#sorry kids I seem to have deleted my tag list so tell a friend this is finally out oopsie

[therealslimshakespeare]

Kiss it Off Me 💋

A Dear John Installment || John “Bucky” Egan Fanfiction

Summary: Julie Jean is in England for once -and for once, Bucky Egan is too

Warnings: 18+ one long smutty fluff fest

Please note and thank and give a round of applause to my baby and my dear friend and my brilliant co-author Bri! She first requested this series and concept and has become the engine driving this story and the one who infuses it with so much heart. I literally couldn’t have written it without her. This segment is fully co-authored. Love you baby and this was a joy to work on together 💋

Additional thanks: to all of you who waited ages for this to finally lurch its way to competition. Thank you for both your patience and your continued interest. Also to my bestest gal pals Ashley and Christi- to the latter, did you ever think our midnight screaming about Bucky Egan fogging up a phone booth would actually make it in print? What a wild night, what a happy fever dream.

“Bucky, John, JOHN, MAJOR, JOHN EGAN SLOW DOWN!!!”

Distantly, through a ear ringing fog he could hear them calling his name, there were quite a lot of them and many didn’t really know him, not well, and even those he cared for -Buck and Harry and Ev and Jack- their greetings had turned desperate and they called his name in a effort to stall, not welcome.

But holy shit, she was in England, and he was in England, and fucking fate thought it was real cute to yank the string once more and he wasn’t going to play nice anymore. He was gonna show fate where it could shove its little game of marionettes.

He was gonna keep Julie Jean on the damn ground if he had to climb on the wing of her soon departing jet to do it.

And to do that, to get there in time to do it, he needed to kindly disregard the flock of squawking pals behind him.

“John if you go now you’ll only miss her!” Gale’s rising voice warned, beginning to try to physically restrain his friend’s headlong rampage towards the nearest jeep.

“That one’s low on gas.” Ev helped the cause laconically from the back.

“I’m not just sitting here while she goes-“ Egan informed them without a hitch in his stride.

“Let us send a telegram!” Crosby begged, “She told us to alert her, to call or to wire, anything if you were to come back. Going now you’ll just miss her! Sir, sir please! If I get to her a-a-and you’re on the road w-w-what will I-I-I say?”

“Yeah,” Gale agreed, “gonna make us tell her you’re alive but we don’t have you ‘cause you’re broke down on some backroad in East fuckin’ Anglia because you couldn’t wait to call?”

“Yeah, think of it Bucky,” Demarco came in to aid his copilot, “it’s sweet but, it’ll suck if she makes it.”

“How’d you let her go?” John suddenly railed at Buck who took it like his decent, patient self in the face of a half starved, lovelorn maniac he was glad to find alive again, who’d only just touched down on English soil half an hour ago and was taking news of his girl being here and then being gone pretty well, all Buckyisms considered, “How could you, when she was here! HERE, Buck! How-“

“She said she hadta go, John, and after everything she did for us, for all of us-“ Gale sighed, “I wasn’t about to ask her for longer. She was in trouble as is, seems, with her mother.”

That seemed to frazzle Bucky worse, even if it shut him up for five seconds of wordless scoffing before, “Trouble? She’s in trouble, yeah, yeah, wanna know what kinda trouble her mother is? Shitty Fucks!!!” he roared at the sky and it was ferocious and crass enough to scare of some of the gathered newbies.

Croz exchanged a glance with a hunger carved Brady, “Shitty Fucks” he repeated, “-that’s a new one.”

Captain Brady nodded solemnly. “Makes one wonder if it’s metaphorical or literal.”

Croz processed this gravely.

“Like is it -a shit lay? or shitty lay, ya know?”

“Gentleman?” Gale turned to them for backup with blatant and frigid exasperation.

“Major,” Crosby addressed Egan as pacifying as possible, “let me send that cable, hold tight sir, hold tight -”

John didn’t recall much between that and Red Bowman coming down from the old familiar tower, holding a transcript. A “welcome back major” and a “says she’s comin” sent Bucky’s motor into a higher state of being, one thrumming with useless anticipation and bizark energy.

“From Heathrow. That’ll be a couple hours.” Ev cautioned as he started striding towards god know’s where. His bunk was likely long gone. The one he’d written so many letters from. The one across from Brady’s. The one they said she’d laid in when she first got here. Julie. In his bunk. Without him.

Gale overtook him, stood in front of his trajectory down one muddy lane very like the next; Thorpe Abbots was heart achingly familiar and foreign all at once.

“Ya look like shit.” Gale informed, eyes kind and smile less tired than he’d seen it in ages and John tried not to take that to heart, in fact it was easy, he had far more than his feelings to worry about right now. “And Miss Lana likes her men clean. First thing she did with me was feed me and dunk me. You’ve been in a stalag for two years, you’re gonna need every single one of those hours it takes for her to get here to make yourself presentable.”

“Need a shave to spare her the beard burn.” Benny remarked.

“One to talk, Demarco.”

“I’m not the one vowin’ to do all sorts of sordid shit to tender female flesh.”

“Bet you would if you could.”

“Who says I can’t? Huh? Who says I can’t?”

They got to the showers somehow. Someone found a spare change of class A’s. Maybe they were Jack Kidd’s. They looked like they would fit, maybe a tad tight but Bucky had lost weight and the height was right, trousers hit the top of his boots when he held them up.

“Get in, Bucky.” Buck told him from under his own tepid spray; it felt like heaven after the Stalag’s frigid blasts and the complete lack of even a rag and pale in Mooseburg.

He was gonna see her. In a few hours he was gonna see Julie Jean. In the flesh. And after the past year and a half, having nothing but photographs to trace over - sweet photographs with the teasing posture of her mouth-watering curves, the arch of her lower back, but not being enough to sate his need for the real thing.

How many times had Bucky held her photo besides a newspaper clipping to clock the differences? The vulnerability of her eyes, the loose sway in her shoulders, the lack of any rogue or lipstick to match because she never needed any of the Hollywood facade with him. The missing pieces of clothing because she wanted him to see her. The natural curls of her hair falling down her back. How many times had he held a photograph to his face and taken a deep inhale - sure he could smell her Chanel 5 and cherry blossom and something innately Julie Jean and nothing Lana Tierney.

Buck stood beside him in the shower and held the razor to his jaw, scoffing every few seconds when Bucky couldn’t help a nervous twitch from racking his body. He knew he was liberated but he didn’t feel any different from when he was stuck in the Stalag.

Bucky felt trapped and useless, unable to chase after his girl once more and miles away still. He wondered if Julie Jean had felt abandoned by him like she did everyone else in her life. If she’d thought his promise to her had been broken because Gale had returned home first. Did she understand that Bucky had stayed behind because he needed Buck to be alive and safe first and foremost? Would she fault him for that, or would she still hold to what she wrote years ago, saying his dedication to the men, to the cause, to what had to be done was his most attractive trait. Even more attractive than his shoulders, she had said, but perhaps less arousing.

“It’s real, John.” Gale’s voice matches the soothing scratch of the razor against his skin, going through the motions of a wedding morning without the promise of a bride. “Her feelings for you, whatever was written in the letters between you two - it’s all real.”

And Bucky had wished upon a shooting star in Germany and hoped and prayed to a God his mama pleaded to every night and morning but to hear it from Gale Cleven’s lips leaves him with no doubt.

Because Gale would never steer him down a path of pain or delusion. Because Gale Cleven, mighty and loyal and aloof as he may be, wouldn’t waste his time on something that he deemed to be unworthy or a waste of time. The same way he didn’t take any swigs of alcohol or puffs of smoke. The same way in which he never lingered in bed at the camp and made every moment count for their boys.

“What’d she say?” He asks, and he doesn’t even care that he sounds like the gossip session his fifteen year old sister has - or had, she’d be older now - and he doesn’t care that Gale’s gonna make fun of him for it sooner than later.

But because Buck is anything but a mean bastard he retains any teasing comments or laughs and says, “Told me she didn’t want to tell me anything that she didn’t get to tell you first.” He meets Bucky’s eyes for a moment, for two, and in them is reflected the sharing of warmth in a bunk and the playing of pretend for both their sanity. The remembrance of when Buck admitted to proposing to Marge and Bucky confessed he’d dropped the love bomb on Julie in his last letter. “When I, uh - ” he coughs, as whatever he wants to say is hard to get out and lodged in his throat. “When I told ‘em, her and Marge, how you let me go first and there’d been gunshots and I wasn’t sure if you were hit,” the blue in his eyes became mirrors of guilt, “she said something funny. Said me and her - we’d somehow know if you weren’t okay. We’d feel it.”

And Buck was never one for spiritual beliefs but he was a pilot through and through and although many would probably call Julie wacky, Buck would consider her to be a good partner to have up there with that intuition of hers. The girl had a radar and it radiated Bucky Egan. If Buck ever lost Bucky he only needed to follow Julie Jean.

“All done, Major.” He claps Bucky on the shoulder, having spent his most precise devotion on evening up that mustache, “Let’s get you out of the shower before you become all wrinkly like a prune.”

It’s only when he’s dried off his curls and he’s got a towel wrapped around his waist and Buck’s got one foot out the showers that Bucky calls him back.

“I’d do it the same all over again, Buck. Wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

“Even though your girl would still be here if you’d have saved yourself?”

Bucky shrugs, “My girl’s on her way back, Buck. And because of you I don’t gotta worry whether it’s real - I just gotta go work on my big move.”

His big move was gut impulse when, standing in new duds, shiny boots, starched crush cap, glinting oak clusters, with brushed back curls and a trimmed mustache, he saw a Rolls Royce careen through the flimsy barrier gate of the base after a barked clarification from the chauffeur. John Egan saw her coming, it had to be her, and he went a’runnin’ towards her. There was a small throng already getting in their way, servicemen trying to stop the trespassing vehicle and civilians clamoring to see the starlet back, all gathering around as the sexy black car careened past them before screeching to a well considered stop, still yards from Egan’s sprinting figure.

The door opened without the aid of outsiders, a shiny glint of bottle blonde barely shone above the top of the ajar door, face obscured by the top of the tinted window, then it was slammed shut and a diminutive figure, top heavy and bundled with tiny little legs that seemed to wobble upon their foundation of sky high heels, wheeled ‘round to face him -it tripped him up worse than a roadblock.

At his back John sensed more than saw or felt Buck directing, not himself but others, the boys he guessed, the crowd maybe, he didn’t care. There was a ring of others around them but that’s just what they were, others, about as real or important as the ropes around the ring when two boxers collide. No one was between them and she was bundled in his jacket and she was blonde and her legs were tiny and her ankles spindly for such balance and she looked like a woman who was crying or had been and Julie was panting with an open garnet red mouth and eyes so young and wild and wanting that there wasn’t anyone else there.

Just Julie Jean finally come, just like she said she would. And Bucky sure hoped he wasn’t dead right now, he had so many living promises to make up to her. If he could just touch her -his hand twitched at his side and he heard himself grunt, like a racehorse straining at the bit, like some unknown thing was stalling him.

She swam closer, the clip clop of her heels on shitty pock marked pavement the only thing he could hear besides the wild racket of his heart, crowd noise and the hum of engines he knew should be present weren’t even audible. If those footsteps had clopped along the floors of somewhere as unlikely as Stalag Luft III, he’d have known her, without ever meeting her he knew her. He felt close to staggering, it was mercy his feet knew his heart well enough, it brought them closer. Still a few paces away from each other, she’d have to stagger too if they wanted to touch.

Her young sweet face, the one she had shown him alone, it was plain to see here and now as a catalog of betrayals and hopes flitted across its schooled mask, breaking apart the starlet and letting out the heartsick girl. A loud pop jarred them both, a camera going off. A brief flinch. The rest of the world would see this face too, now. It only broke the facade further. Her lips moved wordlessly once, twice before her throat buzzed to life and the warmest voice Bucky had ever known spoke:

“You kept your promise.”

John Egan was alive, brazenly so, still wearing marks along his face of a grapple or ten with death, darling creased face with its prominent cheekbones sallow and looking deprived of any nourishment apart from stubborn hope. But he was alive, he’d promised he’d stay alive for her, try his damndest and here he was, looking at her like she was the reason, half reverence, half accusation. He was alive, this first promise ever made to her that had been kept.

Could he even comprehend what it meant to her? What he meant to her by consequence? He had kept his promise to her and he was so very alive, an absolute mountain of a man, taller than she had ever imagined, and she had imagined him larger than life, built him up to impossible proportions, saddled his shoulders with impossible expectations and he swore he was man enough. She didn’t know they made men like that but it had been nice imagining him being so. He was every inch what he’d reported, soul and body, if anything he had shorted himself and Julie felt her chest growing tight enough to burst as he stood there, surrounded by his friends and her hangers on, a step or two and they’d be proof of life to each other. But he stood and she wondered if he knew she didn’t care, if he didn’t care she didn’t care anymore: the whole world could know it, hear of it, see it in newsprint

—She loved him.

He had said he loved her first. She saw his hand shake by his side.

“You kept your promise.”

Bucky Egan wasn’t likely to forget the way Julie Jean had reprimanded him for his false politeness in his second letter, how she had been the only woman he’d ever known who asked for honesty and meant it, called it honesty when he’d been so used to being told he was only good at vulgarity, at talking shit, running his mouth, saying the things a grown man should know better than to admit he felt. She had called it honesty.

She’d want him to be honest now. That thought, a conviction more than anything, filled his body with power again, his heart kicking up with resolve instead of terror. Gale said she loved him, or likely did, and John had long ago known he’d never have love for anyone the way he did for her. What was the meaning of being here on this spinning globe after all the reasons he shouldn’t be if not to act on it?

He thought of a disapproving mother, a spineless fiancé, and angry producers and the demanding public — all things his girl had to bear alone because he’d been busy doing his bit. Hurt confessions written on crinkled paper where tear tracks lay, sealed inside an envelope that she sent his way with the press of her gorgeous lips every time no matter what she was enduring, crossed his mind. Never once had she asked for anything besides his honesty and him and he vowed in that moment to never put anything before her again — no, he had kept his promise because he had a vision in mind already: Julie Jean with his ring on her finger, his babies in her belly, and glowing with the love he would devote to her.

Julie thought he looked big from afar, up close and in sudden motion he was like a pillar that could float, some strange grace tempering the bulk of him as he rushed her, not a stagger or a stroll, he marched right up to close the final distance and his hands were expectantly reached out to claim her so that when he was to her, they had her right away, grasped her around the waist, impossibly large and impossibly warm, they lifted her up, right beneath the ribs to get her on some level playing field and then, then she felt him kiss her.

He smelled of aftershave and tasted of bubblegum, and once she’d knocked off his cap with a hand needy to cup his head, she felt the tacky traces of pomade and smelt a heady tang of what had to be sweat. She’d never been kissed by so manly a man in all her days of being smooched, and she thought she’d been smooched before but if that’s what all that playacting of her previous life had been, she needed a new word for the way his lips molded to her own, vigorous, joyous, sure as anything, and somehow possessive like she’d never known. Like he was claiming something promised, not conquered. It felt like a kiss she’d been told to film, but never knew how to make real. The scritch of his mustache was real. The burn of her lungs as a firm hand to the back of her neck stole all her air -that was real. The implacable forearm barring her little self to his body, keeping her aloft and snug, that was real.

Bucky Egan was real and that made Julie Jean sure that she was, too.

Miss Lana Turner of Hollywood fame and canteen acclaim weighs next to nothing in Bucky’s arms; it allows him to keep her up with one alone while sparing a hand to rustle under golden curls and bring her forcefully close. He finds no resistance, his issued cover flies off the back of his head and she is carding through his neatly styled hair with crimson talons and he feels like moaning into her mouth right then and there at how sharp and tangible and real it is. She is tiny and she is feral and she is wearing his jacket and she’s the one who wrote him back.

“I love you.” he reminds her desperately instead of breathing when they break apart, a fraction of an instant to stare cross eyed at the closeness of the other before colliding again.

Her hands are soft and small on his cheeks, her thumbs swiping away what might be an errant tear and: “I love you, John Egan.” Julie swears in turn and his world falls into place, peaceful and right and wrapped up in five feet of wickedly tailored rayon and his flight jacket. He went in again and her tongue met his this time, unreservedly; and this was all he wanted to do for eternity.

But then there was, “uhem, Major,” and it was Crosby tapping Bucky’s left shoulder that allowed them a reprieve for some air, even as Julie continued peppering light presses of her lips to the line of Bucky’s jaw and any part of his face she could reach. “Sir, meet Spangles Egan.”

A white fluffy shape, reminiscent of a muff or a stole, was shoved into the crook of his elbow, now holding Julie with one arm and using the lower curve of her pert backside as leverage for sturdiness, and a bunny with a light pink nose in his other.

“Egan, huh?” He turns to Julie.

“The adoption papers aren’t finished yet but Croz took it upon himself to rush the process.”

Crosby beams. “Ain’t he perfect Major?”*

Bucky had gone down having left his heart behind in a letter written to Julie, sick at the thought that he had built most of it in his head, only to come back and see she had made a family for him to return to. His friends and their bunny and all that was left was taking her to his Mama.

“Yeah he is, Croz,” he agrees, accepting the peck that a lovesick Julie Jean gives and only pulling away because he feels scuffing at his ankles. Meatball howls, low, and Bucky raises the arm holding Spangles higher. “Don’t think Meatball’s a fan.”

“Help Bucky out, Croz,” Brady speaks up, “he can’t stand there holding his girl and their bunny and fending Meatball off forever.”

“Who says I can’t? Who says?” And Brady disguises an eye roll at the similarities between all the boys on base. From beside him, Benny bumps his shoulder with a laugh.

As Crosby nears once more, Bucky does find the arm holding Julie tightening to keep her closer to him and extending Spangles back. Paranoid with the thought of her being taken — like if Crosby would opt to take her from his hands to hold instead.

The boys all release a knowing laugh and it finally spurs Buck into action, the handful of cameras that had followed Julie back to base continuing to snap but at least they were so busy trying to eavesdrop and shove their microphones closer that they hadn’t spoken up to ruin the moment.

“How about we take this somewhere more private?” he suggests and Julie can feel with the precision of radar the hovering agreement of Herb somewhere near Major Cleven’s side.

“Yeah let’s.” Herb agrees vocally, and from the elevated height of John Egan’s gently jostling arm as he moves them on, Julie blows kisses to the scarecrow boys who look as underfed as they are happy to be back, and in their midst is Marge, with two local kids who’ve both confiscated one of her smooth hands to hold in Buck’s absence.

On the walk back to -to somewhere, Julie doesn’t know where they’re headed, she relishes the feeling of being a bobbing little weightless cork in his embrace and the feeling of his large hand cupping the ticklish flesh of her under thigh, when she glances back to tease or encourage him, she finds pale blue eyes already locked on her and it makes her belly flip.

“You might trip.” she titters in warning.

John just kisses his teeth playfully and shrugs his eyebrows, she wasn’t sure that was something a person could do until him, but that’s what he does before his low voice rumbles out, cushioned by soft discretion for those nearby, “I ain’t gonna trip.”

There’s nothing salacious about that sentence but his surety and his rebuttal makes her thrum and maybe he sees the way her eyes start glowing because he gives her a dark little smile to match that looks exactly like his letters sounded and she attacks his neck and ears with kisses for lack of a better thing to do as he keeps walking and walking. “I love these so much.” she complains, nibbling at the prominent ridge up top until she hears him laugh, delight that swings incredulous when he realizes she’s in earnest and she likes the damn things that’ve always stuck out too much, being too big for his own damn head. “Where are you taking me, Major Egan.” she asks.

“Gonna take you to my favorite joint, Miss Turner,” he returns, accepting each peck she gifts him between every word. “I’d find it hard to believe these boys did it justice without me here to liven them up.” Bucky doesn’t need to look over to know Buck and Kidd are rolling their eyes.

It’s on the tip of her tongue to protest and let him know she didn’t go anywhere without him there because it would have hurt too much, but someone else speaks first.

“You and Julie must have the same mind, Bucky. she chose to not visit any place you frequented without you here.” Crosby’s walking in pace beside them, cap in his hand, and he chuckles. “Must’ve known we’d be missing you too much to enjoy it truly.”

Bucky’s head swivels in disbelief, wide eyes jumping from where Crosby trails beside them at a demure two paces on the cobbled street to Buck a few feet ahead, who nods in confirmation. Bucky’s eyes return to Julie Jean, sheepish and pink in the face. Her eyes are watery again but still bright and full of light, she finds the hurt of missing him returning as she remembers every time she denied visiting the base again or the pub nearby. He’s going to need to keep squeezing her for that horrible lonely feeling to dim in the slightest, it was too strong to be transient even in his hold.

“It wouldn’t have been right without you.” She’s still bobbing in his arms as he continues taking careful steps. She strokes his cheekbone, trails down and thumbs his mustache. “Didn’t want any of it without you.” She’s whispering now to keep the words secret between them.

Love and devotion pour into her confession making Bucky feel more special than he ever has in his life. She had chosen him since the first letter and had been more loyal than he ever thought anyone capable as she continued choosing him, choosing to believe in his luck and chances to stay alive, a devout belief for him to return home and give her everything he ever wrote and promised. A home, a life, happily ever after.

Bucky has no words. He puckers his lips for another taste of her and this time he has to stop walking to ensure he won’t drop her, finding no resistance or hesitance as she immediately allows his tongue to slide besides her. He was an ocean away still but her mouth meeting his felt like home, warm and loving, a big smile threatening to break both their faces at being together.

His boys whistle and holler again, stopping and creating a crowd once more to join their bubble of happiness. At this rate Bucky thinks the five minutes to the bar was going to be closer to thirty.

He steals one more kiss before pulling back to look at her. He jostles her into one arm only once more to push a stray hair behind her ear, allowing his thumb to trace a blushing cheek.

“Then let’s make sure we do it right, huh?”*

The Kings Head is the quintessential English pub, and Julie finds a gasping commendation of it leave her instantly on sight of it; from its squatty white washed and gabled exterior, with flower boxes and lounging hound on the threshold, to its dark and pungent interior, homey and oak, yeast and hearth soot filling the air, hazy evening light filtering through a thousand dust motes and the rest of their illumination is provided by bare bulbs only recently freed from the shackles of black out curtains. The ceiling is so quaint and low that Major Egan adopts an almost constant stoop upon entering and he deposits her on her feet lest she bonk her head amongst the rafters; it’s gratifying the way he sets her down and frees her to shake hands with the barman and his son and Bucky’s friend -the best dart thrower he knows- and all of it without his own hands leaving her waist a single time.

Julie thinks so long as he keeps touching her, holding her to earth she can keep functioning enough not to ruin it, embarrass him, make someone feel awkward about it all. “My girl Julie Jean” he tells them all, she’s been much talked of and not her movies, the recruits know her otherwise but she’s merely Bucky’s girl to most of the elderly locals gathered round the bar when he plops her on his knee up on a stool, and Julie ponders living in this tucked away little world where she’s never anything special but by association with John Egan.

“Yeah, yeah, Donald, the usual!” Bucky is ordering with gusto that’s properly out of place at dinner time and with cheeks as sallow as his are, but it livens everyone else up and many of his recently returned boys dare the same, ordering gin and ciders and whiskeys like they never left. Martini’s not being in the menuc Julie graciously settles for a rum and coke and sips it while Bucky’s large hand engulfs her glass and they remain that way, staring and silly until she runs out of breath and must let the straw go from between her lips.

It’s a bit like watching dominos fall as the freshly liberated boys throw down their shots, smack their lips with appreciation, slam their glasses down before suddenly going green and very worried. Demarco is the first to bolt, Brady after him and Julie isn’t sure which one is in it for companionship and which for necessity.

“You be careful with that.” Gale murmurs on the other side of Egan and his second shot, “Don’t follow those fools out the door.”

Bucky doesn’t vomit, and he doesn’t intend to get plastered while on his first date with his dream girl, but two shots used to be an easy chaser and he isn’t worried. As is, after feeling the second he doesn’t vomit but he does feel the rush to his head of being distinctly buzzed. After two shots. Well shit, that’s what going teetotaler does to a body’s capacity for a good time. There’s a distinctly new and frankly sickening after effect of the world spinning around too, and that he could do without and he shuts his eyes closed for a minute to regroup. It lends to the heightened sensation of feeling, and what he feels is Julie’s lap beneath his palms, her hair at his cheek, the jostle of her arm as she grabs her drink from the bar, the weight of her on his thigh.

She’s actually real. And he’s a sicker man than he thought. He has to manage this for her, somehow.

“Baby drink a little of this.” There’s a straw poking his lips and when he opens his eyes Julie is tending to him with rum and coke on his tongue, “Little sugar crash, huh?” Her hands are in his hair and he feels like unraveling on this very stool.

The sugar does help, or maybe it’s her doting and Bucky is sure he’s got the dopiest grin on his face when he sways near and pops the straw out just in time to lock lips again. They taste like sweetness together and he licks eagerly into her mouth again, chasing that taste, his hands squeezing at her waist and he can tell she likes that, she shudders and her tongue lolls when he does. The barman is not so enthused: to his credit he gives them a good half a minute before letting out an “oi, more o’tha’ and I’ll be givin ye the keys to yer auld room upstairs and requestin’ ye tae make use o’it.”

Out of desire to indeed do the hangout justice, celebrate their liberation, wait for the mince pies to cool for dinner and avoid being perceived as disgustingly ravenous for each other’s flesh alone, Bucky and Julie abscond further into the pub and take up their places by the dart board- where, to everyone’s delight, it is discovered Miss Tierney has never played.

“Stand like this, baby cakes.” Bucky happily instructs her and his hands move her about like they would his own little doll and a recently recovered Brady and Demarco trade looks that say all too much, enough for Crosby to grin with them in a way Brady didn’t remember him grinning when he last saw him. Knowingly. He’s holding the damn little bunny to his chest again and Brady wonders if he’s ever going to give it back to Lana; Herb being very glad to be free of its keeping as he chats over a pint with one of the farmers.

“Ya know it ain’t yours.” Brady feels compelled to remind, feeling faintly sick still and very drunk despite puking it back up.

Crosby just keeps stroking its blue satin collar. “Someone has to see to him when Bucky and Bucky’s girl go at it later on.”

“If I remember straight, Buck had said that was Marge’s sole job.” Demarco muses, eyes a million miles away and light slightly agape, the cider hit him too before it came back up. “To tend the bunny.”

“The bunny is named Spangles and Marge is no longer a fit companion for him.” Crosby declared and nodded at some scene behind the two men. They wheeled around and when they’re spotting vision cleared, they observed Gale and Marge playing at checkers in one of the booths but the game seemed very secondary to the way they were staring at each other, hands in slow motion and lips parted heavy and freshly licked.

“I gotta get me a woman.” Demarco realized and ordered himself and Brady and Crosby another pint.

As the night waxed on, Bucky found himself and Julie as alone as they’d been all night, a paltry sort of privacy mostly gained by placing his shoulders between the ongoing dart game and the sultry dancing behind him and the small little lady tucked into his side, legs over his and her warm hip half in his lap. There’s nothing but her warm face and his jacket and her halo of hair against the paneling of the pub booth and it's intimate suddenly, like he’s not felt all night. It hits him like a wave, the want and the love. Judging by her darkening eyes, she feels the same.

“Buck, he mentioned some trouble,” Bucky broaches the topic, voice gone gravelly and low for her ears only, his hand rising and gently tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear, “trouble with your mother?”

It feels odd to say these things aloud, subjects they’ve written each other about a million times and yet saying them, she feels half stranger, half twin, like he should know this entirely and yet -and yet.

Julie’s laugh is short and weak, seemingly too overcome by his nearness, the timbre of his voice, the undivided attention. “Well- well yes she, she was in a state. And now that I’ve not arrived I-“ Julie imagines her mother is in more than a state, indeed a rage seems most likely. She wants to shudder but he’s too warm to allow the gooseflesh to form, she hopes he’ll never let go, he’ll never let her shudder again.

“She’ll have quite the morning with those pictures served alongside her danish and coffee.” Bucky remarks in wry conversation and Julie smiles, watery, unsure where he’s going with this.

“I imagine she will.”

His face sharpens, attentive, commanding and she feels her heart quicken even as the hand on her waist keeps on its loving palming of her flesh, “You alright with that? With what she’ll think?”

She can’t imagine he doesn’t know yet- “I don’t care, Bucky, I really don’t care what, what anyone really, what anyone thinks but you.” she whispers.

Bucky merely nods his head nearer, warm and generous lips pressing to her brow and she feels a thrill at the fatherly caress, down to her very toes, she’s never been sat in a lap and asked about her future. “Don’t need to care what I think right now, Julie Jean,” he gently steers her, “just need to know what ya want, sweet girl.”

She pulls her head away to look him dead in the eye, this man who clawed out of a grave to be here for her, the answer is the same, “You Bucky.” she swears, “That’s all I want, you’re all I’ll ever want.” she’s never been so sure of anything in her life. She delivers her line with more conviction than any script, she means it this time, she can see forever spanning forever ahead and it’s him, it’s just him and she is going to have it.

She loses sight of him again and his mouth claims her, promising and rewarding and she moans into it, yearning too long deferred and the run and the late evening and the talks of forever making her desperate for some consummation to it all. He must feel it too, his kiss is not for the public and her moan makes his hand spasm on her waist, greedy and lewd. He pulls away with a hoarse gasp that is anything but restrained.

“You can have me.” he grants Julie the keys to the kingdom, and only the tiniest edge of caution remains, “But if we’re gonna give ourselves, we need to do it proper.” he tells her softly and wedding bands and sleepy priests and a midnight wedding dances in her mind and her head thuds in mild shock, “You need to cut that lilly livered coward of a fiancé off before I so much as get a finger up your sweet self, you hear me?”

In a daze Julie hears him, and like a child salivating for the proffered candy, she nods, frantic and wanton, she’d do anything to have any part of him tucked inside her. “I’d forgotten him.” she admits sheepishly and he barks out a laugh at that.

“I haven’t.” he replies and something about the gruff jealousy of that sentiment makes her heart soar.

She cranes her neck for a clock.

“Whatcha lookin’ for shorty?”

“The time.”

Bucky flashes his wrist watch toward the light in a move so elegant and well practiced that even that simple gesture is utterly erotic in her mind. The hands of the watch swim in front of her. “Quarter to three.” he pronounces.

That means it’s horribly late here. Lust and sleep deprivation make for strange incentives. “That means it’s morning in New York.” she realizes and Bucky's surprised face is utterly gratifying, “I can catch him before he goes out.”

Her man grins at her with a wild look in his sharp blue eyes, like he’s starting to believe this isn’t at all in theory, he looks mildly crazed and she wants him to take it out on her body. “You could.” he agrees.

“Is there a phone booth nearby?” She asks, loathe to make the call here with all the eavesdroppers and hooting friends, lovely as they are.

“Half a mile.” Bucky informs and he’s already scotting them both out of the booth, “I’ve got a bike. You can ride. Handlebars.”

Julie’s never been more excited to slink out of a party in all her life, she’s never been more excited for a date to pick her up as she is when Bucky and his bicycle that she has no reason to think is indeed his, serves as her noble carriage as he pedals them along the muddy lane in the pitch black of a early summers morning to the tiny, golden beacon of a telephone box.

The war is close to over, she realizes, as the booth’s happy bulb glows unabashed ahead of them in the inky countryside. The war is over and the lights are back on.

Bucky props the bike against the booth, lone wire sentinel on the destroyed landscape and there's a barrenness to these flatlands that give Julie Jean the creeps, like wandering out into the Oklahoma flatness as a child. Brings with it the fear of falling off the edge of the world.

Bucky opens the red and glass paned door for her, ever the gentleman, his expression one so serious she realizes he really needs this.

Julie tugs John into the tiny red phone booth by his tie. It must be done and his presence gives her determination. He’s a warm, solid, looming presence behind her, heating her up as she keeps her truthful cruelty terse and cold.

She dials the number, she endures the switchboard, she cajoles Vincent’s valet to interrupt his breakfast. She tells the man who’s hurt her it’s quite over. Utterly over.

It’s over. She’s cruel about it.

Exactly like Vincent is, exactly like he deserves. Now she knows what warmth is, she cannot possibly go back. She simply tells him it’s over, and when he asks why she says it once again and hangs up on his rebuttal of ownership.

She wonders if Egan has even fully heard what she’s said, she thinks he might think poorly of her if he did but he doesn’t seem to be aware at all. When she hangs up the receiver and turns round to him in the small space, his eyes have gone dark and the most alarming concentration paints his face.

There is a crackle between them that has nothing to do with the fuzzy phone line or the patter of falling rain on the glass panes around them, no lightning in the sky but her finger tips buzz and like magnets; they meet each other. A brutal, awful, needy kiss. Smashing their faces together without much finesse but pouring out an admittance of so much need it’s quite painful. She can feel Bucky tugging at her hair and forcing her face closer when his nose is already shoving aside her own and his lips are working desperately against hers and oh -he’s got such fire in him! He’s thrumming around her and she can hear herself squeaking like a choir girl at the way he helps himself to her body like he saw through her timidity all along, knows she is only shy to take what she wants. She hardly recognizes the crazed creature that meets him at every step with hunger and provocation, when his tongue gently dabs at her lip she swallows him whole, when his hand strays from her waist to her breast she finds herself expanding a breath to fully fill his palm, begging him to take take take.

“I want you so bad.” he hisses like he’s angry at her for being so intoxicating, for robbing him of the ability to breathe. Egan shakes her as he says it, jolts of her neck that fling her hair back with each jerk and her mouth goes dry at his brute strength just barely restrained.

“You’ve waited this long, can’t you be good?”she teases him only to provoke in hopes of being repaid with another snarl and a bonk of her head against the glass as he kisses her again.

Devours more like. She’s not sure why she teased, her nylons are soaked and her own kisses suggest how dire it’s all become for her, having him so near and potent. It’s only she’s not at all sure what she meant by it, what could possibly be finished in this open space. It’s a little fishbowl and the stormy night gives all the ambience to lull her into imagining it’s private but god knows what’s in the jet black night, looking on at the spectacle of the looming Major and his little floozy smashing faces and gripping shirts. She’d let him take her in a hedge at this rate, just not under the bare bulb hanging above them.

But oh, he looks so beautiful in this light.

And if ever anyone spelled need, in its rawest, basest, most flatteringly primal way, it’s John Egan pressing her to the red paned glass of a rural phone booth, an oddly calming smirk on his face and an unarguable thigh beginning to wedge its way between her legs. There could be anyone out there but somehow that doesn’t seem important anymore, not like his large hands do, tenderly cupping her cheeks. Or his belly pressing into hers with his next kiss, the way his lips have grown more insistent while regaining some measured dominance. She finds herself rocking against his strong leg without even thinking, following the instincts his passion raises in her.

She doesn’t know when she grabbed back ahold of his collar. Did she ever let go? She doesn’t know but she fists it all the same, dragging him down to her height as she pants and mewls into his mouth, heels slipping on the rough floor, grit sounding loudly at each scuff.

It’s flattering really, how pathetically wanton she has become under some heavy petting and deep kisses. His suspicions of being wanted are more than confirmed -it’s still a little astounding coming from an Angel like her, wanting a rake like him. But she’s a warm blooded girl with lush tits that seem to expand with each tortured gasp and her little clamshell that’s making a wet spot on his slacks. It’s not the rain, can’t be, there’s no leak.

“I’ll show you good, sweetheart.” He threatens in retaliation for her tease, tweaking a nipple through the soft rayon of her dress, hand wedged beneath her/his jacket once again.

“Don’t, don’t be awful, I can’t breathe.” she begs and he draws away from her lush lips in mild concern.

She splays her hands against his chest to keep them apart as she gulps in air, not phased by the way his hands are groping her. He watches her squint her eyes up at the bulb above them before she shakes her head as if to clear it. When her eyes drift back to his they are startlingly clear and terribly dark. “I’ve got to get out of these nylons.” she whines and suddenly she is reaching under her swishy rayon skirt and yanking at the clips and the hosiery.

His gentlemanly instincts kick in a beat late yet still he offers his hand to balance her -only late due to the prospect of her bare and the possibly imagined musk thats suddenly pervading the air as she shimmies them down her thighs and wobbles on one heel, and then the other, before pulling the nylons out like squid legs between her own. He can see her fingers flutter to drop them.

A tragedy waiting to happen. He’s dreamed about using those for all sorts of-. “No!”

She startles and he hastily snatches them from her pretty hand before she can discard them on the dirty floor. He leans against her before bringing them to his face, closing his eyes and breathing deep. She sounds like a wounded cat and it makes him smirk, some wet smear catching his upper lip and he dares stick out his tongue, dabbing at the traces of her excitement caught in his mustache.

“Your belt.” she doesn’t ask him, she informs, and her hands have gone to his buckle, undoing the flat metal with more ease than he’d like, it nearly makes him jealous of who she’s perfected the movement on, only it’s him she’s pantsing right now and he’s not sure he’s even got condoms with him. He swings the panty hose round his neck and does his best to assist. “I-I-need, I need-“ she’s angrily begging as she wrestles the material down and exposes the pristine white of his briefs and sturdy pale flesh bracketing them. She swings a leg back over his own and suddenly the sweet flowy little skirt is bunched up and Bucky registers a warm, wet quim sliding against his thigh. “I need-this.” she sounds satisfied and begins a grind in earnest, his muscles dragging against her and the tickle of leg hair making her jerk.

“Filthy, you’re goddamn filthy.” he praises, voice gone to hell and raspy as anything. He squeezes her jaw so tight she winces and kisses her again, egging her on with harsh grips on her waist and sweet nips to her lips. “You gonna get off like this? Hmm? Like an alley cat? Rubbin’ on the first fella who bought you a drink over the channel?”

Her look is venomous and she releases her grip on his shoulder to squeeze his face in return. “I just canned my fiancé for you.” she tries to put every bit of what this means into words for him, to remind him how very much even this depravity means to her. “You.” she slurs as a flash of anger crosses his face at the rebuttal, at being made to be serious, even as his grip on her is deathly possessive. “I’m getting off on you, Major.” she leans her head back against the glass and shuts her eyes, the better to concentrate on the thick feel of him against her and the ragged sound of his own breathing. “Please cooperate.” she sighs, lips tugging up in a smirk, already anticipating the temper she’s stoked.

“Call me Bucky.” he asks, a little desperate but he’d never admit that.

“You’re lucky I’m so close, Bucky.” she warns.

“Then let me in you.” he cajoles and she can hear his own smirk in his tone, hot and breathy against her ear.

“No, no this will do just fine.” she gasps, almost there as it is, “Besides, I don’t trust you not to blow.”

“I-don’t have condoms.” he admits, eyes glued to the wet streak visible on his upper thigh every time she slides towards his knee.

“I know.” she laughs, merry and wise.

“How?” he’s outraged but he’s laughing, and her eyes are happy little slits when she opens them to watch him smile.

“I saw you patting your pockets, the minute you saw me across the way at the pub.”

“Well, well that was -shit.” he concedes after a minute of open mouthed deliberation on his next lie but it falls short, her heavy breathing and pinched brows suggesting a crisis at hand. “Lemme rub you though it.“ he begs, wheedling in a strangely attractive way for a grown man and his fingers are dancing over her hips.

“No, this, this is doing it just fine. You just -just be, be all big and strong for me.” She pants, her eyes rolling about the closer she gets and he buries his face into her throat, licking and nibbling at her jaw, letting her rake her nails down his neck as fire shoots along his spine and lodges in an ever growing ache between his legs. He might be dribbling himself at this rate, her breathy mewls so near and her desperation so satisfyingly resonate with his own. “Bucky!” she searches for him desperately as she nears and he pulls his head up from her shoulder and finds a face, one that’s been like a beacon to him this whole long war, staring up at him in adoration as she shakes apart in his arms.

“Tell me some of those nice things again, please Bucky.” she begs him and she can see him wet his lips, his forehead pressed hers, their movements becoming in tandem. “Some of those nice things you used to write me.”

What he’d write to her, before she met him and learned he was about as dangerously volatile as a lit fuse and every bit as addictive as danger.

“Nice things?” he ponders, grinning smile flashing white in the dull light, “Like- what a doll you are? How I’ve spent every night for two years pretending you're mine?”

“Yes, yes.” she chants and he doesn’t know if it’s from the nearness of her climax or in reaction to his words. Maybe it’s all the same for girls, if he was inside her he could no doubt feel the reaction each little praise had on her fiery hole. They were marvels that way.

“And your prissy fiancé’s a fuckin’ idiot under-appreciatin’ you like he does-“ it’s from the heart but he seems to have misfired, she shakes her head and moans,

“No, don’t bring him up right now. Not now.”

Bucky digs his forehead against hers, belligerent of the order, “I think I should talk about him,” he decides, “so I’m gonna. He’s a goddamn pansy if he can’t even get himself a real war job then cuts yours down. He should shut up or man up. Bet he whines about everything you do, doesn’t he?”

“I- mayb- oh, oh gosh!” the rock of his body against hers, wipes her mind of anything except his own brand of niceness, that happens to be tearing down her old beau and cranking his thigh between her legs.

“Bet he was always complainin’,” Bucky surmises she’s close by the gasping, wordless flutter of her eyes, “stupid sunnuvabitch, anybody who’s got you oughta be proud as anythin.”

“You proud of me?” she chokes out, begging for it and she watches as his caddish grin melts into some recognition of her need and he peppers her face with little pecks before taking an earlobe between his teeth, schmoozing her with,

“Course I’m proud of you.” his voice is husky and low this statement is followed by a nip of his sharp teeth, “You know I think you’re the swellest dame that ever walked the earth and all my friends know I think so, too.” he bites his own lip as her movements become frantic and the heat they’ve built up between them has the place steaming, his hair gone jet black and her nose shiny, “I’m proud of all the work you do, all the money you’ve raised and for cannin’ that useless sunnuvabitch and I’m proud of you for havin’ such pretty yams -a bold choice, ya know that, don’t ya Jeanie? Bold choice to carry around knockers this size, can’t order these up and plan on being’ discreet all your life. No sir. You like that? Huh? Yeah? Mm, well I like most how you ain’t ashamed to ride a leg when you need it. And I bet you need it, stupid whiny fucker probably got cramp every time, right as it got good, didn’t he?”

“Oh god Bucky, oh god.” she never expected the spewing of compliments and insults and such prejudiced loyalty to herself to send her flying but it did, his jumbled, idiotic stream of love flying out of his panting mouth the same way it flew from his pen. “Oh God, Bucky!”

She’s not sure she’s ever felt this much want in her life. Satisfaction rips through her white hot to the very tips of her ears and soles of her feet and all the while it’s not enough. His hands are clasping her own and she white knuckles her grip on them. She chomps at his kisses angrily, wanting to eat him alive and thank him all at once. It doesn’t seem to end, the buzzing shocks and he seems to sense it too, how she’s too chicken to make herself mad with the pleasure. She feels Egan’s hands disentangle and descend on her hips, engulfing them in his large palms, fingers dug into her backside, forcefully jerking her against him, his leg moving in an angry tandem until she’s writhing from the overwhelming feel of it.

The phone booth creaks from the force of something besides the gale outside and the horribleness of their animalistic indulgence only makes her clench harder and grin wider at his own ravenous face.

“Bucky!”

Bucky looks down at her with the face of a man well satisfied with himself and utterly enamored with her, “That’s it, scream it, scream my name, sweetheart. This ride ain’t slowin’ till you do.”

“Bucky! Bucky! Bucky!”

At her screams, Egan honest to god laughs, loud and merciless, the laugh of a man who knows how to wring the best out of life. “You don’t want me to use my hands?” he taunts through gritted teeth, “Ok then. Don’t need ‘em. Look at you.”

“Johnny!” once more and the one his mama gave him, higher in pitch and she’s not sure when she stopped being in charge of this endeavor and instead became his little ragdoll.

“That an sos?” he chuckles.

“Yes, gosh yes, I can’t anymore! Don’t make me anymore!”

“Alright, alright, shhh, shh, that’s a good girl, shh.”

He ruffles her hair at the nape of her neck like he’s calming a puppy and, face planted into his chest as she is, shaking and quaking at the residual aftershocks, she doesn’t even think to take offense. He’s warm and solid and loving and she sags against him, the mess she made of his bare thigh not yet cooling.

Finally it lessens, the madness calms only to be filled by heavy intent. And still, Bucky delights in her pleasure and despite the way he handled her to get her over the finish line, his hand is nothing but tender as it pushes her hair out of her eyes and his nose nuzzles her own as she pants the stars out of her vision.

“How’s that feel, huh?”

“Good,” she sighs, hopelessly fond, “just like you promised.”

“Good? Good? Good my ass, you're crosseyed and my leg’s soaked.” he goads her and she’d smack him for being so insufferably arrogant but he’s turned her limbs to putty and after what he’d been through he deserved to be smug after a job well done.

“Did you mean it?” she asks instead, green eyes looking like fragile little ponds apiece, one word of his, no, a lack of word, an expression, a micro expression and they become a whirlpool, tears spilling over and years worth of longing returned to sender.

He takes pains to tuck a falling strand behind her ear, those starched victory rolls of hers beginning to flag, his thumb lingering, caressing her cheek once the job is done. “Every word.” he swears with quiet vehemence and can feel the answering sag of relief from the woman in his arms, “From the very start. Every word.”

“Knew it.” she sighs in relief, a smug look of joy taking the place of wariness and she gloats in his love, a drunken, pacified little thing as she clasps his own face again and kisses him soundly. “I knew you were a good man.” she mumbles into his plush mouth, hands yanking on ebony hair, misted and curling from the drizzle outside. Could he be any more delectable? His hands were large as paws around her waist and the scorching weight of them makes her dizzy with speculation. “Told all my friends you were worth every sleepless night.”

“Can’t believe you cared that much.” he moans in appreciation, the horrid years of incarnation no less dull a memory for all the grand to-do’s and peacetime jubilance of the present. The war was almost over but he wasn’t sure he’d get a full night’s unhaunted sleep for the next decade.

“I’ve never cared about anybody the way I care for you.” Jeanie looks at him then, as earnest as Buck in her devotion and John swallows hard, something alarmingly wet and stinging beginning to collect in his eyes and if he were a crying man he’d very much fear they were tears. “Silly man, couldn’t you tell?” she whispers mournfully.

“I-I guess I hoped.” he acknowledged, biting his savagely until the mist clears from his vision, he cleared his throat loudly to begin afresh, making a racket in the small space and it’s pattering curtain of rain, “But it was just that -a hope.”

“Mmm.” she understands, cocking her head to the side before gently circling one of his wrists with her hand and slowly bringing it off her waist and higher, to the plush swell of those assists that began it all. “Do these feel like hope?” she asks, smile broadening as the hip pressed against him feels a jerk in the inseam of his trousers at the contact.

“Feel like heaven, more like.” he grunts, eyes squinted in a vain attempt to recall the trajectory of the conversation.

“But not ephemeral, intangible, hope?” she presses.

His hand squeezes her just shy of painful and he smirks at her gasp, “I think I’ve got to test ‘em to make sure they stand up, don’t vanish on me, but yeah, I’m inclined to agree, they’re pretty tangible.”

“I’ll give you tangible, Major.” she’s suddenly determined, a foreign and entirely odd desire rising in her as she gives him one last parting kiss and slides to her knees in front of him. Pebbles and grit dig into her poor kneecaps and the squalid little floor provides hardly enough room for this, but the look on his face! Oh it was worth every little discomfort as her hand travels up his inner thigh, bare and sticky from her wantonness earlier, and palms over the large swell of him in the hammock of his white briefs.

“Oh Jeanie,” he breaths as if he couldn’t credit his eyes, “you don’t have to, you really don’t!”

“I want to.” she is surprised to hear herself say it, but here was no movie producer or oil heir or hotel owner, it was just a young man who had gone through hell and back for her and thought himself well repaid by her kisses sent over the phone and a racy photograph or three. She wanted to thank him and she wanted to wipe that ever so maddening smirk off John Egan’s face. So far just being at eye level with his crotch had achieved the latter. “I want to -to suck you.”

-To suck you off.

She couldn’t say the whole of it, and she trailed off on the end of her aborted sentence as it was, yet the sentiment came through as did the darling innocence still lingering under years of man-eating under the pimpish guidance of Metro Goldwyn Meyer.

“Well, ok.” John decides after shaking his head, like trying to make the words rattle a little clearer in his ears. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Good.” he admits his doubt of walking back the surge of flaming hot need that’s coursing beneath his collar at the sight of her so willing, so fresh, so bundled in his jacket. Ruby red lips blurred by his kisses and the tip of a pink tongue too near to where he’s close to taking matters in his own rough palm. “But stand up a minute, sweetheart.” he tugs her to her feet and it’s a sign of her trust in him that she’s only puzzled and hasn’t stopped grinning all the while.

“What’ve you got planned?” Her voice is hushed as he begins to unbutton his jacket, the cloth falling apart at his chest with each buttonhole slipped, dark shirt and tan tie coming into view and a chest so broad she could float on it at sea.

“Something for yer knees, m’lady.” he jokes with crinkled eyes and the sweetest smile as he squats and lays his jacket on the filthy little square that serves as a floor in this phone booth. “There.” he sniffs, satisfied with his preliminary courtesy and Jeanie just about bursts at the gesture.

“You’re too good to be true, Johnny Egan.” she moans into another kiss she forces on him as he laughs off her praise.

“I can be quite awful if you’ll let me.” he warns, “Ask Buck. Or make me wait any longer for that promised blowjo-“

“Shh, Shh!” she blushes at the threatened vulgarity and slips to her knees as if the act is somehow more elevated than any talk of it.

“There you go.” he pats the top of her shiny hair affectionately as she takes her place kneeling again, her hands tiny and delicate against his strong thighs, enjoying the flex of them beneath her palms as she slides them higher and slips a finger into his waistband.

He’s riled and ready when she lets him out of his constraint, flushed and glistening in the dull light of the single bare bulb, much like his bitten lips above her. Daunted and hungry all at once she finds herself falling back on old Mister Selznick’s corny script language, laughing lightly as she watches the hefty length of him bob against the beautiful plane of his lower belly. “Well, I see the little Major is at attention.”

He snorts above her, heartily amused but he pushes her face away briefly just as she begins to pucker her lips, nothing strong, just a firm little press against her forehead with his fingers.

“Just a minute now,” he stalls her, sounding almost pleading except for the explanatory tone he uses as he flicks the dangling curls at her neck back over her shoulder, out of harm’s way, “if I’m gonna get blown by The Lana Tierney, I wanna do it right. Call me picky, just wanna do it perfect, like -perfect like you.”

“Well,” she smiles indulgently up at him without a clue as to what he means, “show me then. Have at it Major, I’m down here for you, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah you are, aren’t ya?” he marvels, cocky and awed all at once and then she watches him heave in a breath and widen his stance with a calculated shuffle of his feet and his pulled down slacks. It makes her blush furiously to realize he’s getting himself a braced, strong stance so he can move his hips freely. “There we go.” he sounds pleased as he leans over her, his strong arm flung out to brace himself on the glass wall opposite, looming over her like a deity sheltering her under his shadow.

Jeanie wonders what it looks like from the pitch black of outside, this tiny, foggy, glowing haven in the storm with her worshipful pose and his imposing figure inching nearer and nearer until she can duck her chin just that little bit and press her lips to the salty head of him.

John’s loud groan fogs up the glass he has his forehead pressed to and he swallows hard at the initial feel of her timidly breaking her jaw wide apart to fit him further, more, he feeds it into her mouth with one hand at the curly thatched base, down, almost halfway, red painted nails digging into his hip and making him twitch on her tongue. “Yes, yes, hell yes.” it feels so good it breaks his heart and Bucky feels sweat roll down his temple as his blood pounds and his brain begins to fuzz. The fingers of his left hand twitch uselessly at his side before gently resting on her shoulder, squeezing in rhythm as she chokes herself in her eagerness to please. “Shh, shh, it’s perfect, you’re perfect.” he calms her with a voice shot to hell and dipping a full octave below that of the man who’d kissed her knuckles in greeting earlier that evening.

Jeanie wishes she had more expertise, some ability to dislocate her lower jaw from her palette and take him down all the way but she hopes he’ll give her time to learn.

In a hotel room. In the back seat of her car at the drive in theater. On the bench of the gazebo at the Nantucket country club. A million and one places she wants to learn him.

That’s for the future.

For now she loosens her desperate grip on his flexing hips to work the length of him with her hands, that part she can’t lathe with her tongue. That’s a lot of it, she realizes with some discouragement and not a little admiration. He goes on for ages, large enough around it takes both her hands to surround him and it’s a long slide root to tip, the feeling of a large ridge protecting the underside and its vital vein making her thumbs glide along it like a track, tacky and wet from her spit and his dripping excitement. She works what she cannot suck and she can hear him gasp above her in appreciation as he finally gets the friction he needs.

“Julie, oh Julie baby!” he praises so loudly she finds herself aflame at the idea of them being overheard on this quiet country lane.

She peers up at him as he stares her down with brilliant white teeth gritted in delight, his dark hair tumbling in a sweaty cascade of curls into his sharp eyes, his cheeks painted in a high blush as his arousal stampedes away from him. She can’t seem to go fast enough with her mouth too wide, her tongue hampered by the sheer impossible weight of him, the stretch of her lips that gives little room for finesse, and so his hips begin to buck and chase her suction without thought. She ends up sputtering at one disjointed thrust as she goes to breathe.

She pulls off him with an obscene pop and with lips shiny and a chin slick she gives him the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen. “John, don’t hold back.” she gives him permission with hands folded in her lap and her face tilted back for his use.

She can see the relief clear on his face, his thanks too. “I’m close.” he assures and she shrugs, not caring except to make him happy, she hopes it ruins her. His roguish face quickly morphs to a look of faux sympathy followed by a smirk that suggests she should run for her life. Too late, the thrill of his shuffling near again seizes her as he gently cups both her ears, getting himself a nice little swirl of her hair over each of his palms. Her pretty stage-perfect hair is destroyed and when he slides in, deep enough for a flash of panic to widen her big blue eyes, he gives her a quirk of his eyebrow which says all that needs to be said -you did offer, Jeanie.

Frantically she nods in agreement, feeling filthy and wanted as he uses his grip on her hair to pull her back down on him and back to the tip and down and back, a horrible, debauched chorus of wet, slurping, groaning pleasure steaming up the quaint little booth. “Angel face.” Bucky grunts down to her, his thumbs leaving her temples to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes to the hollow of her powdered cheekbones.

When he lets go it’s a combination of rigidity and fluidity, he shakes out a leg like he’s bracing for a punch and slaps repeatedly at the glass by his head, rattling it and cursing as molten pleasure overtakes, a fistful of her hair in his other hand as a lifetime of desire melts out of him and into her warm mouth.

There’s so much of it. She wonders in a breathless, half gagged malaise if it’s a war’s worth of desire flooding her tongue and mouth and down her throat as plentiful as the drinks earlier tonight. When he sees her swallow him without protest his face crumples in the soft afterglow of release and he grinds his hips a last few times, puffy cockhead raking along her palette, grief stricken by how utterly she accepts it. His breathing sounds ragged as a beast, and for those few quiet moments before he regains himself, and after he has spent his ferocity down her throat, Julie basks in her softening mouthful and the heave of his belly above her and the height of his shoulders far ahead of her and the face that’s looking down on her with such adoration as the fog clears that she realizes she never has seen it before in a man after they’ve used her up.

Bucky is more enamored after he’s surrendered his potency to her tongue. Even when the lust clears he is blatantly, unashamedly, gloriously in love. It twitches on her tongue and it floods her nostrils and it scratches her scalp and it beams down at her with watering blue eyes.

She’s never been looked at like this before, not after the sex, not ever, she doesn’t think.

She will wait until he pulls out. She will make him understand this is all she wants to do, as long as they both live, she wants to make him love her. She wants to love on him.

Slightly softened, his girth grants her enough room to finally wiggle her tongue against him, playfully swiping along the thinning underside and he grunts, sensitive and amused. With a grin on his face Bucky takes the hand once snarled in her hair and strokes her still hollowed cheek, petting its calloused way down to her lax lips, the corners of which are collecting with sticky, pink tinged spunk from his release and the residue of her lipstick. He collects all around the ring of it, swiping and nudging his fingers alongside his cock into her mouth, making her suck to bring it further in, and he has to fight to stay on top of the sensitivity that brings him, she can tell, but he seems adamant in keeping himself in the warm haven of her mouth and she copes with his fingers and the salty tang of what he collects and pushes in to be properly discarded into her belly, along with the rest.

No one has ever played with her this long, after the fact. She thinks she might drip all her primarily female organs straight to the floor with wanting him like this. And then Bucky has the sweet gall to say, “What happens next, sweet thing, requires a bed and a half a dozen pillows.”

It takes them a full ten minutes to leave the phone booth, giggling and clutching and kissing, they do their best to straighten each other out but it’s quite useless and when Bucky tells her there’s no other place for a man to know his woman properly except back upstairs at the pub, she gives a hopeless little giggle, pure girlish nervousness coursing through her at the realization she looks quite loved up and will have to wade through all her new friends on her journey upstairs to be further used up.

With love. Suddenly the concept is utterly delightful.

For once the walk of shame excites her. And the throb between her legs and the incessant need to touch him always and the hot smothering heat of his jacket still around her prompts her acquiescence as Bucky lifts her once more into his handlebars and takes off into the chilly night. He stops halfway back, a sudden breaking and a dissatisfied grunt, it almost pitches her headlong into the mud.

“You’re too far away.” he’s reaching forward and patting her hips, making her hop off, backing her round the handle bars, patting his own thighs. “C’mere doll, c’mere, we’ll just have ya close and you’ll hang on.”

It’s everything she was feeling too. It’s terribly precarious and if he were a smaller man it mightn’t work, but that’s the thing -he isn’t. He’s Bucky and all the things that wouldn’t work otherwise, wouldn’t please and wouldn’t captivate her, now do. And so she slings her arms around his neck, spreads her legs achingly wide to anchor around his waist and lays her head on his shoulder so he still has a view of the road. He’s got the smell of her perfumed hair and his stinking sheepskin in his nose as he shoves off the pavement and pushes down again on the pedals. The bike only wobbles a little with its new uneven load but he rights it easy as flying, and she can feel his legs working strong and forceful beneath her own and it’s thrilling, as thrilling as the feeling of his sweaty neck against her lips.

“There we go.” he proclaims it good, once they’ve got the wheels going again, and Julie Jean is drowsy with the safety of his decisions being her own wants.

The atmosphere inside the pub upon their return had only gotten thicker, hazier, chummier; haggard ex-jail birds and fresh flyboys fall over their tables and games and catch themselves on each other’s shoulders like the distinction between the two groups wasn’t a matter worthy of throwing punches just a few hours ago. They’ve got a song going, Bucky doesn’t recall Brady ever playing the piano before but he is now, and it’s passably the best sounding thing amongst the accompanying raucous of all occupants trying out the lyrics to Anything Goes. Gale and Marge aren’t to be found, and Bucky would pursue that very intriguing development if he hadn’t better things to do, tucked into his side, tiny white palm clutched in his, stockings with their soaked gusset in his pocket.

“Donald, I’m gonna need that key, after all.” Bucky leans over the bar and tries his best at a discreet stage whisper over the caterwauling songbirds. Julie shrinks so far behind him her forehead is buried in the sleeve of his jacket, a pressure to the back of his arm, just above his elbow. Like a bunny hiding their face and trusting it’ll make the rest of themselves invisible. She deserves the Ritz and a secret tunnel to get her there but this is all they’ve got. At least everyone didn’t notice when they came back in.

Donald is strangely respectful when he hands over the little golden key and it’s familiar, thick oaken fob. No wink and no rabald comment, Bucky wonders if the camp has made him so obviously pathetic that even moments before getting laid he is still an object of pity. The way Donald’s eyes skitter to the young darling behind Bucky, a respectful little nod of acknowledgement to her, dissuades him.

“Night Major, night miss.”

“Good night Donald.” Julie warbles soft as anything while Bucky tugs her gently towards the stairs.

They have to hedge around the outskirts of the partners gathered in their path. Bucky turns Doug’s shoulder with a gentle hand to get past a table and there ended all their peace, when Doug’s drunken eyes beheld who had returned he vocalized his joy loud and ecstatic. His rambunctious response bringing the attention of all the young soldier boys as they parade their Major and his gal.

Bucky feels Julie’s hold on his arm tighten, the sleeve of his jacket being pulled down. He’s afraid for a moment that the sentimentality of his boys will have her convincing him to stay down here with them — despite the fact that he’s been stuck in a worn down shit hell hole with half these boys for over a year and the tip of his cock weeps with the need of Julie’s tender flesh and warmth. But when he looks down her eyes have grown dark, impatient, and she rubs her thighs together, the only tell tale sign of her desire, urging him to get them out of there.

“Alright, boys,” he adds bass to his voice, the way he would from the cockpit leading a mission or telling them to quiet down when the Colonel was speaking. Julie shivers beside him and he knows their clock is ticking. “Gotta excuse your Major tonight, gonna get my girl somewhere warm and comfortable.”

There’s more whistling and cheers to follow, hands clapping him on his back and shoulder and he moves Julie Jean to walk in front of him and finish leading the way. Suggestive comments and shrewd gesticulation are sent his way and Bucky’s only happy Julie Jean walks ahead and doesn’t look back, unaware of the actions of his boys. If she’d see she would get flush faced and shy and Bucky doesn’t want to take the time to reprimand or punch one of the men for making her uncomfortable.

“Oi, Bucky!” It’s Blakley running to catch up with him again, hand in the air and Bucky extends his own to accept the slap from his friend. “That's all I could scrounge up for you on such short notice. Make it worth it.” And then with a wink he backs off, joining the rest of the boys at the bar.

When Bucky looks down there’s a gold tin foil package in his palm. He coughs, smiles, sliding it into his pocket. Bucky turns back to Julie who waits patiently, squeezing at her tiny waist to slightly lift her from the ground in his sudden haste.

Julie giggles, having only been in his presence for a couple of hours but she’s spent more time in his arms and his embrace than she had on the ground and she loved every second of it. “I love you,” she reminds, because she can and he’s in front of her and not an ocean away. There’s a tug on her heartstrings, her body, mind, and soul used to missing him and uttering the words into empty rooms.

This time Bucky is there and he is quick to respond, “And I love you, doll,” with a kiss to seal his oath.

They finally get inside, tripping over one another’s feet as they refuse to disentangle their limbs. Julie only had two glasses of rum and coke but he’s ninety percent sure she’s drunk on the essence of him. A lightweight when it comes to true love. She can still taste him in her mouth, salty and musky, no sweetness, but it’s delicious and she’s thirsty for more. She wants to see more of the lipstick stains she left on his cock. Wants to see him naked like she promised herself a million times, so that when she tries again, she can watch every little movement he makes.

“You promised me I could try again,” she whines into his mouth, “I can try until I can take all of you in my mouth,” and she’s swiping her tongue against his, licking stripes into his open mouth and a wet saliva string connects the two of them even when she leans away to talk.

And John’s never been so hard in his life, never had an innocent yet sexy gal like Jean Julie Jean be so nasty and so innocent at the same time. Wanting to practice gulping on big cocks and massaging balls when every man in her life before has only used her as disposable.

“They were so big,” she’s still trying to get words in between his kisses, “dark and hanging -“ foggy, he realizes she’s describing his ball sack, or what she was able to make out in the dark of the phone booth.

John shudders, trying to imagine a world where golden haired angels wax poetic about ballsacks the way he does on her tits. I mean, he’s justified- look at them! Actually, that’s an idea, he should ask if he can look at them. Fucking finally.

“Wanna see you.” he mumbles into her mouth, a clack of teeth as they time it wrong, it doesn’t matter, every point of contact makes his body thrum. He runs his hands along her sides, along the sweet cello curve of hips and waist and tits, squeezing emphatically at the fleshy swells that make a good showing in filling his giant palms.

Julie giggles, “I was thinking the same. About you.”

“Agh, nothin’ to see with me.” he dissuades, pulling away far enough to note the sheen of sweat that has broken the barrier of her immaculate powder, rose gold blush in the dim light of the humble room.

She seems to notice the place at the same time, attentive eyes scan and flit, arms still interlocked with his own and he prefers to stare at the sweeping dance of coal dark lashes as she surveys the place than look around at a stuffy old room he’s a little ashamed to admit he’s crashed in one too many nights black out drunk and wishing the old hound that always came in under the sheet at three am was her.

“It’s so quaint.” she murmurs, like someone who doesn’t get laid out in scratchy sheets and lumpy mattresses very often. It fits, he hasn’t got anything to offer besides this anyway, at home or here.

Quaint. God, how long will quaint be enough?

“Bucky?” she asks. The lashes are lifted, fanned out beneath tiny arched brows, spider fringe to guileless baby blues.

Releasing his lip from between his lip he lets out a small scoff that sounds more winded than he hoped. “Hey shorty.” he should take her to bed, he should kiss her again, he should tell her every dream he’s ever had is in his arms and he doesn’t know what do with that, can’t kiss without keeping his eyes open to watch the next shoe drop, save them from it crushing in their skulls.

“I’m -I find I’m a bit -nervous.” she whispers.

Fuck, this is why they work, and with her blushing, looking up at him so hopeful it’s enough for him to close his eyes and let this work. “Was thinkin’ the same.” he rasps, admittance that sinks soothing into her timid heart.

Julie lets out another giggle that John is starting to learn hides the same feeling his scoffs do. “Isn’t that silly of us?”

“Mhmm.” He agrees, fingers trailing to brush her hair back.

“Guess it’s just- just we’ve built this up and all and-“

“It’s gonna be.” he tells her firmly, hands and voice and heart, “Everything we’ve dreamt of. Gonna be that and more. Cause it’s us. S’finally us. Just us..”

“Yeah?” she begs.

Bucky smashes his lips tight and determined. “Yeah.”

Their lips lock again, going somewhere this time, headed towards the cliff, arm in arm, necks craned to get there first. It’s close to flying, it’s such a thrill. He drags his hand up her ribs and to her shoulder, snaking under the stifling weight of his jacket still encompassing her little frame. Bucky’s got a glint in his eye as he takes in the top of her breasts that are so generously popping out of her dress. Thanking God for whoever took her measurements and decided to always go smaller in the brassiere area. He can’t help it when he leans down and sucks on the top of what part of her port breast is available. He reaches to drop the shoulders of the jacket off her again when she finally seems to sober up, lips pouty and eyes hazy, taking in how she’s stained his face and his mustache is glistening with their mixed saliva.

His hand lifts under the collar, lifting, shirking it off her neck, one sleeve down her arm, aiming to get it off her and her dress after and her garters and her-

Julie snatches the jacket back onto her shoulder.

Blink and its back on.

Like Bucky hadn’t just slipped it off very intentionally. No, it’s back on alright and she clutches it instead of him suddenly, chest heaving and eyes a little too wide.

“Baby doll?” he asks, at a loss but feeling wrong.

“This, this is-“ she whispers, vacant and vague and her eyes are scanning the room unseeing, “this jacket is, it’s very special to me, it stays, it belongs to a man who loves me and it- it stays. I won’t take it off. He loves me and it’s all I’ve got -I won’t. Won’t take it off.”

Bucky blinks, grit and film in his bleary eyes adding an exhausted filter to this duty consecutive breakdown of the night. Goddamn it; -about breaks his heart to think his old ratty sheepskin was all she had. “You’ve got me now.” he clasps her cheeks, careful but warm and solid and alive; her eyes focus. “Real deal, I’m here, baby. Better than any jacket, warmer at least.” he cracks a smile and her own wavers into being.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah baby?”

“You’re gonna make love to me?”

“That’s the idea, sugar.”

“Ok.” Julie takes a bracing breath and lets her arms fall, lifts a shoulder and allows one heavy, leather sleeve to slip down. Her heart melts when Bucky helps it fall with a cautious finger, the backs of his roughened knuckles sanding against the ivory her arm as he drags it to her wrist and off, his eyes locked on her own. He has the tenderest expression crinkling around his eyes and it keeps her panic at bay as the other arm slips out and the heavy fall of the jacket gets caught by his deft hand.

John tosses the precious garment on the bed. “You’d like it with ya, maybe?” he offers and she nods violently, eager to smell it and him while at their pleasure.

“Might get messy.” his grin is primal, wolfish.

She presses her lips to his again, hand anchored on his bent neck, “I want it too.” she nibbles along his jaw, “I want it to smell like you. I’ve rubbed myself on it, must’ve been a hundred times. I want it to smell like both of us.”

“Goddamn.” he articulates in appreciation, “Goddamn! Filthy, my baby is filthy.”

His cock aches with need at the imagery fo her pretty pink oussy rubbing itself raw on his sheepskin, it’s pressing against his skivvies, trousers tight and making him uncomfortable but first Bucky’s aware it won’t be right until he is sure Julie has gotten it into her pretty little head that his jacket wasn’t something she had to cling onto anymore. It would be hers for as long as she wanted, forever if she so wished — but he’d be damned if he bed her and continued to let his woman think every single line he had written in every letter had been anything but the truth. She had asked for his honesty and he had taken it seriously, jotting down every thought to send to her no matter how filthy or grand anyone thought it to be.

Bucky takes her small hand in his, noting another size difference between them as her entire hand fits in his palm, his fingers outstretched to cover her tiny fists. He untucks his shirt, the buttons having been ripped open courtesy of his ravenous woman.

“Gimme this,” he grunts, opening her fist to press her palm flat against his chest. Over his heart. A tear falls and Julie lets it, the strong thump of his heart in tandem with the beat of hers. Reminding her that he was real, he was alive, he was breathing. “I’m real, Julie Jean. You got me now, baby, it’s all fucking yours.”

Somehow, John Egan was hers. Life was giving her something good, something pure that loved her for who she truly was, that fought to keep her safe and survived hell to get to her. Millions had posters with her face taped on their walls, waited outside her home and studio for photos, but only one person in the whole world had told her he loves her and meant it.

Bucky’s skin is burning underneath her hand, slick with sweat, and she lets her hand tighten against wiry, chest hairs that clump together against his heat and perspiration.

“I love you,” she swears, words venomous with her truth and passion. “I’ll die if you ever even think of leaving me, John Egan. Or I might just kill you if you attempt it.”

The smile that threatens to split his face is blinding in the dark of their room but Julie vows in that moment to make him smile like that every day. And if being smothered to death with threats from love was what it took, well then good thing Julie had a few more roaming around in her head.

Bucky has no business ripping the buttons off the only dress Julie Jean had up here in this room, but that was tomorrow's problem and he trusts Marge for that. By the way Julie Jean moans at this disrespect for her tailoring -he’d say they’re tracking.

“Off, off, off!” her breathy command is as dainty and insistent as silver bells, little hands tugging open his slacks and pawing off his shirt while forgetting the tie until it half strangles him. “Off, I need you.” she pants.

He throws her to the bed. No great distance, but from the height of his arms it makes her bounce and the creamy jiggle of skin as she lands makes his masculine brain sizzle from the sight. It’s obscene and it’s holy and she is his and he lays himself atop her like he needs to make her a part of him.

Julie spreads her legs to accommodate him and finds it unnecessarily thrilling how wide she must stretch just to cradle his hips, John is broad in every way, and laying on top of her the disparity in size between them is only magnified, and she feels a girlish thrill at how helpless she is. How much of a man is now wanting her, spread on top of her, nestled where she’s most needy and vulnerable. She wonders if he can feel the dribbling mess between her spread thighs. She tilts her hips to chase his own and he groans, loud and appreciative. It sends gooseflesh down her arms. The heat of her jacket is under her arms, soft shearling and a stray zipper digging into her back.

She is surrounded by Bucky. And no one can take this away.

And he is staring down at her, her face and her breasts, what’s started it all. He lets a noise out, in the back of his throat, caught in his lungs, like he got punched, but it's such a monumental moment for him.

“Christ! These.” he grunts as he mouths at her breast, kneading and abusing with his huge hand the one he is not suckling. “Can’t even fit one in m’mouth.” he tries anyway, most valiantly, Julie thinks. Sloppy and worshipful. Just like she imagined when he wrote about them. She feels herself tingle and clench, every nerve alight. The room smells of his sweat and his saliva is coating her boob and his mustache tickles against her skin and he’s a furnace against her and already a soreness is setting in the spread of her hips —

“Bucky I’m almost-“it seems absurd as soon as she voices it but she’s sure of it, she has gone demented with sensation and heat and the earthy smell of him all around, his finger on her ripe nipple and his mouth clamped like a babe at the tit and the sweat of his hair sliding through her fingers “-almost…there.” she melts with it, a coil that’s been alive all evening, that wound tighter in the phone booth even when the pleasure snaps, it melts and pools now and she gasps out her breathless delight.

And Bucky continues on as is, speeding the pad of his pointer finger against the bud of her hard nipple, allowing his teeth to pinch the one in his mouth and suddenly Julie finds her hole clenching around nothing, legs spasming but pinned by the weight of him on top of her. She sighs, content.

That was new. So is his sharp grin when he pulls away to stare up at her, chin pillowed by her glistening breast, his calloused hand snaking down her belly to explore the mess he coaxed into being.

His touch makes her jolt, even though the others pad of his finger swiping through her is a slimed, easy glide. One of his fingers is enough to span the entire breadth of her inner petals. If her poor pussy wasn’t so flutteringly distressed by its current emptiness, Julie might dread the burn of those large digits plunging in. As is, she nods eagerly, “Please, please I’m going mad up here.” she tells him and doesn’t miss the roguish look of satisfaction that flashes across his face.

There is enough of him -everywhere- that she is gifted a kiss on the mouth the same time that she feels his finger circle her pearl, slow and lazy. The combination feels so right, the care and the savoring, the way he licks all the way to her molars while his finger swirls down the slope of her entrance, roughened finger tips sending sparks along her spine.

“I love you.” he tells her again, because he can.

She tightens her fingers around a fistful of curly black hair, longish and sweaty, utterly real: because she can. “I love you.”

Everything is that. Each kiss, each nuzzle and clasping of flesh. He breaches her mid giggle, for even their laughs say the same: I love you, I love you, I’ve loved you so long let me love you.

Bucky bites his lip as he gently sounds her cunt with a single finger, palm upwards, callous tickling inside like he’s searching for the root of her desire along the silky walls. Julie can feel when she clenches around ole thick knuckle.

“Can barely fit a finger in here, Shorty,” Bucky teases her, gravely cautionary yet not meaning it

one bit, “and you’re begging for my whole cock?”

“Yes!” Julie Jean begs back without pause and it makes Bucky’s heart flip again, its been doing that all night but then again, she doesn’t stop wanting him, “You can teach me. You can stretch me please. Johnny- I’ve waited so long.”

Bucky slips his second finger in there, obligingly, and tries to scissor her, an attempt to stretch her out until Jeanie is clamping her thighs together and trapping his arm -he finally finds it, that spongy spot inside her that has her going pale white and screaming, “YES YES — oh Jo-Johnny YES!”

Lovingly cruel he fits a third finger in there right before she comes, “Give it to me, Jeanie, give me all of it.”

Her thighs release his forearm but his torture isn’t over, a raspy groan shaking her belly as he writhes his way down her belly until his face is in between her thighs where he slurps at her like he’s still got that straw of hers he carries around on his tongue.

“I can’t - Johnny please - SWEET MAN HAVE MERCY ON ME - oh - oh, oh, OH!.” the sounds of her ecstasy and the feeling her hands clawing at his shoulders spur him on, drunk off the feline smell of her, the slippery wet feel of her on his cheeks and chin, tongue dipping into the honeywell- nothing could be further from that vile camp and its harsh starkness of human flesh. Here is humanity in all its warm, wet vibrancy, buzzing and twitching beneath him. This he’s good at, he knows, learned it a long time ago and something clicked, the enjoyment of giving and having to hide it as taking somewhere along the way, so that nobody would guess what a goddamn wretch he was for some praise.

The kind that spills from Julie’s lips like it’s the only song she ever wants to sing again, only tune she’s got left.

He feels her pushing at his shoulder to get away but he’s got an iron tight grip around her hips, while Julie knows she's trapped his head between her spanking thighs until she can hear ringing in her ears and sees spots as he sucks on her clit through the orgasm. When she comes to, he’s pressing kisses to her belly, her breasts, her face, smeared with the taste and smell of her but she welcomes them nonetheless.

“Now can I have you? Please.” she is pleased with herself for managing to remain polite despite her jittery quakes and the terrible craving she feels remaining.

And he laughs, Bucky laughs, because she’s still asking for cock, after all that. She’s still asking.

With a mustache sopping wet and teeth that sparkle like a wolf’s, he kisses her, splat on the mouth, smile to smile.

“You’re sticky.” she giggles, breathless

“That’s you, Jeanie.”

She licks his chin because she suspects he’ll like it, being met with unabashed enjoyment of the dirty communion they’re sharing. She was right,it gets him going, something frantic creeping back into his worshipful enjoyment. He tries to get up to get that condom that’s somewhere in his slacks but she refuses to let him get off of her, holding his weight down on top even though he’s twice her size; not that he’s trying to fight her off.

“I- goddamn, i- baby- i, need-“ he gets between bitten lips and clacks of teeth, “need to grab the condom, Shorty.”

Those are the magic words that allow her to release him but not before she says “hurry make it quick!” in so breathless a way he halfway thinks of trusting his rather shit pull out game than chance leaving her bosom. But Ev Blakley didn’t give up his pro-kit for such negligence, so -Bucky tumbles out of bed like a lumbering god out of his element of white crisp sheets and Julie lays back biting her thumb, enjoying the chance to watch him in the lamplight. She watches him as he quickly searches for his slacks, broad white back bending over, large thighs with their shadow of hair stippling, the soft swell of his thigh creases and the dark cleft of his backside where hair grows and spreads to the barely discernible outline of his sack hanging between. He’s shaking out the drab olive; a tiny little plop sounds in the quiet room. He picks it up.

Foil packet between his teeth, Bucky turns back to her, tosses the pants once more, they litter some new space on the floor, and Julie’s heart bounds in her throat at the look of him. This, watching this, watching him, this is what she promised herself. But she never got it quite right, he wasn’t so big in her dreams, not so pale either, with ribs as defined as hia sinews, bruise mottled clavicles and a Lowe belly that has a slight dome. His glittering eyes, those she imagined though, in fevered dreams about actually being wanted by somebody good and brave and willing to give this whole business of loving a real try.

She watches him slip on the condom, enjoying the way his magenta-angry and bulging veined cock is smothered by the thin, clear rubber. It looks painful as she watches him slither it on. Bucky makes sure to pump himself a few times, kneeling in front of her spread legs, grin in place and she mewls, hand coming to her clit as it pulses between her lips with a heartbeat of its own.

“Ready, dearest?” John asks, forehead pressed to hers, a hand beside her cheek and another between her thighs, holding the massive, blunt tip of him to her aching core.

It makes her eyes water: the reference to their many letters and she pulls him down to kiss at him in response, the head at her entrance has her tensing, feeling thick and fat compared to her small hole. He is going to destroy her, change her utterly, there’s only the Lana Turner of before and this Julie Jean after. This is Bucky’s effect, this is Bucky’s creation, this happy, trembling, heartbrokenly happy girl tensing at an act she’s done a hundred times before.

“It’s us,” he whispers lovingly, “relax.” He presses a kiss to the side of her head as he traces the skin of her hip, “You’re in charge here.*

Julie knows if it hurts he’ll stop but she doesn’t want him to, that’s the catch, so she gives him a daring little look, “I want all of you.” because she’s determined, legs locking around his hips to cage him in. “You won’t deny me, will you, Johnny?”

As for Bucky, he’s so fucking in love as he looks in her eyes, “Never, Jeanie. Whatever you want, it's yours.” as he slides another inch in, a groan escaping from deep in his chest while her legs twitch around him “Every part of me is yours, dearest, even the fucked up parts that i don’t want you to see.”

At his confession, she relaxes enough that he’s able to slide more than half of his cock inside her before her body’s tightening and locking him out. Her mouth holds in that sexy shape of an ‘o’ he imagined a million times as she lets out a silent gasp at the intrusion, stopping right before his hips meet the cradle of her thighs, the base of him thick and pulsing with the threat of finality.

Her sounds of joy grow from gasps to genuine little cries, the shock of his size untenable despite the gentleness with which he introduced it.

“-and if this is all you can take, Jeanie,” he declares, sliding an inch out only to slide it back in, like all her panicked thoughts have been a conversation they’ve been sharing all this time, “if this is all, then we can make it work, baby. it’ll be enough.”

He kisses away the tears that are escaping down her cheeks but she still shakes her head, “No, John. I want all of you.”

Yet Bucky is aware of their size difference and even though he wants more than anything to give her whatever she wants, he’d never hurt her. So he refuses her this for now, refuses to move his hips, nuzzling his nose along her tear stained cheeks and pecking at her still parted, mewling lips -as if opening up there will help her down there, it makes him smile. Like showing a baby to how open their mouth for a bite. He runs his obviously along her dampened hairline, platinum strands fanned out in a golden halo. She leans her face into his touch, her belly heaving beneath his in a desperate struggle still, her lips pressing to his wrist.

“I missed you every fucking second,” he’s says into her temple, “every minute of every day was hell without you, Jeanie. And I fought it, I survived, for you - all of it so my dreams with you can come true. I love you. I love you so goddamn much. You’re it for me.”

All his sweet talking has her becoming pliant and relaxed under him until, suddenly, he’s plunged all the way in deep. Her eyes spring wide and her hand flies to her throat, sure she can feel the tip of him there. “oh - OH JO- it hurts, oh yes, oh god, john, john, oh-oh, goodness sweet man -YOU’VE BROKEN ME!”

Bucky’s tender heart lurches in worry at his reckless instinct to thrust, to go far, too far, all the way, as she pushes back against his shoulder in primal defense from the pain. But Julie refuses to unlock her legs or let go of the grip she has on his hair, shaking uncontrollably and stuttering over her screams, like his cock takes up too much space for her to get in a breath.

“Baby, babydoll shh, shh s’alright, it's alright.” He tries to soothe but he isn’t even sure she can hear or see him, her face turned into his wrist by her head, her grip on his neck turning his own into her shoulder.

“Don’t leave me,” she says instead, “don’t leave me, don’t move, don’t leave me.” she repeats as she clutches at him, pain and pleasure mixing like they never have before, he stays still as she shakes and comes apart for an estimated three minutes on his part. Pilot to the last, one eye on the gauge while the rest is pure gut instinct of performance. He feels it though, when suddenly her hips open and she’s releasing a large sigh like her body has finally accepted the intrusion. He lifts his head and her eyes are clear and bright, looking up at him, “Don’t you dare slip out,” she warns with an irrepressible grin, “We’ve worked too hard to lose our progress.”

His Julie Jean is a trooper, a damn brave soldier if he’s ever seen one, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles at her, so in love he thinks it’s gonna burst out his chest. The things this woman wouldn’t do for him are nonexistent it appears.

Bucky guffaws, loud in his relief, “You’re so drippin’ wet, I’m liable to slide out with any movement.” he returns, not exactly joking

“Nuhuh, I’ll die.” she warns him again, “Don’t move.” and he kisses her, just to show her he’s teasing and because he can.

“This’ll do, Shorty.” he promises, and there’s no sliding out as he thrusts his hips deeper into her, humping Julie into the mattress to get his friction. “This’ll do for me.”

“Always?” she begs.

“Always.”

“Always.”

“Yeah.”

He humps her like she’s a part of the mattress, the motion nothing like the mechanical, horizontal slide of anatomies she’s used to. Instead she feels him buried somewhere further than her womb while each flix of his solid hips stretches down where she’s most feminine and torn apart to accommodate his manhood. She can feel his coarse pubic hairs against her clit, becoming sticky with the mix of them, her hole becoming fiery with excitement.

“You’re are a dream, John Egan, you are unreal.” she fears she's slurring, eyes rolling back and sensation becoming preeminent, “I’m so lucky. The luckiest woman alive, I'm sure. Oh, I’ve waited my whole life for you, John. You’re perfect. You love me perfectly.”

He keeps it up for a couple more minutes, grunting, muttering how good she is and how brave and that they’ve broken her in. But throughout Julie remains aware it isn’t enough for him, can’t be with such little friction, that he’s gonna need to actually move to get what he needs and be able to come, but he’s a sweet man and he can see she’s in pain and he wouldn’t ever hurt her. She knows that. Not even if she asked. She knows she has to take it into her own hands. She grasps his hip and slightly pushes him away. Then she pulls, the message clear: deeper. Go deeper.

“No,” Bucky is emphatic, “Not if it’s gonna hurt you.”

“It won’t!” It’s an asinine thing to promise with the way she can barely cope with his mild shifts inside her. But she knows she’s got to play this up if she wants to get her way. She pinches a nipple, watches as his eyes fall to it, and uses her free hand to guide his face there. If he’s focused on his precious knockers he won’t focus on her face and the winces she is sure she won’t be able to hide.

Like she assumed, Bucky takes her nipple in between his teeth, humming and creating a vibration she feels right to her core, “Oh John, you’re so wonderful to me.” she tells him and means it, trying to focus on the pleasure his sucking is bringing and not the pain as he slides out “We were made for each other. I'm sure of it. it has to work the way God intended.” and then he’s pushing back in and she’s gasping, loudly, pushing his face deeper into her breast so he stays lost in his pleasure.

“Yes, right there,” she moans, even as tears slip out the side of her eye, this part she is well practiced in, the repetition of a gasping: “more, more please … keep going please, ah, please more!”

The pain is stronger than the pleasure but she doesn’t want him to stop, she wants him to find his release, wants to keep feeling him spread out on top of her, sweat dripping on her, thighs burning from the width of his lower back. He's been so generous with her the entire night, she wants to feel his body shudder inside hers. But Bucky is no blind fool, he isn’t a stupid man, and she never thought him so, so when he pulls away from her breast with a knowing look, eyes accusatory as he takes in her tear stained cheeks, she knows she’s met her match, and failed him all at once.

His voice is terribly low, raspy in a way that shakes her somewhere molten in her belly when he speaks up, “This ain’t good for me if you aren’t creaming around me, Jean.” he tells her, fully sitting back on his haunches while reaching for a pillow and using one arm to lift her and stuff it underneath her. “You want all of me? That's fine but we’ll find our pleasure together.”

The pillow beneath her helps, the angle elevating slightly where it feels more pleasurable than it had before, he teases her hole before reentry. Slow, purposeful. The weight of his heavy cockhead against the easy glide her pussy allows him. She’s so wet that the sounds of him wiggling himself against her sweetness are similar to those of kids jumping in rain puddles. The grin on his face is akin to it as well. He continues at it until she thinks he will go mad, and when he does, every slide deeper skims along a million happy nerves and she forgets the painful bump when he knocks on some inner wall deep inside, as far as he can go, sounding her shallows. “Yeah?” he asks, taking in the way her brow smooths her belly softens from its braced rigidness.

Julie just about beams up at him, stretching beneath him like a well pleased cat, coloring over the notion he has more experience than her. “Oh!-my man works wonders - yes, yes, miracles. Lord Johnny- oh you’re an angel! -a gift! oh! yes right there! yes!”

She meets his thrusts with abandon that can only signify a genuine enjoyment and he feels that at last he’s free to grab at the headboard and pound into her because he knows she’s no longer faking it. Her legs kick up to rest against his chest, sparkly done toes barely reaching his shoulders and he takes it upon himself to take one into his mouth. Sucking on the fat little pad as her mouth goes slack and her eyes roll dangerously. He can see the ripple his cock makes under the pale skin of her naval, it drives him insane to see his intrusion from the outside. The way his rhythm makes her flesh jiggle obscenely and her ever adored breasts go round and round in a hypnotic swirl of feminine allure punctuated by pinpoint dots of pebbled cherry nipples. His orgasm feels like it’s building behind his eyes and at the base of his neck as much as it is at his spine and in his sack.

He powers though the first time she clenches around his cock in a death grip while shrieking his name to the heavens, he does so by biting his cheek so hard he tastes blood. It’s worth it for her shocked terror as he doesn’t stop, pummeling and bully another peak out of her poor pussy by sheer size and will power, finesse gone as his malnourished hulk of a body remembers some nostalgic pride in this pursuit, in making a girl lose her goddamn mind from being throughly and properly fucked.

By the third he loses his own faculties, she is clawing at his back and digging her nails into his ass and her breasts are knocking his chin and he’s got to glaze those things one day but for now he simply feels too much. Feels the tacky softness in the cradle of her thighs, the knuckle of her toe on his tongue, the feel of her tit in his palm, the way her vagina hasn’t stopped milking him for minutes in her state of overstimulated state. It’s all these things but more so the promise of collapsing on a soft pair of homemade jugs that undoes him; he shudders and lurches, driving in harder than he should but he can’t help it, he jams himself deep and squeezes every muscle that can possibly force out another drop of ejaculate- and lets go. Spilling into the condom and feeling the warmth of her plush walls milking him dry.

When he collapses, there is a lush pair beneath his sweaty cheek and the beat of a faithful heart beneath, jackrabbiting in time with his own as she catches her breath from the best damn love making she’s ever known. It’s Julie, and he clings to her after, feeling himself shake apart in something close to weeping but without the tears.

Oddly, he somehow feels his body more in this moment of shaking lethargy than he did during the sex, each muscle tremoring and his heartbeat resounding places it shouldn’t and he knows for certain it wasn’t the drink, as his mind runs a rapid catalogue of his ailments and their possible causes -that is not impaired. Instead he is left with the crude likelihood of his body giving out, not enough food, not enough medicine, bones not put back right, emotions on fucking lockdown, last reserves of grit used up on that march. Now he can’t fuck his girl without shaking like he’s got some real special sorta weakness afterwards.

The only comfort is: he can feel Julie’s thigh still jumping beneath his hip, a mimicry of his shaken self.

Julie Jean can feel the shift. When the ear ringing daydream slowly ebbs into sticky bodies and labored breaths, boneless, sated flesh melded to each other, and for once there is no disgust or yearning for more to be found in her heart. This too, is perfect, just like the feeling of him striking deep inside and fast as violence at the end, just like the feel of his ass clenching beneath her ankle, just like the tickle of his mustache to her cheek as he buzzed her ear with the most gratifying groan she had ever heard. She finds herself wanting this part to last, too. And it does, he goes from boneless climax to shuddering atop her and she finds herself rubbing his broad, slick back on instinct. Like she would any creature needing her comforting, his jacket a soggy softness behind her and his weight a blanket atop. She pets him like she would Spangles, and the thought makes her smile.

“Shh sweet man, you’re alright. We’re going to patch you up just fine.” she whispers, and feels something suspiciously like tears or drool hit her collarbone, “A regimen of eggs and bacon and copious love making. We’ll have to crack a window, this room traps the smell like a cork. That’s the prescription. Doctors orders, don’t even try to wheedle your way out of it.” When she can feel his laugh vibrate her belly where his chest is pressed, she knows she’s winning against whatever dark place he’d gone. It makes her feel triumphant and giddy and- needed, really.

Which is a thrill: being needed after sex. Usually it’s a bundling up and out the door after her hole served its use. Usually it’s a tossed wet cloth if she’s lucky or a reminder that she’s welcome to the guest bed. But her hole has been utilized, has been ripped open and milked every drop her man had to offer her even if spilled into a condom and still he lays over her, face in her tits, and a hold that says he wishes they never have to let go.

Julie tightens her legs around Bucky, freeing her toe from his hold and wiggling it in amusement over his having put it in his mouth. It didn't seem strange at the time, but then again, none of Bucky’s expressions of desire ever did. And that’s why she knew they belonged together. “You’re going to be cooperative, yes?” she probes, a little breathless from his weight and her exertions but managing to poke at his ticklish side.

John for his part does his best to pull his act together. He never meant to lay the full weight of himself over Julie’s petite frame but it’s as if his bones have given in on him this time with his elbows refusing to bend, hips refusing to thrust, nerves that won’t stop their fucking shaking.

He shakes the way he did in the stalag, on that sorry excuse of a mattress with a thin blanket and an even thinner pillow. That one night it was negative degrees; the chattering of all their teeth keeping them up for the whole night until finally Bucky had had enough, ordering the men to heap together in groups of three or even four to increase body temperature. Gale and Bucky forcing a stubborn John Brady in between them because he was a hell of a pilot and a tough son of a bitch but a scrawny one at that.

Bucky thinks of letters he wrote to the luscious gal beneath him, with her glorious blondeness and her lush lips and perky tits now soft beneath his cheek, allowing him the privacy as he sniffles in between them. Thrown back to conversations with Buck, when Bucky had been aware he would never be who he was again and who he was now would be no use to any woman, let alone one as marvelous as Julie Jean who continued to believe the Major John Egan who wrote her existed somewhere in the skeletal remains of what the war had spit back.

“Useless,” is what he mutters into her heated skin instead, his eyes tracing the splotches on her chest. A year ago he would have made sure she was quivering beneath him, legs spasming around his hips and although Julie’s hole was pulsing around him still in aftershocks and every once in a while he felt her clit pulse against his pelvis, he was the one being wrapped around and held to her chest like a mother holding a newborn to her tit. “W‘kind of man am I if I can’t even be well enough to give my woman a good pounding?” He continues on, losing himself in the comparison he continues to draw in between the promises he made in the letters and his actions of the night.

Julie tightens her hold on him, pressing his face further into her bosom in the process and causing one of his nostrils to slide deeper, cutting off air supply but feeling confounded that Bucky thought she hadn’t been absolutely loved on, devoured, and destroyed in the best way under his touch tonight.

“ … will be of no fucking use to you, Jean. No fucking better than that coward of a fiancee you just cut off - ” she means to interject somewhere, to stop this farce and show him how wrong he is about himself but Julie’s been in the pit of these demons before. Knows the beliefs flow deeper than the words of anyone else and she feels her eyes burn as she withholds her tears, remembering how many nights she spent uttering words on how she would be no good, never enough for the likes of a man as brilliant and wonderful as John Egan. Only for him to be here now, his breath hot against her skin, tears drying on her breasts, and his shakes jolting her thinking those same thoughts about himself.

She’s never been more certain he is the one. Has never craved so deeply in her heart than in this moment to have Bucky’s love forever, to be held by him until God deems it to be time for her last breath.

She’s never prayed that she could outlive him before but she does now because she is certain she will never be able to live without him.

John Clarence Egan is her mind, her breath, her soul: for now and all eternity she will be of his belonging.

“To have these gems here, fuck Julie - these,” he runs his tongue alongside the swell of her breast, grunting as he dives his face between them. “ ‘kind of man am I, huh, to not be sliding in between this sweet pair right now? What’d I write to them huh? What did I promise them I’d do?” His hips thrust now but it’s weak and Julie thinks it involuntary but still it works in drawing a whimper from her.

“They’re yours sweet man,” she releases a watery laugh, a tear running down her cheek in protest at being withheld for so long. “Your knockers now, baby. They ain’t going anywhere.”

“They’re so fucking good to me. Been so good for me,” his desire is earnest now, awakening, she feels the swelling and hardening of him inside her. It’s still no easy feat for her body to adjust to the size of him hard again, her thighs spasming around him once more.

“Johnnnn,” she whines, can’t help herself, her body trying to mold itself to adjust to his large self inside her. “Yes, oh - fuck, yes.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” he warns, humping down into the mattress again but with no real tenacity, his body protesting against any and all of it even as his cock pulses and weeps for friction inside its safe, warm new home. “We’ve got tomorrow. We’ve got forever,” he complains, hips twitching even as his mind protests. He’s got to get up and get rid of the condom, he’s got to clean them up and make sure Julie Jean still has mobility but his mind and body protest action even as his penis betrays them and begs for more.

John curses, a fist coming down on the mattress.

“It’s okay, darling,” she consoles, a hand petting his hair back, “it’s - oh - we can rest now, baby.”

“Fuck,” he roars, feeling no more found than he was lost minutes ago. Desire heats his underbelly, hungry, but there’s no will he can find to chase it.

Julie’s at war herself, attempting to calm him even as she flutters and tightens around him. Her body not used to the size or girth but recognizing the love entering inside.

“We got so much time now, Bucky. So much to do.” Her mind races with ideas on how to relax him as he shakes on top of her, hands clenching her waist as his body refuses his need to take, take, take her. “Tell me about your mama, baby, and your sisters. Tell me what it’s going to be like when I meet them.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about them right now,” he warns, a sweaty, spasming mess on top of this beautiful, voluptuous girl who’s naked beneath him. With the jiggliest, softest pair he’s ever encountered pillowed beneath his head, the tightest hole fluttering around him and the prettiest whimpers filling his ears even as she tries to calm him. “Fuck, they’re gonna love you Julie Jean. Gonna see the way I worship you and thank you for bringing me home to them.”

She moans loudly, unable to help herself with the love and desire he showers her with. At a war between his body and mind because he can’t fathom not taking her, fresh out a prison camp and winning a war.

“I’m going to take you home to them, John. Going to go with you so we can make a home,” she bites her lip as he gives an unexpected hump, knowing her desire only fuels him, “but first, we have much work to do, my darling man. I’m gonna fill your stomach with only the best East Anglia has to offer, even if that means I got to ship it in,” she remembers their letters now, how he’d bow to her wishes and preen at her demands, always in charge but never any less eager to please her. Always willing to give her anything she asked for because that was the man he was and continued to be. “Going to force you to sleep for a month straight and only wake you for meal times and your favorite pastime.“

He moans again, mind straight to the gutter.

“Baseball. Isn’t that right?” She playfully hums, scratching her nails against his clammy skin.

Bucky folds like a kid, lurching and showing his face; which was smiling if beet red, much to her relief. “Course, ma’am.” he tries on a show of respect while still balls deep inside her with an erect penis and a gumming condom he really oughta dispose of. “Orders are orders.”

That made Julie Jean tingle in happiness. “And we both agreed that I’m the boss here. So my orders go.” She phased it like a question and Bucky bit his lip in renewed arousal, concession apparent in his general expression but rebellion brewing in his sharp eyes.

“Sure. You’re the boss then, shorty.” he agreed, dragging a finger along her neck, gentle and contemplative before his eyes flicked up, mirthful and wicked, “But I’m your daddy.”

Julie let out a gasping cry, shock and reprimand on her face and he didn’t need telling why, he felt when her little pussy spasmed around him, as shocking to her as it was to him. “Bucky!” she squealed, winded, “You can’t just- just go saying stuff like that I-i oh, dash it, now I’m horny again. Move please, baby move in me, this is your fault!”

Bucky cackled at her petulant little wiggle beneath him. “Baby I only got the one.” he referred to the condom, propping up to pull out and do some tidying of the scene.

“And yet you got me flustered. Now you won’t fix me. How’s that for taking orders?”

Bucky froze and stared down at her arch expression, her face more Lana at the moment than Julie with her playacting displeasure, but damn if it didn’t get him going all the same. “I- sure doll. Whatever you say doll.” he muttered, “What about-“

“We appreciate your conscientiousness, Major Egan,” she raised one hand to her face and began inspecting her nails, a tactic of dismissiveness he knew, and yet it had his cock swelling back up like it was half its length and belonging to a far healthier man, “and we recommend you continue it. We only need a little maintenance, please be so good as to dispose of that horrid little rubber and wipe yourself and come back. I said I only needed a little movement,” her grin broke wider, “and when that’s satisfactorily met, you can put it between these to finish-“ Julie pressed her milk white tits together and every connection in John’s brain fried and fizzled for a brief moment before reconnecting and he bounced out of the bed to set in action her game plan.

He yanked the condom off, more forcefully than his smarts might suggest -what with the way it snapped on his sensitive and hardening shaft and flung spunk along the wall above the waste basket. The stalag-man in him forgot to care for poor Donald and his housekeeper and ran instead to the small sink in the corner of the room by the closeted privy and grabbed at the hand towel and wet it before scrubbing himself vigorously like his spattered seed was a rash of fire ants. The rough treatment made him hiss but did nothing to dissuade his filling member and when he turned and stalked back towards the bed, it was with a face so darkened and determined that Julie felt a quake of desirable fear shoot through her.

It was magnified when he stopped at the end of the bed and instead of climbing atop her again, reached out and grabbed at her ankle instead, yanking her down the expanse of sheets until her legs dangled off the mattress and their hips collided. He was so tall above her like this, even with their most private places aligned and she shuddered as she realized she’d actually asked for him to take her again after such rough usage and such a desperate first attempt to even get him inside. They’d have to keep at it, keep her open and work to make her used to him. She supposed frequency was key and spread her legs again in defiance of the scared little voice that told her riding telephone poles wasn’t a pastime to over indulge in on the first night.

Damn fear. She spread her legs. Damn fear and damn all thought entirely, when he fucked back into her in practiced, measured pumps that sank him deeper each time and rubbed at the need that had built so suddenly at his words earlier. “You sounded- you sounded like your letters.” she tried to gasp out an explanation as Bucky put his standing leverage into his thrusts and smiled down at her from his height, hair hanging over his forehead, lookin’ like a dreamy novel cover.

“Ya sounded like yours.” he rasped back, the proof of it drilling her into the bed right now as he plunged again and again into her clenching belly and tugged apart her abused little hole.

When she came it was sudden and hard, and lest he torture he through it to another like last time, and lest he forget himself and let himself go inside her, she shoved him back with a foot to his sternum when the satisfaction had been fully wrung out, and this time he staggered back agreeably.

“Now for your reward.” she recalled as Bucky stood there, breathing raggedly himself and with his massive cock drooping in a bobbing wave, untended and without a haven, too heavy to curve up to his belly when standing. God it was impressive looking there in its lonesome glory, as impressive as the owner of the tool looked lost and dazed like a boy who needed to be led back home.

At the sight of her tits pressed together he seemed to recall himself. His face lit up and his eyes regained their sharp intelligence and he took a step forward before pausing and wheeling back to the sink. “Washcloth.” he explained, he hadn’t any intention or anticipation of being able to get back up to clean them both after this round. His body felt like it was operating on borrowed time as is. “Scootch up for daddy.” he tugged gently at her wrist until she was back in her proper spot in the center of the bed. “That’s it, that’s my good lil girl.” he murmured before carefully climbing over her, like a beast from the fairytale where to cherish his beauty in this way, all lumbering tenderness and brute strength restrained for her sake.

John’s thick thighs bracketed either side of her tiny rib cage, the ghost of his weight felt along her sternum as he kept himself off her, the burning heat emitting from the most sheltered place of his body.

“That’s it dearest, push ‘em together, nice and tight f’me. Goddamn, that’s it, baby, jus’like that. Uhuh.”

She had wanted to give him this since he wanted it so dearly, and asked for it so worshipfully, and came up with an entire darling acronym for the act, but she hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. The crowded, loomed over, helpless little joy of Bucky Egan crouched above her heart, gripping the throbbing base of his cock and poking his length through the tunnel of her breasts.

That she hadn’t anticipated. It made her moan as loudly as he did at the first give of her butter-soft flesh.

When he pushed out the other side of her little tunnel, his goey plum tip tapped her chin and she giggled in delight, feeling the cool wake of his sputter on her chin when he withdrew, then thrust back and there it was again- a tap to her chin. She was ready on the third thrust, when his leaking tip breached through the other side, she dipped her chin and stuck her tongue out, getting a good lick at the salty precum that gushed from his deep slit.

She had been ready but Bucky had not, he had stared at this dream scene when he first slid between them, but then the sight combined with the sensation grew too strong and he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut and lungs close to collapsing, so that he no warning when he felt her clever tongue dip into his sensitive slit and lap at his oozing tip.

It undid him, quicker than even he expected and with a hoarse cry that mingled praise and apology for what was about to occur, Bucky painted her pretty face in ropes of sticky hot ejacuculate, the last reserve of his body, looking like ticker tape streamers of celebration, landing in shiny streaks across her nose and eyes, scrunched in celebratory delight. The puff of pleased shock her shiny lips let out was the final pop of merrymaking, chased by the visual of her eyes tight shut to keep out his salty spend but her wild tongue chased the dripping mess running down on her cheeks, eager for a final taste of him. He wanted to laugh at the thought that she was chasing the last bitter, year old stores of a ill fed prisoner, that he’d have better and sweeter and more fitting cream to give in the morning. But for now…

Welcome Fucking Back, Bucky Egan.

He collapsed to the side and smacked at the bedside table in a blind grab until he found the washcloth, rolling over on his belly and hissing as he did so at the scratch of sheets against his raw cock. “C’mere, lemme clean up my baby doll. Hell Julie, that was-“ he didn’t have words for it, she deserved them but he didn’t, not really. “-have to write you about it sometime.” he realized and she giggled, eyes opening as he wiped away his sticky glaze, and when he did, they met his: blue and dazzling and trusting that he would.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Johnny Egan.” she murmured. “But you won’t need postage. You’ll be right in the other room.”

Bucky squeezed her cheeks together emphatically in one hand, pressing his lips to hers as their worn out bodies fitted together like puzzle pieces in the churned sheets, “No postage,” he agreed soberly, his nose still brushing hers, “cause I’ll write it on your thighs.”

[marvelyningreen]

Aftershocks - From the Series Finale (a deleted scene)

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3

[Summary: You’d traveled to Westview to rescue Peter. Getting locked away by some sinister witch might’ve delayed you a bit, but you’d escaped, and you weren’t going to be stopped again.

Warnings: mild language, references to injury / mind control / death

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader. This was meant to be a flashback during Night 2, but it turned into way too long of a digression. So, here it is: presented as a deleted scene while I finish Night 3. It’s a bit sparse in the places where I would’ve just been summarizing the episode, but I figure you already know the details. Into Tomorrow is a continuation of the scene, more or less.

Tag list: @cowboyenorgy ]

After an indeterminate amount of time sneaking around Westview, trying to find your way back to the street where Vision lived, you’d finally done it. It might’ve taken days, or maybe it’d only been hours. It was so hard to tell here.

One minute it was spontaneously Halloween. The next, the entire layout of the town kept shifting around you until you were completely lost. But you’d made it.

As much as you’d wanted to go straight to find Peter, you knew you couldn’t do it on your own. You didn’t know how to counteract the witch’s powers. Vision seemed to know something, though. He was your best chance.

Unfortunately, his house seemed to be deserted. From your hiding place, you couldn’t see any lights on, or any signs of movement. Maybe he was at work? You’d waited this long already; you figured you might as well stay put until he came home.

And just as you’d decided on that course of action, the sound of breaking glass erupted from the neighbor’s house. The attic window shattered outward, and two people crashed through it, landing on the lawn.

One of them – a woman you hadn’t seen before – stuck a perfect three-point-landing more or less facing your direction. The second – a man – didn’t land nearly as gracefully, but still seemed unhurt. You couldn’t see his face, but you were certain it had to be Peter.

He stood, moving as though to cut off the woman’s escape route. He gestured for the woman to get up.

“I can do this all day, babe!” he called.

Scowling, the woman straightened up, dusting herself off and clearly getting ready for round two. The witch was nowhere in sight. Maybe you’d have a better chance of getting through to Peter if he was on his own. You scrambled out of hiding.

“Peter!” you shouted.

Confused, they both turned to look your way. You didn’t have a chance to say anything more before Peter sped over to you – and you just then noticed how weirdly slow he was moving. Instead of almost appearing to teleport, he was a visible blur that your gaze could follow as it approached you.

Peter stopped directly in front of you. He smiled.

“Hey again,” he said, and cheerfully threw you halfway down the block.

You landed hard, skidding another yard or so before coming to a stop. You thanked your lucky stars that you’d landed on somebody’s lawn, not on the pavement. When the hell had Peter gotten superhuman strength, anyway?

As you sat up, the woman ran to your side.

“Are you alright?” she asked, casting a wary glance back towards Peter, who was strolling casually towards you both.

“I’m okay,” you said. You were winded, and you could tell already that you’d added some new scrapes and bruises to your growing collection, but it didn’t seem like you’d been hurt.

“Captain Rambeau,” she introduced herself, offering a brisk handshake.

“You can call me Ace,” you said, “I’m… a friend.”

“Of his?” The captain raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“Yeah, well, he’s not exactly himself at the moment.”

Peter had stopped a ways away from you. You weren’t sure why he didn’t try to attack again.

“You called him ‘Peter,’” said Captain Rambeau. “Is that his real name?”

You nodded.

“Listen, ladies, if you wanted to make this a threesome, all you had to do was ask!” Peter called.

“And I’m guessing that’s not his real personality,” said the captain, catching sight of your disgusted expression.

“Not remotely,” you said.

The captain shrugged. “Well, guess we know what Agnes is into. The witch,” she explained. “The one who’s controlling him.”

“Why’s he just standing there?” you asked. You weren’t opposed to getting a second to breathe, but it was weird.

“I think he’s just supposed to stop us from getting to Wanda,” she said.

At that point, you hadn’t the faintest idea who Wanda was or how she was part of this whole mess, but you figured you could ask later. As you looked over at Captain Rambeau, you noticed her eyes glowing an unearthly blue. That was… unexpected.

“It’s that necklace,” she said. “That’s how Agnes is controlling him. If we can find some way to break it… But he’s too fast.”

Fast? Maybe by normal human standards, but he was moving at a crawl compared to his usual speed. Wait. That was it.

Your abilities didn’t work well in this world, but maybe they’d be more effective against something from your own world.

“Listen,” you said. “I think I can slow him down for you, if you think you can get that necklace. Act like you’re going to make a break for it, and when he tries to go past me, I’ll catch him.”

Captain Rambeau nodded, and took off down the street. Peter immediately gave chase.

Back home, Peter was far too fast for you to ever catch. But here, with him moving like he was running through quicksand? You might actually stand a chance.

You took a deep breath, reaching out. You felt a familiar resonance, and the sensation of something setting like a fishhook.

Peter slammed to a halt like he’d hit a brick wall. He paused for a moment, seemingly confused. He tried to run, but only managed a casual jog. It was working.

Then Peter turned back towards you, his expression something between furious and impressed. Your arm began to shake as you felt him struggling against you.

You really hoped this Captain Rambeau wasn’t going to leave you hanging.

“Well, looks like you’re good for something after all, huh, babe?” he said, strolling towards you.

“Peter would know,” you said, trying to keep his focus on you. “I don’t just break the laws of reality. I can enforce them, too.”

Peter sighed, shaking his head. “I really wish you weren’t complicating things so much. You could’ve just walked away, but-”

At that moment, Captain Rambeau dashed in, grabbing hold of the necklace and tearing it from Peter’s throat.

With a gasp, Peter’s smug expression shifted into a look of horrified panic. He looked at his hands like he was shocked he could move them. Then his gaze snapped back to you.

Your name – your real name – burst from his lips in a strangled cry. He rushed towards you, but stopped short, eyes widening as he took in the state of you.

“Oh, God… What did I-?”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you said. “I’m okay.”

You took his hands, and for a second you were worried that he was going to collapse.

Peter shook his head vehemently. “But you’re hurt!”

“Are you kidding?” you said. “Raven’s kicked my ass worse than this in training.”

Which was a lie, but at that point, you would’ve said just about anything to calm him down. It seemed to work, but only just.

“You’re here,” he said. His voice was quieter now. “You’re actually here.”

“Of course I’m here,” you said. “I came to bring you home.”

That wild look hadn’t left Peter’s eyes as they stared into yours. Gently, you took his face in your hands. At your touch, his eyes closed, and his head bowed just a little. You moved closer, pressing your forehead to his. He laid his hands on yours. His shaky breathing began to grow steadier.

Before either of you could say anything else, you were interrupted be the honking of a car horn.

Or rather, a funnel cake truck horn, to be exact. The driver – a bespectacled brunette – leaned her head out the window.

“As adorable as this is – and hi, by the way,” she called, “I think we’ve got bigger problems right now.”

Peter blinked rapidly, trying to pull himself together. He turned to Captain Rambeau.

“She’s right. Those kids are in danger. We have to do something. I’ll explain everything later,” he said, looking back at you, clearly distressed. “You’re already hurt. Just… stay safe until we get this under control, okay? Please.”

It killed you to think of letting Peter out of your sight after you’d only just gotten him back, but you nodded. You didn’t know what was going on or what kids were in danger, but you and Peter were X-Men. The safety of civilians always came first.

“It looks like they were headed downtown, Darcy,” Captain Rambeau called back to the driver. “Take Ace and follow us there, alright?”

With one last backward glance, Peter took off after Captain Rambeau.

As quickly as you were able, you climbed into the passenger side of the truck, smiling awkwardly at the driver as she put it back in gear and started off.

“Dr. Darcy Lewis,” she introduced herself, side-eying you. “Not the kind of doctor you clearly need, though. Sorry.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said. There was silence for a moment.

“So…” she said, “You and fake Pietro, huh?”

“His name is Peter,” you said, “But, yeah. I came to rescue him. We’re… not from around here.”

You were honestly too tired to explain more than that, but Dr. Lewis seemed to accept that explanation.

“Well, it’s not the first time I’ve met people who aren’t from around here.” She shrugged. “You ever heard of Thor? God of Thunder? He’s a friend of mine. Nice guy; great muscles.”

She said it so casually. Any other time, you would’ve thought this woman was nuts. But after time in Westview? Her claims didn’t sound that outlandish.

“Huh. Nice.” You nodded, impressed. Then, “This is gonna sound like a stupid question, but, uh… Who’s Wanda?”

Dr. Lewis gaped at you incredulously for a moment.

“Oh, boy…” she sighed.

Dr. Lewis gave you the rundown on the whole situation, and frankly? It was a lot. Parts of it – stuff about Avengers and Infinity Stones and snaps and blips – didn’t make any sense to you. But you did manage to grasp some of the more immediately relevant bits. Namely:

Wanda was immensely powerful. She had a twin brother named Pietro who – like your Peter – had superhuman speed, and who had died saving lives, leaving Wanda completely alone in the world.

Vision was apparently some sort of android, and also technically dead…?

But some real piece of work named Hayward had recreated a brainwashed zombie version of Vision and brought it to life using Wanda’s powers, and he was now trying to kill Wanda to cover up his crimes.

How the witch named Agnes and her kidnapping and mind-controlling Peter played into this, Dr. Lewis wasn’t entirely sure.

“Finally!” she said, apropos of nothing. “I swear, Wanda must’ve changed the whole layout of the town. The center is just up ahead.”

There was some sort of commotion overhead, and on the ground, too. Two young boys (probably the kids Peter had mentioned) stood in the street, facing down some military-looking types.

You and Dr. Lewis both shouted in alarm as one man pulled out a handgun and aimed it directly at the kids. From around the corner, Captain Rambeau and Peter ran in, and –

Shots rang out. You could only watch in horror as the man opened fire.

The strange blue blur that was Peter struggled to catch and redirect as many as he could, but it wasn’t enough. Two rounds tore through Captain Rambeau’s midsection, but…

You were still too far away to see exactly what happened, but Captain Rambeau seemed to glow, or phase out of sight for a second, and then she straightened up – unharmed. One of the boys raised his hand, evidently catching the single bullet that had gotten past Peter and the captain.

The man – Hayward, judging by the doctor’s lurid swearing – threw down his gun and hurried to climb back into his vehicle.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Dr. Lewis said under her breath. “Ace, hang onto something.”

“What are you- Oh, shit!”

You grabbed the door to brace yourself as Dr. Lewis gunned it down the street. Before Hayward could begin to make his escape, the funnel cake truck slammed into the side of his Humvee, pinning him inside.

Hayward turned, glaring daggers at Dr. Lewis.

“Have fun in prison,” she said cheerily.

You know what? You take it all back. Dr. Lewis was, in fact, kinda nuts. It was still a pretty badass move, though.

As steam began trickling from the truck’s busted radiator, Dr. Lewis unfastened her seatbelt.

“Well, looks like this thing’s not going anyplace, and neither is he,” she said, nodding at Hayward. “We might as well – I dunno – see if we can help or something.”

As you followed her lead, you heard Peter shouting: “How was that in any way ‘staying safe?’”

“Yeah, well, that’s what seatbelts are for,” Dr. Lewis called back. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

Peter was there beside the truck as you stepped down out of it. You shifted your weight experimentally onto your injured leg, and let out a strangled yelp. Okay, bad idea. Peter immediately looped your arm around his shoulders and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Lean on me, lean on me,” he said, “I got you.”

You fought the impulse to collapse against him completely. You’d spent… days? You didn’t know how long – scrambling and searching and breaking out of hospitals and hiding in hedges just to get back to him. You just wanted to hold him and sleep for at least a week.

But the whole business wasn’t over yet. As Peter helped you limp around the truck, you saw that there was another man standing by the kids and Captain Rambeau, talking to Dr. Lewis. He skin was an unnatural shade of red (was that face paint or something?), and he was wearing this strange caped costume. Catching sight of Peter, the man’s eyes narrowed.

“No, it’s okay,” said Dr. Lewis. “He’s cool. He’s with us now.”

The man didn’t seem convinced. His gaze shifted to you, and he tilted his head curiously.

“Ace?” he said.

You blinked. “Vision?”

The voice was the same. The eyes, too. You wouldn’t have recognized him otherwise. He was the only friendly face you’d seen in this place. You couldn’t help but smile at seeing him again. Still, you remembered what Dr. Lewis had said – you’re talking to a ghost.

“Do you two know each other?” asked Dr. Lewis.

“We met, briefly,” you said, “When I first got into town. I’m glad you’re alright.”

“So, the friend you were looking for…?” Vision inclined his head inquiringly towards Peter.

You nodded. Peter waved, letting out a stilted, rueful laugh.

“Your children…?” you asked, gesturing to the boys.

Vision put his arms around them both, a proud smile brightening his worried expression.

“My children,” he said, “And… up there is my wife.”

As one, the whole group looked up to the two women still locked in combat above you.

Captain Rambeau frowned. “Can’t we do something?”

“I tried,” said Vision, “But it seems that Wanda wants to finish this on her own terms, unaided.”

The others kept worried eyes on the proceedings, but Peter turned his attention back to you, helping you to sit down on a nearby bench. He knelt in front of you.

“Scale of one to ten,” he said, “How worried should I be?”

“One,” you said. “I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything’s broken, so I’m calling that a win.”

“Hmm, nope. Still worried. Less dire question – why is everybody calling you ‘Ace?’”

“The professor said not to tell anybody my real name,” you said. “There was no way of knowing what I was walking into. We didn’t think we should tell anyone too much.”

“Oh…” Peter’s mouth twisted into a guilty grimace. “I kinda told Monica everything when we were running over here.”

Red light flashed blindingly above you, drawing your attention upwards.

[The battle proceeds as in canon, ending with Agatha’s defeat.]

Wanda turned back to the others, smiling. The boys ran to hug her, and Vision was close behind. You were too far away to hear what was being said, but at Vision’s words, Wanda’s smile faded. Putting their arms around each other, the family walked a little ways down the street.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Peter shook his head. A pained expression crossed Captain Rambeau’s face. She closed her eyes, turning away.

“This Vision was never real to begin with,” said Dr. Lewis, her tone oddly solemn. “I think he’s saying goodbye.”

At that, she, too, turned away. Whatever passed between Wanda, Vision, and their children – their farewell wasn’t for prying eyes to watch.

Peter seized your hand and leaned his forehead against your shoulder. You bowed your head over his, closing your eyes. After a moment, you felt something pass over you.

It was that same feeling of overwhelming grief that’d struck you when you first entered Westview, but you understood it now. If you had lost Peter – truly lost him, for good – you imagined that it’d feel something like that.

It only lasted a second, though. In its wake, everything felt brighter, colder.

When you looked up, you cast an uncertain glance back down the main street. There stood Wanda and her children.

Vision was nowhere to be seen.

Wanda pressed her hands to her mouth and slowly sank to her knees. The boys knelt beside her, crying openly, and she pulled them close.

Your heart broke to see them, and you turned away again. It felt wrong to intrude on their grief, even from a distance. Westview had changed. The town seemed faded and dull, somehow desaturated.

Peter had changed, too. His hair was silver again, instead of that strange dirty-blond shade, and his clothes were the same ones he’d been wearing when he was taken.

“You’re all yourself again,” you said.

Peter looked down at himself in surprise. His eyes widened, and he frantically felt his pockets before letting out a sigh of relief. Something about him looked too bright for your pale surroundings. Maybe it was the fact that neither of you belonged to that world, or maybe it was the fact that you were so damn glad to have him back.

Or it might’ve been that this was the first time you’d seen him smile since he was freed from the witch’s control. You leaned in and kissed him.

“God, I missed you,” he said.

Before he could say anything else, another conversation interrupted him.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Dr. Lewis was saying. “I was just trying to keep him from getting away.”

She and Captain Rambeau surveyed the dented Humvee in which Hayward was still trapped.

“Well, we’re gonna have to get him out of there somehow,” said the captain.

“Can’t you do some sorta…” Dr. Lewis extended her arms, wiggling her fingers in the direction of the vehicle, “Now?”

Captain Rambeau laughed, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Darcy.”

Suddenly, the former funnel cake truck lurched. With a strained metallic groan, it was dragged slowly back and away from the Humvee, leaving just enough space for someone to hypothetically get through and apprehend Hayward.

“What the-?”

Captain Rambeau turned to look back towards you and Peter, or rather, to the street behind you. You caught Peter’s eye just before turning to look yourself, and smiled. Of course.

Peter’s eyes widened again. “Dad?”

“Professor?” you exclaimed.

You might’ve expected Mr. Lehnsherr to come after Peter when he found out what’d happened, but you certainly didn’t expect to see him standing on the main street of Westview with Professor Xavier at his side. Peter stood up, but anything he might’ve said was cut off – once again – by Dr. Lewis.

“Hey, cheekbones!” she called out. “Nice one.”

Upon realizing that he was the one being addressed with that remark, Mr. Lehnsherr gave her a perplexed smile and lowered his arm. But his expression turned serious again at the sound of approaching sirens.

“It’s okay,” said Captain Rambeau. “Agent Woo is with is. I’ll talk to him.”

She and Dr. Lewis went to meet the approaching vehicles, while Mr. Lehnsherr and the professor moved quickly towards you.

“Are you two alright?” the professor asked.

“We’re fine,” you said.

“I’m fine,” Peter corrected. “You can barely walk.”

The professor’s brows furrowed in concern. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I’m glad you did, though” you said frankly. “I wouldn’t wish this experience on anybody.”

Peter turned his attention to Mr. Lehnsherr, eyeing him with an expression that seemed a little incredulous, but pleased.

“So. you really came all the way from Genosha for me?” he said.

“I heard you’d been abducted to another reality; of course I came back. Something this ridiculous could only happen to you, Peter,” said Mr. Lehnsherr. Then his expression softened, “I’m glad you’re alright, son.”

“What happened here, exactly?” asked the professor, as he surveyed the street.

“Well, my perspective on events might be kinda limited, but you can see for yourself.”

You leaned towards the professor slightly, offering your thoughts. He touched your temple, and that odd dreamlike sensation washed over your mind as he sifted through your memories of Westview. You were glad you’d asked Dr. Lewis to explain things to you. Maybe the professor could glean more meaning from the story than you’d been able to.

When you opened your eyes, the professor looked pensive, and no less concerned.

“I think it’s high time we get the two of you home,” he said.

“Not that I want to distrust government agents,” said Mr. Lehnsherr, keeping a wary eye on Hayward’s arrest in progress, “But I’m inclined to agree with Charles.”

Peter frowned hesitantly. His gaze had drifted to Wanda and her sons.

“Just… give me one minute, alright?” he said. “There’s something I wanna say first.”

[geralt-of-baevia]

Happenstance

Summary: Henry is about to go to bed one night when he suddenly gets a text from a random number he doesn’t know. What happens when you accidentally text the star actor of The Witcher? Memes apparently. Lots and lots of memes.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Lizzy Moore)

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: None...yet! Just some fluffy flirting. Well okay and lots of mention of his crotch? 😬😘

A/N: So I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my brain for a LONG time and finally pulled the trigger and wrote it! It’s in texting format, and I hope you like it! This is my first time posting fan fiction on here so I’m nervous and excited!

Beta: Thank you to @avengeful-bunny​ for being my AMAZING beta. I don’t know what I would do without you. 💛💛💛

Tagging: I’m going to tag all those whose work has inspired me to write and post my work! Much love to ALL of you! @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @mary-ann84 @yespolkadotkitty @viking-raider @cavillhoney

Part 1: Oops.

(405:) God, girl. You will not BELIEVE the day I had. I'm pretty sure I lost a pint of blood today from how many times I stabbed myself sewing. 

(405:)

(Henry:) You should probably get a thimble for that. 

(Henry:) Also, I do believe you have the wrong number. Considering you started the text off with 'girl' and I am quite the opposite. But even so, please spill the tea. I’m dying to know about this UNBELIEVABLE day you’ve had. 

(Henry:)

(405:) Oh my god, MR. CAVILL I AM soooo SO SO SORRY. I must have accidentally clicked on your name and not my friend's name. 

(405:) I feel really awkward having your number when you don’t have mine. Do you want me to delete it? Just to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Also so some random crew member doesn’t have your number?

(Henry:) Oh god, please call me Henry. There’s no need for such formalities. And it’s fine, there’s no need to delete it. Since you mentioned crew and sewing, I'm assuming you work for the costuming department? 

(Henry:) Also, I have your number now, don't I? :P

(405:) By it’s fine do you mean this kind of fine?

(405:)

(Henry:) Oh no, it’s LITERALLY fine. I promise. 

(Henry:)

(405:) But to answer your question, yes! I work for the costuming department. I’m newer, so I get to do the usual stuff. Mostly just lots of mending at the moment. And JUST TO BE CLEAR, I won't do anything to abuse this number since you're Henry Cavill.

(405:) And you’re Henry Cavill. Also you are my co-worker, my I’m assuming super rich, god tier co-worker that I’m not supposed to make eye contact with nevermind TEXT. 

(Henry:)

(Henry:) But yes, my name is Henry. Please keep my number, we’re coworkers after all, it’s normal for coworkers to have each other’s numbers. Have we met on set before? 

(405:) We have once or twice, just in passing mostly. Once I brought you clothes to your trailer.

(Henry:) Are you the one with the brown and pink hair? 

(405:) That's me. :)

(Henry:) Don't tell me your name, I know what it is. 

(405:) Are you sure about that? You don't seem too confident :P 

(Henry:) I know it starts with an E. Is it Eloise? Eleanor? I know it was something old fashioned, too.

(405:) Man, you're so close. I mean, kind of. Think of historical dead English queens. Like, for example you were best friends with her dad. You were a fancy Duke who was good with the sword and ladies. Also, I’m sorry, aren’t you supposed to be a big nerd?  

(Henry:) ELIZABETH! 

(Henry:) And I am a HUGE nerd thank you very much. 

(Elizabeth:) Yes, that's my name haha. Also, whoa whoa, settle down there cowboy.  

(Elizabeth:) And it’s just Lizzy, with a Y. The thought of spelling it with an IE makes me cringe. 

(Lizzy:)

 (Henry:) Pretty much everyone? Who doesn't call you Lizzy? 

(Lizzy:) My dad, my grandma, my teachers, my victims, my doctor, the one girl in high school who hated me. 

(Henry:) Haha that's quite the list there Lizzy Borden. I think it’s your turn to settle down. :P

(Henry:) Well then Lizzy with a Y, it's nice to finally talk to you, even though it's over text. 

(Henry:) So I have to ask, I take it they were cracking the whip pretty hard in wardrobe today? 

(Lizzy:) You know, I was doing what I thought was a pretty damn good job of avoiding that subject.

(Henry:) Nope, you can't slip past me. This brain is like an iron trap. 

(Lizzy:) If you MUST know...

(Henry:) I really do. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation. 

(Henry:)

(Lizzy:) Okay well that just sounds sarcastic. I don't HAVE to tell you... :P

(Lizzy:) I'm kidding, kidding. Well, since you MUST know, I spent at least half of my day mending clothes, particularly the crotch of multiple pairs of your pants. Also a few pairs had the butt blown out. 

(Henry:) The crotch?

(Lizzy:) Yes, the CROTCH OF YOUR PANTS HENRY. :P Honestly I'm used to it at this point though. It's not the first time, or I'm assuming the last, that I'll have to mend the crotch of your pants. It’s not your fault the studio wants you in tighter fitting clothes that can show off how muscular you are. It’s just my job to fix it. ;) 

(Henry:) I guess I never really thought about who it was having to mend them when that happens. 

(Lizzy:) And it’s not just your crotch area I mend, it’s your inseams as well. I think your thighs got a little bigger since the initial fitting. :P

(Lizzy:) And yes, us little people taking care of you famous movie stars, making sure you stay looking like the heartthrob you are. Since that is your job and all. :P

(Henry:) Hey now, I’m more than just a pretty face. You make me sound like a talentless hack. But thank you. For your sake I'll try and not blow out any more seams, especially the crotch. 

(Lizzy:) You don't need to thank me, it's literally my job. ;) 

(Lizzy:) I mean, if your muscles didn’t rip through clothing on a regular basis I’d be out of a job!  How rude.

(Henry:) Well I mean in that case I COULD make it a habit. ;) 

(Lizzy:) All I have to say is I’m SO glad we don’t have to worry about shirt buttons on you during this. I’ve seen the stress you put on buttons during press junkets. The anxiety I feel, Henry. So much anxiety.

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:) Yeah, those shirts never seem to fit my chest right. I taught myself how to sew buttons on my shirts so I could stop asking others to help. 

(Lizzy:) Okay, the fact that you taught yourself how to sew on buttons because it’s a CONTINUING issue is both hilarious and adorable. :P

(Henry:) 

(Henry:) So I’m curious about something, costume wise.

(Lizzy:) Yes? I’m sure I can answer, costume wise. ;)

(Henry:) How long does it take to sew together a shirt from scratch? 

(Lizzy:) Well, it all depends on the type of shirt, and what it’s for. For the sake of film, there are so many steps. Design, pattern making, grading, construction, fitting. That’s just a fraction of it. It’s a very long process.

(Lizzy:) But if I was at home making a shirt for a friend, I could do it start to finish in a couple of hours. They're not hard. I can sew them together in my sleep.

(Henry:) A few HOURS? That's amazing. 

(Lizzy:) Eh, it's what I went to school for. ;) It’s not that impressive to me. 

(Henry:) Well, to me it is at least.  ;) 

(Lizzy:) 

(Henry:) 

(Henry:) Unfortunately, it's time for me to go to bed. I have an early call time in the morning. 

(Lizzy:) You're going to bed at 6 in the evening? I’m assuming you have a super crazy call time? One time I had a call time of 1 am because there were things that had to be fixed by the time you and Anya got to set at 4 am. Although it does have it’s advantages. I get to have the first pick of craft services, and sunrises are always nice to watch. 

(Lizzy:) But I’m sorry, that sucks. :(

(Henry:) Some days it does, especially when I can't seem to fall asleep. But today was exhausting so I don't think I'll have any issues tonight. Plus Kal has been extra cuddly tonight so I definitely won’t have any issues. 

(Lizzy:) Well then, I guess this is where we say goodnight. I hope you sleep well. :) 

(Henry:) Thank you. I hope you do, too. Hopefully tomorrow will involve less bleeding onto garments. ;P

(Lizzy:) Haha, I mean it really doesn’t matter. If anything it makes the garment just look THAT much more legit. I hope you have a good day on set tomorrow. :) 

(Henry:) Thank you. It was really nice talking to you Lizzy. I hope we talk more again soon. :) 

(Lizzy:) It was nice talking to you, too. And I would really like that. :) 

(Lizzy:) Goodnight, Henry. :) 

(Henry:) Goodnight Lizzy. Sleep well. :)

[mlovesstories]

His Guitar

Summary: YN has always been close to Jensen, but not her mom, Kayla.  Noticing this, Jensen tries to fix it, but it only stirs up more of a divide between YN and her mom, leading to a big discovery. 

AN: Shout out to @cherryblossomflowers for letting me bounce ideas off of her and editing it! Love you! 

Warnings: Cheating, sabotage, blackmail, cussing

Words: 3000

Tag List

Ask Box

Masterlist of Masterlists

Jensen walked onto the set of Ten Inch Hero with YN in tow.  

“You remember the rules, right?”

“Yes, Daddy.  I’ll be good, I promise.” She smiled at him as she was trying to keep up. She practically took three steps for each step he took.  

“Hey, Dee,” Jensen smiled. He hugged the lady in front of him and introduced her to YN. “This is YN. YN, this is Danneel.”

“Hi, Miss Danneel,” she smiled.  

“Hi, YN. How old are you? You look pretty big.” Danneel tickled the girl’s belly.  

“Seven!” YN grinned.  

Danneel gasped, “Wow! Such a big girl!”

“That she is.  I told her to stop growing, but she doesn’t listen.” Jensen playfully messed with YN’s hair.  

“DADDY! Mommy did my hair all nice, and you messed it up!” She pushed her father’s hand away.  

“Jensen, you know not to mess up a girl’s hair!  Would you like me to fix it, YN?”

“Please?” YN looked to her dad.  

“That’s fine with me,” Jensen laughed. “But I didn’t mess up your hair.”

“Yes, you did! Come on, Danneel.” The girl took her hand over to a chair, and YN plopped herself down. "It’s all messed up on the top," YN pouted, "Can you redo my braid?”

“Absolutely.  Let’s do it.”

Within two minutes, the girls were back, and YN was happy with her appearance.  

“That was fast! Looks nice!” Jensen stroked her braid.  

“I like her.  She's good at hair."

“Well, thanks, YN.  I’ll take it. Where’s Kayla?” asked Danneel.

YN was shocked, “You know my mommy?”

“I’ve met her before. I like her a lot. After all, you’re pretty cool!” Danneel gave the girl a high five.  

That night, YN raved to her mom about her new friend.  

“That’s very nice, honey. Eat your dinner, please.”

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

“Daddy?” A few years later, YN asked, “can I spend the night at Dee’s?” She skipped to stand in front of her father. The two ladies had become very close since they met on set the first time.

“I’m fine with it. Ask your mom though.”

“SWEET! She already said yes.” YN started to leave the room.

“Stop.” Jensen watched as she froze in her spot. “Did she, or are you fibbing to get your way?”

YN turned to face her dad.

“Mom said it was okay, promise,” she shrugged.

“Fine. Your mom will have to take you though. I’m meeting up with Uncle Jared tonight.”

“Okay.”

The next day, Kayla didn’t talk to YN. YN gave glances to her dad wondering why her mom was acting so funny.

“What was up with you today?” Jensen asked his wife as they climbed into bed.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t give YN the time of day. She asked to do things with you, but it seemed like you ignored her.”

“Don’t tell me I ignore my own daughter-“

“No, no, I’m just asking if you’re okay or if something happened today, that’s all,” Jensen wrapped his arm over his wife.

“It’s nothing, and it’s nothing I want to talk about tonight. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow when the kiddo isn’t around.”  

“Sure, babe,” her husband agreed. “Anything you need.”

The next morning, Jensen and Kayla discussed what was bothering her before YN woke up.  

“I don’t like that she goes to Danneel for things.  She should be coming to us.” Kayla huffed.  

“Oh,” Jensen tightened his lips.  “I didn’t know that bothered you.”

“It does bother me, that’s why I’m telling you, shithead!” Kayla outraged.  

“Whoa, hey,” Jensen crossed the room and sat next to her. “YN doesn’t have any siblings, I just thought of their relationship as like sisters or something.”

“YN went to Danneel before she came to me about almost everything. And with her getting older-"

“Honey, you’re gone a lot and-”

“DO NOT BLAME ME!"

“Will you listen to me?” Jensen shot off the couch.  “You are gone a lot because of work, and maybe she feels ignored.  I don’t know, but maybe.  Danneel is probably just more available.”

“How dare you.” Kayla growled.  She stood and stomped out of the house.  

YN walked into the living room.  

“What happened?”

“I made her upset.” Jensen blamed himself, hiding his frustration.  

“She was probably being a bitch.” YN said offhandedly.

Jensen's eyes went wide, “EXCUSE ME?” He walked in front of her. “You do not EVER call her that.”

YN sucked in a breath.  

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She whispered.  

He retracted and guided her to sit down.  

“Do you not like your mom?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t really hang out with her.”

“It’s fine. Leave it alone.” YN practically ran out of the room.

Jensen knew there was a lack of relationship.  He didn’t really know why.

Jensen watched over the next few years how they interacted and didn’t seek out time together. He noticed they didn’t mind each other, but they didn’t joke or be silly.  Jensen tried to fix it as much as he could, but both were stubborn and very much the same.  He would not state that to either one of them though.  

YN hung up the phone with Jensen. With him being on Supernatural, they were apart a lot of the time.

She walked into the kitchen to get a water bottle from the refrigerator when she heard her mom talking.

YN came to a halt when  fed the corner and saw her mom kissing a man who was not Jensen.

She retreated so that her mom and the man couldn’t see her. In shock, YN stood still and took in the scene.

Coming back to reality, YN pulled out her phone and took a picture. Not realizing that her sound was on, the sound of the camera went off. Her eyes went wide.

The couple separated.

“YN!” Kayla looked alarmed, seeing her daughter and the phone in her hands. “Get over here!”

YN’s eyes went wide and she shuffled her feet to stand in front of her mom.

“Give me your phone.” Kayla snatched the phone out of YN’s hands. “This picture will never be seen by your dad’s eyes. Nice try though.” After deleting the picture, Kayla shoved the phone back into her daughter’s chest.

Shocked by the events in front of her, YN left the room to escape the situation.

Kayla stormed after her. Before YN was able to shut her door, the mom entered her room.

“You are not going to tell Jensen about this, you hear me? And if you do, I’ll tell him you broke his favorite guitar that grandpa gave him.” Kayla crosses her arms, eyes narrowing. “Do we have an understanding?”

Kayla got in YN’s face. The daughter gasped. She swallowed slowly.

“Yes,” YN looked away.

Kayla walked out of her room and slammed the door.

YN crawled onto her bed, wrapped her arms around her moose stuffed animal and cried as quietly as she could.

YN stayed away from her mom as much as possible until her dad came home for the weekend.

She hated that at the drop of a hat, she could be in big trouble with her dad. She loved him, and they were so close.

He was the perfect dad. He always took her calls no matter what he was doing.

She didn’t ever want to disappoint him, she loved him too much. She would stay silent as long as she had to. That was just the way it had to be.

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

“Homework,” Jensen pointed to the piece of paper in front of YN’s face.  His daughter refused to complete her math assignment.

She huffed, “Now?”

He smiled. “You can do it, booger.”

Just then, Kayla walked through the door.

YN immediately got to work.

"Hi, honey,” Jensen smiled, relief and pleasure covering his face.  

“Hi, babe,” Kayla smiled. "Hello, YN,” she looked past her husband.  

“Hi,” YN didn’t look away from her homework.  

“I gotta clean up, and then we can’t have some dinner, okay?” Kayla smiled.  

“Sounds good, I”m going to take the trash out.” Jensen hugged her as she passed him.  

“What’s going on with you, kid?” He walked over to his daughter as Kayla left the room.

“Nothing. I need to finish this.” She shrugged him off of her shoulder.  

“Alrighty then,” Jensen sighed. “Glad you’re able to focus.  Be right back.”

When Jensen came back, Kayla was starting dinner.

“What are you making for dinner?” Jensen wrapped his arms around Kayla.  

“Tacos.”

“Awesome, sounds delicious.  YN, you want a taco?” Jensen turned to face YN.

“Yes, please,” she tiredly looked up at him.  

Jensen narrowed his eyes at her.  

“Move your homework to the couch so we can eat, please,” he smiled at his daughter.  

“Yes, Daddy,” she ducked her head and moved quickly.  

The last few days, he’d noticed her withdrawing.

Jensen knew she was a teenager now, but even for her, she was acting funny.  YN did everything he asked and didn’t look at her mom.  She did everything without comment other than a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.  

“What is going on with her?” Jensen pulled his wife into bed with him that night.

“What do you mean?” Kayla looked over to him.

“She is keeping to herself.  Did something happen at school?”

“I don’t think so,” Kayla responded. “Maybe it’s that time of the month for her or something,” his wife shrugged.  

“No, that was two weeks ago.” Jensen shook his head.

“You keep track of her period?” Kayla raised a brow.

“Saw some blood in the trash can.  Not hard to figure out. Let’s get to bed, sweetheart.” Jensen kissed his wife and turned off the light.  

The next morning, Jensen saw the same behavior from his daughter as the night before.  He saw her quickly finish her breakfast with no conversation.  

“Honey,” he caught her attention.  “I want to talk to you when you get home, okay?  You’re not in trouble or anything, I just want to ask you something.”

“Okay, Dad.”

She stood and grabbed her backpack.  

“Can you take me to school now?”

Jensen looked to her confused, “Sure, but you’ll be early-”

“Gotta talk to my math teacher anyway. Let’s go.”

———-

“Honey, what I wanted to talk to you about was that you seem so quiet. When I call you or I ask you a question, you answer with yes or no, and that’s it. Where’s my baby girl gone?” He stroked her braid as he faced her sitting on the ottoman, her on the couch.

“I’m fine, Dad.” YN stiffened.

“Uh huh.” Jensen smiled. “You lie about as well as I do. You’ve been so quiet, and it’s scaring me. Did something happen? You can tell me.”

“No, Daddy. Nothing, I promise.” She eyed his prized guitar hanging on the wall with the note framed next to it.

Work hard, have fun, and don’t forget where you came from.

“What are you looking at?” Jensen turned, looking the same direction as his daughter. “Gramps’ guitar?”

“No, daydreaming. Sorry.” YN said,  “I’m fine.”

“The guitar?” Jensen walked over to it and took it off the wall.  Kayla walked back in.  YN’s eyes went wide.  

“You told him, didn’t you?” Kayla walked over to her daughter and raised her voice.  “You told him.  I told you what would happen if you did!”

“Dad, hang on to it!” YN screamed to her dad.  Kayla tried to take the guitar out of Jensen’s hands.  “She told me she would break it!”

“What?” Jensen moved it out of the way and tossed it lightly to the side.  He took his wife by the shoulders as she struggled to go after it. “What is going on?” Jensen looked over to his daughter who was in tears, standing there.

His wife continued to fight aimlessly and then stopped.  

Seeing the defeated look on her face, Jensen turned toward his daughter.

“She’s cheating on you.” YN gasped for air.  “She said she would break Grandpa’s guitar if I told you, but I didn't tell him, Mom.  We were just talking about the guitar, that’s all, Mom.” YN rambled all of her words out.  “I saw her kissing a guy in the kitchen, and I had to not tell you or she would destroy the guitar!”

Jensen let go of his wife. YN saw his face change from confusion to anger.

“Get. Out.” He seethed.  Jensen stared at her until his wife moved.

“Fine.  If I can’t break your heart with the guitar, I’ll let you in on a little secret, husband of mine. YN’s not yours."

A silence washed over the room.

Kayla continued, "I’ve cheated the whole time we’ve been married and you were too clueless to notice. “

Jensen and YN looked at each other.

“I never wanted kids.  But you got your wish.  Here ya go, there’s a kid for you, Jensen.” She emphasized the last word.

YN ran out of the room.

“GET THE HELL OUT.” Jensen ordered his wife. “Your things will be on the porch tonight. Goodbye.” He took her purse from a side table and threw it so that she could catch it.  “Leave.”

Jensen passed her and went up the stairs to catch up to his daughter. Hearing her wails and sobs, he opened her door.

Showing tears of his own, he engulfed her.  Not knowing if it was her mom or her dad, she fought back, flailing.  “It’s me. Calm down, it’s me.” Jensen calmed her. "I got you, baby. Daddy's got you.”

They both cried for a long time.

After a while, YN asked, “Do you still love me?” and looked up at him.

“What?” Jensen backed away to see her face.  “I love you always. Don’t you worry.” He stroked her back.

Hours later,  Jensen made sure YN was asleep in her room before he called his friend.  

“Jared, I-I need you to come over.”

Jared heard the uneasiness in his voice.  Without question, Jared agreed and came as soon as he could.

The two men stayed up all night talking, Jared supporting Jensen with whatever he needed.  

“You need to go to bed.  I’ll take care of her.  She and I will be fine.  Go rest.” Jared nodded toward the hallway.

“I can’t sleep in that bed, Jared.”

“So sleep in the guest room.  You need to sleep.  I’ll drag you there if I have to.” He nudged his friend.

“Okay, okay.”

“I’ll crash on the couch.  I’m sure as hell not as tired as you.  Go.”

“Fine, see you in a bit.”

A few minutes later, YN saw Jared from the steps.  

“Uncle Jared!” YN gasped.  She ran down the stairs and into his arms.  Jared turned the TV off.

“I know, I know.” He whispered.  “Your dad told me,” he tried to calm her.  

She was about to start crying again when he looked at her in the eyes.  

“No.  You can do this.  No crying.”

YN whined into his shirt.  

“I know, I know,” he affirmed her. “You’re still ours no matter what.”

Still being exhausted from the previous day’s events, YN fell asleep against her uncle’s chest.  

“Hey, YN.” Jared woke her up.  “Look who came over.”  YN turned toward the door to see Danneel taking off her shoes.  

“Dee!” YN smiled.  Having her friend there was a relief.

“Hi, sweetie. Jared called me, he thought having a few friends around might help a little bit.”

“Yeah,” she sighed.  With Jared on one side and Danneel on the other side, the three leaned into each other.

The two adults let YN snuggle with them until she was calm again.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” Danneel said after some time.

“Mom hated me.  I didn’t know she didn’t want to have kids.  I feel so bad.  And Dad isn’t my dad? What am I supposed to do with that?” YN looked to the woman.  

“You live your life. He is still your dad. He doesn’t love you any less.”

“I hate my mom.” YN sighed.  “She hurt my dad.”

“She hurt you too,” Jared joined in.  “Don’t worry about him, we’ll take care of your dad.” He smiled down at her.  

“It’s already the afternoon.  Let’s get something to eat" said Danneel, standing up, "YN, go wake up your dad, he needs to eat too.”

"Okay,” YN agreed.

“Come on, Jared.  Let’s go.” Danneel took the man’s arm and led him to the kitchen.

Looking back, Jensen could recognize the warning signs of what had happened between his wife and the rest of them.  YN had seen it too, but she couldn’t express it like Jensen could.  

Having spent so much time together and consoling YN, Danneel and Jensen became closer.  

Kayla deserted her daughter and husband with the occasional mean phone call to her husband when she felt extra angry.  

After their divorce was final, Danneel and Jensen sat down with YN to discuss their new relationship.

“We have something to tell you,” Jensen started.

“Are you guys dating?”

The two adults froze.

“Finally. I won the bet,” YN clapped with glee.

“What?” Danneel asked confused.  

“Jared and I had a bet about when you guys would get together.” YN beamed. “He owes me dinner now.”

“So you’re okay with it?” Jensen grinned.  

“Of course!” She ran into his arms.

“I know your birthday was a few weeks ago, and I hope you won’t be upset with me…” Jensen slowed.

“Umm. Okay?”

“It seems like your mom hasn’t been very nice lately, and I thought she may be pulling our legs about something," said a nervous Jensen.

YN gave him a questionable look.

He sighed and continued, "So, I got a paternity test, and it turns out that I am your biological dad.” He beamed.  

“Wait, what? But Mom said-”

“Your mom was upset, sweetie.  She used something against me to make me not like you, but it didn’t work. You’re mine, okay? You always were, are, and will be.”

YN grinned. “REALLY?”

“Promise.” 

_________

Forever Friends (Everything):

@katymacsupernatural  @unicornblood4ever  @ellie-andthemachine @supernatural-crazed-girl

@fangirl-moment-x  @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl  @super100012  

@waywardnewcomer  @percywinchester27  @waywardsuns  @supernatural-jackles  

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09  @kingandrear  @bellero @skylarraker

@rosiewinchester @seality​​​​ @blogsnowflakeme​​ @jaycc7983​​ @luci-in-trenchcoats​​ 

@cherryblossomflowers​ @because-you-never-know-when 

@sleepylunarwolf @choosemyname *

@internationalmusicteacher @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @find-sammys-shoe 

@encounterthepast  @torn-and-frayed 

@giggles1026 @xiumin-girl99 

@strangedeerconnoisseur @sbcamp08 @mangueweaschester

@idksupernatural  @silverstripe101a

@thevelvetseries @jennawinchester152a * @samsgirl93 *    @supernatural3002 *

@tmiships4life * @breereadsthings * @mersuperwholocked-lowlife *

@a-magey @vicmc624 @hookedinto-fictionalworlds   @beatifuldisaster018

@miraclesoflove @myopiamystical @fallen-wolf22

@waywardnewcomer

[marvelsswansong]

47 & coffee with Peter please :)

47: “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

tags: rebellious reader, stark!reader, teenage love, fluff, breaking rules

word count: 1.5K

a/n: a repost since tags aren’t working! If this one works I will delete the other copy on my blog x 

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

There was a singular knock on his window.

Peter figured it was just a branch nearby being blown by the wind and ignored it, turning up the volume of his headphones and immersing himself back into his studies. The knock doubled, both in turns and sound, catching Peter’s attention. He couldn’t quite make out what it was outside the window, considering it was almost midnight, as he lowered his headphones and raised the lamp to shine in that direction.

“(Y/n)?”

You smiled, mouthing “open it” as Peter opened the window and watched in shock as you clambered in through the window. It looked like you had taken quite a toll from climbing up the tree near the apartment to reach his window, a tear on the left leg of your ripped jeans and specks of dirt covering your floral blouse.

“Can I use your bathroom?” you asked a bit loudly, prompting Peter to shush you and point to May’s room. You apologized quietly and Peter nodded, allowing you to wash the grime off your hands all the while he stared at you in bewilderment. He checked his phone- yep, there was that text from Tony: “(Y/n)’s grounded. She’s going to have to cancel your plans with you tonight kid, sorry.” That had been sent 2 hours ago, prompting Peter to instead stay inside today and focus on his calculus test. The last thing he had expected was for you to literally climb through the window in the middle of the night and ask to use his bathroom.

“I… I thought you were grounded.” he said, quietly, leaning against the door frame. You dried off your hands with a nearby towel and rolled your eyes playfully, dismissing his concerns.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“Your dad was the one who told me that.” he replied, exasperated, as you sat down on his bed. It amazed him how casual and relaxed you always were, instead of looking panicked or nervous of being caught, you simply leaned back on your arms, crossing your legs.

“Okay fine, I might’ve hacked into Friday’s systems and froze all the security cameras so it plays me sleeping in bed on repeat.”

“Aren’t you breaking like… all of your dad’s rules by doing that?” he questioned, concerned for his best friend. Your dad, being the ever so protective and easily worried person that he is, had a list of rules that you were never supposed to break that he had forced you to memorize. Peter was right, you had definitely broken two of the rules by (1) hacking into Friday’s system when it wasn’t an emergency and (2) leaving the tower at night without notifying anyone.

“Haven’t you heard the saying, all rules are meant to be broken once?” you asked, pulling out your phone. You gestured for him to come closer, causing Peter to sit next to you on the bed as you pulled out the notes app on your phone.

“What is this?” he questioned as you deleted two sentences off of once of the documents labeled ‘stupid rules’.

“You know how my birthday is in three months?”

“Yeah… Of course I know that.”

“Well…” you trailed off, turning your phone to silent and trying to gauge Peter’s reaction. “I want to break all of my dad’s rules before my birthday. You know, kind of like a bucket list. Except the list is filled with things I want to do to spite my dad.”

He sighed, scratching his neck.

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Oh come on, Peter! You can’t possibly tell me that some of these rules are not downright stupid.” Peter opened his mouth to argue, but couldn’t, so he slowly closed his mouth as you gave him a triumphant smile. “Besides, when’s the last time you did something rebellious?” you pressed, leaning in closer. A rosy blush rose to his cheeks, one he hid by coughing and turning to the side, his voice coming out squeakier than usual.

“I do rebellious things!” he yelled a bit too loudly. You sighed.

“Not wearing your seatbelt on the school bus does not count, Peter.”

“W-whatever. What are you doing here anyway?” he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at you. You had that twinkle in your eye that hinted that you were up to no good, immediately sparking Peter’s suspicion as he eyed your body for anything that seemed out of order. You smirked, before digging into your pocket and producing the key to Tony’s ferrari.

“I was thinking we could go for a drive.”

His eyes almost bulged out of his head, and his palms were getting sweaty at the thought of Tony waking up any moment and calling your phone in pure anger.

“YOU STOLE THE KEYS TO THE FERRARI?” he whisper-yelled, half impressed and half angry.

“So? It’s not like he’s going to be using it near midnight on a Wednesday night. Come on, Peter, a drive?” you pleaded. His resolve disappeared the moment your hand touched his lap, kneading his skin as your sweet voice whispered in his ear. Damn it.

He just could never say no to you.

“Fine.”

You smiled triumphantly. Peter held his hand up, cutting your celebrations short.

“But only on one condition. If we get coffee. I’ve been staying up all night studying and I’m exhausted.”

The possibility of getting in trouble and hearing an earful from Tony and May lurked at the back of his mind, but it all paled in comparison to the bright smile you flashed as you grabbed his hoodie laying on the desk, throwed it to him and gestured him to follow you through the window and down to the street. He chuckled, turning off his desk lamp and shutting the window behind him.

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

“One caramel macchiato and one chai latte, please.”

You were lucky that Peter had a great eye for things, as most of the places in New York were closed at this ungodly time of the day- let alone for coffee. The old lady at the counter smiled, writing your order down onto a napkin and handing it to a waitress nearby.

“That’ll be 6.50.”

You reached down for your wallet when Peter intervened, pulling you away by your wrist and placing down a ten dollar bill.

“I’ll get it.” he said quietly, flashing you a soft smile. Your heart skipped a beat at the most innocent glances from him, so you smiled back, ignoring the way your face was heating up from his actions. The old lady grinned, giving Peter the change with a wide smile on her face.

“You are so sweet! Your boyfriend is such a gentleman, young lady.”

Peter was about to correct her but you pulled him backwards with your hand in his, simply thanking the woman and going to the counter to pick up your coffee.

“Let’s go.”

“We’re not eating here?” he questioned, confused. You shook your head sideways.

“I have a better place in mind.”

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

You’d drove up to the peak of a sceneric hideout, about half an hour away from New York city. You parked the car in a nearby clearing and clambered on the hood of the car, carefully balancing your drink on your lap as you called for Peter to join you. He obeyed, staring in awe at the blinking lights of the city below as you leaned against the car, letting out a happy sigh.

“Now this, Peter, is why breaking the rules can be so fun.”

He smiled, nodding, before his eyes returned to his cup of coffee. Toying with the lid, he asked you the question that’d been stuck in his mind for the past hour.

“Why did you not let me correct the lady?” You stared at him, confused, so he continued. “A-at the coffee shop. The one that thought we were dating?”

“Oh.” you chuckled. “Cause it’s not that big of a deal, Peter. Boyfriend, girlfriend… Not that crazy of a concept, you know.”

“Really?” he pressed, carefully watching your reaction. You took a sip from your cup and nodded, giving Peter a sudden surge of confidence.

“So, like, if I asked you to be my girlfriend, i-it wouldn’t be a big deal?” he asked, his fingers fidgeting anxiously with the edge of his cup. A large smile spread across your face, as you placed your cup to the side and leaned closer towards him.

“Don’t know. Wanna ask?” you pressed, setting your cup to the side and leaning forward. He hesitated for a brief moment, his nerves getting the better of him, so he squeezed his eyes shut and forced the sentence out.

“Wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Sure.”

He slowly opened his eyes back, surprised at your answer.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Although…” you trailed off, taking his cup of coffee and placing it on the floor before straddling his lap. He stared at you, flustered and confused, as you brushed a stray curl a way from his face.

“If we’re going to be breaking the ‘no dating’ rule, we might as well break the ‘no kissing’ rule.”

[argylemnwrites]

Change of Plans - Part 3

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (An It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe AU, set nearly 3 years after that epilogue)

Word Count: ~4700

Rating: NC-17 (language, 30 diamond scene)

Summary: Living in NYC in March 2020 is redefining normal for Drake and Riley. Life doesn’t always go according to plan during a pandemic, after all.

Author’s Note: Finally finished up the third and final installment of my AU inside my AU. Sorry the word count got away from me a bit here, but hopefully you all like this conclusion to the journey even further into the real world for these two. (I might have fallen in love with this version more than my planned version... oops)

Just like parts 1 and 2, this does hint at or reference some events from the prologue and the first couple of chapters of Why Are We Still Waiting?, but it does not spoil the core content of the story. And again, Trigger warning for coronavirus discussions. Also, explicit adult content in this part.

Part of Drake couldn’t quite believe that today was actually real. It felt sort of surreal still, even though he had the marriage certificate in his hand and was wearing a ring on his finger. Even though the officiant’s words still ran through his mind, pronouncing them married. It felt too much like a dream. But they were married. She was his wife.

They were in their cab, back to their apartment. Obviously, no reception. No bars or restaurants were even open, except for takeout. But that was alright. Being married to her, that was what mattered. Who really cared if it didn’t happen as they planned?

“So, for our honeymoon, what do you think about Brooklyn?” Riley asked, settling in under the arm he’d thrown across her shoulders after giving the driver their address.

Drake chuckled, “Sounds great. You have a place in mind?”

“Yup! I found this little one bedroom apartment with absolutely no amenities, but it does come with a corgi.”

“Perfect. Hopefully it comes with the opportunity for digital filing of cases, because that’s what I really want to do.”

���But you finished your work for today, right?”

Drake nodded. It had been a pain in the ass, but he’d been able to take care of enough between last night and this morning that he would probably not draw attention to the fact that he’d taken this afternoon off. It had seemed stupid to tell his supervisor his plan when he’d been able to get the work done. The firm might be letting people work from home, but that didn’t change the fact that the leadership on his team was a bunch of frat bro assholes that would have absolutely made him use a half day of vacation.

“Good,” she said, turning her head and leaning over slightly so that her lips were practically on his ear, “I’ve got plans for you.”

Drake swallowed roughly, sparing a quick glance towards the cab driver before turning his head and kissing her. The only thing hotter than the promise her words held was the fact that she was now saying them as his wife.

After a few moments, Drake pulled back, not wanting to make the driver too uncomfortable, but Riley tugged him down again, deepening the kiss slightly. However, after several seconds, a loud buzzing sound interrupted them. Riley leaned back slightly, pulling her phone out of her purse.

“What the hell?” she said as she unlocked her phone. “I have six texts from Maxwell. Wait - seven.”

Drake watched her open up her messaging app, and she let out a big sigh almost instantly. She quickly titled her phone so he could read the screen.

😲😃😭🤗😤🥳

That’s all my feelings

Because

OMG 

YOU GUYS GOT MARRIED 

YAY!!! 👰🤵🥂

WITHOUT ME

BOO!!!! 😡👎👿

Drake glanced up from her phone, “How does he know?” They had decided it was better to tell Liam and Iris, Hana and Catherine, and Maxwell, Savannah, Bertrand, and the kids at the same time, and since they had plans for a Zoom call this weekend, that had seemed like the perfect opportunity. No hurt feelings at being the last to know, no guilt trips from Maxwell, and no judgement from his sister for eloping. However, Maxwell had apparently found out within 15 minutes of the ceremony.

“I have no idea how he-” Riley started, but stopped abruptly, “Shit. Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I want to check if Daniel posted our photos to Pictagram.”

“Liu, I don’t have Pictagram.”

“Yes, you do. Maxwell and I set that up for you like a year ago.”

“Yeah… I deleted it as soon as he left town.”

Riley rolled her eyes at him, but closed out her message thread with Maxwell and opened up her Pictagram account. Sure enough @liuthebagelbitch and @dw519 were tagged in numerous photos in Daniel’s account and story. Them signing the paperwork. Sitting on the couch waiting. Holding hands and saying vows. Putting on their rings. Kissing at the end of the ceremony.

“Maxwell must follow Daniel,” Riley said, scrolling through the feed, “Yup, squidwiththemoves has liked every single photo.” She sighed, exiting the app. “And he’s texted me ten more times. We have to call him.”

Drake nodded, but before Riley could even open her contacts list, a Facetime request popped up from Maxwell Beaumont. Letting out one last sigh, Riley swiped to accept the call.

“Hey Maxwell!”

“What the hell? I’ve been working on my speech for your ceremony for years, Riley!”

“Wanna try that again?” Riley asked, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

Maxwell sighed, “I mean, congratulations! I’m so happy you decided to get married without telling me or inviting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry we didn’t consider you in our wedding,” Drake called out, leaning into the view of the camera and rolling his eyes.

“Drake! How could you do this to me, buddy?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question, buddy?”

Riley elbowed him slightly, probably wanting him to not escalate the situation. Truth be told, Drake was only mildly annoyed at Maxwell making their wedding all about him. The bigger issue was going to be getting Maxwell to keep quiet about it until Sunday. That was basically four full days from now, and Maxwell had barely been able to contain himself back when he found out that he and Riley were involved for half that time. 

“Sorry, Maxwell. But we didn’t want to wait again. Plus, I lost my health insurance, so now I’m able to go on Drake’s.”

“Why didn’t you guys tell me, though?”

“Because we wanted to keep this quiet and not make it everyone else’s business,” Drake grumbled.

“And,” Riley added, shooting him a look before she continued, “we were planning to tell all you guys together on Sunday.”

“I just can’t believe I wasn’t there,” Maxwell said, shaking his head sadly.

“We wish you could have been. We really do. But you understand why that wasn’t an option, right?”

Maxwell nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

“And do you think you could not mention it to anyone before we see everyone on Sunday?”

There was a long pause following Riley’s question before Maxwell responded, “I promise not to tell anyone else.”

“Maxwell… who have you told already?” Drake asked, the word ‘else’ jumping out in his mind.

“Not that many, people I swear!”

“Well, I just got a ‘congratulations’ text with several question marks from Hana,” said Riley, glancing at the notification that had flashed across the top of her screen.

“I had to find out if you had told her and not me!” Maxwell said, gesturing towards the screen emphatically with his free hand.

“And Iris just asked me if what she’s seeing is real,” Riley continued as another notification popped up.

“I wanted to make sure she wasn’t more looped in that I was!”

“And now Savannah’s asking if I really married her brother today.”

“Wait, why is my sister texting you and not me?” Drake asked as Maxwell continued his defense, saying “I mean, we live under the same roof, so of course I asked her what she knew.”

“Maxwell, is there anyone you didn’t tell?” Riley asked, shaking her head.

“Well, Liam didn’t answer my calls, so he probably doesn’t know.”

“You told Iris!”

“Yeah, okay… fair,” Maxwell trailed off, clearly trying to find someone he hadn’t told. “This really isn’t my fault, though! You posted those pictures!”

“Daniel was our witness and photographer. He’s the one who posted them.”

“Well, then blame him. I just acted the way any normal person in my position would have acted.”

“Wanna try that again?” asked Drake, prompting a chuckle from Riley.

“Fine, I just acted in a way that you guys should have totally predicted. In fact, part of me wonders if you wanted me to find out so that I would tell everyone, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the drama of telling them that you got married without them.”

“Maxwell!”

“Fine, I’ll let you go be nauseating newlyweds. Congrats, you two!” With a little wave, Maxwell ended the call.

“Well, I guess people know,” said Riley after a moment. 

Drake let out a sigh, tipping his head back against the top of the seat.

“You aren’t really upset, are you? I mean, I know we decided to tell everyone at once, but it’s not such a big deal that they know, is it?”

“Nah, it’s just annoying that instead of this just being our thing for now, we’re gonna spend our entire wedding night on the phone with people.”

Riley let out a little burst of laughter at that, so Drake twisted his neck to glance at her. “What?” he asked.

“I think you are severely overestimating how many close friends we have. I bet we can finish this up before we even get back to our place.”

“Really.”

“You take Liam and Iris; I’ll take Hana and Catherine. All our New York friends can wait, don’t you think?”

“What about Savannah?”

Riley paused for just a moment, “We can set up a video call with her and your mother tomorrow.”

“But she lives with Maxwell. She knows that-”

“She owes us our wedding day, Drake.”

Drake nodded. As much as he wished that Riley and his sister got along perfectly, he knew that Riley had a good point there. 

“So, I’m gonna call Hana. If you give Liam a call now, it can just be our time when we get home.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice, so as she tapped Hana in her contact list, he unlocked his phone and scrolled to Liam in his recent contacts. The phone only rang twice before Liam answered.

“Yes, Iris. I see. Please let me actually talk to him, love?” Liam asked, his voice muffled and quiet initially before growing much louder. “Drake, I’m glad you called. You are apparently the source of great excitement here tonight.”

“Yeah… I didn’t mean to be-”

“Well, you are, my friend. Between my three missed calls from Maxwell about, and I quote ‘something that I probably wouldn’t consider an emergency, but he sure did’ and Iris bursting into my office with pictures of Riley and you pulled up on her phone, I’ve not been able to get very far in reviewing my nightly briefings.”

“Sorry about that. But, I… er, do have some news.”

“So I am gathering. It appears congratulations are in order,” Liam said. In the background, Drake heard a quieter “Congrats, you two,” that presumably came from Iris.

“Uhh, yeah. We decided to get married.”

“I’m guessing this was Riley’s idea?”

“What makes you say that?”

“She’s just a touch more prone to impulsive action than you.”

“Well, you’re wrong this time.”

“This was you?” The shock was evident in Liam’s voice, and it did bring a smile to Drake’s face. It wasn’t often that Drake was able to surprise him.

“It was.”

“Congratulations, Drake,” Liam replied after a moment, “I’m truly very happy for both of you.”

“Sorry we didn’t-”

“No. I’m happy for you. I’m not accepting any apologies as there is nothing that happened today for which you should feel even remotely sorry.”

“Thanks, Liam.”

“Can I talk to Riley?”

Drake glanced over at Riley, “She’s on the phone with Hana,” but she held up one finger and then held her free hand open, “but I think she’s about to wrap up and wants to talk to you, too.” Riley nodded in agreement.

“Excellent. And I mean it Drake, I know how much this means to both of you. So, truly, I wish you congratulations and nothing but happiness.”

Feeling a lump in his throat, Drake swallowed roughly. But before he could process the words of his oldest and dearest friend, Riley was snatching his phone out of his hand and passing her phone to him.

Hana and Catherine wished him brief, but heartfelt congratulations, but Riley was still on the phone with Liam after he said goodbye to them. He could only really hear her half of the conversation, and she wasn’t saying much, mainly listening to him apparently. Every so often, she would throw in an “of course” or “you know I will,” but other than a few chuckles, she was largely silent. Every so often, he would catch a word or two from Liam, but their conversation was basically a mystery to him.

It was a little strange, to think about how a couple of years ago, having to sit as an outsider while Liam and Riley shared something private would have filled him with a mix of jealousy and guilt and anger. Now, it was certainly a bit odd that his best friend seemed to have more to say to his… his wife than he did to him, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, necessarily. If anything, he was mostly curious, with just a bit of fear about what tales from their youth and adolescence he could be telling her. Those stories would require more explanations than he wanted to give tonight.

Eventually, the cab stopped in front of their building. As Drake paid their fare, Riley wrapped up the call with Liam.

“Thanks, Liam. We’re actually home now… Yeah, I know… You too. Stay safe, and we’ll talk to you guys in a few days.”

“What was that about?” Drake asked as Riley ducked under his arm as he opened the door to their building.

“Oh, he just had a lot of really mushy things to say about you.”

“I’m serious, Liu.”

“I wasn’t kidding. I think he basically gave me his best man speech just now,” she said with a shrug as she unlocked the door from the mailroom and started up the stairs to the second floor, “He just wanted to make sure I knew how lucky I was, I think.”

“Well, that’s fucking dumb. I’m the lucky one here.”

“This has all the markings of going on for a while. Why don’t we just agree that we’re both mad lucky and call it even?” Riley called over her shoulder as she walked down the hallway and pulled her keys out of her purse.

“Wait! I’m supposed to carry you through, right?” Drake remembered as Riley moved to push open the door.

She let out a little chuckle and rolled her eyes, but stood there expectantly, so Drake stepped up and scooped her into his arms, sliding one hand forward to turn the knob and open their door. Anderson came trotting over, eager to see his two humans, while Drake placed Riley down close to the door, not wanting to track their shoes and jackets too far into the apartment.

“He could probably use a walk,” Drake said, “and we should probably shower after spending hours out in public. How about I take him while you get started since washing your hair is always a… process.”

Riley swatted his chest lightly, but nodded in agreement. “You’ll join me when you get back?”

“Absolutely.”

Anderson took care of his business quickly, so it wasn’t too long before Drake was back in their apartment, hanging his sport coat up next to Riley’s jacket and kicking off his shoes. After washing his hands, he made his way into their bathroom, where the shower was running. The steam was already starting to get thick in the room, and eager to get out of his clothes and to join her, Drake quickly moved to drop his shirt on top of the pile of clothing she’d left next to the sink, but a scrap of tan lace caught his eye.

“I knew you were bluffing!” he called out as he fully removed his shirt and started undoing his belt and jeans.

“Huh?” asked Riley, peeking her head out from behind the shower curtain.

“About not wearing underwear. I knew you were full of shit,” Drake said as he stepped out of his pants and boxers, kicking them on top of the pile before climbing into the tub and under the water, sliding his hands into her long, black hair, somehow even darker now that it was wet, as she placed her chin against his chest and her hands on his hips, turning her face up towards his with a playful little smile.

He dropped his head to hers, pulling her into a passionate kiss, trailing his hands through her hair and down to her back. After a few moments, she tilted her head back. “As much as I like where this is headed, we should actually probably shower and not get too distracted,” she teased, trailing her hands around and squeezing his ass with a wink before she ducked past him and started rinsing out her hair. “Besides,” she added, “our track record for shower sex is not great.”

Drake couldn’t help but laugh as he opened up his bottle of shampoo and started lathering up his hair. Something about the floor of this tub was extra slippery, as they had learned the hard way not long after they moved in and then foolishly required repeat lessons about at numerous times. The worst was the time that he’d needed three stitches behind his ear after colliding with the tap as he fell backward, but the time Riley nearly dislocated her shoulder was a close second. “Yeah, a trip to urgent care would be pretty far from ideal at this point,” he said as he dropped a kiss to her forehead.

And so they both showered, trying to keep any touches light and loving, not wanting things to escalate just yet, but the sight of Riley with water trailing all over her naked curves was obviously turning Drake on. Based on the way she dragged her hand across him as she reached for her body wash, she was feeling the same way. By the time she was rinsing off and stepping out of the shower, Drake was scrambling to finish up, wanting to join her as soon as possible.

When he finally turned off the water and stepped out, there she was, wrapped up in her lime green towel, working a comb through her hair. She smiled at him through the mirror, her skin still looking like it was almost glowing from the warmth and water. As he drew up behind her, he slid his hands around her waist and dropped his lips to her shoulder, prompting Riley to shake her head.

“Drake, at least let me finish working out the tangles,” she said before letting out a little sigh as he worked his way over to the side of her neck, biting down ever so lightly when he reached that spot that always drove her wild.

“Who cares?” Drake mumbled into her skin, working his fingers to gather up the towel and moving one hand to her now-exposed thigh, “You aren’t gonna be seeing anyone anyway.”

Riley shuddered, dropping her comb to the counter before snaking her hand behind his neck as he slid his fingers to her center, his touch still light and teasing. “Maybe I want to look good for my husband,” she sighed out, moving her other hand to the knotted portion of the towel across her chest.

Drake groaned. Was her statement supposed to slow him down? Because hearing the word ‘husband’ coming from her lips? Talking about him? Well, fuck. It turned him on even more. Riley had to know what that sentence would do to him, right? So, he increased the pressure of his fingers, stroking her in the way he knew she loved before sliding a finger inside her. The angle wasn’t perfect, but he could feel her arousal and the fact that she practically growled “Fuck” as she clawed her fingernails into his neck seemed to indicate that she was just as ready to keep going as he was.

After a few moments, Drake stilled his motion when Riley grabbed his wrist. She spun, letting the towel fall to the ground and hopped up onto the small counter. She tugged him between her legs, but Drake shook his head.

“Our bed is just a few feet away,” he protested as Riley wrapped her hand around him, causing him to question why he was trying to change anything going on here.

“But it’s nice and warm in here,” she responded, dropping kisses along his jaw, “and I’ve never been good at waiting, Drake. We can be all tender and gentle later. For now, I just want you to fuck your wife.” She punctuated the last words by biting down lightly on his earlobe. Letting out a groan, he brushed her hand away and lined himself up, sinking into her. He hadn’t wanted their first time as a married couple to feel like some frantic quickie, but it had always been nearly impossible for him to deny her anything. So he started rocking his hips into her, reveling in the feel of her around him. The scrape of her nails along his shoulders. Her breath across his cheek.

As he shifted his stance slightly to fill her an angle he knew would be better for her, he caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror. There it was, a gold band on his ring finger, resting along her spine. It was almost hard to look away, so he just kept staring at it, soaking in the sight that proved they were married. It mixed with the feel of her hands digging into his skin and her legs hooked around his back, the sound of her breathy sighs and whispered “fucks,” the taste of her skin of her neck, and the smell of her peach body wash, spurring him on and increasing his pleasure.

Sensing that he was heading towards his peak a little quicker than she was, he tore his left hand off her back, sliding it between their bodies. He glanced down to where they were joined, his thumb circling roughly right above that, his ring pressed against the skin of the thigh he clutched. He slammed his eyes shut and dropped his face into the crook of her neck, not needing any additional stimulation. But soon, he felt Riley’s leg clench around him a little more.

“Are you close?” he murmured into her ear.

“Yes,” she moaned out, arching her back slightly. He wasn’t sure if she was specifically answering his question or not, but her response was enough of an answer regardless. Picking up his pace, Drake stroked his thumb harder. He knew he was seconds away from release when he felt her clench around him. He barely was able to recognize her climax before he shattered, spilling into her as he groaned into her skin.

After a few breathless moments, Drake felt his awareness returning. He slid out of her and shifted up, reaching behind her for a washcloth off the rack, dropping a kiss along her cheek as he stood up fully and helped her off the counter.

He wanted to tell how much he loved her. How much he would always love her. How he would always try to prevent her from ever regretting today. But any words he could think of didn’t feel like they were enough to actually describe his feelings, so he settled for gentle caresses and light kisses as they got cleaned up. Before they moved to go to their bedroom to get dressed, Drake grabbed her wrist and tugged her back to him, kissing her deeply.

“I’ll make us something nice for dinner, Liu. Okay?” he said as he pulled back, running his hand through her wet hair.

She nodded and gave him a bright smile before responding, “And I have an idea for dessert.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, “You have an idea in the kitchen?”

Riley just shook her head. “Yes, you ass. And not only will I not mess it up, but I know you’ll like it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, Riley having thrown on some acoustic cover songs in the background and lighting a couple of candles they had leftover from their Valentine’s dinner while Drake cooked up a couple of steaks, some roasted potatoes, and some sauteed frozen squash. It wasn’t a perfect meal, but he thought he’d done a decent job finding something special for them out of their stock. He’d been surprised when Riley had set their glasses of whiskey on the coffee table instead of their dining table, but he got it once she’d tucked her legs under herself and curled up against his side on the couch. It was cozy and warm and intimate and felt right for the way they’d gotten married.

After they finished eating, Drake started loading the dishwasher and soaking the pans while Riley dug around in the tall cupboard they used as their pantry and then pulled something out of the fridge.

“You better not be baking something,” Drake told her over his shoulder, “Eggs are too hard to find these days to use them in a kitchen adventure of yours,” chuckling lightly as he felt a towel whip between his shoulder blades.

“If you’re done being a smart ass, I’m ready for you.”

Drake shut off the faucet and turned to face her, a smile slipping onto his face as he took in the graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars on the counter.

“I know it’s not exactly a wedding cake, but I figured we could do s’mores over the stove,” she said, settling in next to him.

“It’s perfect, Riley,” he said, slipping his hand into hers as he noticed an apple sitting off to the side, “but why the apple?”

“Oh, well I thought we could still do the apple-cutting,” she said with a little shrug, placing her chin against his shoulder, “I mean, I wasn’t sure if someone else needed to be there for this tradition or not, but I just thought it might be nice.”

Drake squeezed her hand, grabbing a knife out of the block and handing it to her. That she had remembered the one Cordonian wedding tradition he’d mentioned incorporating into their reception and thought to do it today was so perfectly her. Not snarky her, when she was annoyed at others or the world or at him. Not playful her, who would tease and laugh and lighten the room. But thoughtful her, who saw forgotten and neglected and broken people and made sure that at least for a moment, they felt seen and heard.

“So, just carve your initials,” Drake instructed, reluctantly dropping her hand so she could pick up the apple.

“Old or new?”

“What?”

“My old initials or my new initials?”

The weight of the day hit him again. Maybe this wasn’t the wedding they’d planned, but it was still their day. Their commitment. Their promise. And that meant more than having Maxwell as the officiant or getting married where his parents did or hearing toasts from Liam or Hana ever could. Watching the woman he’d loved for years, who he knew he’d love for all the years ahead, carve “RW” into that apple was plenty special.

He knew Riley could read him and his mood. She had always been good at that even before they lived together, so it didn’t surprise him that she kept quiet as he carved his own initials into the apple, then cut out a slice for them to share. She had to know he was dangerously close to being overwhelmed, so she didn’t push, just ate her portion of the apple before taking a step to the side and lighting one of the burners. After spearing a couple of marshmallows onto two forks, she grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the stove with her. They toasted their marshmallows without saying anything and without letting go. They were ready to face the good and the bad, together and united. The world was changing, but their world felt steady and sure.

Permatag: @ravenpuff02 @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @speedyoperarascalparty @mfackenthal @lilyofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @jamesashtonisbae

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC only: @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley--walker @notoriouscs @butindeed @axwalker @drakesensworld  

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @wickedgypsymoon @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer @ao719 @ooo-barff-ooo @sunnyxdazed  

Change of Plans: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @burnsoslow​

[nxrthmizu]

-Lordbug, Robin and Kitty Noir- Chapter Two: In Which Damian Gets Soaked

/Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven//Part Eight//Part Nine//Part Ten//Part Eleven/

Description: Idk it’s just fluff man

Warnings: Cursing I guess that’s it

---

Kitty Noir. Damian hummed under his breath, the name sounding around his head. Black Kitty. Hey, at least his ‘partner’ had a name worse than Lordbug. 

“Damian! How dare you take the Ladybug miraculous without telling me!” To say that Fu was furious was an understatement of the century. Wayzz had, of course, told his master once Damian bounded back to ask ‘What the hell I can’t kill them’. 

Damian tried not to look guilty (Because he didn’t feel guilty, really!), and gave Master Fu a bored expression. “Face it, Fu, if I didn’t take the miraculous, <>those monsters would still be out there.” 

Master Fu tried to think of a good punishment, and then walla- There the solution was. “Damian, as your punishment, you will be the Ladybug miraculous holder until after Hawkmoth is defeated. 

---

Damian groaned, slamming face-down onto his bed in the Chinese-themed room. Great. He was stuck with ‘Lordbug’ permanently. If he knew that was going to happen, he wouldn’t have come up with such a cringey name.

“Are you okay, Damian?”  Tikki’s chirpy voice asked him worriedly. 

“Do I look okay to you?” Damian snapped, having swapped from French to English in the heat of his anger. 

“Well, if you want me to speak English, I can.” The Kwami offered. “I’ve been to England before.” 

“Just shut up and go away!” Damian growled loudly at the Kwami, who flinched, clearly afraid of the dark-haired boy, who planted himself back in his bed, refusing to do anything else to kill the time. 

---

“Marinette! Wake up, kid! You’re going to be late!” The cat Kwami fussed over his holder as she got up groggily. 

“I’m up- Goodness, what time is it?” 

“It’s already seven!” Plagg screeched, dragging Marinette’s bag towards her but failing due to its weight and his size, causing the girl to laugh lightly as she picked the bag up, cuddling the little Kwami even while he protested. 

“Alright, grumpy kitty.” Marinette chuckled. “Let’s go to school.” 

And for once, she wasn’t late. 

When she stepped into her class, though, it seemed that a lying fox had beat her and was earlier than she was. 

“Hi everyone, I’m Lila Rossi. Please take care of me.” The girl introduced in smiles and sunshine and rainbows- Before taking a seat at Marinette’s place. 

“Um, sorry. That’s my place.” Marinette apologized. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I have hearing problems. I must sit here.” The girl pouted sympathetically. “Besides, shouldn’t you be taking care of that new boy?” 

“Yea, girl.” Alya grinned, looping her arm around Lila’s affectionately. “I’ll take care of Lila.” 

Marinette turned, meeting eyes with a dark-haired boy sitting at the very end of class. He frowned at her, watching her as she headed up to him, plopping down next to him. 

“I’m Marinette.” She smiled sweetly. “The teacher told me about you. You must be Damian Wayne. Do you want a tour of the school?” 

Inside her bag, Plagg peeked out, glancing at the green-eyed boy. “How could Tikki choose such a holder?” The Kwami hissed angrily. “He isn't worthy of my cat!” 

---

“Thank you.” Damian thanked, not really being thankful but just being polite. Marinette shot him a sweet smile. 

“No problem! Should we get back to class?” Marinette smiled. 

---

It was going to be his first night patrolling. He stashed a few knifes and Batarangs into his utility belt, and agreed (Reluctantly) to let Tikki come along. 

Opening the window to get out of the stuffy bedroom, he shot off his grappling hook, retracting it as he leaped out of the window into the dark nocturnal atmosphere. 

Jumping from building to building was quite the stress reliever for him, with a flush of lights and colors a blend of the city of love. Tikki, safely hidden inside his hood, watched everything with an eye of awe. She had never really gotten to see Paris- Or whatever city it was at that time- Because she was always in the transformation when her Ladybugs went swinging by. She had never been able to enjoy the beautiful view, or the thrill. Clearly, Damian was enjoying himself, too. 

After a while, the Kwami of creation had fallen asleep, only to be awoken when she felt the vibrations of her holder speaking to himself. “Who’s- Is that? The girl... From this morning-” Damian was murmuring a random string of his thoughts, flinching slightly when he felt Tikki stir. 

“What’s wrong, Damian?” She chirped, peeking out of his hood to see him standing on a taller building overlooking a girl on a lit balcony of a bakery. “Is that... The girl that showed you around this morning?” And Plagg’s holder?  

“Yeah. Her name... I think... Marinette?” Damian was halfway between murmuring to Tikki and himself, stranding off into his own thoughts. 

“You should go talk to her.” Tikki encouraged. It would be a good idea for Damian to become friends with Plagg’s holder’s civilian identity. 

Scoffing, Damian turned away, preparing to move on with his patrol. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

---

“Um... Who are you?” Marinette asked awkwardly as a black, red, and yellow dressed superhero landed on her balcony. 

“R-Robin.” The boy seemed to blushing as he balanced himself on the railing of her balcony, growling under his breath once a while at what seemed to be a voice in his ear. An earpiece, perhaps?

“I’m Marinette.” She smiled, “Nice to meet you, Robin.” 

“W-What are you doing out this late? It’s dark and cold out.” Robin murmured, stepping off the railing and onto the balcony. 

Marinette shrugged. “The night view. It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” 

Robin turned to look at Paris, with it’s glistening yellow lights, and the faraway silhouette of the Eiffel tower. 

He didn’t dislike Paris. He hated it. 

“Yeah, it’s breathtaking.” 

---

“Morning, Damian!” A chirpy voice called out, and Damian spun around to come face to face with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Tikki giggled under his hood, but a quick warning swat warned her to stay quiet, although that didn’t stop her from teasing him later. 

“Dupain-Cheng.” He greeted with a little smile, because honestly, was anyone able to resist smiling around the little angel? Surely not. 

“Let’s head to class!” She beamed, pointing in the direction of her- Their- Class, and nodding reluctantly, he was dragged by the little angel into their class. 

---

They were walking out of school together, simply because 1, there was no one else to walk with, and 2, they were going in the same direction. 

“It’s raining.” Marinette sighed mournfully, already picturing herself getting home soaked. 

“Well observed.” Damian commented with a smirk, raising his hands in surrender when she glared at him. 

“Marinette!” A blonde called, racing out from the school doors. Adrien Agreste. “I- Sorry for yesterday. I was only trying to get the gum off your chair.” He apologized. Her bluebell eyes widened in realization. “Um, it looks like you don’t have an umbrella. Why don’t you take mine-”

Before Marinette could say anything, Damian did. He pushed Agreste’s umbrella away, smiling tightly. “No need.” Drawing an umbrella out of his bag, he opened it in one fluid motion, smiling at his little angel. 

“Shall we?” 

She laughed lightly, grabbing his arm as she jumped into the rain with him, causing him to groan. “You made my shoes wet!” He grumbled, only earning another laughter and a hasty apology from her. 

“Sorry. There’s a dryer in the bakery, so maybe you could get your clothes dry before you go home.” Marinette suggested, brushing a strand of wet hair out of her face. 

“No thank you.” Damian turned her down, refusing straight-forwardly.

She pouted. “But-”

Before she could finish, though, Chloe’s car drove past, and upon her instruction, the driver splashed through a large puddle. Marinette flinched and braced for the impact, but not before Damian shoved the umbrella in front of her. However, in the green-eyed boy’s quick thinking to protect her, he forgot about himself, getting drenched in the process. 

Glancing down at his wet clothes, Damian sighed. “Maybe I’ll take up your offer on the dryer.”

Looking at his more-or-less dry holder from inside Marinette’s bag, Plagg sighed. “I guess I should’ve know better than to doubt Tikki’s choice. Perhaps he is deserving of my cat afterall.” 

---

“Oh! I just got an idea!” Marinette suddenly burst out on their way to her bakery. Damian eyed her warily. 

“What is it?” He asked cautiously, having a bad feelling overshadowing. 

“You could leave your clothes in the dryer, and you can go home in some of the clothes I made!” She grinned. “I’m quite sure I could find something that’d fit you.” 

“You design your own clothes?” He was definitely not expecting that one coming. A familiar glint approached her eyes, and Damian felt his heart jolt. 

It was the same glint that Grayson always had when he spoke of Starfire, it was the same glint that Todd had when he played with his stray dog, Bacon, and it was the same glint that Drake had when a new case appeared. 

It was a glint of passion. 

And it would be the same glint in Damian’s eyes when he thought about his angel.

(Tag List: @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @constancetruggle @the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384 @mystery-5-5 @black-streak )

Comment if you want to be added to the tag list! If there are any mistakes in my writing, please contact me because this was a really rushed post (I’d deleted my fully polished and ready draft :( 

School’s starting soon, but I’ll try to update as much as possible and I promise that I’ll work on drafts every free night I get. Thanks for the support on the first chapter- It was amazing how it got one hundred plus likes through one night! Thanks so much for the support y’all :)

[herkiss-theriot]

Lol I know absolutely no one asked but here I am, arbitrarily ranking Kid Krow songs because this is a music blog now apparently and it’s my favorite album so far this year. Feel free to shoot me an ask for any elaboration or other opinions lol. Sorry for the long post. I would add a keep reading but I’m on mobile and the mobile app is somehow worse than the website. I’m also not tagging this so if this gets notes it’s not my fault. Also I’m editing the post em to say that I think this whole album is amazing and it pains me not giving every album a 10/10 bc they’re all so good

Comfort Crowd - 11/10

One of the best album intros I’ve heard compared to other albums I like. It means a lot to me and is overall a really easy song to listen to in basically any mood but is a great pick me up I think it also has one of my favorite lines on the album “you say through a sigh that I said that line already”

Wish You Were Sober - 8/10

A fun song to listen, has some solid lines. Not very relatable in my experiences but that’s also not the point lol. Favorite line(s): “knees weak, but you talk pretty fly, wow” “gettin’ good start saying gotta bounce”

Maniac - 8/10

One word titles are always fun but also -2 for some ableist language. Ik that’s not always at the top of Woke Cultures to do list but it’s a real problem and provides for some cringe vernacular choices sometimes. Overall it’s a pretty good song and is definitely one of the best on the album that’s playable even outside of the album/to people who arent into Conan. Conan apparently describes it as an “upbeat bedroom pop banger” according to genius which I guess, yeah, but what a way to describe a song. Favorite line: “we had magic, but you made it tragic”

(Online Love) - 9/10

First interlude if the album which is very exciting. Very cool idea to say that he thinks this love could be more if it were in person which translates well into current scenarios. Has a really cool guitar pattern and a nice ending. -1 bc it’s 30 seconds long favorite line: “I can’t help but imagine what maybe could’ve happened if we weren’t just an online love”

Checkmate - 10/10

Ik this was released pre-Kid Krow but god it’s one of his best songs and I’m so glad it made it on the album. It’s just got such a good energy about it and I always love chess analogies. And Ik Kid Krow Isnt a concept album by any means but I love the story arc going on of finally catching on. Favorite line(s) “cry me a river till you drown in the lake” “holding your hand but in the other one, baby I’m holding a loaded gun”

(I wrote parts for the cut that always bleeds and fight or flight and then accidentally deleted them so rip me sorry if they’re a lil short/less in depth)

The Cut That Always Bleeds - 8/10

It’s overall a great song and is really emotional but -2 bc I ugly cry to this song and get asked if I’m okay a lot lol favorite lines: “I don’t love you anymore” a pretty line that I adore”

“Can’t life another minute bleeding from my back cause I don’t have another one for you to stab”

Fight or Flight - 11/10

What a song. There’s not a lot I can say other than that it’s literally one of the greatest songs I’ve ever heard. It’s got some of the most genius song writing that I’ve heard on an album in a while. Also when I was learning to drive with my Nana i had a playlist that would go from Comfort Crowd to Fight or Flight which is an experience I recommend everyone have at least once in their life. My only criticism of this song is that it’s perception of cheating is a lil Disney-channel-esque” which maybe doesn’t make sense and also I’m fairly certain that he writes from personal experience and who am I to say he can’t write what he wants lmao.Favorite line(s) “id rather lie than tell you I’m in love with you” (one of my favorite lines EVER) “they also didn’t know that our lover loved us both.

Affluenza - 7/10

A fun song but is kind of a lot in my opinion and seems vaguely out of touch. However I do agree with the overall sentiment of eating the rich (also if you’re a trinkets fan I think this is a good song for an Elodie playlist or maybe even Tabitha depending on the perspective.) although I will say it’s a really good take on the idea of affluenza as a concept. favorite line “give me none of your affluenza”

(Can We Be Friends) - 6/10

Ik it’s an interlude so it’s kind of the point but definitely a skip most of the time even though I think the line “if anybody fucks with you I’ll knock their teeth out” gods hard. I just think one minute is a really weird time frame for a song. Sub one minute is just short enough to want more and 1:30 and perfectly acceptable for a song but one minute is v awkward

Heather - 10/10

Not amount elaboration would ever be able to perfectly encapsulates how gorgeous the idea of this song is. This idea that you wish you wish you could be someone else because you feel that this other person is otherworldly and is more deserving of the person you love. That feeling is gut wrenching. Favorite line “why would you ever kiss me, I’m not even half as pretty”

Little League - 5/10

I’m so sorry it’s just such a skip. I don’t know why but I can’t listen to this song. It reminds me of a big time rush song for some reason which isn’t a bad thing but every time I try to listen to it I think about how I think it’s a btr copy 😭 also when I do listen to it makes me cry a lot and yearning for a youth that I let waste away and I hate feeling actual feelings so minus points for that. Favorite line “when we were younger we wore our hearts out on our sleeve, why did we ever have to leave? Little league” I think it’s my favorite bc it can be interpreted in a couple of ways and I’m too tired to get into it rn

The Story - 10/10

Simple. Beautiful. One of the first Conan songs I heard. My friend was a huge Conan fan and so I listened to a couple songs like generation why and crush culture but she saw him in concert b4 kid Krow was released and took a video of The Story and I absolutely fell in love. The first time I heard it I sobbed. This idea of paralleling a bunch of failed loves and friendships in order to justify why you think yours will work is so cool and I love it a lot. Favorite line “I’m afraid that’s just the way the world works but I think that it could work for you and me.

[stateofgrace1303]

My chronic illness, how it started.

*Can you guys please reblog and/or tag Taylor?? I really want her to read

this. I want this to get to her and I'll take any help I can get. I rarely ask this but it'd mean to world to me. I wanna get my story

out there (even if this is only a part of the entire story. The rest I

might post sometime if you guys want me too. I think I did include

everything I wanted to for now though). Just thank you all so much!!! I

love you all ❤*

(Im really sorry about how long this is. Its like a little novel. Plus I'm

OCD and tend to talk/rant until it feels just right... I just wanted to

share it with all of you, since its something I would've shared on TSL,

even though it'd probably be too long for there... But I wanted to share it

here because most of those swifties can be found on tumblr, and I want you

all to hear this... Maybe it'll even get to Taylor too. But please read if

you can. It'd mean a lot to me. Also I tried writing this but then it got

deleted when I tried posting it, so hopefully this one posts (I ended up trying to post this ALL DAY. I'm so glad it's finally up).)

Hey Swifties! So, I thought I would post this because its something I'd

post on TSL if it was still around, as I shared pretty much my whole life

on there, and I always found swifties very easy to talk to (plus you're all

just the nicest people)! So, I wanted to share this on here since most

swifties can be found on tumblr. I'm sure i talked a little bit about this

on tsl (my user was stateofgrace1303, same as on here and ig) but I wanted

to tell you guys more, especially because its getting so much more intense

now and like I said I've always found swifties very easy to talk to you.

Basically, when I was 12, my dad took me to see the RED tour at Gillette

Stadium. We had gone to see the Speak Now tour there and I had been

completely wonderstruck (no pun intended) by Taylor that night. I was 10 at

the speak now tour and had idolized Taylor since I was 6 and she put out

TOMG (and I was known as the Taylor Swift girl by now at my school). So

even though I was 10 I asked my dad, if I save up the money will you take

me to see her when she comes again? And he said yes. About 2 weeks before

the show, I had saved up enough. He didn't think i could do it, but I did.

So, I got tickets and we went to the tour. But when I was walking towards

the stadium (we had parked in a lot right down the street), my vision

became weird, almost like tunnel vision although nothing was turning black

around the edges of my vision. My feet looked very far away from me.

Suddenly, a rush of dizziness came over me and instinctively i grabbed onto

my dads arm to keep from falling down. He asked if I was okay and I could

barely get out words for some reason. I was starting to sweat and we

thought maybe i was dehydrated, so we got into the stadium as quickly as

possible. I was gripping onto everything around me to keep from falling,

but eventually we got into the stadium and I got some water. We had seats

on the field, so that's where I was, drinking some water when suddenly I

was pretty sure I was going to throw up. It was starting to get super

uncomfortable so my dad brought my to the first aid, which was actually

right at the enterance on the field. So when we went in there my dad told

them what was going on and they all looked at me weird and said "people

never get sick. We usually treat bee stings and allergic reactions. We

almost never have people get sick" which actually surprised me. But, they

took me back and laid me down. Almost immediately I started puking. The

nurse I had actually had just had a baby and had some anti nausea

medication on her. So, she gave me that but it didn't work. And I just got

worse. My dad went to find me something to eat so I'd have something in my

stomach. He came back with some chips and iced/frozen lemonade but I threw

up every time. I was so dizzy at this point I was gripping onto the bed

they had me on and puking my guts out, as well as sweating a lot. After a

while, as it only got worse, they actually thought I might have had food

posioning and asked what I ate. But there they noticed something. I was

completely white. Like white as a ghost. Except for my lips, which were

turning blue. And I was struggling to breathe. They wanted to take me to

Boston Childrens and my dad asked if I wanted to, but it was Taylor. I

couldn't miss it. So I said no for that reason. But actually, everyone at

the stadium was trying to get me tickets for the show the next night as she

was playing two nights. Security guards, the nurses, my dads girlfriend...

But nobody could get tickets in the end which was okay. But later my dad

went and for a list of everybody's set times. I had been in first aid for

about an hour at this point. He came back with the list and said "I promise

I will not let you miss them" he said and pointed to Ed Sheerans name, then

Taylor, since I was a huge Ed fan as well. He knew I probably wouldn't be

able to stay, but even seeing them for a minute would've been perfect to

me. Another hour had passed, and I was still there in the same condition.

It was terrifying, and they were really pushing me to go to the hospital

(they wanted to call an ambulance because they actually thought something

very bad might happen if they didn't). But I keep pushing that off because

I wanted to see Taylor and Ed so badly. But, 2 hours I had been there in

the same condition, puking up everything, completely white with blue lips,

struggling to breathe, so dizzy I couldn't even sit up. It was starting to

get painful honestly. So, I suddenly just burst out crying. I was just a 12

year old who wanted to see my idol, and I got this... This weird sickness,

and got stuck in first aid. In so much pain. I didn't even really

understand what was happening. I had always been a sick kid. Always getting

colds and infections. In fact, I almost died as a baby from a problem with

my kidneys, and had become septic. Its a miracle I lived. But I had never

experienced anything like this... And to experience it when I was just

trying to see my idol? When it was only my second concert ever? It crushed

me tbh. My dad asked what was wrong and I finally said the words I had been

avoiding all night... "I wanna go home" (which was actually his

girlfriend's house who lived in Boston... I'm from Maine). And he said

"okay". That was all he needed and he left, walking back towards where we

left the car. However, around 7:30ish the traffic in this area is really

weird I cant even explain it. But traffic can only go one way, instead of

both ways like normal.. So he couldn't get a ride back to the car and had

to walk, and then drive the car in traffic all the way to the stadium to

pick me up. So i had to wait a while, and while I did I heard clapping and

then a British voice say "hello Boston" and he started playing give me

love. I listened to him play and i only cried more because I was so

frustrated I couldn't go out there to see him. About half way through the

set, my dad showed up. They let him park in a no parking zone to come and

get me so he was right next to the enterance to the field. They were going

to put me in a wheelchair, but instead my dad came and helped me up. He was

holding me up straight and almost dragged me out of the first aid station,

into the stadium. I remember this part so well. The air hit me, I heard

Ed's voice clearly and saw him on stage, and suddenly, I let go of my dad,

and I was able to stand on my own... And I was fine. It was like a miracle.

I yelled to my dad over the music "is it too late to stay?" And he screamed

back "what??? After all that you wanna stay???" And I said yes, so, we

stayed. He went to go move the car (the girl was so nice who did the

parking, he told her the story, and he just needs to park the car and het

back in the stadium, how much would it cost. And the girl said park

wherever you want no charge. I thought that was seriously the sweetest

thing.) Sooo he did that, and since I was only 12 in a huge stadium, one of

the cops that was patroling the place stayed with me and asked me all kinds

of questions about Ed Sheeran, especially about the A-Team, when he played

it. He said "this isn't his song right?? Is this a cover?? I know this

song." And I told him it wad and told him all about it. It was the ideal

conversation for 12 year old me 😂 Anyway, my dad came back, we got to our

seats, and I actually met Andrea for a very brief moment! And before I knew

it, Taylor was playing. And I had made it through the entire show. I woke

up the next morning, still feeling a little sick but actually felt better

after eating, so I thought the worst was over. But, I was wrong... I didn't

know that one night would become my life... And god I wish I had gone to

the hospital... Maybe I would be okay now if I had... But anyway... A month

later (in August), it happened at my friends end of summer party. Then a

month later (in September), while I was at school... Each time worse than

the time before. Everyone had been informed I was having issues, but nobody

had seen anything happen yet. I seemed like myself. Then one day, I was on

my way to lunch with my friends, and I collapsed in the hallway... Same

thing happening. All my friends freaked out and 2 stayed with me while the

rest went to get the nurse. She actually thought I was dying, and honestly

I could've. She called my mom and said she wasn't sure if she should call

my mom or an ambulance. Then my mom came and got me and immedaitly took me

to my doctor (because she said next time it happens to come in so they

could monitor me). I was monitored and fell asleep, then 4 hours later i

woke up like nothing happened. After that i was pulled out of school and

constantly at the doctor. And I just got sicker and sicker... Which was

later diagnosed as... "Anxiety". By an unqualified doctor. He was a thyroid

doctor and diagnosed me with that?? As time went on, I got incredibly sick

to the point I can't even move. I have become completely disabled and lose

control of my body a lot. It's like my brain is disconnected from my body.

And I get this weird feeling im falling off a cliff and I cant feel my arms

and when that happens, I cant move at all. I cant even express how bad it

can get, how scary and painful it is. I'm a lot sicker than most people

think I am... I spend most days in bed, actually unable to move. I find

ways to keep my spirits up, luckily. Mostly its listening to Taylor and

watching friends but yeah 😂 I have days where I can't even sit up I'm so

dizzy and weak and it hurts so much. Its also terrifying when you don't

have full control over your own body. Absoultely terrifying. Although I

have okay days where I can stand up and function for a little bit, most

days lately have been like this... Bad and living from my bed due to

weakness and dizziness (extreme dizziness honestly). I have days where its

even a struggle to breathe, the most simple thing in the world. It gets

depressing at times... When you spend all ur time in bed or a wheelchair it

really can vet discouraging... But I'm still fighting. And I'm so happy I

am. And like I said, Taylor always lifts me up. Even on my worst, most

disabled and bed ridden days. Oh, that reminds me... I also have seizures

now, sadly. But I hadn't had what happened that night at the RED tour in a

while though... Until one night last year... While I was seeing Ed Sheeran

in Gillette Stadium 😂 Maybe its him?? I dont know 😂 Anyway, I spend most

days in bed, and I do online schooling now. I've seen Taylor twice since

then. For 1989 and for reputation. With 1989 I needed a lot of help but I

got through it. Reputation, it had gotten so bad I needed a wheelchair and

I still do whenever I go out, really. I dont have full control over my body

and I'm too weak and just very sick. I'm really hoping to go to lover fest

but if i do will need a wheelchair and even then I'll probably still feel

sick... But Taylors worth it ❤ Hopefully can get ada seating like with rep.

Wanted to keep this last part short but I think I failed 😂 Mainly wanted

to focus on the red tour. My health story is so incredibly long, I couldn't

say it all (maybe I will later). However, for now, I will tell you this, I

was diagnosed with a thyroid disease, migraines, and seizures. Then it was

discovered that all of this... Was advanced Lyme Disease... And it created

something called Dysautonomia (basically a disfunction of the autonomic

nervous system, which most people don't even realize they have, or how

important it is, until it makes you sick and either nearly kills or

cripples you... Depending on the kind though.) Also known as POTS, or

Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (there are actually 15 kids of

dysautonomia, that being one of them, I might possibly have more than one

kinda, were not sure yet. But its basically half cardiology half

neurology). And there's no cure... I could be this way, this disabled and

sick for a while... But there are treatments that might work luckily!!!

Since there are no Dysautonomia clinics in Maine, I either have to go to

New York, Baltimore, Cleveland, or Minneapolis. So looks like im taking a

trip! Sadly to a hospital, but still 😊 I honestly don't know how we'll pay

for it, but I need it, or I will spend my life like this. So I'm sure we'll

find a way... Like I always seem to do in life, no matter what 😊❤ Oh, and

funny thing is, I have something called PANS as well... So I have Pots and

Pans 😂😂😂 Anyway, I just wanted to share this with you guys because like

I said you guys are always so great and Taylor is my favorite artist so I

wanted to share it with the people who understand my love for her. I've

been a huge fan of her for 13 years (I'm 18, 19 next month, now). Theres

something about her... She's always helped me but especially now. She makes

me so happy and feel so safe during this time... Im fact, the only time i

smile like i did when I was younger,before all of this, is when I listen to

Taylor. I even have a Long Live tattoo on my wrist because I felt it

represented my love for her the most, and what we've made as a fandom, the

magic we've created. Plus, it reminds me that I'm fighting my battle (this

"dragon") with Taylor and her music on my side, as well as all of you. And

it makes me smile. I can't wait to get more Taylor tattoos... Honestly,

after all of this and the other health issues I faced as a baby and a

child, I can't believe I'm still here, that I'm still living... Especially

because since I've always been so sick with so many different illnesses and

health issues to the point I'm disabled, my immune system is so weak. I

truly cannot believe I'm still here. But... I guess my body just isn't

ready to give up. It hasn't yet at least!!! And it doesn't want to. It

won't. I'm strong. Me, and my body, want to fight until the very end. And

I'm grateful for that. So grateful that I am still alive, and still

fighting every day of my life. It might be hard, and I can't function or do

really anything but lay in bed and watch tv most days, but I'm just so

thankful that I'm still alive, that it's okay I have to be at the doctors

so much and have to take all these meds (I do anything at this point that

can help me even the slighest). And no matter what life throws at my

health, my body always fights it and gets right back up. I fall down 10

times, I stand up 11. And I could not have the courage and strength to do

this if it wasn't for my idol, Taylor Swift. I've been a fan of Taylor for

13 years (I'm 18 now, 19 next month) so her and her music have helped me

through every problem I have ever faced, and this is no different. She has

a song for everything, so I can always find something to listen to that

makes me feel like she understands and she's telling me it'll be okay...

And ever since LOVER came out, I've been listening to soon you'll get

better on days its really bad, and my girlfriend sends me that song on bad

days too... It makes me feel safe. And like I can fight this. Thank you,

Taylor. I will never be able to repay you. I may struggle with this every

single day im here on earth, but with your music and the support I feel

from the swiftie fam, I know I'll get through it. Anyway... I guess I

should end this here. Again, sorry this is so long but if you read this

thank you so much for taking the time to!! If you made it to this point,

I'm proud 😂❤ And it means the world to me, you have no idea. Im hoping

this will get to Taylor and maybe even Ed one day. I love you all so much

and once again, thank you for reading!! ❤❤❤

@taylorswift @taylornation 🌈❤ @taylornotices 💜

(Pic is from when I was in First Aid at Ed Sheeran. It was so bad there

they had to give me an IV. I was in the first aid station, wrapped up in my

nightmare before Christmas blanket, on a stretcher with an IV in my hand

pretty much the entire night. It was so painful. When I arrived to first

aid I was actually unresponsive. Like I knew what was happening but I

couldn't talk or open my eyes. All I could do was make very small

movements. It felt like my body was shutting down. I was having bad heart issues as well and they wanted to give me a medicine fot my nausea but since I had lyme disease it could make my heart issues worse so they had to give me an EKG... Right there at the concert 😂 Interesting... But, I got through it.

Like always 😊 So yeah thats where the

picture is from ❤)

[margoshansons]

The Killing Kind (7/?)

Part Seven: 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06.

Summary: Instead of calling a drone to eliminate Brad, Peter simply had Y/N do his dirty work for him.

Warning: Mild swearing (does taking Jesus’ name in vain count?), maybe some miswritten hacking skills.

Notes: I am not a tech person, so this is kind of out of my league, but I tried my hardest to make it seem realistic. 

She didn’t know how, but Peter was to blame for this. When Harrington told them that they had made the last minute upgrade to Prague, that was the first thought that popped into (Y/N)’s mind. 

She approached the young superhero, crossing her arms as she leaned in, “Did you just hijack our summer vacation?”

Peter turned to her, apologetic, “Not on purpose, uh, Nick Fury really needs me to help out with these Elemental situations--”

“And let me guess,” Y/N cut off, “The next one’s in Prague?”

Peter nodded his head sheepishly before grasping his suitcase, “I’m sorry?” was all he could muster up before the two of them followed the rest of the class onto the bus. Y/N shook her head before settling down next to MJ, the two girls tuning out the world as the European countryside passed them by. 

Y/N gazed out the window, allowing the exhaustion from yesterday to settle over her, allowing her to slowly, gently, give in to the wave, closing her eyes as the green field passed her by. 

When she woke up, she knew she wasn’t in Prague. As if the strange behavior of the bus driver could’ve helped alleviate the situation. 

It was a bathroom stop, a chance to stretch their legs before continuing the bus ride for the next few hours. 

MJ had disappeared, and as far as Y/N could tell, so had Peter. A yawn escaped her mouth, alerting the girl to her newly revived state. Her eyes caught movement near the Men’s restroom, watching as Brad opened the door ever so slightly. She heard a scuffle of voices as he walked in, and as she crept closer, she could hear the unmistakable voice of Peter protesting something. 

By the time they had loaded back onto the bus, Y/N had no doubt that something awful was about to go down if the way Peter was shaking was any indication. 

After making sure MJ was asleep once again, she moved over to join Peter in the front seat. 

“Hey” She offered, “Is everything okay? You seem a little...on edge”

Peter shared a worried look with Y/N, stumbling over his words. “Brad, he um...he has....”

“Jesus, spit it out Peter,” She asked exasperated with his nerves. 

He leaned down, whispering the secret, “Brad has an embarrassing picture of me doing something that I definitely didn’t do but looks like I did, and now--”

“Say no more” she cut him off, pulling her laptop out of her bag, connecting it to the bus wifi. “It’s on his phone right?”

Peter nodded. 

“iPhone or Android?” She asked, pulling up the program her father downloaded several years ago.

Peter placed his new glasses on his face, turning to look at Brad, eyes scanning the kid. “Um, iPhone, I think.”

“Great” Y/N began to type away in Linux, programming the necessary functions, “I need his Apple ID and password.”

Peter nodded, “EDITH,” He whispered, “I need to access Brad Davis’ Apple ID information”

Y/N paused, in awe of the glasses, “Those are Stark’s glasses” She whispered, jaw open. “That gave him access to half of the world’s private information, those are a work of technical genius!” She rambled on, current task forgotten. 

Peter turned back to her, too distracted by his own hormonal problems to recognize the amount of work that went into the glasses staining his face. “Huh, oh yeah, it’s pretty cool. Mr. Stark left them to me.”

Y/N tried to ignore the irritation spinning in the pit of her stomach at the thought of a kid younger than her being left something so important. “He created the world’s most technically advanced AI, and he just...gave it to you? No explanation needed?”

Peter nodded, absentmindedly watching Brad in hopes of gaining information. 

She laughed mirthlessly, holding back her anger at the thought of Peter having so much power. He was a child, not even a full adult, and he had one of the most powerful AIs at his disposal. 

“Okay, I got it!” Peter announced, turning back around to face the front of the bus, “his email is bdavisbasketball@icloud,”

She began to input the information into the program, coding around it. “Password?”

Peter glanced back at the hidden screens in front of him, “bradsthebest, all lowercase, no spaces”

Y/N shook her head, disappointed in her peers for choosing such an easily hackable password. Even without the highly advanced program, she’d be able to hack his phone in a nanosecond. 

“Alright, I have access” Y/N smiled inwardly, feeling like a character in a heist movie, “You said it was a picture right?” 

Peter faced her, pulling the glasses off and leaning in. “Yeah, it would be among his recents”

“I know how phones work Peter.” Y/N snapped back, mostly as a joke, but she knew some of the irritation was real, that she really was upset with Peter’s use of EDITH. Or at least, she knew that was part of the reason for most of her irritation, the other part was because she could feel his breath on her neck, his arm hovering over her head, torsos practically touching. It drove her crazy. She could almost smell the body wash he had no doubt used that morning after last night’s events, mint radiating off his frame. 

“There it is!” Peter shook her out of her thoughts, and Y/N hoped he didn’t notice the amount of blood rushing to her cheeks. She clicked on the picture, deleting it from Brad’s phone for good before closing the program and shutting her computer. 

Peter collapsed against the bus seat, a sigh of relief emanating from the two teenagers for completely separate reasons. 

“Thanks” Peter’s gaze met hers, shoulder’s relaxing.

“No problem” Y/N smiled tightly, a jealous knot forming in her stomach at the sight of the glasses in Peter’s hands. She hated feeling like this. Like her dad. 

“You can try them sometime if you want” Peter offered, handing the pair of spectacles over to the student. “You, uh, you probably know more about them than I do anyway.”

Y/N’s awed gaze fell to the AI in her friend’s hand. All that power...and he was just giving it away. “You should keep them” She swallowed, her stomach growing tight, “If I need them I’ll ask.”

Peter nodded, tucking the glasses back into his backpack before drifting off for the rest of the trip.

Thanks for the love!

MASTERLIST. 

TAG LIST

@21bruhs @maiabiovillage @spidey-holland7 @petersblake @queen-destenie @thewinchesterchronicles @filthydeatheaters @cutiepiemimi13@happylittlesuns @smolbeanfive @leilei-draws @olivia1112 @avnngrs@suvikamahes98blr @broken-from-fandoms @your-pixels-are-showing@sarablog10 @santa-feigh @jade-mccartney @prettyylamee @badboysdoitbetter2 @isabellapotter15 @keanuuuuuureeeeeeevesssss@kpop-wuver @editsbyjenny @radkryptonitepeanut @wonders-of-the-multiverse @kaylinfayezink @ppunderoos @weyheyavengers@thatsuperherosidekick @dasydni @jackiehollanderr @complete-trash-101 @thatwhitemutant @depressed-comics @bbygrlsyd

If you wanna be tagged or removed let me know!

[ilovemygaydad]

Exes and ‘Oh’s

from the friends in dark places au

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

summary: [sort of outside the timeline] as a way to get virgil more comfortable in their group, patton decides everyone should take a day to go to the mall

WARNINGS: attempted sexual assault, kissing, non-consentual kissing/touching, physical violence, mention of a broken nose, blood mentions, head injury, panic attacks, crying, anger, toxic relationships, toxic oc, mental abuse, swearing, yelling, condescending tone, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: so i have to repost all of these in a different format! yay fucking me!!!! please consider reblogging these if you’re a fan of this series because it’s all fucked up now

first of main plot - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

-

Patton had decided that going to the mall would be a really great way to make Virgil feel more comfortable with Logan and Roman. Lo had picked them up around noon, and they had taken to walking around in an attempt to find somewhere to stop first.

Suddenly, Virgil grabbed Patton’s arm and swung him into the nearest store. Pat ton gave him a confused look, prompting at least some explanation as to why they’d ditched their other friends.

“I just,” Virgil rushed as he peeked out from behind a clothes rack that he’d hidden behind. “I saw my ex. God, I didn’t expect to see him here!” Patton peeked out and scanned the mall’s occupants until he spotted a familiar face.

“Are you talking about Jason?” Patton asked.

Shock spread across Virgil’s face. “Uh, yeah. How’d you know?”

“Oh, he’s also an ex of mine. And Logan and Roman. I didn’t realize you’d dated him, too!” Pat watched as Jason sat down at the circle of chairs just outside the store.

“Yeah…” Virgil muttered, squeezing his fists rhythmically. He was starting to have a panic attack as bad memories from his only relationship flooded back.

“Woah, kiddo. Are you okay?” Concern was laced in Patton’s voice as he set a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I just… Well, he, uh… It’s not important. I’ll be fine,” Virgil assured, giving a tiny smile that fell far flat of believable.

“Did he abuse you?” Patton asked quietly.

Virgil’s breath caught in his throat as memories spun around his brain.

---

“You need to stop talking to those people online, V.” Jason had confronted Virgil after school when they had been sitting at the bus stop.

“What? But they’re my… They’re my friends.” Virgil was confused. It was rare for him to bring up his Tumblr friends to Jason, and the times that he had, it was just to show him a funny post they had sent him.

“I don’t trust them. You need to tell them you can’t be their friend anymore,” his boyfriend told him. Virgil supposed Jason was right. He didn’t know much about his online friends, so maybe he shouldn’t trust them.

That night he’d deleted his Tumblr account.

---

“Jay, I don’t really feel like coming over tonight. I need to study for my bio test, and I’m super tired,” Virgil explained with a sigh, closing his locker and walking down the hall. Jason was hot on his trail.

“If you cared about me, then you’d come over.” 

Virgil stopped in his tracks. “I do care about you. Why would you even say that?” 

His boyfriend’s expression turned sad.  “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. You don’t seem to care about me anymore.” 

Virgil grabbed Jay’s hand and looked him in the eye.  “Okay, I’ll come over. But you have to help me study. This test is really important to me.”

---

“Babe, come on. You know you want to,” Jason coaxed as he placed his hand on Virgil’s waist, pulling him closer.

Virgil jerked away. “Knock it off! You’re drunk, and all that I want to do is study. Regardless, you aren’t in any situation to make important decisions.” 

There were a few excruciating moments of stillness where Virgil thought that Jason would back off when Jason grabbed him by the shirt collar and forced him into a kiss. Reflexively, Virgil pushed him away. His hands shook, and his breathing was becoming unsteady.

“What the fuck?!” Jay screamed and stalked close. His hands reached out to grab Virgil again, but Virgil was able to dodge the forceful grasp enough to run to the door..

“You’re drunk, and what you’re doing isn’t fucking cool. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Good night.” He reached for the doorknob, but his action stopped short when he heard a thud behind him. Virgil whipped around, only to see his boyfriend’s hand being pulled out from a hole he had punched into the wall.

“If you leave, I’m going to kill myself.” Blood was dripping from Jason’s hand onto the wooden floor of the foyer. Cold rushed through Virgil’s veins.

“What?”

“You heard me. I need you, yet you want to leave me. You’re being a terrible boyfriend,” Jay accused.

No. That wasn't true. Was it? What if it was?

Jason started forward again and pressed Virgil against the wall, kissing him sharply. A cold hand slid under the hem of his t-shirt, and hot ears began to stream down his face. What had he done to get himself into this terrible situation?

Virgil acted on impulse. He shoved as hard as he could and flung the door open, sprinting down the street without pausing. He ran for as long as he could, eventually collapsing in an alley a few miles away. Panic spread through him as he realized that he was in an unfamiliar place without his phone, which he’d left at Jason’s, and completely alone. Virgil hid behind a dumpster until the morning came, too terrified to wander the streets alone.

---

“We’re through,” Virgil said as he walked up to Jason on Monday morning. After what’d happened on Friday night, he hadn’t left his bed, feigning sick to get out of any human contact.

“What?” Jay asked as he turned to face Virgil. His features were contorted--cold and angry.

“I can’t stay with someone who doesn’t respect my wishes. Please don’t talk to me ever again.” Virgil walked away, hands in his sweatshirt pockets to hide their intense shaking.

The next week, Jason had transferred schools, and Virgil didn’t have to worry about him anymore.

---

“I--no. Of course not,” Virgil replied after a too many seconds. Patton’s normally cheery expression turned furious.

“Virgil, what did he do?” Patton’s voice was terrifyingly deep. Without a second thought, Virgil spilled all of the details of his horrible relationship.

“That asshole! I’m going to kick his ass to next Thursday.” Pat growled. Virgil reached out to stop him, but his fingers just barely brushed against Patton’s arm as he exited the store. Patton stormed over to the chairs in the center of the walkway. 

As Virgil rushed out after him, he was met with Roman and Logan, who must have realized their other friends weren’t following them anymore. The trio stared as Patton confronted Jason.

“Hey, Jason! What’s up?” Patton’s voice was saccharine sweet without any trace of genuine happiness that normally presented itself.

“Um, hey, Patton.” Jay sputtered, clearly confused as to why he’d been addressed by his ex.

“You know,” Patton said, laughing without any humor. “I let you off the hook for all of the shit that you did to me and my friends, but I really shouldn’t have. Do you know why? Because you’re a terrible person who thinks that it’s okay to sexually and mentally abuse people. I was weak for a long time, but I’ve finally grown a thick skin just in time to find out that you not only mentally abused Logan, Roman, and me, but you both sexually and mentally abused someone who I love. Who the hell do you think you are for thinking that is in any way okay? You’re an absolute garbage excuse for a human, and I’m sorry that anyone has to see you on a daily basis. Go shove a foot up your--” Patton was cut off by Virgil pulling him back.

“Patton, it isn’t worth it. Just let it go.” Virgil’s face was pleading, obviously wanting to avoid any more confrontation.

“No! I am not just going to ‘let it go!’ Are you kidding me?” Patton jerked away from his friend and turned back to Jason, who’d stood up with a sickening smirk plastered on his face.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Let Suburban Dad here get his word in.” Jay took a few steps forward. He’d grown a bit over the years and towered at least three inches over both of them.

“You’re disgusting! I can’t belie--” Patton’s yelling abruptly stopped as Jason shoved him backward. His head made a hollow thunk as it hit the wooden armrest of the mall chair. 

“Roman, go grab security. I’ll take care of Patton and Virgil.” Logan ordered from a few feet behind Virgil. He heard scrambling feet on tile, but Virgil’s mind didn’t really take the noises in. His sole focus was on Jason.

“You son of a bitch!” Virgil screeched as he marched up to Jay with no regard for his own safety. “What the fuck was that? How dare you hurt Patton--he’s never done anything to you! I’d say that I can’t believe you’d do that, but I know damn well that you would. You’re a coward!” He took the final step and flung his fist into Jason’s face. The teen in front of him collapsed onto the ground, blood trickling from his now broken nose. Virgil crouched down, looking Jason straight in the eye.

“That is something that I should have done a long fucking time ago.”

---

After things were cleared up with malls security and Patton was cleared by the paramedics, the group of friends were finally able to make their way home. Virgil was hunched in his seat, emotionally drained from the day’s events.

“Hey, Virgil,” Roman piped up from the front seat. “What you did was really brave.”

“I agree,” Logan added. “You were very heroic out there even if what you did was extremely stupid. It was an admirable move.” He flashed Virgil a tiny smile in the rearview mirror.

Patton gently latched himself onto Virgil’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. Virgil turned his attention to his friend sitting next to him. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”

“It’s… It’s not a big deal.” Virgil sunk deeper into his seat, flipping his hood over his head to conceal the rosy blush that was spreading across his face.

[wikipediathefreeencyclopedia]

compilation of my favorite otp prompts 1

I’ve gone through different prompt posts and made a big list of the ones i liked. I've linked all of the posts, because these are not prompts I thought of myself.

I encourage you to go to the actual posts because you might like more of them!! I just took the ones I personally really like, so please go check out the posts! 

tag

au ideas [x]

“you’re my roommate and the only one on campus who isn’t planning on going home for christmas bc you have family troubles but my mom wouldn’t mind if u stayed with us for christmas so u won’t be alone” au 

“i woke up in our dorm room in the dead of the night and u weren’t there and when u didn’t come back i got super worried so i wandered around campus until i found u shivering in the bleachers, and u looked really upset so i gave u my jacket and stayed out there with u for an hour until u finally told me what was wrong” au

“you’re having a nightmare and i feel bad because you’re trembling and crying so i crawl into bed with u and hold u so u feel safe, but in the morning u wake up with my arms wrapped around u you’re really confused and embarrassed” au

“you kissed me in an attempt to steal my wallet but i know all the tricks haha sucks for u, let’s get coffee sometime and i can teach you some goddamn manners” au

“i have to kiss u for spin the bottle/truth or dare and it turns out you’re an amazing kisser and now i’m hella attracted to u, wanna get dinner sometime? maybe make out a bit?” au

“you’re a lesser-known artist and i’m hanging out at a small art studio in the city and you catch me staring in awe at your work” au

Summer Camp Counselor aus pt. 2 [x]

“We were campers together and I totally had a crush on you and now we’re counselors together and I still have a crush on you” au

“You’re so bad at arts and crafts but you come every day with your cabin and try really hard and it’s really endearing” au

“I got a concussion and I’m groggy and I may have accidentally told you I like you” au

“It’s paint war night and we spend the whole time throwing paint at each other and I think this is our way of flirting” au

peculiar first meeting aus [x]

we met in a ball pit surrounded by five year olds honestly what are we doing with our lives

Height Difference AUs [x]

“You’re afraid that you’ll lose me in big crowds so you always hold my hand but now you just hold my hand when there’s only, like, five people around and I’m getting very suspicious” 

assorted weirdly specific AUs [x]

“your friend set you up on a blind date and i happened to be eating alone so you thought you were meeting me and you were cute so i went along with it but you just got a text from said friend that they’re sorry your date stood you up and now i have some explaining to do” au

OTP Prompts [x]

“We met at a party, and I got your number, but my friend deleted it, and I have no idea how to get in touch with you. Then, I run into you at the most random place ever.”

“We’re the last ones in the theater after a terrible movie, and I’m kind of wondering if you’re okay. You seem to be crying, but the movie wasn’t that sad.”

“All this time I thought you hated me, so forgive me if I’m a little suspicious of this love confession.”

nice aus [x]

i was watching that hot jogger while driving out of the neighborhood but got distracted and crashed but i just woke up in a hospital room and said hot jogger is at my bedside because apparently they’re the one who called the ambulance

Thanksgiving Prompts [x]

Person A not being able to see their family for Thanksgiving so Person B invites A to visit B’s family. Bonus: Person B’s family assumes they’re dating even if they’re not.

Person A always gets hounded for not having a date for Thanksgiving dinner so they get Person B to pretend to be their date in return for free food.

Arcade AUs [x]

We don’t know each other, and we’re both way too old for this. We’ve won a ton of tickets, but neither of us even want any of prizes, so we both end up giving our tickets to the same little kid.

We don’t know each other, but two mutual friends of ours invited us along, and now we’re very awkward third and fourth wheels. Wanna ditch them and go play skeeball or something?

You brought a book to the arcade to read, and all of your friends are laughing at you, so I sat down next to you and asked you to read it aloud to me. Now you’re looking at me like I’m crazy, but your friends aren’t laughing anymore, so I feel accomplished.

I work at the oldest, lamest arcade around, and I see you here every week, playing the ridiculously outdated games. I finally have to ask you why you come so often, wait, why are you blushing?

We were both dumped at prom, so we both ditched and went to play at the local arcade instead, obviously we have to compete to see who can get more tickets.

OTP PROMPTS - Food Edition [x]

“I hate sour cream, but you love it, and I secretly love you, so I keep some in my fridge for whenever you come over. Unfortunately, my sibling told you I hate sour cream, and now you’re getting suspicious.” Au

OTP Prompt [x]

“I kissed you during a game of spin the bottle when we were kids, but we barely knew each other, so we never talked about it. Now, you’re telling me you’ve had feelings for me all this time?” AU

[sunlightdances]

Half of Your Heart (4/6)

Title: Half of Your Heart Author: Katie @sunlightdances​ Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Word count: 2,038 (this part) Summary: You and Dean spend some time one-on-one, and you overhear something you shouldn’t. Sam thinks he has an idea what they’re hunting. Rating/Genre/Warnings: This part is a little angsty. Some personal developments for our characters, and some plot movement too.

Tumblr is being dumb about links, so find the previous parts by going to my masterlist > Dean fics > Half of Your Heart > Masterlist!

(Quick author’s note: Oooof, you guys. I’m so sorry this has taken me so long. The long and short of it is that I’ve been feeling a little discouraged about this story, but it means a lot to me and I want to finish it. One more thing: my taglist for this story was deleted. If you asked me to be tagged, please send me an ask and I’ll make a new list. So sorry!)

.

.

“So.” Dean claps his hands together. “Target practice.”

You roll your eyes. “I want it on the record that I said this is a waste of time and unnecessary.”

“Everyone needs practice,” he says, arching an eyebrow at you in a way that you hate that you find attractive.

You try to refrain from rolling your eyes again and hope that he doesn’t see it, but the smirk on his face makes you think you’re not as sneaky as you thought you were.

“Look, we drove all the way here,” he says, referring to the training facility for Park Rangers on the outskirts of Rocky, “We might as well get some shots in.”

You sigh. “Fine.” Before he can say anything else, you aim your gun, taking a deep breath before firing, emptying your clip. You already know you’re spot on, and have to really fight to keep the smug smile off your face.

Dean looks speechless for once, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you.

“Are you happy now?”

He turns to you, an unreadable look on his face. He clears his throat. “That’s-- uh, yeah. Good shots.”

“I appreciate your worry, Dean, but I promise I know how to look after myself.”

His jaw is tense, his face still lined with concern. “I know you do. I just--” He takes a deep breath. “Have you heard about the bear attacks?”

You frown. Of course you’ve heard about it. They briefed you before you started your job, but you didn’t want to think too hard about it. You figured if you were careful enough and did your job, no one else would get hurt.

“I’m not saying you should shoot a bear, okay, but you get why I’m a little on edge.”

You nod, an idea springing up in your head. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got just the thing.”

Dean looks skeptical, but he does as you ask. You leave the firing range and tell Dean to leave the Impala where it is. You walk with him down the dirt road towards the Visitor’s Center. It’s relatively warm today, the sun warming your skin and making your mood brighten.

You and Dean chatter idly as you walk. He doesn’t tell you much about him, but he tells you enough. He’s got plenty of embarrassing stories to tell about Sam, too. In turn you tell him more about your parents and the summer trips you’d take to National Parks with them every year.

At the Visitor Center, you drag him to the gift shop with you, and head to the ice cream counter at the small restaurant inside. He rolls his eyes, but goes with you, and refuses to let you pay. You smile, ducking your head, wondering why this feels so… so intimate. It’s ice cream. You’re a grown ass woman.

Still, when you sit down at a picnic table outside with Dean, it feels different. You find yourself cataloguing the details of his face, the freckles scattered across his cheekbones and the way his eyes crinkle at the sides when he smiles.

He catches you looking, and you blush, looking away quickly.

His spoon clatters into the plastic dish. He leans on his elbows, closing the distance between you slightly. “Am I imagining this?” He asks, and you feel your heart rate speed up.

“What?”

He swallows, gesturing back and forth between the two of you. “This. I-- I feel like…” He trails off.

“I feel that way too.” You tell him.

.

.

Dean feels like he’s on a roller coaster. Every ounce of self preservation he has is screaming at him to put the brakes on. He’s reading too much into this, he’s feeling frustrated and on edge and it’s messing with his judgement.

But then he looks at her, the way her hair shines in the sunlight and the delight on her face as she waves at some small kids who are sitting near them, and all his doubts just disappear.

He’s talking before he can stop himself. “Am I imagining this?”

She’s caught off guard, clearly, but he can’t stop now.

“This. I-- I feel like…” He doesn’t want to finish his sentence. He feels crazy. He knows he can’t do this, he can’t get attached. He can’t… but he wants to.

“I feel that way too,” she says, and something deep inside him clicks into place.

“We barely know each other--” Dean says, shaking his head.

“I know enough.”

They walk back to the car and Dean feels like a damn teenager. They keep stealing looks at each other, Dean’s grin stretched wide as a breathless laugh leaves her lips. They’re walking close enough that their hands are brushing together every so often, and he wants to bottle up this day. He wants to remember this feeling, always.

He doesn’t get this very often. This feeling of contentment. “The ice cream break was a good idea,” he tells her, grabbing her hand and tugging her to a stop when they get to the car, his thumb rubbing over the top of her hand. “Thanks.”

“Just don’t brag about it to your brother when we get back.”

He groans in mock offense. “You ruin all my fun.”

He becomes even more determined to solve this case on the way back as he glances at her out of the corner of his eye, her hair blowing in the breeze coming from the open window, eyes shut as she inhales the warm air.

When they get back, Sam is there, greeting them with a wave and a smile. He raises his eyebrow at the way Y/N sticks close to Dean’s side, a shy smile on her face. She squeezes Dean’s hand before heading off in the direction of her cabin.

Dean shoots his brother a warning glance, almost daring him to say anything. “Don’t. Look, we’re killing this thing. Tonight. Whatever it takes.”

Sam looks skeptical, but doesn’t argue. “Let’s hit the books, then. I think I have an idea of what it might be.”

.

.

The entire day with Dean feels like something out of a dream. It’s absolutely not what you thought would happen when you headed off to target practice with him, but you’re not sorry it happened.

You know this is probably a dumb idea, but there’s something about him. You feel the connection as strong as if there were a literal string connecting the two of you, and the relief you feel knowing he feels it too… it’s kinda overwhelming.

You have to do admission fee checks for the next few hours, so you head down to the entrance of the campground, fully aware you’re going to spend the rest of your shift daydreaming anyway. You can’t remember the last time you felt like this.

The hours fly by.

When the sun goes down, you shut up the entrance building and do a last sweep of the campground before heading back to the cabin. On your way back you see the light on in Sam and Dean’s trailer, and a smile blooms on your face in spite of yourself.

You veer off the path and head towards the now-familiar dwelling, raising your first to knock. You can just make out a whispered conversation on the other side of the door.

“The entire reason we’re here is to catch this thing. Staying in the campground was supposed to do that. This is clearly above our pay grade--”

Sam’s voice.

“We can’t just leave! There are people sleeping in there every night that have no idea what’s out there, and she--”

“Look, Dean. I know you like her. But we never planned to stay this long. We need back up. We can’t do this by ourselves.”

You hear Dean groan. “God dammit. I knew posing as Rangers wasn’t going to work for long. You know, we’re lucky that this thing--”

You’re pushing open the door before you can stop yourself, blood running cold at what you’re hearing. “What the hell are you talking about?” You feel like you’re going to be sick.

“Shit,” Sam hisses, turning to face you.

“Posing as Rangers? What-- what do you mean?” You will your voice not to shake. “Tell me the truth.”

“Just wait a minute,” Dean asks, hands out in front of him in a placating manner.

Before you can think about it, you’re pulling your sidearm from your waistband, angry because the only reason you even have it on you right now is because you actually believed he worried about you without a way to protect yourself -- what a crock of shit. “If you’re impersonating federal officers, then you’re under arrest.”

“Woah, hey. Slow down,” Sam says. “Let us explain.”

“You can explain to the Director,” you hiss through clenched teeth, angry at the tears you can feel building up.

“We never lied to you about who we are--”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Are you fucking serious?”

Dean deflates. “Just let me--”

“I’m tired of waiting.” You reply, “I’m turning you in.” You turn on your heel, leaving the RV as fast as you possibly can, your only thought about getting back to your cabin and getting to the Visitor Center.

Dean’s voice comes from a distance behind you as he calls your name. You should have known he would follow you.

“Please, get out.” You say flatly, starting to throw some clothes in an overnight bag. “I’m going to the Visitor Center. I’ll stay in Estes tonight.”

“I was going to tell you. Why we’re really here.”

You whirl around, anger radiating off you. “Oh yeah? You were going to tell me eventually? After you got me to trust you?” You clench your jaw hard to keep from crying. “Well, spit it out then.”

Dean looks pained, looks like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. “We’re here because the Director knows our friend, Bobby. He reached out when it seemed like the bear attacks weren’t random, and he asked us to come help.”

“What - you think some… some serial killer is out there? Is that what this is? You’re undercover cops?”

His smile is bitter. “Something like that. Look -- whatever’s out there? It’s dangerous. It’s-- it’s not human.”

You freeze, a laugh of disbelief bubbling out of you. “Oh, god.” You turn away, pushing your hand through your hair. “You’re crazy. Both of you.”

“You have to trust me--” His hand lands on your shoulder. You shake it off angrily.

“Why should I?! You lied to me!” You hiss, though it comes out as a half-whisper. You’re so angry and hurt you can feel it vibrating through you.

His face is open, desperate. “No. I didn’t lie.”

“You-- you’re not who you told me you were.”

His hand is outstretched like he wants to reach for you, “You never would have believed me if I would have told you why I was here.”

You feel suffocated. “I can’t do this right now. I want you to leave--”

He’s shaking his head before you even finish your sentence. “I can’t leave you here. Look, you have no reason to trust me, and I get that, but if you stay here--”

“I can take care of myself! I’ve always taken care of myself and I don’t need your help.” The words come out more forcefully than you intended, but you’re so upset you can’t keep them in.

You can’t stand the look on his face. He’s hurt, he’s worried, but most of all, he understands and you think that’s what hurts most of all. You trust him. Deep down, you do trust him. So why is it that the one person you’ve felt a genuine connection with in the last five years has just turned out to be another person who manipulated you?

“Please go. Please.” Your voice cracks, and you think that’s what does it.

His face crumples. “I-- okay. I’m sorry. Today was-- it wasn’t fake. It was real, okay? Just... call me if you need anything and I’ll find you.”

You don’t say anything.

A minute later, you hear the familiar sound of the screen door closing, and then there’s nothing.

Silence.

.

.

Tumblr is being dumb about links, so find the next part by going to my masterlist > Dean fics > Half of Your Heart > Masterlist!

[ruvatia]

Masked, unmasked

Anonymous asked:

Can I ask for a young justice nightwing that’s trying to convince reader (that was a good friend to him back in Gotham Academy) to join the team after they develop superpowers?

asdjhjasa I’m sorry I accidentally deleted your ask!

Pairing: Nightwing x reader (young justice) Word Count: 1,6k words Context: With a science experiment becoming noticed by the wrong people, you had discovered that you weren’t like most of your friends. And with the great detective Richard Grayson on duty of course he learns of your troubles and the aftermath of your rescue.

“I’m just saying, I know of a place where you could be a lot safer than the studio you’re living in now!”

“Look, Mr... Nightwing, dude, hero guy.” you said, finally turning around. “I appreciate you and your team saving me from those guys. I really do. But I don’t intend on moving out anytime soon, there’s not many places I can afford and I am not letting anyone else pay my rent for me.”

“I’m not telling you to move out to another place in Gotham. I want you on my team.”

“No, I’m not moving out to Bludhaven eith---What.”

He chuckled and repeated himself. He always enjoyed surprising you, regardless of if he had a mask on or not.

“I want you on my team. Don’t think I didn’t notice how some guards seemed to just faint when they were around you. Unless you really are that charming.”

You blushed, but you turned away and started walking away from him. Thankfully he didn’t notice the pink that dusted your cheeks, but part of the pink was because you felt yourself breaking out in cold sweat because someone else had so easily figured out that you weren’t like the others. The fact that he was a pretty attractive superhero didn’t really help the anxiety creeping into your frame as you walked back home.

The moment you closed the door, your phone vibrated in your pocket before you could even sink down to the floor and let out the longest and deepest sigh of the century.

from, unknown number: Not very nice of you to just storm off like that, I have a heart too you know

to, unknown number: jesus christ am I going to have to file a restraining order for your masked ass

from, unknown number: my ass holds no mask, unfortunately

Rolling your eyes, you blocked the number. You knew it was useless, Nightwing being a very smart individual that used to be under Batman’s wing but you felt good for a few seconds. Your phone pinged the moment you rose from your work desk but you ignored it, simply taking the device in your hands without unlocking it and plugging it into the wall.

You raised your arms and stretched, declaring that you were taking a shower and then going to bed. As you closed the blinds before the lights, a smirking figure on the neighboring rooftop leaped back to his base.

The next morning, a familiar face greeted you with a pat on the shoulder. Blue eyes pierced into yours as you took in his bright smile. It was blinding.

“Hey there sleepyhead, didn’t get your morning coffee yet?”

“Urgh, Dick.”

“Yes, yes that is my name. Looks like you need that morning coffee ASAP.”

“I wasn’t calling--- You know what? inject caffeine into my veins until I bleed it when I get cut. Where to?”

Dick glanced at his wristwatch, then at you, and then at the college you were both attending. 

“Save me a seat and I’ll cover the goods.” he winked before dashing towards the nearest cafe.

The moment you arrived in class all the backseats were taken by the cool kids. So dragging Dick’s bag with you, you sat near the first window in the first rows. It would make your friend able to spot you faster too so it all worked out, you tried to convince yourself.

The moment you had taken your notebook out of your bag, your heard heavy footsteps, a pair going at an insane speed and another that was much more relaxed.

Your teacher, a slow, cold and sour old man opened the door and right after he took his first step into the class, Dick jumped through the frame and landed with both his feet. He spotted you and beamed your way, saying “just in time” before jogging to the seat beside you.

“Grayson. Almost late but actually present. What a pleasure to see you.” your teacher said as he sat down. “Alright class, open your manuals to the third chapter.”

“Got your favorite, as weird as it is.” He said, pushing a cup with his name on it towards your notebook.

“Look, you should tell me that after you’ve tried a matcha latte with a few shots of espresso. Tea has caffeine in it anyways.” you said, letting your fingers come around the paper cup. You felt the warmth of your drink through the foam and let out a long sigh.

“I could right now, if you’d be so nice to broaden my horizons.” he said, a mischievous grin creeping on his face. 

“No.” You frowned and pulled the cup closer to you.

That earned a low chuckle from him before you both returned to the class at hand. For the first time in a long while you weren’t going to need to copy your notes for this class.

You’d known the boy sitting beside you since high school, being one of the students that could keep up with him (in more than one way) naturally you ended up together a lot. You would be lying if you said you’d never felt attracted to him, or felt some twinge in your heart when you heard that he was dating Barbara Gordon. Not that you were surprised, she was just so.... Barbara. There wasn’t a single thing that those two couldn’t do. No weaknesses whatsoever, or at least not in your eyes.

Though when you learned that the pair had broken up a little while ago, for the first time you’d started to see your friends as something else than perfect. You saw them as actual people with flaws for the first time and as you discovered and acknowledged them you grew closer to both of them in the last few months than you have in the past few years. They’d noticed too, and now before you knew it there wasn’t a week where you didn’t see them at least once, despite being in different programs in college.

The moment you left class, you felt your phone vibrate inside your pocket. Nightwing had just sent the text he sent to you last night again, since you decided to leave the last message unread and unanswered.

from, unknown number; Really? Blocking me before I get to take you out to dinner?

to, unknown number; You never said anything about dinner and either way I wouldn’t be interested. Please leave me alone.

You sighed again, earning the attention of your friend beside you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a grin on his features for a reason that was unknown to you.

“Harassment, I guess.” you shrugged, readjusting the strap on your shoulder before shoving your phone back in your jacket’s pocket. “I think I need some food in me before I head to the library, do you have time to tag along?”

“I always have time for you. What’s this harassment story about?”

“Well, creeper keeps approaching me even when I’ve very clearly refused him.”

“C-creeper’s a pretty strong word.” he commented, avoiding your annoyed expression. “Have you tried listening to their side of the story?”

“No, and it’s probably a little rude to think so, but I don’t think that there’s much to it anyways.”

He raised his eyebrow at that. “Oh really?”

“Dude just wants me to join his...” 

You trailed off, trying not to give away the fact that the guardian of Bludhaven was texting you to join his team of superheroes and seemed pretty insistent. 

“G-gaming group! Yeah, he wants me to join this gaming group because they need a support main but he doesn’t know if I’d actually communicate and play effectively with his friends. Sure, I can fill and heal and resurrect them when they need me but who knows what we’ll actually do as a team.”

“Well, how would you know if you never tried a game with them? Maybe just try it, and add the good ones on your friend list.”

“The good ones you say...” you sigh in response, before feeling a hand come around your shoulder. “I don’t know how they work, Dick. And even if I did these people have probably been through so much together. You know how it is with cliques, they’re all super tight-knit and it’s really hard to get in.”

“Come now, there’s no need to say that. Worst case scenario they’re added on the fiend list and I teach them all a lesson with my mad skills.” Dick winked at you. “Besides, you’re a great friend and good company to have around, I’m sure you’ll fit in great.”

You chuckled, making him release a sigh he didn’t know he had in him.

“So, about that food... Got a place in mind?”

From, unknown number: Need some help being alone?

The text made your phone shine through your hoodie jacket. You had just finished your draft for an essay that you were going to give in a few weeks, and you raised an eyebrow at the message.

You had stepped out of your apartment to grab some snacks from the nearest corner store, and you were convinced that if something did happen you’d be able to defend yourself. If Nightwing wanted you on his team you’d be just fine against a few thugs.

You would not be fine against the Joker however. 

The man stood before you, smiling. He took a deep bow and then looked up at you in a swift movement, making you take a step back.

“Word on the street is that you’re quite the interesting little bird. Mind coming with me?”

[findtheloveofmylife]

Something Stupid (IV)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x OC (Lily Hathaway)

Summary: He was not the type to pine or whatever you wanted to call it. It usually was the opposite, they pined for him, they wanted to be with him, which is probably why he was way out of his element with her.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took a while. I accidentally deleted this chapter and I had to start from scratch again (but it’s okay, it’s here). It’s a little short but I think that’s fine, I just needed to get this part over.

I mention a while back that if anyone’s interested in being tagged for this story, messaged me so I can add you to the tag list :)

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—

Before the whole Lily situation, it wasn't uncommon for Roger to be with a girl for a few weeks or months. It was rare when he was with someone more than a year. One girl, in particular, Kathy, fell in the category of a few weeks. And the reason he even remembered her was because of Lily and her uncanny ability to make everything go back to her.

Like most girls, Roger had met Kathy at a bar after their band had played, and well, he had liked her enough to have her stick around. He wasn’t her boyfriend and she wasn’t her girlfriend, it was just something casual. She was just another girl that he would soon forget about, as horrible it sounded.

Everyone was so used to Roger’s casual approach to romance that he didn’t think anyone would say something about his current relationship with Kathy. But of course, that didn’t happen this time around. Lily had to say something about it.

He was slowly realizing how nosy Lily was when it comes to people’s love life. A prime example being Lily’s obsession with trying to set up John, who refused to go on dates with the girls Lily always suggested (everyone was pretty sure John refused just to spite her). So, Roger should’ve known that he would fall victim of her nosiness at one point.

It happened one afternoon when Roger decided to show up extra early to practice because he wanted to try something new in his set and didn’t want any of the guys inputting their ‘helpful’ suggestions. The first person to arrive had been Lily. He was surprised to see her alone, she usually showed up with John by her side, but gave her a nod in acknowledgment.

“Hello, hello,” Lily said as she took a seat on the nearest couch. “Why are you here alone? Where’s your girlfriend?”

Roger ignored her greeting and frowned. “What?”

“Kathy,” she elaborated, discarding her jacket and folding it neatly.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said quickly.

“Really?” she said and when he nodded, she did a poor job hiding her surprise. “Hmm.”

“What now?” he said irritatedly, not liking the condescending tone Lily used.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said innocently, making him give her a glare. She relented easily. “Alright, Alright. Is just that... are you sure Kathy's not your girlfriend?”

“I would know if I had a girlfriend.”

Lily laughed loudly as if that had been the funniest joke she’s heard and shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“What do you mean I wouldn’t?” he demanded.

“Sometimes guys are the last to know.” Lily smiled at him. “And something tells me that you’re not the person that is self-aware of their feelings.”

He was offended at that, which honestly he shouldn’t have. He had no idea how right she was going to be.

“Kathy and are not in a relationship,” he repeated firmly.

“Alright,” she said and glanced around the studio. Something caught her attention and she stood up, going towards a chair. She picked up a sweater and examined it. Roger looked at her cautiously, she turned around, still holding the sweater. “Is this Kathy’s?”

“I don't, I think so,” he said slowly.

“Isn't this where you typically dumped all your stuff?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I leave my stuff in my boyfriend's locker all that time,” she said casually, putting down the sweater and going towards Roger, who sighed in exasperation.

“Kathy is not my girlfriend.”

“Then why would Kathy leave a sweater in an area that is specifically yours if she's not your girlfriend?”

Roger opened his mouth but closed it, shaking his head. “Maybe someone moved it,” he finally said.

“Maybe,” she agreed easily. She glanced around the room again but made no move to go back to the couch. Her face was set in a frown as if she was concentrating something really hard on something. Roger had seen her wear that look often when she was about to do something that would annoy John and amuse Freddie.

“Why isn't John here?” he asked, feeling the need to distract Lily. Her head snapped towards him, taken back by his question.

“He forgot something home, so he told me to meet you guys here,” she explained. “Where's Kathy?”

Fuck. So much for distracting Lily.

“I don't know,” he answered honestly. He hadn't spoken with Kathy since he last saw her, which happened to be the previous night.

“Why do you think she's not your girlfriend?”

“Why do you think she's my girlfriend?” he shot back.

Lily brightened at that. “I am so glad you asked me that. Let’s review your guy's history, shall we?”

“Please don’t,” he sighed. If Lily was questioning his relationship with Kathy, he was certain that Kathy herself would start asking questions about them and he didn’t need that. “Why do you care if I have a girlfriend? Are you that bored with the American?”

“No, I’m not. I’m very happy with him, thanks for asking. Deacy says that I’m just annoying and nosy.”

“Yeah, you are annoying and nosy and irritating,” he agreed.

She didn’t seem to be bothered hearing that. “Anyways, going back to you. There's a lot of signs that show you're in a relationship, and I am positive that you and Kathy meet many of them.”

“I doubt it,” he said flatly.

“Oh, you would be surprised,” Lily disagreed. “Have you guys seen each other more than four days a week?”

“I’m not doing this,” he warned her.

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m going with yes because I’ve seen you three times this week and so far she’s been by your side each time and it’s only Thursday.”

Roger glared at Lily.

“Has she met all your friends? Again, I’m going with yes because you literally only hang out with the guys. Seriously, do any of you guys have friends outside of this group?”

Roger continued glaring at Lily.

“Does she spend the night? Wait. That’s a stupid question. Of course, she does.”

Roger grunted.

“Do you guys do more things besides having sex?”

Roger shook his head in disbelief. She needed to stop talking. She was making too much sense for his liking.

“Do you look forward to seeing her?”

Roger really wanted to shut Lily up.

“Do you notice when she’s not around?”

Roger wondered how upset would John be if he threw his drum kit at Lily.

“Ooh, do you love her?” she asked teasingly.

“Lily,” he gritted through his teeth, his finger curl around his drumsticks tightly. Lily seemed to notice that he was reaching the end of his patience and raised her hands in surrender. When she started heading back in the couch, Roger thought he had heard the end of it, but of course, it was Lily he was talking about.

“Your lack of answers is an answer itself. I know that you and Kathy check off at least half of it.”

“Goddammit,” he said under his breath.

“Whether you like it or not, she’s your girlfriend, dude.”

“Dude?”

“Matt says that’s it’s almost the same thing at mate,” she explained.

“Matt’s an idiot,” Roger said flatly.

“But he’s my idiot,” Lily said fondly and Roger knew at that moment, no matter what requirements they checked off, that Kathy wasn’t (and would probably never be) his girlfriend because there wasn’t that fondness between Kathy and him that Lily had with her American.

“Hmm,” Roger grunted, making Lily smiled at him.

“I like Kathy,” Lily admitted. “She’s... nice.”

“You think everyone is nice.”

“That’s not true. I think you’re an asshole,” she corrected him, making him smile despite his irritation at her. “But going back to Kathy, to be honest, the reason I like her is that I feel like you're less temperamental with her around.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means fewer things have been thrown.”

“I’m about to change that if you don’t stop talking Kathy,” he warned her, wagging a drumstick at her menacingly.

“Alright, I get it, she’s not your girlfriend. I am no longer going to say something.”

Roger doubted she would keep her promises but nodded gratefully at her. “Finally something smart comes out of your mouth.”

“Excuse you, I am very smart.”

“If you say so,” he said mockingly, making Lily make a rude hand gesture towards him. John appeared seconds later, looking out of breath and went straight to Lily.

“What’s going on?” he asked, not missing the annoyed look on Roger’s face.

“Nothing that should worry you,” Lily said and pulled on his arm excitedly. “But I do have something to talk to you about.”

“Oh no,” John said, pulling away from her grip. “I know what it is and I don’t want to hear it. I said no three times already.”

“No, no, no it’s not about Alice. I promise you,” she assured him, making John stop trying to get away from her.

“What is it then?” he asked suspiciously.

“Are you free this Saturday? I wanted to invite you to dinner with me and Matt.”

“Oh, right.” John was silent for a long moment, making Roger glance over at them. John look like was struggling to find an excuse and still annoyed at Lily, Roger found himself speaking up.

“John can't go. We’re going out to this bar on Saturday.”

“Are you kidding me?” Lily said, looking at John skeptically, who nodded quickly.

“Roger didn’t really give me much of choice,” he said, shrugging.

“Oh.” Lily looked disappointed but nodded. “That’s alright. Another night then.”

“Sorry, Lils,” John said, sounding as if he was truly sincere about being supposedly busy that night. “Maybe next week. I promise I won’t make plans.”

“Fine,” Lily said shortly, and promptly left the room. Roger looked at John curiously, and not surprisingly, John was too busy fiddling with his guitar to look over at him or Lily. Roger didn't get a chance to question him because soon everyone showed up, and the band started rehearsal.

Sometime between breaks, Roger had barely noticed that Kathy had shown up, and was talking to Lily and Mary. He felt a twinge annoyance at her announced appearance but he didn’t let her know when she approached him during one of their breaks.

“Did you leave your jacket?” he asked her.

“Oh, yeah, I did,” Kathy said, glancing over where it was. “Why? Is it not there anymore?”

“Its there. Just don’t leave it again,” he said tersely and went back to his drums.

And that’s number four, Lily’s cheery voice sounded in the back of his head as he went home with Kathy at the end of rehearsal.

A week later he broke things off with Kathy.

It wasn’t because of the conversation he had with Lily, no matter what exasperated look she gave him when he showed up with a new girl a few days later. His reasoning behind it was that he wasn’t as interested in Kathy as he was in the beginning. He didn’t want to do something stupid like start ignoring her calls or be caught fooling around with another girl.

Like he had said, it wasn’t unusual for him to move on from girl to girl in a span of few days. He wasn’t a relationship person, unlike Freddie or Brian, or even Lily. Which is probably why he didn’t see how much Lily’s pesky questions had stuck in the back of his head.

—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—

Tag List:

@the-freak-cassie-131, @goingslightlymaaad, @verkyun

[psyched2b]

Dallas’s Birthday Month Celebration

Yes...another one!

Alright, so I am sure that some of you have noticed that I am finally posting those Drabble Challenges from my 200 Follower Celebration. Technically, I stopped receiving those requests a few weeks ago, HOWEVER, since it is my fur baby’s 3rd Birthday on November 17th and since I am at nearly 300 followers, it seemed fitting that I just keep the celebrations going. (Let’s be real, it’s a lot of fun doing those requests anyways!)

So there will be a NEW Drabble Masterlist (when I get some requests that is!) Something that will be different this time is that I will have tags for my completed drabbles. If you are on my EVERYTHING tag list and DON’T want to be included in the drabbles, shoot me an ask or a message. Otherwise, if you want to be added to the drabbles or just my tag list in general, fill out this form.  ALSO, I added 12 Christmas AU prompts that you can either request by itself or with any of the dialogue prompts BECAUSE IT’S CHRISTMAS TIME.

Questions, comments or concerns? Send them my way!

Rules:

1. Please be following me!

2. Send in your request VIA ASK!

3. You can send in as many as you want but SEND IN SEPARATE ASKS. (Please use the appropriate emoji ex. ✏️  🎼 💚 ❓⭐️)

4. This celebration will end November 30, 2018

Things To Do:

1. ✏️Drabble Challenge: Below the cut are 84 prompts. Send me up to three numbers with your Marvel character pairing and get a drabble in return!✏️ (Read Completed)

2. 🎼Musical Names: Send your name/username and get a song playlist for every letter.🎼

3. 💚Character Ships: Send in a brief description of yourself and I will pair you with a Marvel character! 💚

4. ❓Get to Know: Ask me any question! Or tell me something about yourself! I’d love to get to know you!❓

5. *NEW*⭐️ Headcanons: Send in your request for a headcanon with one (1) specific Marvel character and I’ll give you my thoughts/expand ⭐️

PROMPTS:

1. That’s starting to get real annoying. 2. You can’t just sit there all day. 3. You’re seriously like a man-child. 4. You can’t banish me! This is my bed too! 5. She’s hiding behind the sofa. 6. You’re Satan. 7. Do you really need all that candy? 8. How is my wife more badass than me? 9. Stop being so cute. 10. Welcome back. Now fucking help me. 11. I could really use a hug right about now. 12. Tell me you need me. 13. Welp, that’s tragic. 14. I would kill you for a cup of coffee. 15. What is this ‘sleep’ you speak of? 16. Sorry isn’t going to help when I’m kicking your ass! 17.  I’d rather die than do that. 18. Can you shut up for five minutes? Please? 19. The floor is lava. 20. Where’s my food? 21. Get out of my way before I murder you. 22. You’re breaking my heart, babe. 23. I think you forgot who wears the pants in this relationship. 24. It’s just rain, you aren’t going to melt! 25. I don’t know why I married you. 26. What do you think a cupholder is for? 27. This is where you impress me, right? 28. I bet you can’t go 24 hours without swearing. 29. I’m not weird, you’re just basic. 30. Just sleep with one eye open, that’s all I’m saying. 31. You’re never this quiet, what’s wrong? 32. …or we could make out… 33. K. 34. I think you need stitches. 35. This is your fault by the way. 36. I have fans. More fans that you. 37. I paid for half and you ate three-quarters. 38. If you die, I’m going to kill you. 39. Stop looking at me like that, weirdo. 40. Sorry, I’m protective over the things I love. 41. You’re an idiot. I married an idiot. 42. I lied. I never liked it. 43. Are you trying to flirt? Because you’re just embarrassing yourself. 44. You don’t hate me. Quit lying to yourself. 45. Doesn’t make a difference to me. 46. I try my best. 47. You look pretty good for your age. 48. Delete it. Now. 49. No, you’re MY bitch. 50. Do you ever stop smiling? 51. You’re the one who left it hanging around! 52. You’re sick, not dying. 53. The weather’s too bad and I refuse to let you drive in it. 54. I love you the most-est. 55. Sausage or bacon? And no, not my sausage. 56. Did you just…put ketchup on your eggs? 57. You didn’t do the dishes, therefore I’m not doing you. 58. I don’t love you anymore. 59. “Did you just hiss at me?” - “Are you judging me?” 60. “You’re lying, you’re blushing.” - “Shut up, no I’m not!” 61. “I want my best friend back.” - “Kevin is over there.” 62. “What do you have?” - “Pizza rolls and Cup O’ Noodles…that’s about it. Popcorn?” 63. “Open this.” - “Can you say please?” 64. “Babe, I’m sorry.” - “Suck my ass.” 65. “It’s not mine, I swear.” - “How is it not fucking yours!” 66. “Boo?” - “You’re my boo.” 67. “I hate you.” - “No, you don’t.” 68. “It’s not fair that you’re hot and funny.” - “Look who’s talking…just kidding, your jokes suck.” 69. “You’re a blanket hog!” - “Leave me alone and stop being so selfish.” 70. “You can’t make me.” - “What are you? Five?” 71. “Well, this is awkward.” - “Don’t touch me.” 72. “…then I picked up your coffee by mistake.” - “All I want is an apology.” 73. “I’m your lock screen?!” - “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 74. “Your voice is sexy.” - “Your ass is sexy.” 75. “Come inside, I’m sorry.” - “Not until you apologize.” - “I just said I’m freaking sorry.” 76. “Take a chance.” - “Umm…let me think…no.” 77. “Move!” - “Why would I move if I’m so comfy where I am?” 78. “What time is it there?” - “We’re in the same time-zone.” 79. “This bath is too damn hot.” - “This is why we can’t do cute things. You complain too much.” 80. “I’m gonna shower.” - “Pft, don’t I get an invite?” 81. “Fuck you.” - “If you want, go ahead.” 82. “Sorry I’m late, I had some things to do.” - “By ‘things’, she means me.” 83. “You’ve been replaced.” - “Alright, we’ll see how you feel when you need me to kill a spider in the shower.” 84. “Sorry.” - “Good choice.”

*Prompts were gathered from multiple different posts @prompt-bank

CHRISTMAS AUs

85. For goodness gracious, IT’S 3 AM PLEASE STOP CAROLING 86. You threw a snowball and it hit me/my window and I was going to be mad but you’re really cute. Do you want to come in for hot chocolate? 87. This is the fourth time you’ve come to ask for sugar this week. How many cookies are you making? 88. We’re at an ugly Christmas sweater party and that thing is horrendous where did you even find that 89. You don’t realize I can see over the fence to watch you make snow angels like you’re five years old 90. You would literally make the best neighborhood Santa 91. Are you the one putting mistletoe absolutely everywhere in this apartment building, or do you just happen to be in the right place at the right time every single time I walk under it 92. I just heard a ten-pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help? 93. I work at the Christmas tree lot and you just had to pick the heaviest tree there didn’t you au
 94. You were putting up Christmas lights and you just fell off the roof omg do you need me to drive you to the hospital 95. I invited you to Christmas dinner as my boyfriend/girlfriend so that my family would stop pestering me about being single, but we can keep this up until New Year’s, right? 96. I’m going to eat this whole pie by myself and you’re not going to say anything about it

Collected solely from @say-hey-kid

*Prompts were gathered from multiple different posts @prompt-bank