldown on your walk back to the barracks. The sun has just risen and it’s nice to have a moment to yourself before things get serious again. It became apparent on day one how high stakes this special mission is and you can tell that it’s already beginning to affect everyone. It’s only been a few days of grueling training and everyone’s already looking forward to having the weekend off. 

“So… I saw you and Rooster talking the other night at the Hard Deck,” Phoenix prods, changing the subject. 

“Not this again,” you groan, taking a sip of your latte in an attempt to breathe life back into your body. “You have anything to do with that?”

“You can’t blame me for being excited! I have been trying to get the two of you in the same room since we met in Bosnia,” she defends herself before continuing her explanation. 

“And somehow every time I do, you’re deployed, or he’s deployed, or you have a trip planned, and the only time he can come visit me is when you’re visiting your dad or blah blah blah. I mean, this is a freakin’ miracle!”

“What’s up, Phoenix? Why are you so intent on setting me up with this guy anyways?” you ask, stealing a glance in Nat’s direction. 

“Because!” she exclaims with an exasperated sigh. “You both are the best people I know and I think you have a lot in common. More than you know.” She chuckles to herself before continuing with:

“Plus I think in all the time I’ve known him, he’s had maybe one or two serious relationships? You know how this job is. I just-, I think he’s really ready to settle down and… I think you’d be good for him.”

Her response makes you chuckle, but you still feel hesitant.

“I don’t know, Nat,” you drag out. “It’s not like we’re here to date, though, perhaps the Navy should’ve thought twice before putting their best and brightest all in the same room together.” 

She laughs because some days it’s like the fuckin’ Olympics when most of these people are in tip top shape, tension and testosterone ramped up to 100, and single. How could it not be like the fuckin’ horny Olympics?

“This mission is… somethin’ else,” you continue. “I mean. No one on active duty’s pulled something off like this – not even Maverick. I’m not sure any of us can afford to get… distracted… right now. If we get selected for this mission-.”

“When we get selected for this mission,” she interjects, quick to correct you. 

“… I don’t know I can do my job if I’m up there just… thinking about him… and his porn ‘stache,” you giggle, completing your sentence. 

“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about it?” she’s quick to quip. 

“I never said that,” you defend yourself playfully. 

“Well, he’s been thinking about you,” she says in a sing-song voice, earning a funny look from you. 

She shrugs, waiting for you to take the bait, as you open your mouth to ask:

“Wh-, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’,” she shrugs again, coyly. She’s satisfied with herself, because whether you want to or not, Bradley Bradshaw’s already distracted you. “He just made it a point to ask me if you were single yesterday, is all.”

“Huh,” you hum in response. 

You know she means well and you can’t fault her for her persistence. Over the last few days you’ve been around each other, you can see why she wants to set the two of you up. Rooster’s good looking, he seems kind, and he’s a phenomenal pilot – something that makes him even more attractive to you. In any other circumstance, you’d be all for it, but the parameters of the mission have had you on edge all week. 

“What?” Natasha presses you. 

“Nothing. It’s just funny because that first night at the Hard Deck-, he asked if me and Jake were a thing,” you admit, as the two of you get closer to the barracks. 

She lets out a dry laugh. 

“I don’t blame him!” she exclaims. “Who’d meet you… and then Hangman… and ever think you’d have enough in common to be friends! Not to mention the two of you are weirdly very affectionate – and I’d like to add – publicly.”

She follows it up with another fake vomit, earning a laugh from you. 

“Jake is family. It’s the Texan in us,” you shrug, defending you and Jake’s relationship lightly. 

“So…?” she asks, waiting to hear the end of this story. 

“What?” you ask back, as the two of you approach the barracks. 

“So did you tell him that or not!?” she pries, the curiosity killing her. 

“Yeah of course!” you exclaim with a laugh, before deciding to turn the tables on her. “Don’t worry, Phoenix. I told him Jake’s more your speed anyways.”

“You did what?!” she practically screeches, using her free hand to grab your forearm. Phoenix pulls you to a sudden halt, practically glaring you down in response to what you’ve just said. 

“I’m just kidding, jeez. Relax!” you cry out, holding your hand out. “But don’t think I don't notice the way he looks at you.”

She scoffs, “Bagman looks at anything that moves like that.”

“So you’ve noticed?” you shoot back. 

This is so payback. 

She groans, shoving you playfully. 

Was it that obvious?

Phoenix likes to think she’s quite good at squashing any kind of affectionate feeling she’s ever had for Hangman behind sarcasm and snarky jabs at the arrogant aviator. It never occurred to her that – suddenly feeling very self-conscious about it – that you may have noticed what’s been lying beneath it this whole time. 

Then again, you’ve known him the longest. 

And you know her so well. 

But she’d rather not talk about her and Jake right now, reminding herself that there is no her and Jake. 

Nat shifts her focus back to you. 

She’s not ready to give up just yet because there could be a you and Rooster and she spent most of last night before bed cooking up a plan. 

“Why don’t we go out this weekend? Maybe we skip the Hard Deck on Saturday… go to a nice place for dinner and get dressed up. Blow off some steam?” Phoenix suggests as she smoothly changes the subject. 

“Yeah, that sounds great, actually,” you agree, because it does sound great. “Should we make it a girls’ thing? I can invite Halo.”

“No!” Nat protests, immediately pulling back on the intensity so that you don’t catch on. “Nothing against Halo. But we haven’t really gotten to catch up much, one on one. Next time.”

You shoot her a funny look, mostly because she’s acting really strange right now. 

“Okay, you fuckin’ weirdo,” you tease, agreeing to her weekend plan. 

“Great! I’ll look up a cool spot and send you the details,” she squeals excitedly. 

What you don’t know is that Natasha Trace has no intention of showing up. 

*

You spend most of your Saturday resting. You grab breakfast with Halo, your WSO, before taking a solo walk along the beach. Everyone’s gotten a single for this three week stint at TOPGUN (a courtesy, you suspect) but living in a glorified college dorm room feels surreal.

It’s nice to get some recharge time, especially after such a long week. To say it’s been brutal would be an understatement: there’s the never-ending sets of 200 pushups, the fact that this uranium enrichment assignment seems to be a near-suicide mission, and the tense relationship Rooster seems to have with Maverick that’s impossible to ignore. 

Your phone buzzes as you walk back up the beach, heading back to your bunk for a quick nap. It’s a text from Phoenix – a link to a cute little Italian restaurant along the San Diego Bay. 

You’re quick to reply with a little humor. 

You: How romantic. 

Phoenix: Date night!! Lol. 

Phoenix: Rooster let me borrow the Bronco to run some errands so I’ll meet you there. Wanna take Uber there and I’ll drive us both home?

You: So I can drink more wine than you? Absolutely. 

Phoenix: Not everything is a competition, Whiskey. 

You: LOL. I didn’t mean it like that, but deal. 

Phoenix: 7 pm. Don’t be late 😘

Phoenix: And wear something cute. 

You laugh, because you know she hates it when you’re late. And you’re almost always running a little bit behind. 

You: Can’t wait to spend a night out of uniform.

You: And I’ll try my best. 

Phoenix: Think of it as a ‘who can get there earliest’ competition. 

You: ☠️

You spend the afternoon doing absolutely nothing before getting ready for dinner with Phoenix. You appreciate that she volunteered to drive because you’re ready to blow off some steam. You put on one of your favorite sundresses, something you brought along with you for after the mission. Your plan is to stay in Southern California for a week or so longer before you return to Lemoore. It helps to have a fancy friend with an investment banker husband and an extravagant summer home in Encinitas.

You can’t remember where they’re summering this season instead. A chateau in Provence? The Amalfi coast? Or was it Mallorca she’d mentioned over the phone a few weeks ago when you’d made this arrangement? Regardless, you’re just glad they let you use the place when they’re not there. 

And it seems as if Phoenix’s earlier challenge is working, as your Uber pulls up to the waterside Italian restaurant at exactly 7 pm. 

There’s a first time for everything, you think to yourself, knowing that Nat will be more-than-pleased that maybe your punctuality – often only reserved for work – is beginning to trickle over into your personal life. 

“Reservation for Trace,” you say to the host. 

“Right this way,” the host replies warmly. You follow the young man outside to a waterside table set for two. There’s a small tea candle lit in the middle of the table with a soundtrack to match the soft, beach vibes. 

You’re surprised to find that Nat hasn’t gotten here yet, especially since she made such a big deal about being on time. Your phone buzzes, and you have a text from Nat that reads:

Got caught up in errands. Running a few minutes late but be there soon!! 

You type back a quick:

All good. See you soon! 

You chuckle, shaking your head, because of course, the one time you’re on time she’s running late. Leaving your phone on the table for now, you look over the menu, picking out a bottle of wine for the two of you when the waitress comes by. 

Sure, it’s summertime, but you know Nat can’t stand white wine, so you settle on a bottle of chilled red that seems refreshing enough for a Southern California summer night. 

After the bottle of wine comes to the table, you glance down for the time, and when a few minutes turn into fifteen, you start to worry. 

Where the hell is she?

You grab your phone off the table this time with the intent to call Natasha. It’s then that the host reappears, ushering a tall, brunette man in your direction. You’d recognize him anywhere with his Hawaiian shirt open, layered over a white tee. That combined with his signature mustache and the aviators are practically his own version of a civilian uniform. 

What the hell was Bradley Bradshaw doing here?

He spots you, and you watch as he exchanges a few words of gratitude with the host, before making his way to your table. You stand up out of your chair, really fucking confused as he approaches. 

“Hey,” he says as he approaches, removing his aviators and tucking them into the neckline of his t-shirt. He shoots you a friendly smile, but you can tell that he’s just as confused as you are. 

“Hi,” you greet him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m supposed to be meeting Phoenix here for dinner. What’re you doing here?” he asks back, causing your jaw to drop. 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” you scoff, with a shake of your head. 

That conniving, scheming, little firebird 

“What?” you hear Bradley ask. 

“I-,” you start, letting out another amused laugh before taking a breath. “I was also supposed to meet Nat here for dinner, and it’s just now occurring to me that… she… never planned on showing up in the first place.”

“What do you-?” Bradley begins to ask, before realizing what you mean. “Oh shit.” He laughs too. “She parent trapped us.”

“I think so, yeah,” you nod in agreement, a half-apologetic smile on your face as you look at him. 

You both turn your attention to your phones as both of them go off, signaling a notification. 

It’s Phoenix. 

I love you both, but you’re so damn stubborn. Don’t hate me for what I had to do. 

You and Rooster share a look, exchanging a laugh between the two of you. 

“Wow. I can’t believe-, well, I can. But I can’t believe her!” you remark, still in disbelief that she managed to pull this one over on you. 

“Yeah this is… only a little embarrassing. She’s…” he sighs, looking out across the bay for a moment. 

“Something,” you complete his sentence. “So what do you want to do?”

Bradley focuses his attention back on you as he says, “Looks like you’ve already ordered a bottle of wine.” He pauses briefly to take the sight of you in. “And it’d be a shame to waste such a pretty dress, don’t you think?”

He’s not hiding the fact that he’s very obviously checking you out, and you can’t say that you don’t like it. 

“I was also really looking forward to having pasta tonight,” you add to the ‘reasons why we should stay and have this date’ list. 

“What do you say?” Rooster asks, gesturing towards the table with a hopeful look in his eyes.  

You pause for a moment, just to appreciate how handsome he is before saying: “Why the hell not?”

As you move to sit down, Rooster’s right by your side, pulling your chair out for you like the gentlemen his mother raised him to be. 

“Thank you,” you smile, feeling your heart skip a beat.

You put your phone back into your bag as Rooster returns to his side of the table, sitting down across from you. 

Okay. So this was happening. 

Damn, you think to yourself. 

Nat always finds a way to get what she wants. 

And you’re not sure whether you want to thank her or kill her later. 

But you push your thoughts about Nat’s little scheme away to focus on getting to know Bradley. You’re here now, so why not see if Nat’s been right this whole time about the two of you. 

You strategize with Rooster, choosing a few things that you can share together in order to try as many things that seem appealing to the two of you. You tell him about how you fell in love with Italian cooking when you were stationed for a year in Naples and he confesses that he doesn’t know all that much about wine even though he thinks he should. You tell him that Halo’s a sommelier and that you’ve learned a lot from her about it. He thinks you should all go on a wine tour sometime and you like that he wants to make future plans with you.

“So you’re at Lemoore, right?” he asks, in reference to which Naval Base you’re stationed at. 

“Yeah, and you?” you ask back 

“Oceana. Virginia Beach,” he replies. “But I just got back from a deployment overseas.”

While he tells you as much as he can about his last deployment (and he can’t tell you much) you can’t help noticing the song that plays in the background. You smile to yourself, hearing the comforting and familiar notes followed by:

“You’re all I need to get by…” 

“Oh, I love this song,” you groan in response to the Marvin Gaye duet. 

“Really?” Rooster asks, surprised by your reaction to one of his favorite motown hits. 

“Oh yeah,” you emphasize, your eyes lighting up as the song continues. 

Nat had always said that the two of you had a lot in common and Bradley begins to understand why. 

“I’m surprised you know this song,” he blurts out, immediately regretting the words that have flown out of his mouth. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you tease him flirtatiously. 

But it doesn’t throw him. He’s smooth as he plays it off, shrugging with a:

“I thought I was the only one left these days who listened to the classics.”

“Well, you’re not so!” you exclaim with a giggle. Now you’re intrigued. “I’m surprised you know this song.”

Then again, this is the man who had managed to rope an entire bar into singing “Great Balls of Fire” with him the other night. Maybe you shouldn’t be so surprised. 

“What can I say? I’ve got good taste,” he flirts back, eyeing you. 

Shit, Bradley thinks to himself. 

You’ve got great taste in music. 

You’re fucking gorgeous. 

And the silky slip dress you’re wearing has his imagination running wild. He can’t stop thinking about how flimsy the straps of the dress are, and how one of them somehow keeps managing to slip off your shoulder. His eyes follow your hand each time you reach up to pull the strap of your dress back over your shoulder, your fingertips gliding across your bare skin. It’s got him thinking about all kinds of things…

Bradley looks at you like he wants to devour you, and you’re trying your best not to let him do it, right at the table. 

You clear your throat, trying your best to focus on the fact that you were just talking about your favorite motown classics a second ago. 

“I don’t know where you got your great taste in music… but my dad owned a record store when I was growing up – well, he owns a record store now, but it’s a different one. He’s a musician too and he’s always felt really passionate about supporting Texas musicians on the up and up,” you share with him, explaining some of your most personal connections to music. 

“Actually, fun fact: he had both Gary Clark Jr. and Leon Bridges play at the store he had in Houston.”

“Yeah?” Bradley asks, encouraging you to share more. 

He could listen to you talk all day, especially about music. There’s something in the way your eyes light up that makes his heart flutter as he hangs on every single word. 

“Yeah. After my mom died he remarried and he and my step mom opened up a little record store / cafe in Austin after I left for the naval academy,” you continue. 

“I think that was the last thing he ever expected – me joining the military. I don’t think he and my step mom really got it at first, them both being artists and whatnot. I mean, Dad was like… a total hippie in his day. Protested the Vietnam War and everything. But it paid for college and they’ve come around.”

“Wow,” is all he says, marveling at you. “You are so much cooler than Hangman.”

You let out a loud, unexpected laugh in response to what he’s just said.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, in regards to the somewhat random connection.

“I just-, I didn’t know Texans could be cool,” he stammers out, earning another laugh from you. 

“Well. We are. Jake and I are also from very different parts of Texas. He’s a good ol’ Dallas boy,” you shrug. “Which is probably why he’s such a dick.”

Rooster chuckles, gazing out over the bay, before bringing his attention back to you. 

“You two have quite the rivalry,” you bring up, curiously. 

Rooster shrugs, “I guess.”

But he doesn’t want to talk about Hangman right now, and neither do you. 

“I uh, I’m sorry to hear though… about your mom,” he says quietly, catching you off guard. He knows exactly why he wants to hear you talk about that, but he’s not sure if he’s ready to share why yet. 

“Oh!” you gasp, a little caught off guard by his redirection. “That’s-, thanks. We lost her when I was really young. Car accident.”

He nods slowly, in understanding.

“I lost my dad when I was really young too,” he shares, empathetically. “Training exercise gone wrong.”

“He was also a pilot?” you ask, your voice soft. 

“Yeah, aviator in the Navy. It’s actually why I learned to play piano,” he continues. It’s also why he joined the navy too – despite what Maverick had done – but he’s not sure he’s ready to share that part yet. “Used to play all the time with my mom when I was a kid. Some of my earliest memories with him.”

“Oh I’m so sorry, Bradley,” you say, using his proper name. Using his call sign just doesn’t feel right for the intimacy of the moment. 

“Thank you,” he replies, his voice still quiet. 

Rooster thinks it may be too much: telling you about his dad and his mom in the same night. Besides, wasn’t this supposed to be a date?

He clears his throat, ready to change the subject as he dryly says, “Wow this is uh-, great first date conversation.”

“No I-,” you begin, reaching across the table to place the gentlest hand on his forearm. “I know it’s not the cheeriest topic but… I’m glad you told me.”

You wait a beat. 

“I-... I’m glad that I know that about you. And thanks. For listening to me.”

You share a smile with him as the two of you stare across the table at each other. You don’t move your hand just yet, because the warmth of his forearm underneath the palm of your hand feels too good. There’s an intimacy here that wasn’t there when the night started and you decide that you like it. 

“So your dad’s a musician. What about you?” he asks, changing the subject. 

“I dabbled a little with a whole lot: piano, guitar, and briefly explored playing the clarinet for about six months in high school. I’m good enough to get by, I guess? But… nothin’ like my old man. He still plays gigs in the little performance space at the record store,” you answer, happily. 

“If I recall correctly, you’re quite the piano player yourself,” you say, offering up another chance for him to share something with you. 

“Gives me something to do in the barracks if there’s one on base,” he replies, casually, as if the other night hadn’t been some of the best piano playing you’d heard in a long time. 

“And if there’s not?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow.

“I bring my own!” he declares, unapologetically. 

You laugh. 

You can picture it now: while the rest of his squadron is trying to sleep, he’s three floors below playing Jerry Lee Lewis at two in the morning on his BYO-electric keyboard. 

“Oh wow, your squadron must hate you,” you joke with him.

He chuckles at your sassy remark, “Tell me about it.”

You’ve got a fire inside of you that he really fucking likes. 

By the time your food comes, you’ve talked about everything: from your time at the naval academy and his at UVA, whatever the hell carbonic maceration means about the bottle of wine you ordered and how wine can be so pretentious, best to worst pizza toppings, ranked. You think you could sit here and talk to Rooster for hours. He’s charming – not in the way that Jake or any of the other suave southern playboys you grew up around are – but he’s sweet, genuine, and you really can’t get over the fact that you actually like the mustache on him. 

“Hi guys. No rush, but I just wanted to bring by your check,” the waitress says politely, as she comes by the table. 

The sun has completely set, the evening lit only by the lights from inside, the tiny tea candles on each table, and the gas lamps that line the patio. You really weren’t kidding when you called this place romantic. 

“Do you wanna split-,” you offer. 

“I got this,” Rooster insists, firmly. You watch as he takes care of the bill, handing his card back to the waiter. 

You watch the interaction carefully, looking from him to the waiter inquisitively. He seems more than eager to pick up the bill, so you let him. Maybe it’s the wine, or the fact that you’re really enjoying this night, that emboldens you to ask:

“So this was a date?”

Bradley smiles, a flush of pink running across his tanned cheekbones. 

“I think Phoenix made that clear,” he says. “And you know she’d kick my ass if I let you go dutch with me.”

You giggle, nodding in agreement, before shooting him a suspicious look. 

“Were you… in on this?” you drag out. 

“Would it matter if I was?” he asks back, something soft in his chocolate brown eyes. 

“No,” you shake your head, quick to reassure him. “This… is the best date I’ve been on in a long time.”

“For the record,” Rooster starts, leaning in towards you. “I wasn’t. This… was all Phoenix.”

He waits a beat before adding:

“But I kinda wish I had been.”

“Yeah?”

He smiles before admitting, “This is the best date I’ve been on in a while too.” 

You both decide to head back to the barracks, realizing that Phoenix had thought out every single piece of this. Now it made sense – why she asked you to Uber here when you had a perfectly good car. She really made sure neither of you could deny that this was a date. 

A really good date. 

You watch as Rooster leads you to his car, following you to the passenger side so that he can open the door for you. 

A true gentleman. 

Damn, he was already making this really fucking hard. All you want to do is let him peel off your slip dress and forget all about this special op. 

“Rooster, wait,” you say, turning so that your back is pressed up against the passenger door. 

“What’s up?” he asks, a hint of concern in his voice as he towers over you. 

He’s so close to you right now, and you can smell the remnants of the cologne he was wearing earlier. It wouldn’t be so bad if you just-. 

“I want to be honest with you,” you begin, so that you don’t do the thing that you really want to do. “This mission scares the shit out of me. And it thrills me. And… I really want to go.”

“Okay…” he trails off, only smiling a little because he finds you so damn cute when you get passionate.

“It’s just, normally, after a date like this, I’d definitely kiss you,” you continue boldly, earning a smile from him. “Amongst… other things. And I’d want to keep kissing you and I wouldn’t think twice about getting all kinds of wrapped up in whatever this is.” 

You pause, fighting all of your better instincts to just do it. 

“I just don’t know if-, if I can start something right now… and not get distracted and… I don’t know if either of us can afford to get distracted, especially in the face of something like this mission.”

You’re beginning to over explain yourself but it’s like you can’t help it as the words tumble out of your mouth. 

“I mean, it’s not like this is some regular deployment. Usually we’d have more than three weeks to pull off something this complex and this is something that no one has managed to do before and every day the hard deck drops and some does the time limit-. It’s not like I’m expecting you to wait around for me or anything but-.”

“Whiskey,” he cuts you off, the dumbest grin on his face as he does. 

“I understand,” Bradley says, taking a step towards you. 

“You do?” you ask, sounding much more surprised than you intended to. 

“Yes,” he smiles back at you, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your heart flutters and you’re suddenly questioning why you can’t just kiss him now. 

“You’re right,” he agrees, his voice soft and sweet as he reassures you. “We can’t afford to get distracted. So we’ll wait. Till after the mission.”

“Really?” you ask. 

“Like I said before. This is the best date I’ve been on in a long time too,” he admits, earning another smile from you. 

“Maybe… we can get to know each other as friends over the next two weeks?” you suggest, hopefully. “Explore what else this could be after the mission.”

“I think that’s something I can agree to…” Bradley trails off, pausing before he adds, “... under two conditions.”

“Okay. Let’s hear ‘em,” you encourage with a giggle. 

“When this is all over… I’m taking you out on a second date,” he says, laying his first condition out on the table. 

“And the other one?” you ask curiously, tempted to just wrap your arms around him. 

“And the other one…. While I’d love to get to know you…” he leans in, dangerously close to you now before continuing with his second condition. 

“…Don’t think for a moment, sweetheart, that we’re just friends.”

The way he whispers the last part in your ear sends chills down your spine, and you have to bite back a moan as you feel his body press up against yours. 

You’re not sure how you’re still breathing as you whisper, “I think that’s something I can agree to.”

“Good,” he rasps, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Let’s get you home.” 

He pulls away from you, allowing you to step aside, so that he can open the passenger door for you. You climb into his Bronco, your heart racing from your conversation with Rooster. And in the spirit of condition number two, a few minutes into the drive, you tangle your fingers with his, and you hold his hand for the rest of the way home. 

Just so he knows that your intentions are anything but friendly too. 

The next two weeks can’t go by fast enough.

*

a/n: i swear i gave myself heart palpitations while writing this. *hyperventilates bc they're so damn cute wtf*

read: chapter three

[u2fangirlie-blog]

Good Omens Crowley and Aziraphale Reunited Playlist

In anticipation of Good Omens Season 3, here’s the “Crowley and Aziraphale Reunited and It Feels So Good Playlist.” We know our favorite demon and angel will be reunited. Take heart, have faith, and keep hope. Crowley and Aziraphale will be together again, like chocolate and peanut butter. This is music Maggie and Nina would put together in a playlist for a party celebrating the Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. The songs are about friendship and love.

How ever you as a fan define the love they share – eros, philia, or agape - we know Crowley and Aziraphale love each other. In the Good Omens universe, angels and demons are sexless and genderless. However, they can have genders and sex body parts if they want to. They can be sexual, asexual, binary, nonbinary, romantic, aromantic, hetero, homo, bi, pan. They can be any expression of the spectrum of identities and orientations. Above all else, they can love each other.

Maggie, Nina, Aziraphale, and Crowley are going to sing a karaoke version of “That’s What Friends Are For” at the party.

Please enjoy this unashamedly, unapologetically romantic, silly, sentimental, and sugary playlist (with extra cheesy goodness).

See note after list on song the selection process.

Songs include:

“You’re My Best Friend” – Queen

“Let’s Stay Together” – Al Green

“For Once in My Life” – Stevie Wonder

“Reunited” – Peaches and Herb

“Love and Happiness” – Al Green

“Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” – Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell

“That’s What Friends Are For” – Dionne Warwick, Elton John, Gladys Knight, and Stevie Wonder

“I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)” – Aretha Franklin and George Michael

“Can’t Fight this Feeling” – REO Speedwagon

“Time After Time” – Cyndi Lauper

“I’ll Be There” – Mariah Carey and Trey Lorenz version

“I’ll Stand by You” – The Pretenders

“I Say a Little Prayer” – Aretha Franklin

“I Honestly Love You” – Olivia Newton John

“God Only Knows” – The Beach Boys

“Don’t Let Me Down” – The Beatles

“Just the Two of Us” – Grover Washington, Jr., ft. Bill Withers

“Just the Way You Are” – Billy Joel

“Your Song” – Elton John

“How Deep is Your Love” – The Bee Gees

“The Air that I Breathe” – K.D. Lang version

“Time in a Bottle” – Jim Croce

“Up Where We Belong” – Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes

“Islands in the Stream” – Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers

“Endless Love” – Diana Ross and Lionel Richie

“Almost Paradise” – Mike Reno and Ann Wilson

“Leather and Lace” – Stevie Nicks and Don Henley

“Feels Like Home” – Bonnie Raitt

“In Your Eyes” – Peter Gabriel

“I Want to Know What Love Is” – Foreigner

“Never Tear Us Apart” – INXS

“Eternal Flame” – The Bangles

“Heaven is a Place on Earth” – Belinda Carlisle

“Walking on Sunshine” – Katrina and The Waves

“Never Gonna Give You Up” – Rick Astley

“Everlasting Love” – U2 version

“[I Can’t Help] Falling in Love with You” – UB40 version

“Let’s Get It On” – Marvin Gaye

P.S.: Aziraphale secretly loves romantic duets and rock ballads. He wouldn’t admit it because his personality is classical music. However, he longs to sing karaoke duets with Crowley. “Reunited,” “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” “I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me),” “I’ll Be There,” “Don’t Let Me Down,” “Up Where We Belong,” “Islands in the Stream,” “Endless Love,” “Almost Paradise,” and “Leather and Lace.”

P.P.S.: “Never Gonna Give You Up.” Crowley unironically loves this song, but he invented “Rickrolling,” so Rick Astley would get paid more in song royalties. Who’s laughing now?

P.P.P.S.: “Let’s Get It On.” Crowley has experienced all the infinite varieties of human, demonic, angelic, and supernatural being sexuality and intimacy. Like various “sins” thought up by humans (without demonic influence), he has taken credit for inventing some of the more fun, creative intimate activities. He consulted on the artwork in the Kama Sutra. Crowley secretly wants to snuggle under the blankets with Aziraphale on cold rainy days, but he would never admit it because it would ruin his reputation.

Note on song selection:

Yes, the playlist is exclusively classic pop and rock songs. I’m a Gen Xer. David Tennant and Michael Sheen are Gen Xers. Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett are Boomers. This is the music I grew up listening to. These songs make me feel good. They don’t write songs like this anymore. I’m a cool college English teacher. My job is to corrupt the youth of the nation. Ms. Myers is going to expose you to culture. I’m a cool spinster aunt. Auntie Amy is gonna learn you about oldies music. I selected songs that thematically fit with the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley. Listen to the lyrics. They fit. The list flows. You may not like my choices, so your mileage may vary. You can make your own playlist.

You can listen to it on YouTube.

[zinya]

Obey me brothers as songs

Hey how are you? I'm on break from my revisions, I still have 6 chapters to learn on cardiovascular physiology 🥲.Otherwise here are some little heacanons on boys and music, I would like to point out that my "selection" is made more on the lyrics than the style or genre of music

Lucifer

I think the chorus suits him very well.

Mammon:

Many posts that I have read choose music on the theme of money or for partying but I find that this music perfectly shows your state of mind when it is more "serious"

Leviathan :

100% anime

But more seriously if I had to choose on the lyrics I would say this one:

Asmodeus

I mean....it's the avatar of lust.....

Satan:

I think the fact that the music tells a slightly creepy story (well not really but I don't have another word) suits it well.

Beelzebub

Food ✅️

Rhythmic music that motivates ✅️

I was hesitant with this one so I put it on, I find it well represents his affection for MC and his family

Belphegor :

For belphi before lesson 16

Just for the joke sorry guys 🤣

Well I have reached the limit possible to put music.....

You want a part 2 ?

And hop, I've already been writing for an hour, I'm going back to revise bye bye

[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison, backstage in Philadelphia, PA, on August 16, 1966; photo by Bob Bonis.

“[George showed us] his music room, which has one wall covered with the famous Harrison guitars, his collection of Indian instruments and a small jukebox standing just by the door. I looked at the titles on the jukebox and there were very few Beatle songs amongst them. The Beach Boys, Mamas and Papas, Lovin’ Spoonful, the Stones were all well represented.” - The Beatles Monthly, January 1967

“George Harrison’s Fab Forty… George — like all the Beatles, incidentally — has his own juke box at his Esher home. It’s in his ‘den.’ Along with tape recorder, radio and record player. […] But back to the juke box. It’s a KB. Maybe you saw it in the film ‘Help’? Says George: ‘It’s so much easier to have all my favorite records on the juke box at once. It saves me going through piles of records to find the ones I want. Then when I get sick of them, I just throw them out and put some new ones in.” - Tony Hall, Record Mirror, January 1, 1966

George’s Top Ten… 1 “Harlem Shuffle” — Bob and Earl 2 “Good Things Come To Those Who Wait” — Chuck Jackson 3 “Be My Lady”/“Red Beans and Rice” — Booker T and the MGs 4 “Please Crawl Out Your Window” — Bob Dylan 5 “Baby, You’re My Everything” — Little Jerry Williams 6 “Back Street” — Edwin Starr 7 “Work, Work, Work” — Lee Dorsey 8 “The Little Girl I Once Knew” — The Beach Boys 9 “My Girl Has Gone” — The Miracles 10 “I Don’t Know What You’ve Got /But It’s Got Me)” — Little Richard (“[P]arts one and two — the second is George’s favorite.”)

The rest… 11 “I Can’t Turn You Loose” — Otis Redding 12 “My Girl” — Otis Redding 13 “I Believe I’ll Love On” — Jackie Wilson 14 “Plum Nellie” — Booker T and the MGs 15 “Everything Is Gonna Be Alright” — Willie Mitchell 16 “A Sweet Woman Like You” — Joe Tex 17 “Something About You” — The Four Tops 18 “I Got You” — James Brown 19 “Ain’t That Peculiar” — Marvin Gaye 20 “Turn, Turn, Turn” — The Byrds 21 “See Saw” — Don Covay 22 “I’m Comin’ Through” — Sounds Incorporated 23 “Don’t Fight It” — Wilson Pickett 24 “Bootleg” — Booker T and the MGs 25 “I Ain’t Gonna Eat Out My Heart Anymore” — The Young Rascals 26 “Respect” — Otis Redding 27 “Try Me”/“Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag” — James Brown (“instrumentals”) 28 “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” — Otis Redding 29 “All Or Nothing” — Patty Labelle and her Belles 30 “Pretty Little Baby” — Marvin Gaye 31 “Oowee Baby, I Love You” — Fred Hughes 32 “The Tracks of My Tears” — The Miracles 33 “Yum Yum” — Joe Tex 34 “Agent 00 Soul” — Edwin Starr 35 “Money” — Barrett Strong 36 “Some Other Guy” — Ritchie Barrett (“George’s ‘Revived 45’ list — he’s dug these since they first came out.”) 37 “It Wasn’t Me” — Chuck Berry 38 “Mohair Sam” — Charlie Rich 39 “Let Him Run Wild” — The Beach Boys 40 “Do You Believe In Magic” — The Lovin’ Spoonful

“George really knows his records. It’s always a pleasure to talk to him about them.” - Tony Hall, Record Mirror, January 1, 1966 (x)

George's "Fab Forty" playlist: on YouTube, and on Spotify.

[a-aexotic]

heyyy i love your imagines so much can you write another katniss x female reader one? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

—cw: unedited 😐😐, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF, kissing, idk what else LMAO just fluff

—a/n: hii!! thank u sm i love katniss she is actually my fav to write for LMFAOO im glad u requested this <3 i'm gonna write fluff this time, this is after the games!!!!!!!!! also i don't really have any knowledge about what exactly happens after mockingjay so this isn't exactly canon! ok enjoy LMFAO

Y/N WAS IN THE KITCHEN, PREPARING SOME DINNER. It was almost 5 pm and Katniss wasn't home, she was beginning to worry. She was out hunting, needing her time alone. She was supposed to be home almost an hour ago but she was taking her sweet time.

Usually, Y/N wouldn't mind Katniss taking longer hunting but she needed help with dinner because Haymitch and Effie were coming to eat. Y/N heard footsteps coming from the door, and it unlocks and she turns to see a very dirty Katniss. Dirt and mud dripping off her clothes.

Y/N's eyes widened and she gasped, she just cleaned the floors! "Katniss!" She ran up to her, checking her face for any sign of injury.

"I'm fine, just fell in some dirt." She put her hunting gear down, and sniffed the air with a delighted expression. "What's for dinner, princess?"

"Tomato soup and garlic bread, of course. It's Haymitch's favorite, he'll be very excited for it." Y/N walked back into the kitchen, Katniss following with a confused face.

"Why?" Katniss tried to sit down in the dining table but was grabbed by her girlfriend, disapproval on her face.

"Did you forget? Effie and Haymitch are coming down for dinner! I told you five times, Kitty, how could you forget?" Y/N tutted disappointingly. Katniss shrugged.

"Guess it slipped my mine, dear. Sorry. What can I do to make it up?" Katniss had a knowing look on her face, a smirk spreading her lips as Y/N shook her head, smiling.

"Help me with dinner first, Kitty. But first, clean up and come down as soon as you're done. They're coming at 6:30 so we better hurry."

Katniss sighed and nodded, going up for a quick shower. Y/N was pretty bored as she cleaned the mess that her girlfriend had made so she decided to put on some music.

As Katniss walked down, done with her shower. She saw Y/N finishing up dinner and she was suddenly overcome with contentment. She truly loved Y/N, and she looked so darn cute in that apron and pretty dress. Katniss's mouth morphed into a huge smile.

She looked so pretty with her hair made and a nice dress on. But no matter what Y/N looked like, Katniss would always think she was the most gorgeous lady in the world.

Katniss walked over and put her hand on her cheek, planting a quick kiss on her lips. "You look so pretty, honey."

Y/N blushed, looking down. They've been together for years but Katniss still made her blush like a schoolgirl seeing her crush. "Thank you, Kitty."

As if on cue, Katniss and Y/N's song came. Ain't no mountain high enough' by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell started playing and Y/N started laughing at how perfect this moment was.

Katniss grabbed her hand, twirling Y/N making her laugh even more. Katniss started singing loudly as they danced in the kitchen.

Listen, baby Ain't no mountain high Ain't no valley low Ain't no river wide enough, baby

Katniss sang Marvin's part very passionately, Y/N was laughing at her girlfriend as she sang along with Tammi's. They started setting the table as they danced.

If you're ever in trouble I'll be there on the double Just send for me, oh baby, ha My love is alive (Hoo) Way down in my heart Although we are miles apart If you ever need a helping hand

Katniss grabbed Y/N's shoulders as they sung loudly together. As the song ended they both started laughing loudly, crashing into the dining table chairs, sighing contently. "I love you, Kitty."

It was Katniss' turn to blush. "Love you more, gorgeous."

They heard a knock at the door and Y/N quickly got up, fixing her dress and taking off her apron. Katniss watched in admiration. She looked back at her, "Do I look alright-"

"You look more than alright, babe, you look stunning." Katniss smiled and took her hand, walking to the door to greet Haymitch and Effie.

[hit-song-showdown]

Year-End Poll #64: 2013

[Image description: a collage of photos of the 10 musicians and musical groups featured in this poll. In order from left to right, top to bottom: Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, Robin Thicke, Imagine Dragons, Baauer, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, Justin Timberlake, Pink, Bruno Mars, Florida Georgia Line, Katy Perry. End description]

More information about this blog here

With Billboard now counting YouTube views into their charts, we're seeing new artists reaching higher chart success from the strength of their music videos or internet virality in general, with songs like Macklemore & Ryan Lewis' Thrift Shop and Baauer's Harlem Shake.

Speaking of changing technology, we now have to cover the biggest change that's going to define this decade in music. While first released in the States in 2011, Spotify's impact on the charts will start to become even more evident this year. It will still be a while before Billboard begins implementing data from Spotify and similar streaming services into their charts.

We're also starting to see the electropop and club music dwindle in the charts. Some have attributed this to Lorde's Royals, giving it an almost Smells Like Teen Spirit-esque mythos. But there's also the shift towards more folk and indie sounds in music (and commercials gravitating towards this music as well), streaming encouraging more individual listening, and general shifting tastes.

With the remix of Florida Georgia Line's Cruise, we're also seeing the rise in a subgenre known as bro-country. In terms of country crossover success, this subgenre would come to take over ballads and country pop as the main crossover sound. This is not the last time we'll see an example of country-rap fusion on the charts, and it certainly won't be the last time we see controversy over it.

And speaking of controversy, we need to talk about Blurred Lines. Specifically, we need to talk about Pharrell Williams v. Bridgeport Music. The court case concerned the song's similarities to Marvin Gaye's Got to Give It Up and Sexy Ways. Without going too much into it, the case ruled in favor of Marvin Gaye's estate -- a decision that forever altered the course of music copyright law. Since the ruling, we've seen a rise in lawsuits over perceived musical similarities as well as labels scrambling to give songwriting credits out to avoid potential lawsuits (if you ever wondered why Richard and Fred Fairbrass of Right Said Fred received songwriting credits on Taylor Swift's Look What You Made Me Do, that's why). To quote this entry from Harvard Law's Journal of Sports and Entertainment Law:

Aptly named, the “Blurred Lines” case is now blurring the lines of rather well-settled copyright doctrine and is sending shockwaves through the musical community. While it is unclear what the ultimate impact of Williams will be on the music industry, it has, at the very minimum, put artists and publishers on notice as to how they should approach musical composition to avoid legal issues.

These “copyright trolls” would acquire the copy-rights of older music, and then sue artists for infringement with the hopes of forcing a settlement. Many artists would agree to these settlements, as they often are less expensive than the costs of litigating the issue in court. 65 Further, the threat of litigation may incline new musical artists to obtain unnecessary licenses and other permissions that they feel will protect them from these lawsuits. (Quagliariello, 2019)

The arguments behind the initial court case are still being debated, but what can't be debated is the Pandora's Box of litigation that the case inspired.

Good thing this is the only controversy Blurred Lines had ever faced. At least that's what I'm going to pretend for the sake of this poll.

[theygotlost]

14 for music asks?

14. the last CD/album you bought

OOH i have a cool answer for this one. this is my most recent bookoff haul 😁 mostly nothing crazy. the marvin gaye disc is a live performance

but that last one on the right called HELP was a pretty intriguing find. here's what it says in the liner notes:

"On september 4th 1995 some of the best bands and musicians in britain entered studios all over europe. their intention was that by the end of the day they would have recorded a track for this album, with the aim of raising money for, and focusing attention on, the children caught up in the war in former yugoslavia. At the time of writing the artists lending their support for the project are Blur, Bood Radleys, The Charlatans, The Chemical Brothers, Neneh Cherry, Brian Eno, Noel Gallagher, The Levellers, The Manic Street Preachers, Portishead, Radiohead, Suede, Stone Roses, Terrorvision, Paul Weller and Andrew Weatherall (with apologies to others still to be confirmed). this album is a result of everyone's help. the full track listing is still unknown at the time of writing so open it up, put it on and play it loud."

the final tracklist is on the disc:

thats what i love about thrifting and secondhand stores. youre always gonna find something SO specific and unpredictable