#strikes again with the post sex house cleaning

[somethingexcessivelyphallic]

okay but serious the hot emo bf completely fucked my brains out again this weekend THEN HE EMPTIED AND RELOADED MY DISHWASHER *AND* STARTED A LOAD OF LAUNDRY FOR ME who is he 😍😍🥰

[ladamedusoif]

Tempered in the Fire - Part Four

See the Series Masterlist for complete content warnings, historical event information, and series notes.

Cross-posted to AO3. Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications for updates.

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI (chapter; series)

Content (chapter specific): Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; angst; smut; violence; unprotected PiV sex; oral sex (F and M receiving); racist (anti-Traveller) language; period-typical misogyny; references to domestic physical, emotional, and sexual abuse; references to family loss and death; abusive and derogatory language; strong language.

Translations for the Irish language provided throughout as needed, though I have not translated mo chuisle as a term of endearment (it literally means 'my pulse', more usually used as 'my love').

A/N: I am so, so sorry for the gap between chapters here and am grateful to the readers who've been so patient! Thanks, too, as ever, to @paulmescal-s for working through the gnarlier bits of this story with me and being such a great sort-of beta.

In the future, after many years had passed, you would find it hard to remember exactly how much time you had together, at the forge, before the hard reality came knocking at your door. Those days and nights of domestic happiness could never have been enough.

By day, you keep house, sew, and bake. Each morning, you do some basic reading and writing with Gró, or take the little boy around the hedgerows and trees at the boundary of the property, teaching him the names of plants and animals. Din had explained your presence to him, and he beamed every morning when his father carried him down the attic ladder and he saw you again. 

Din, so used to being the lone adult in the household, insists on contributing to the routine: cooking, cleaning, setting the fire. It feels so natural, so right - and yet a blade dangles over this strange little found family, ready to drop at any moment. 

Each evening, Din readies Gró for bed, sometimes bathing his son in a tin bath in front of the fire while you tell him a story by way of distraction. It has quickly become a highlight of the blacksmith’s day, these moments where he watches as you make his beloved boy squeal with laughter, or hold his rapt attention with the twists and turns of a tale. 

They were content and settled, this clan of two. But Din couldn’t help the daydreams about a clan of three that sometimes flashed through his mind. 

He took every opportunity he could to touch you throughout the day. A squeeze of your hand at the breakfast table as Gró drained his cup of milk. A discreet kiss to your cheek as he made his way into the forge for his morning’s work. A gentle caress of your waist as he passes you while you’re laying the table for the main meal, taken in the middle of the day. 

With Gró settled and asleep in the loft, the two of you moved more hastily in the evenings, now, to sort the things for breakfast and smother the fire. The sooner the chores were done, after all, the sooner you could shed your clothes and climb into his bed together. 

The nervous caution of your first time together soon dissipated as you grew more familiar with each other, more in tune with each other’s needs and desires. For all his inexperience and your difficult past, the two of you are perfectly-matched lovers. The feeling of Din’s broad body on yours, glistening with sweat, begins to exorcise the demons of the past. You ride him on top, one hand intertwined with his as he squeezes your breasts and watches you come. He slips his cock inside you one morning as you’re lying together, your back pressed to his chest, and fucks you slowly and carefully until you’re both coming quietly, mouths pushed into the pillows. One evening, he was even too impatient for bed, hitching up your skirts and taking you over the heavy wooden table, hand pressed against your mouth as you whined against his palm. 

“I want to learn you,” Din whispered one night, easing your long shift off so that you were completely bare, lying alongside his own naked body. 

You traced your fingertips along the softness of his lips. “Learn me?”

His strong, clever fingers roamed over you as he nodded. “Learn you. Know you, all of you.” He squeezed your tits softly, sucking gently on each nipple. “Commit you to memory. How you feel, how you fit together. Do you like this?”

You wound your fingers through his messy curls and nodded. He followed the curves of your body with his broad, calloused hands, moving over your waist and holding your hips firmly as he reverently kissed your belly. He took his time, hands memorising the exact shape and volume of your form.

“You are a beauty, mo chuisle,” he murmured, dark eyes looking up at you from between your legs. “So lovely and soft and warm.”

His fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he mapped you out, and you felt the wetness between your legs as your hips bucked upwards, legs parting instinctively. 

“Can I…see, mo chuisle?” Din’s palm grazed over the hair covering your mound. “See you…see you here?”

“Of course, my darling.” You opened your legs wider for him, watching as his eyes grew round in awe, before darkening with lust. He reached for his cock, whimpering a little as he stroked himself. 

“That’s beautiful.” He had shifted his head closer to your centre, his expression a little bashful. “I’d like to kiss you here.  Would that be alright?”

“Please, darling,” you hissed. “Put your mouth on me.”

“I’ve never…” He exhaled nervously as he settled between your legs, fingers already playing with your wet folds. “Never even thought of this, but…”

You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled, understanding what he was trying to say. “You’ll know just what to do, love.”

This was new to you, too, though you had heard of men doing it to their girls, especially if they were not meant to lie together. Your friend Mary had, just prior to her marriage, confided in you that she and her betrothed had found a way to sate their passions without the risk of her falling pregnant before the wedding. 

“The mouth is a great thing, all the same,” she’d said, dangling her bare feet in the cool water of the local river on a warm summer day as the two of you lazed on the grassy bank, skirts hitched to your knees. She had explained the mechanisms of it to you, chuckling at your sceptical expression. 

“Just wait, girleen. Just you wait and see.”

Now Din’s soft, plush lips were pressed against your slit, tongue tasting your wetness, and you finally understood what she meant. It was heaven: the way his lips brushed against the little bundle of nerves and made your whole body convulse with pleasure, the sensation of his patchy beard against your thighs, how he began to slip his tongue in and out of you. His grunts and moans vibrated against your core and you came hard against him, giggling when you saw the slick glistening all over his smiling face. 

In the nights to come, you returned the favour, languidly sucking and licking at his perfect cock while he held your head in place with his broad hands, hips bucking up against you as he groaned with sheer pleasure.

You paused, reminding him that he needed to be quieter, before slipping his cock between your lips again. “‘S not my fault, mo chuisle,” he panted, eyes locked on how his hard length disappeared into your pretty mouth. “Feels far too good.” 

As he came in your mouth for the first time, you’d looked up at his beautiful face, release and pleasure and affection written on every part of it, and begged whatever deity might listen to let you stay here forever.

Din is more comfortable showing his feelings through actions, physical gestures, than words. Little by little, though, you notice him opening up more, saying more. Not that he’d ever be what you could consider a talker. 

One night, nestled together, you ask him to tell you about himself.

"I want to hear your story, Din.” The comforting caress of your hand against his face makes him smile softly.

"I don’t know what there is to tell.”

You cuddle closer to him, enjoying the feel of his solid frame against you. “Well, I don’t know much about your family, for one…”

He shifts a little in bed and for an instant you worry you have overstepped the mark. 

“It’s not a very happy story, mo chuisle, but if you want to know…”

A kiss to the expanse of broad, tanned chest exposed at the neck of his nightshirt. “I want to know. If you want to tell me.”

He finds your hand and presses it to his chest, seeking reassurance in your familiar touch, and taking a deep breath before he begins to whisper his story to you.

"I’m a travelling person. I don’t know where I was born - other than that it was probably somewhere towards the west of the country, on a campsite. I have - had - an older sister, a younger brother. Lived off the money from whatever work my father could get - fixing pots and pans, mostly, sometimes farm labour, depending on the season.”

"A hard living.”

He nods, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “Hard, but loving.” He inhales deeply, again, before continuing.

"We were never really wanted anywhere. Moved on, camps disturbed, even attacked, sometimes. We learned quickly how to hide at the first sign of trouble.”

He closes his eyes, a flash of sorrow crossing his beautiful features in the moonlight coming through the little cottage window. “I suppose that’s what saved me.”

For a few moments, Din is quiet. 

“We had camped on land that was part of some big estate, belonging to Lord somebody or other. The usual situation. My father and a couple of our other men went fishing the first day and poaching the first night, to get us some food. I can still see the scales of the big salmon he caught, glinting in the firelight as my mother cleaned it.”

"A feast.”

He nods, a little smile on his lips at the memory, before his features darken again. “But not our feast to take. The lord’s feast, by virtue of the land being given to him by some far-off king.” He shakes his head ruefully.

"I was coming back with some cans of water the next morning when I heard shouting. The glimpses of red moving towards the camp - the yeomanry. The landlord set them on us, and they gave us no quarter. When some of our men and women tried to defend our few possessions, they - well, they turned violent.”

You hold him close, feeling the anguish in his breathing.

"I saw my father fall, killed by a blow to the head with the butt of a yeoman’s musket. My mother caught a glimpse of me, roared at me to run, to hide, and to my eternal shame I did just that. I didn’t go to them. I ran.”

"She wanted you to live, Din. She was saving you.”

He swallows hard, audible in the stillness of the night. 

“The local priest found me a couple of days later, still carrying the empty can. I’d hidden in a ditch, ate blackberries to survive. He arranged for the local blacksmith and his wife to take me in, train me as an apprentice.” 

He pauses again. You realise this is the most he’s probably ever said to you in one go. 

“When the time came, I took to the roads myself, honing the craft before I could set up on my own. I wasn’t long back when the priest called, saying a cousin in the east knew of an empty forge in need of a good smith.”

"And that’s how you came here?”

Din nods. “That’s how I came to be here.”

You venture a sensitive question. “Din… what happened to your mother, your siblings?”

"Poorhouse. No other choice.”

Silence.

"I didn’t know where they’d gone. So much sickness in those godforsaken places…”

Another pause.

”My brother died first. Then my sister, and then my mother.”

Your voice is tiny, barely a whisper. “Did you… see them?”

"By the time we found out what poorhouse they were in… it was too late.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you do your best not to let them fall. This is his story, his grief, not yours. Instead, you shift up the bed a little, still holding his warm body close, and lean in to caress and kiss him. 

There’s a wet, salty tang on his cheek. You kiss away the silent tear. 

For a moment, you think of what Din told you about how he came to adopt Gró: his unwillingness to let the boy go to a poorhouse or orphanage, his desire to protect and train the child, just as he himself had once been taken in by the smith and his wife. Just as he, himself, had once been a lost little boy. 

You press your lips to the messy curls at the crown of his head. 

There are times when you almost forget that you’re not really meant to be here, so natural and right does it feel. And then you are jolted back, reluctantly, to a reality where you are still technically the wife of a violent, cruel man who could claim you at any moment. 

That afternoon, you hear the sound of horses approaching and immediately disappear up to the loft, as usual, until you know it’s safe to descend. You listen attentively as the door opens and breathe a sigh of relief when Gró’s delighted little voice greets Peigí, here on one of her regular visits. You hear Din enter the cottage from the forge, chatting companionably to his old friend, and make for the ladder.

You’re a few rungs down when you hear a second, less familiar voice.

“So where is she, Din?”

He stutters, the panic evident in his voice. You wonder if you can make it back to the loft. 

Too late.

Father Carthy hears the sound of your skirts and turns, greeting you by name in grave tones. 

“You might as well come and join us, my child.”

Peigí’s gaze is apologetic as you climb down the ladder and move to join the little cluster of adults, Din having sent Gró outside to play. You stand beside him, arms wrapped protectively over your body, resisting the urge to reach for his hand. 

“I’m sorry, girleen.” Peigí wrings her hands, expression anxious and sorrowful. “Father came to see me today before I left for the forge, I couldn’t turn him out.”

You meet Father Carthy’s eyes with a look of defiance, straightening yourself to your full height, silently demanding an explanation.

“I am not here to force you home. I know your…situation.” The priest exhales deeply, fingers fiddling with the little black buttons on his long robes. “And between us and the wall and the Lord Almighty, if that kind of cruelty and abandonment was grounds for annulment… well.”

The back of Din’s hand brushes almost imperceptibly against yours. 

“But you are still a married woman, and…” The cleric sighs apologetically. “My child, you were seen here. Out in the back field, with the boy. And if I’ve heard it, and people are talking, then it’s only a matter of time before -”

You interject in a low, steady voice. “Before Searlas finds out where I am.”

The priest nods sadly. “That’s why I came here. Why I came with Peigí, specifically. We… have a suggestion.” He looks expectantly at Peigí, who offers you an encouraging smile as she nods in agreement.

“My sister, Rosie - she’s in the next county, big farm, spinster, plenty of space and could do with the help. You could stay there for a bit and then come home to your own place - until they change the garrison, surely, or that wastrel Searlas can be warned off…”

You bite your lip, mulling it over. 

“I mean, maybe he’s not going to come looking for me.”

Peigí and the priest exchange a concerned glance. The cleric clasps his hands together and looks at you sympathetically.

“The thing is… I have eyes and ears, as it were, in the barracks, and in the public house preferred by the garrison. I didn’t want to tell you, my dear, in case it frightened you - but he has been talking about you.” He purses his lips, almost afraid to tell you the truth. “He has openly talked about finding you, about… claiming you. And if he finds out you’ve been staying here, with a bachelor - think of your reputation, my child.”

You let out an involuntary sob, and Peigí places a comforting hand on your arm. “I think you need to be gone tomorrow, girleen. At the latest. I’m sorry, I know it’s awful quick, but…”

For the first time, Din speaks. His voice is low, controlled, serious. 

“But you - I mean, she must be kept safe.” He looks at you, dark eyes full of care and concern. “If you want to stay, I will keep you safe. I promise.”

There’s nothing more you want in the world than to throw your arms around him and let him protect you, just as you long to protect him from the sorrows of his past. But his description of the day he lost his parents echoes in your mind, as does the tension that crackled in the air the day the soldiers were at the forge. You cannot - will not - bring that down on him again, nor on Gró.

“Din, if I stay here I fear that none of us will be safe. Not you, not me, not Gró. I couldn’t take that risk, my d-” You catch yourself just in time. “I mean, my dear friend.”

Peigí’s wise, inquisitive eyes dart between you and Din, and she emits a low, intrigued hum.

Din exhales in frustration. “I said I would keep you safe, here. I mean it.”

Father Carthy places a paternal hand on Din’s shoulder, expression gentle but resigned. “She’s right, Din, and you know it. Apart from her own reputation - you don’t want a troop of redcoats landing on the doorstep, do you? Think of your home, your livelihood - your son.”

The blacksmith’s expression is defiant, but you can see the reality of the situation dawning on him as the light fades from his beautiful eyes. He nods, silent, a hand twisting at the soft, worn leather of his apron.

“Early as we can after dawn tomorrow, then?” Peigí squeezes your hand as she waits for your answer.

You cannot bring yourself to look at Din as you nod in agreement. 

It is still bright outside, just about, when Gró is settled for bed and the dinner things cleared and tidied away. You have packed up your saddlebags in silence, fighting the tears that threaten to fall at any moment.

Din’s broad hand reaches around your waist as he moves past you, pulling you close to him. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, kissing the delicate skin.

“Can we take a little walk, mo chuisle? Before night falls?”

You face him, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingers. “A little one. Don’t forget there’s a little boy asleep in the loft, we can’t go too far.”

He presses his lips to your fingertips before kissing you on the forehead. 

You walk hand in hand in the dusk, wandering through the field at the back of the forge towards the old oak tree that stands at the boundary of the property. Din is quiet - even quieter than usual, just casting occasional glances in your direction and squeezing your hand with a gentle smile.

In the shadow of the oak, he kisses you deeply, pressing your body against the tree as he holds your face in his big, strong hands. 

“I don’t want to go, Din.”

“I don’t want you to go, mo chuisle.” He kisses you again, chastely, and looks in your eyes. A question hovers on the tip of his tongue.

“Tell me, my darling.”

He holds your hands, grounding himself a little in your comforting touch. 

“I want you to take Gró to Peigí’s sister’s. Please.”

Even in the half-light, he can read the shock on your face.

“Oh, Din, I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the two of you parted, he’d be lost without you and you without him and-”

He shakes his head firmly. “I have to keep you safe - both of you. And if a gang of redcoats turned up and it was just me and him…”

He saw his father die. 

“He’s your son.” 

Din nods. “He is. And I can’t leave him alone again.”

He lost his entire family.

“He might not want to leave with me.”

“I’ve explained it to him. He knows it’s not forever, he understands the reasons why.” You catch a glimpse of his smile, a beacon of hope in the twilight. 

“Mo chuisle, you’re the closest thing he has to a mother in this world.”

You hold each other close through the night, afraid to sleep lest you miss a single second of this time together. 

Din tucks his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and softly kissing the exposed skin of your shoulders. You wind your fingers through his hair, trying to memorise the rhythm of his heartbeat and his breath.

"You should sleep, mo chuisle,” he whispers against your body. “Tomorrow will be a hard one.”

"Says you,” you whisper in return, enough to elicit a muffled chuckle from the blacksmith. 

He pulls away to look you in the eye, fingers mapping the shape of your features. Even in the low light, you can see how his beautiful eyes glisten: this strong and stoic man, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.

You take his hand and guide it down your body, pausing to hitch up your shift and open your legs. You inhale sharply as his fingers find your pussy, well-practiced now from nights and early mornings spent pleasuring you. 

With a shift of your hips you roll onto your back, bringing Din on top of you. You pause to take in the sight, suppressing the gnawing feeling that this might well be the last time. The glint in his dark eyes. The moonlight illuminating his features. The feeling of his strong, broad body above you, perfectly positioned between your thighs. 

“Make love to me, Din.” 

He does so slowly, carefully, anchoring himself with one hand on your hip and the other still caressing the side of your face. You kiss as he fucks you, your whines absorbed by his soft mouth. No man had ever made you come before Din, you muse, as your cunt pulses around him and you near the edge. No man had ever made you feel like this - not just physically, but emotionally, too. Sex was presented to you before your marriage as a duty, not a pleasure. With Din, though, lovemaking felt like the most beautiful, natural expression of the spiritual connection that existed between the two of you. 

You come almost simultaneously, Din groaning into your shoulder as he fills you with his seed, you biting your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Still inside you, he kisses you, over and over, your hands trailing through his wavy brown locks and fingers grazing against the rough, patchy stubble of his jaw. 

For a moment, you think he’s about to say something. But all he does is kiss you.

It’s still dark outside when you wake, but there’s a comforting glow inside the cottage. You sit up in bed, turning to see Din stoking a small fire in the hearth. He has lit the lamp on the mantle, its flickering yellow flame casting light and shadow through the glass. 

You dress quickly, shivering as your body adjusts to the colder air after the warmth of your shared bed, and cross the room to the little cupboard that holds the few pieces of crockery Din owns. By the time he has climbed the attic ladder to rouse the boy, you’ve set the table for a simple breakfast of bread, butter, and the last of the jam you’d brought with you. 

Gró’s fair hair peeks over his father’s broad shoulder as Din carries him down the ladder. The little boy is still half-asleep, eyes still closed and nestled into the blacksmith’s frame. Din carefully slides him into his usual seat at the table, ruffling his son’s hair as Gró rubs his eyes and yawns. 

“I think some bread and jam will help wake you up, hmmm?” You take a couple of slices of bread from the dish and place them on the boy’s little plate, before pushing the jar of jam in his direction. His dark eyes widen as he looks at you, astonished. This is a rare treat, indeed: usually it’s you or Din who spreads the sweet conserve on his bread, as Gró is liable to be heavy-handed. But this is not a day for rules or restrictions.

“You can have as much as you like, little one.” 

The tears threaten at the sight of Gró enthusiastically scraping the jam out of the earthenware pot, a huge smile on his face as he spoons it liberally onto the soda bread. He takes a huge bite and hums delightedly, before turning to you and beaming. The little boy already has blobs of jam on his cheeks and nose, and the sight makes you chuckle. 

Din returns to the main room carrying a small knapsack containing Gró’s things. He places it alongside your saddlebags before he joins the two of you at the table, giving your hand a squeeze that, you suspect, is intended to reassure him as much as it is you. He keeps a smile on his face, keeps his tone cheery and light, even as his eyes glisten with tears. 

You are saddling Réaltín in the dawn light when Peigí appears down the lane, wrapped in a rough brown cloak and riding her small grey mount. She dismounts swiftly and nods to you. 

“All set?”

“I think so. I left the two on their own for a little bit, just to… well, you know.” You swallow hard and look in the direction of the forge. “It’ll be hard for them.”

Peigí hums in agreement. “Aye, ’twill. But Din’s right. And hopefully that bollocks of a so-called husband will be out of the picture soon enough and you can come home. The prick.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the venom in her tone. “Hopefully. I’m awful grateful to you and your sister, Peigí. I mean, maybe we’re being overly cautious, but…”

She shakes her head, russet curls bouncing. “Not a bit of it. You can never tell with a fucker like that.” The cottage door opens, and Din appears, Gró securely held in his strong arms. 

“And there’s the best boy in all of Ireland!” Peigí races over, taking the knapsack and planting a kiss on Gró’s cheek. “We should probably get going, girleen.”

She tactfully retreats to the horses, giving you, Din, and Gró some space to say your goodbyes. You feel the blacksmith’s broad arm snake around your waist, uncaring as to whether Peigí saw the affectionate gesture - or, more likely, all too aware that she knew exactly what was going on. 

The little boy brings a hand up to touch his father’s handsome face, big eyes scanning Din’s features as if he’s committing them to memory. 

“Ná bíodh eagla ort, grá mo chroí.” [Don’t be afraid, love] The blacksmith smiles, but he’s fighting back the tears as he kisses his son’s golden hair. Instinctively, you rest your head on Din’s shoulder, trying to keep your own emotions in check. 

Gró’s dark eyes fill with tears and his father comforts him with cuddles. “You’ll have a lovely time on the farm, won’t you? And you’ll look after her while you’re on your visit.” He looks at you, and you nod, smiling at Gró.

“Of course he will. He’s a big, brave lad.” The little boy grins at the praise before flinging his arms around Din’s neck for a final tight hug.

“Be good, and take this.” Din reaches into his pocket to produce a small, silvery chain, evidently made by his own hands. A metal disc dangles from it, and you realise that Din has engraved it with his son’s name. He places it over the boy’s head, smiling at Gró as he picks up the pendant and coos at the shiny object.

“We should get going, lads.” Peigí’s voice carries in the still of the early morning, and Din passes his son to you. Gró nuzzles against you, still holding on to the little pendant that hangs from his neck. 

Din’s long fingers find your hand and press something into your palm. He leans in to kiss your cheek. His voice, warm but wavering with emotion, whispers in your ear. 

 “Is tú mo ghrá thú, mo chuisle.” [You are my love, my darling.]

You stifle the sob that’s rising in your chest. 

“I love you too, Din.”

Peigí’s sister Rosie shares her sister’s hardy, forthright personality and her tightly curled auburn hair, but not a lot else. Where Peigí is small, Rosie is tall; where Peigí is talkative and open, Rosie is quiet and reserved. Still, her welcome is genuine, her home comfortable, and you feel at ease from the moment you cross the threshold after a long day’s journey to some semblance of sanctuary.

You retire quickly once you’ve been fed and watered, Peigí sharing with Rosie while you and Gró make do with a settle bed. The little boy falls asleep almost immediately, and you gently kiss his soft cheek, willing him to know that it comes from his father, too.

With the household abed, you can finally look again at Din’s parting gift to you: a chain and pendant, similar to Gró’s. Where the little boy’s bears his name, however, yours carries a symbol, evidently engraved into the metal by the blacksmith himself. Three interconnected spirals - an ancient symbol, one that you recognise from a dolmen tomb that stands in a field not far from your birthplace, one that people in the locality have long speculated about.

Father Carthy would say it is a symbol of the Holy Trinity: three divine beings in one, a sign of early Christians in Ireland. But the storytellers in the townland say it’s far older than any church, its meaning lost to the mists of time.

You trace the three spirals with your fingertip in the darkness. Three as one. For you, that is meaning enough.

He was alone for a long time, Din reminds himself - alone before you, alone even before Gró. He can be alone again.

That said, though, there’s being alone and not knowing anything different, and being alone now. He still automatically goes to the foot of the attic ladder every morning, ready to wake his little boy. He hides the bowl and cup Gró usually uses, because the sight of them makes his heart ache. He throws himself into his work, distracting himself with glowing-hot metal.

And then there is your absence. He had never lived with a woman, not like this; never shared his bed night after night, never loved like this. For the first few days, he wakes with a start when he reaches for your warm, soft body and realises you’re not there. 

He tries not to think about the reality of the situation: the fact that, even if you were to return home tomorrow, you could never be together, at least not while Searlas lived. There are nights when, alone in his bed and desperate for the embrace of your arms, violence tempts Din. In his younger years, he might already have taken matters into his own hands. 

As the days and weeks tick by with no sign of your so-called husband, and no word from Father Carthy, the blacksmith reminds himself to be patient - and not to fall into complacency. He had never really lost that sense of looking over his shoulder: from childhood, from the rebellion, and now he felt glad of it. No one from the community mentions you to him, though he knows they must have heard by now that you had been hiding from Searlas at the forge. He does his repairs as usual, driving into the village with his pony and trap to return items and collect others, pulling his kerchief over his face as he makes his way through the main street lest he spy a troop of redcoats. 

One of the regular customers asks about Gró when he’s returning her extra-large soup pan, newly mended. Din hesitates, but keeps his expression steady.

“He’s spending time with some…cousins,” he explains. “On a farm. It’ll be good for him, he’ll learn from the experience.”

The woman doesn’t ask further, pays up, and retreats back into her little house as Din turns his horse and cart for home. As he gathers speed, he hears a voice calling his name. Father Carthy, clad in his long black cassock and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, is waving to him from the end of the laneway that leads to the chapel. 

“Could you spare me a few moments, Din? Follow me up to the parish house.”

The priest’s house is a decently-sized cottage, larger but not too dissimilar to the majority of the dwellings in the village. Father Carthy might be responsible for the majority of the believers in the community, but his is not the “established” church, the official church of the state and gentry, and as such his home is a far cry from the grand, double-fronted manse occupied by the vicar who tends to the local worthies. Even the location of the chapel, tucked off a narrow laneway behind the main street, is a testament to the lower status of this particular branch of religion.

Din enters, taking off his hat and kerchief, and follows the cleric’s gesture to take a seat near the hearth. Father Carthy does the same, pulling his chair closer to Din.

“I have news. I haven’t been able to find a way to dissuade Searlas from seeking her out, but a little bird tells me that they’re going to change the troops again in a week or so. The current crop has been…rowdy.” The priest purses his lips, mulling over the stories he has heard of public drunkenness, fighting, and even soldiers nonchalantly carousing with women in the pubs and on the street. He decides not to give Din too many of the gory details. 

“So they’re going to be sent elsewhere, split up. Clonmel, I heard, for some, and Castlebar for others. Maybe a few to Cork. There’s ructions, as you can imagine - a rare thing to break up a regiment - but…”

Din meets the priest’s meaningful gaze. “But…he would be gone.”

Father Carthy nods. “It’s not a solution, not forever, but it at least would let her come home to her own place again, and Gró home to you. You were right to send the boy with her, too - who knows what might have happened had he come knocking?”

Din closes his eyes and furrows his brow at the priest’s turn of phrase: “her own place”. It was a reminder of the truth, that you were not - and could not be - his.

Father Carthy gets to his feet, a signal to Din that it was time to go. “In the meantime, I’m going to look more closely into the canon law around annulment. I’m not hopeful, but maybe she might be able to build a case for it. He did abandon her, after all. Anyway -” he opens the door, and Din exits “- it would free her, at least, from the threat of him.”

The blacksmith thanks Father Carthy as he saddles up to head back to the forge, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. On the road home, Din smiles to himself as he thinks about seeing Gró again, holding his little boy in his arms, watching you give him an extra spoonful of jam at breakfast, tucking him in to sleep at night. He thinks about your eyes, your smile; the feeling and taste of your mouth; the scent of your skin. 

No matter what, he promises himself, no matter the rules or the law or whatever a piece of paper might say: he’ll kiss you again, hold you, take you to bed, and show you how much he missed you.

A couple of days later, as dusk settles, Din lights the lamp and finishes clearing away his lone dinner bowl and mug. Anticipation courses through him as he thinks about seeing two - no, three - places set for the evening meal again. Soon. Soon, they’ll be home.

He yawns and stretches, a hand reaching up to scratch his wavy, dark locks. It had been a hard day in the forge: a run of horses that needed to be shod, urgent repairs, and the difficulty of managing the work itself as well as the bellows and the fire, all by himself. An early night, he decides, might be in order.

He’s in his shirt and breeches when he hears the sound. A horse, its footfall cautious and uncertain, as though it had not been down the laneway before. A rider, barking commands and swearing at the animal. Din pulls his kerchief from his pocket and fastens it around his face before climbing swiftly up the attic ladder. His hand reaches into the thatch, on the other side of the house from Gró’s little bed, and retrieves a pike, smaller in design than the ones he’d hammered by the dozen in 1798 but no less lethal in the right hands. He grips the pike in his right hand, hidden from view while he opens the door with his left.

The rider struggles off his horse, evidently drunk. His scarlet tunic is unmistakable. The light from the cottage illuminates his features: pale, washed-out complexion; unhappy mouth set in a miserable line; hard blue eyes that offered nothing but coldness. 

“Where the fuck is she, then, the stupid fucking bitch?”

Din’s fist tightens around the pike, but he holds his ground, still peering around the door. “Who is it? Who are you?”

Searlas swaggers drunkenly towards the house. “I know you’re a tinker, but you don’t have to play thick with me. You know who I am.” He beats his chest, peacocking as he nears Din’s threshold. “I’m a soldier of the fucking crown, so I am. And I’m here for what’s mine.”

He pokes Din’s broad chest, seeming a little startled at how solid the blacksmith actually is. Searlas’s watery eyes meet Din’s stern gaze. 

“So… where the fuck is she?”

“Whoever you’re after,” Din says, maintaining the same tone he’s used throughout the encounter so far, “they’re not here. I live alone.”

Searlas pushes Din in frustration, and Din recoils a little at the stench of cheap poitín from the other, smaller man. “I know she’s fucking here. The whole fucking place knows.” He steps back and starts to roar upwards, as if addressing you in an attic hiding place. 

“Did you not think I’d find you? You’re that fucking stupid, you would think that. I’m here now, time to go home. You’re mine, remember?” He shakes his fist, swaying a little.

“She’s not here. And even if she was, why do you care so much now? You left her on her own for years, apart from all the other things you did to her.”

Searlas stares at Din, a look of disgust on his face. “So you do know her? She’s full of shit, so she is. Full of lies. Not to be trusted.”

He wheels around again, almost losing his balance completely this time. “You were seen, you lying cunt!”

Din’s fingers clench and release over and over around the pike. He swallows the urge to run this miserable fucker through.

The soldier looks at him through glassy, drunken eyes. “She’s mine, see. And I think I want to take what’s mine. Time she was taught a lesson.” He roars the last word, as if hoping you’ll hear him and emerge.

The blacksmith edges out slightly and stands firmer, broader, in his front door. Searlas stares at him accusingly. 

“D’you fuck her?”

Din holds his body and face completely still, focusing on the grip of the pike and his breathing.

“I said, did you fuck her? Did you fuck my wife?”

Din takes a deep breath. “Do you have the right to call her your wife, after what you did?”

Searlas’s jaw drops in astonishment. Din knew that he was just a bog-standard Irish Catholic soldier signed up for cannon fodder like all the others, but it was clear that the other man believed his uniform made him one of the “betters”, no matter what.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said, do you have the right to call her your wife?”

Searlas almost growls with drunken fury. “I have the right to call her whatever I fucking like.” Din notices his fist tightening by his side and steels himself as the other man approaches, menacingly. 

“I’ll call her what I fucking like,” Searlas repeats, “including calling her what she is. A slut. A liar. A frigid, barren, useless excuse for a woman. And now? She’s filthy, tinker’s whore. That’s all she is. A stupid, ugly, disgusting tinker’s whore.”

The speed with which Din moves takes the soldier by surprise, as does the bright flash of the pike’s blade as it reflects the moonlight. The blacksmith uses the long handle first, roaring as he beats Searlas away with some well-placed blows. He moves with agility and confidence as the soldier fumbles in his sleeves for a weapon, and produces a narrow switchblade dagger.

“I’ll fucking show you, tinker,” he roars, the poitín giving him an exaggerated confidence. “I’ll skin you alive, fucking another man’s wife.”

He lunges at Din, but a swift, measured flick of the pike’s bladed end knocks the dagger to the ground and tears a hole in the scarlet tunic. Now Din presses his advantage, driving Searlas back to his horse.

“Get out of here and leave her alone. Forever. Don’t you ever come near her again.”

A more sober man would have cut and run, and would do so wisely. But Searlas’s selfishness combined with his drunkenness made for a terrible cocktail of aggression and abuse.

“And what will you do, tinker? They should have hanged every last one of you rebel scum in ‘98. Pity that scalp wasn’t ripped from your skull with a pitchcap.” He pats his thighs, as if seeking another blade. “You couldn’t defend yourselves then, why do you think you could stand up to the king’s army now?” He cocks his head and looks at Din, eyes menacing. 

“Or are you just that desperate to defend a thick, useless slut like my wife?”

The grunting, the roars, and the sickening sound of a strong, sturdy fist meeting flesh and bone resonate in the stillness of the twilight. And then another sound, louder still: the unmistakable thud of a man’s body hitting the cold ground. 

[xiudaddyhadmelike]

Sehun as your boyfriend

- i’m back (i’m posting this and disappearing again for a year)

The Beginnings:

He’d be so awkward in the most endearing way, running his hands through his hair and fumbling around you.

I think he’d ask you out in the first week of knowing you, he’s a busy man has no time for waiting around.

Plus he’d be worried that someone else would catch your attention if he waited too long so...

Would probably ask one of the boys to talk to you first, have them hype him up and see whether you might be interested.

He thinks this is very clever and discreet but funnily enough you know what’s up when Chanyeol starts talking about Sehun’s shiny hair and his family’s long history of genetic health.

He strikes me as a bowling man. First date would definitely be bowling and then maybe heading to a latenight diner splitting a milkshake omg

After dating a while:

Orange cat dad, definitely. I will not explain.

He’s very patient, always willing to listen to anything on your mind - even if it’s about him.

His relationship with you would help him to mature.

I hope you’re patient too though cos this is still Sehun, man is goofy.

A lot of childish teasing, stuff like turning the lights off when he leaves the room or leaving the door open forget what I said about maturity actually

Not the jealous type. He thinks you’re the most gorgeous person in the world but you also know how to handle yourself if anyone tries to rizz you up.

Most he’ll do is throw an aggressive side-eye their way.

Loooves to treat you. That necklace you admired? Here you go. The restauarant you want to try out? Already booked a table. The vacation spot you’re desperate to visit? Get ready the plane leaves tonight.

On that note, he is the opposite of an airport dad, pack his passport for him and get him one of those toddler leashes head empty no thoughts

For your anniversary he’d do something lowkey and romantic, driving you both out to the countryside with a big blanket and spending the night stargazing together.

Habits and other shit:

Always goofin, would consider back and forth banter as flirting, you’ll have to be able to keep up with the sass.

This might lead to little spats here and there but since they’re not serious you can make up quickly.

If it ever came to real arguments he’d need to leave for a while to clear his head, take a walk with the dogs before coming home to stutter an apology.

He struggles to communicate seriously sometimes but he always wants you to know he adores you.

You’d both get into hiking, especially with having the dogs. They’re a great way to spend time together, productively but still somewhat intimately in remote hiking spots.

Speaking of intimacy, he loves to cup your chin and pull you away from whatever your task is for a soft kiss, and then he goes back to his day afterwards. Does this multiple times a day, it still melts your heart.

He might be a little messy to live with but he makes up for it by doing things like grocery shopping, cleaning the cars, and other out-of-the-house chores.

He’s not clingy in the traditional sense, but he wants to be around you all the time. You both often end up sitting together silently doing your own thing, like together-alone-time.

Dates:

This man loves any kind of beverage, so be ready for coffee dates, bubble tea dates, bar dates. Give him a yummy drink and you his yummy s/o and he’s happy.

Maybe more active dates, like skateboarding or paddle boarding in the summer.

Gym dates.

As previously mentioned, bowling. Idk he strikes me shoot me as a very competitive person and so it’s the perfect activity for him.

*NSFW warning minors go away with peace and love*

Sex:

He’s usually a pretty collected person, very in control of his actions and words.

Not when it comes to you though >:)

When it comes to sex, he gets desperate and messy, leaving clothes all over the apartment and kissing you like he craves you mm cos he does

Loooves to use his fingers on you, he gets a little cocky being able to get you off with just one hand.

Favourite position is definitely doggy so he can really grip your hips. He can also smack your ass, pull your hair, pin you down, just a great many positives in this position.

This man can move those hips so best believe he’s got the stamina to keep going for a looong time.

Equally, sometimes he gets overly excited and desperate for you and he cums early lol i stand by that this is a compliment

Dw though, he’s got long fingers and an eager tongue.

A lot of groans, light moans, dirty talk is a must telling you how good you take him omfgfg

Loves to shower together afterwards

All in all, a relationship with Sehun would be the definition of young, dumb and in love. He values you more than anything else in his life and will always go out of his way to spoil you where he can, knowing that you do the same for him. It’s truly like dating your best friend, and you cherish every moment.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - December 19, 2022

1. Biden to sign Respect for Marriage Act, reflecting his and the country's evolution

President Biden signed into law Tuesday a bipartisan bill that codifies same-sex and interracial marriages with a large celebration on the South Lawn of the White House.

The president spoke before a crowd of thousands gathered to celebrate the federal protections in the Respect for Marriage Act.

"The road to this moment has been long, but those who believe in equality and justice – you never gave up," Biden said.

2. MacKenzie Scott reveals details of her $14bn in donations to 1,600 non-profits

She has signed pledge promising to give away over half of her wealth. The billionaire philanthropist MacKenzie Scott's donations have yielded more than $14bn for about 1,600 non-profits since 2019, according to her new website Yield Giving, which was unveiled on Wednesday night.

3. A stranger on a plane gave two girls fleeing civil war $100. Decades later, they reunited.

This is so heartwarming! I’m so glad they’re able to meet again!

Ayda Zugay was a nearly 12-year-old refugee fleeing the former Yugoslavia with her older sister when a stranger handed them the envelope on a flight to the United States in 1999. The woman made them promise not to open it until they got off the plane. The girls were later shocked to discover dangly earrings and a $100 bill inside.

A note scribbled on the outside of the envelope is signed with only a first name — Tracy. And for almost a decade, Zugay says she's been trying to find her.

After years, her message finally made it to Tracy Peck of Blaine, Minnesota. Her daughter reached out to Zugay: "You are looking for my mom Tracy Peck! Her handwriting is unmistakable. She remembers you girls from the flight!"

4. US scientists boost clean power hopes with fusion energy breakthrough

US government scientists have made a breakthrough in the pursuit of limitless, zero-carbon power by achieving a net energy gain in a fusion reaction for the first time, according to three people with knowledge of preliminary results from a recent experiment. Physicists have since the 1950s sought to harness the fusion reaction that powers the sun, but no group had been able to produce more energy from the reaction than it consumes

5. Cancer mRNA vaccine completes pivotal trial

Researchers say they have successfully completed a trial of a personalised cancer vaccine that uses the same messenger-RNA technology as Covid jabs. The experimental vaccine, made by Moderna and MSD, is designed to prime the immune system to seek and destroy cancerous cells.

Doctors hope work such as this could lead to revolutionary new ways to fight skin, bowel and other types of cancer. Moderna and MSD called it "a new paradigm" moment.

6. Historic ban on shark fin trade poised to become U.S. law

The U.S. is poised to ban the lucrative trade in shark fins, a move conservationists hope will help protect millions of sharks that are butchered every year to satisfy demand in China and other parts of Asia.

The practice of shark finning, whereby sharks are caught for their fins and their carcasses then dumped back into the ocean, has been banned in U.S. waters for decades. But the U.S. remains a major hub for the brisk trade where the fins of as many as 73 million sharks are cut off around the world each year.

7. Ukraine says power restored to almost 6 million people in last 24 hours

Ukraine has managed to restore power to almost 6 million people in the last 24 hours after massive Russian strikes against the electricity generating system, President Volodymyr Zelenskiy said on Saturday.

"Repair work continues without a break after yesterday's terrorist attack," he said in a video address.

...

That's it for this week. If you liked this post you can support this newsletter with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Have a great week ahead :)

[sassmar]

literary wolfstar classics (rec list part 1, pre-2010)

Okay y'all. I threatened to do it and now I am doing it. This here is a rec list of "literary" wolfstar classics (all were originally written/posted pre-2010, many were written 2005 or earlier). By "literary" I mostly just mean heartbreakingly gorgeous with, like, decent grammar to boot. Sort of a rec list for snobbish lit-crit cunts like me (& probably Remus) and especially for any of you sweet children who weren't lurking the internet when a lot of these were being written/posted and may have missed some or all of these utterly seminal wolfstar texts :). Since returning to fic a few months ago after, like, a trillion years away, I've also discovered a few "new" (i.e. post-2010 lol) authors with some breathtakingly lovely and "literary" stories, and I'll try to get around to eventually compiling those into a similar list at a later date when I've got more free time. Probably won't be for a while yet.

So, without further ado/in no particular order - literary wolfstar classics:

"redeeming time" by minx.

A true classic. Written well before HBP (and maybe even before OOTP? - I'm not sure). A post-prank narrative told entirely from James's perspective (so it's also, of course, James/Lily, although wolfstar is the main storyline) and spanning Nov. 1976 - Nov. 1977. Minx's clean, straightforward prose works so perfectly for this story; it's, like, the quintessential growing-up narrative (but with gay wizards). This, this will always be canon to me. An all-time fave.

"fingerholds" by centaurea.

As far as I know, this is the author's only wolfstar fic, and omfg it is breathtakingly gorgeous. Non-linear narrative that shifts between First War & Lost Years. It tells the story of Remus and Sirius coming together after Hogwarts and then falling apart under the terror/suspicion of war. Again, the writing is fucking beautiful - imagistic, atmospheric, rife with metaphor. This might possibly be my favorite fanfic ever, although I really don't know because that's such a tough call. But anyway, this story will make you hurt.

"vector," "gasp," & "wane" by @rageprufrock.

Pru has written a number of wolfstar classics, so you can't go wrong with anything by her, but I picked these three because they strike me as the most "literary" (i.e. achingly gorgeous) of the lot. "Vector" is a lovely reflective piece in which Sirius, sidetracked by various memories in the midst of Christmas shopping, realizes he's in love with Remus; "Gasp" is basically just a beautiful, atmospheric sex scene (complete with a charming and pitch-perfect Confession of Feelings); "Wane" is a dreamy and poetic "fairytale for Remus," spanning his early childhood up through (and slightly beyond) Sirius's death in OOTP. I adore all of them. Her lighter/funnier fics (like "Seven Things") are also great so check those out, too.

"the times" by @imochan.

Absolutely everything imochan creates is gorgeous and she's written so many wolfstar classics. But I picked "The Times" for this list because the joy, the joy in this story is just so wonderful and palpable. It's a non-magic AU set in 1930s Ireland; Sirius is a paperboy and Remus works at the news office. This story is so beautifully written and unquestionably ranks among my all-time faves. A few other imochan classics I adore include "Liars Leaving My House," "Five Ways to Open Your Arms," & "Oh, Night, and Divine (The Selfish Wish Remix)." But really, anything by her is pretty much guaranteed to be gorgeous and wonderful.

"that the science of cartography is limited" by @sashayed aka rave/dorkorific.

Another true classic. Authored by one-half of the Shoebox Project team. Written pre-HBP, shifts back-and-forth in time between MWPP/post-Hogwarts days & post-OOTP/Remus in the aftermath of the veil, with the Marauders' Map and the boys' attempts to trace Hogwarts' ever-shifting walls with language becoming a sort of broad metaphor for the utterly tangible and seemingly solid yet eternally shifting, breathy, unstable, always-already crumbling foundations of human relationships - the "built-in" loss of relational existence. I mean, just beautiful.I cannot even. Another story that will hurt you.

"the love song of sirius black" by @kaydeefalls.

Based on Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" and another true wolfstar classic. A poetic imagining of Sirius's fall through the veil as a sort of dreamy exploration of various major fork-roads in his life, with each section of the story depicting a diverging (i.e. non-canon) path from Sirius's reality. And the final dream scene - ohmyfuckinggod. You will cry. Unless your heart is, like, stone, but maybe even then. I'm so sorry because I'm just now realizing I should have probably called this rec list "wolfstar for masochists" or something like that because so many of these stories are just brutal. As a side note, kaydeefalls also has a number of other lovely fics worth checking out, such as "Quiet" and "Twas Brillig, and the Slithy Toves."

"in love" by minnow_53.

I adore minnow! She has written so many charming, clever, sweet (& often hilarious) wolfstar stories, and she has this way of stepping a bit outside of the characters and creating a fly-on-the-wall sort of vibe that is just so wry and funny, but also at times becomes ridiculously poignant. I know I already used this word but her prose is just charming, idk what else to even say. I picked "In Love" for this list because it is so fucking sweet, in the best way possible, and fairly indicative of her style generally, and also, just - ugh. How can this story not make you happy. The title is self-explanatory. Other fics by Minnow that I especially love include "The Cure" and "What We Did In The Holidays" (these two are just utterly hilarious).

"beat the devil" & "the love there that's sleeping" by musesfool/victoria_p.

Musesfool has written so many wolfstar classics that I cannot possibly account them all here and I'm pretty sure I haven't even read most of them. She is, like, prolific, and you likely can't go wrong with anything by her. But anyhow, I picked these two because they are, in different ways, so particularly gorgeous. "Beat the Devil" is a First War/Sirius pining/hook-up fic with just, such great atmosphere; the story is just thick with atmosphere. And "The Love There That's Sleeping" is a MWPP-era, Beatles-infused, cut-it-with-a-knife-sexual-tension sort of thing that is also, just, so lovely.

"the shortest distance between two people" by riko.

A year-by-year MWPP era fic (each section occurring during the corresponding Hogwarts year) that is just so lovely and charming and often so funny but with so much freaking hurt, too. And these utterly perfect characterizations to boot. This story is just good, I mean, really what else can I say.

"written by hand" & "the moon's significant tremble" by setissma.

I think setissma has written a lot of wolfstar (and some of it may even be hard to find now?) but I picked these two because they are just so lovely. "Written by Hand" features this beautiful premise where Remus has to spend a summer in Romania with no way of communicating with his friends/loved ones, and so with their consent he charms the walls in his summer flat to display everything they write down (letters, grocery lists, all of it). "The Moon's Significant Tremble" is a lovely non-magic AU wherein Sirius is posh and Remus is a schoolteacher and they meet on a train when Remus may or may not be attempting to steal Sirius's watch.

"a peripheral vision" by carmine_ink.

Another heartbreakingly lovely AU set in the 1890s, Cambridge, wherein Remus and Sirius share the misfortune of falling in love in a time/place where that sort of thing is Quite Illegal Indeed, and Remus's lycanthropy is beautifully translated into epilepsy.

"the drought story" by librae.

Librae's style is just so pretty - everything she writes is so atmospheric and poetic and richly imagistic. "Drought Story" takes place the summer between sixth and seventh year; Remus's owl dies and Sirius pays him a visit for the funeral rites. I don't even know how else to describe this story, other than - just lovely.

---

AND here are some "honorable mentions" aka more lovely/charming/very well-written wolfstar classics that I just don't have the time/energy to type up full summaries for rn. But these are also all very, very good!

"a few mornings in january" by omgsubtext - in which Remus maybe sort of forgets to tell Sirius he's moved in with him, actually.

"ever after" by busaikko - in which Remus is a geeky astrophysicist & Sirius a gay Scheherazade.

"delta" by fahye - in which every single sentence is so poetically crafted.

"it's not the years, honey, it's the mileage" by thistlerose - in which Remus turns thirty-five and Sirius brings him stolen library books.

"cooler than frogs" by penknife - in which Sirius has a secret, and lycanthropy is very cool.

"the curious incident of the dog in the nighttime" by penknife - in which Sirius is Harry's brooding, Rochester-esque guardian, and Remus Harry's private tutor.

"a flame in two cupped hands" by such_heights - in which Sirius adorably pines.

"for someone came and kissed me there" by such_heights - in which Remus gives Sirius a scandal for Christmas.

"as red as hearts and autumn" by rosemaryandrue - in which Remus has a sexual encounter in front of mermaids under Brighton Pier.

"fire shadows" by mysecretashes - in which Remus, Sirius, and Peter spend the summer before seventh year at James's.

"being an historical record . . ." by moonpants - in which Remus is ambushed by James during truth-or-dare.

"earl grey" by mariinarusalka - in which Remus drinks tea.

"heat the winter floods" by daphnaea - in which R & S share a flat, and Remus keeps piles.

---

AND, finally, just for fun, this classic essay re: the canonical evidence for wolfstar, because I love close-reading and such nerdy shit as that: "the case for r / s" by elwing_alcyone.

<3<3<3

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oh and p.s. many thanks to @broomsticks for being so sweet & acclimating me to the wild world of tumblr!!

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continuing to tag authors as i find them, pls lmk if you would like a tag or story removed

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's reading log is finally here! A bit later than usual, my apologies for that. Between the excitement of bidding on Marvel Trumps Hate, a bit of traveling, and studying for upcoming tests I was too exhausted to make the log. But here it is and it was an exciting reading week too 💛

🌻 marks a favourite fic, 🍀 marks a fic that was only posted on Tumblr.

🍀🌻 Not If You Were the Last Necromancer in Space by @dreamsinthewitchouse [Stucky, 0,5k words, Teen]

A crotchety necromancer and his sassy swordsman are trying not to make out in a post-apocalyptic world, or: these same damn idiots in love. That’s it, that’s the ficlet.

🍀🌻 Day 10: Spanking by @howdoyousleep3 [Stucky, 2,3k words, Explicit]

Bucky notices immediately.

🍀 Stucky A/B/O fic by @/howdoyousleep3 [Stucky, ? words, Explicit]

Breeding kink + pregnant sex with sweet and precious omega Bucky and daddy Steve

🍀Some random lazy morning by @otp-holic [Stucky, 100 words, Not Rated]

Up, down, up, down, up, down…. The finger rhythmically brushing the bridge of his nose is what induces Steve’s senses to sluggishly come back to life.

Still Attracted by wintersoldier17 [Stucky, 4k words, Teen]

Steve's first date with Bucky didn't exactly go as planned. Fortunately for him, Bucky agrees to a second date, and Steve is determined to impress him, except... he quite sucks at playing it smooth. The night of the second date embarrasses him so much he avoids Bucky. But Bucky isn't about to give up on him that easily. There's no way an attraction that strong can falter.

(i might not be flawless but) i got a diamond heart by kickflaw @kickflaw (art by @kocuria) [Stucky, 4,8k words, Explicit]

How the hell Steve had a) discovered he possessed an illicit collection of riches, b) located his offshore vaults, c) broken into them and stolen the loot, and d) all with Bucky being none the wiser in spite of them living together are questions for another day…

Because here is Steve, bedecked. Absolutely dripping diamonds onto the deep red sheets of their bed. Candlelight flickers from all the surfaces in the room, drawing rainbows out of the crystals like Bucky is going to draw orgasms out of Steve for the rest of the night, over and over and over again.

A display like this deserves reward.

-

Bucky and Steve and all the loving, sexy luxury they deserve.

🌻 What Once Was Mine (A New and Improved Guide to Project Rebirth by Steven G. Rogers) by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan (art by @/kocuria) [Stucky, 26,8k words, Mature]

They tell him he was a soldier, a leader—a hero.

He doesn’t know if he believes them.

Fresh out of the ice with no recollection of his past, Steve Rogers strikes out on his own and tries to cobble together a life worthy of the clean slate he’s been given.

🍀 Dust to Dust by @between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place [Stucky, 100 words, Not Rated]

Tonight the sun will weep blood. Mourning a king, mourning his people.

The Draft Letter by emilywithoutY @/between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place [Stucky, 511 words, General]

He’s alone when he gets the letter, and later that’s the one thing he’ll be grateful for.

Back and Forth With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle) @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4,6k words, Explicit]

Back home in Brooklyn, Steve keeps in touch with his boyfriend in every way he possibly can.

Here With Me by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 1,5k words, General]

Bucky is out of cryo and set to reunite with Steve, but can Steve still love the man that had been The Winter Soldier?

🍀 Soft Stucky Fic by @turtle-steverogers [Stucky, ? words, Not Rated]

Imagine Bucky building an art studio in their attic because he saw that the lighting is perfect for it and as a surprise birthday present for Steve.

🍀🌻 Day 11: A/B/O by @/howdoyousleep3 [Stucky, 2,5k words, Explicit]

Steve is on the other side of the house when he smells it—

Alpha is furious.

🌻 My Puzzle Piece by millesable @marvelousescapism [Stucky, 1,8k words, Explicit]

Bucky’s pretty sure he’s had any and all coherency fucked right out of him. He wants to return the compliments – wants to tell Steve how dizzyingly high he makes him feel, how prefect it feels to be so full of him, how he feels so vulnerable and laid bare beneath him and yet so very, very safe and loved… But all that ends up coming out of his mouth is a breathy, disjointed “S-Ste-eve…”

🍀 Triumph in ashes by @/between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place [Stucky, 100 words, Not Rated]

He thought the world ended once. That was a whimper. This: pandemonium.

🍀 Day 12: Sex Tape by @/howdoyousleep3 [Evanstan, 855 words, Explicit]

“Fuck, look at’chu. Take my cock like a champ, sweetheart. Body was meant for me, wasn’t it? Meant for this?”

Coca-Cola by Birdbitch [Stucky, 1,6k words, General]

It’s the same thing, but it’s still different. Or, an exercise in letting small things bother you to the point where they can’t be ignored anymore.

🌻 Reunited With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle) @/buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4,5k words, Explicit]

When Bucky arrives in New York, Steve shows his boyfriend the town, introduces him to his ma, and gives him exactly what he wants.

[mxvladdy]

Hello! I love your writing and I may have a prompt, if it strikes your fancy. I'm aware it might not be entirely lore-friendly a request, but I love relationship shenanigans in Obey Me, so I got to ask: how do you think Luci, Diavolo, Satan and Beel would help their anxious SO adjust when MC begins demonstrating mad prowess in witchcraft right after they first spend the night together? Sex, power and pacts seem to go hand-in-hand in related media, but no one really planned for it in their case!

Awww thankie and sorry for the long wait! I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you like this! It gave me big thirst lmaooo

Lucifer

Mmmm you smell of him in the morning. He positively oozes from your every pore. Rich and spicy, like amber and freshly turned earth.

Good. Let it be known to all that you were claimed. Thoroughly.

He put his daily routine on hold for you this morning. He was weak to your pouting.

He’ll stay in bed for a little bit to indulge you. But duty calls and work waits for no demon

Neither of you really pay attention to how hard you are clinging to him when he tries to extract himself to get dressed

You both just kind of chalk it up to neither of you want to part

The day goes on as usual for him, meetings, paperwork, meetings, punishing Mammon, meetings

But the whole time something was nagging at him. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. He just felt like he forgot something important

But that’s impossible-

The wall explodes out behind him cutting Lucifer off mid-sentence. The rubble and great ball of flames miss him and Diavolo by mere inches only because of the latter’s quick reflexes. “Are you alright my friend?” Diavolo asks golden eyes alight with surprise. Lucifer could feel the prince’s defensive magic prickling his skin in response to the pungent magic wafting out of the hole.

“Of course-” Lucifer steps back, straightening his jacket’s lapels, the near-miss ruffles his feathers. Both men step closer to the hole. His hackles raise.  The power emanating from the crater was far too familiar. Someone dares to use his magical signatures without permission.  Snarling into the abyss he marches forward. He ignores Diavolo’s calls to wait and strides through the hole. His wings flare up from his back along with his temper. He walks through each wave of magic that washes over him. With each destroyed wall he steps through more and more of his demonic form comes forth till he is more beast than man. Strolling through the final hole he stops. His red eyes sweep across the scene in front of him. As the seconds' tick by his mood morphs from rage to shock, then to a sense of blinding pride.  

“Well-” He crosses his arms and smirks. He turns his gaze to the epicenter of the damage.

“Luci, I am so so sorry.” You mutter aghast behind your fingers. “I-I don’t know what happened.” You were never the best student in any of the practical classes. The teachers made exceptions for you and your lack of magical prowess. In this class, the teacher always paired you up with Solomon or Luke so they could help you prepare the necessary spells and runes. But you felt so different today, stronger and sharper. Damn near unstoppable even. Just the thought of someone else doing your work made something deep inside you seethe. You didn’t need help, you’ve seen and heard the incantations a thousand times before- it wouldn’t hurt to try…Well, let’s rephrase that, it didn’t hurt you to try.

The classroom was totaled. Dust, rubble, and burning pages all float around you like a post-apocalyptic snowstorm. Soot from your uncontrolled spell blacked your clothes and skin, next to you Solomon stands rigid in shock white brows disappearing into his hairline. Quietly you lick your thumb and forefinger and put out the small blue flame singeing his bangs. “Thanks.” He spits out around a mouthful of ash and grit.

Lucifer coughs to draw all eyes back to him. He takes inventory of the room, making sure all the other students scattered about were still breathing. Satisfied he beckons to you with a finger. “Come.” You jump into motion, scrambling up and over the rubble to grab his outstretched hand.

“Lucifer.” He cuts you off.

“Not here,” He smiles warmly rubbing at some soot staining the tip of your nose. “Come let’s get you cleaned up.”

_____________

“Should I be worried?” You ask, stepping out of Lucifer’s private showers wrapped in one of his sinfully soft towels. “I’m not going to blow stuff up on a whim now, right?” You plop down on his bedroom’s couch. Lucifer hums noncommittally by his liquor cabinet.

“I doubt it. How do you feel?” He takes a seat beside you handing you a glass and grabbing your legs to drape them over his. You take a swig from the glass, the heat of the liquor getting rid of the lingering shock from class. How did you feel?

Your bones hum with some unknown energy and there was a fire coursing through your veins. “I feel like I could take on the world. Like I dominate half of the Devildom.” Lucifer’s smile was nothing short of smug.

“Good.” He sips his drink.

“Good?” You lean forward expectantly.

Lucifer strokes your cheek coming in to inhale your fresh scent. The commingling of his and your own was beyond arousing. “There is more than one way to seal and strengthen a pact, my beloved.” He pulls you into a chastened kiss, feeling your cheeks heat with a dawning realization of what he meant. “You have now given yourself to me in both body and soul. The- bonus perks were inevitable.” He parts from you, reaching for his glass.

“Will it go away?” You honestly didn’t know if you could handle any more curveballs down here.

Lucifer laughs swirling the dredges of his drink before downing it in one go. “Ideally no- but over time if it isn’t reinforced it will weaken and disappear on its own.”

“Reinforced?” The heat of your drink seems to dip lower down your body. Your demon scoffs giving you a knowing look.

He drags you onto his lap. “Are you truly satisfied with just a night with me αγαπούλα μου?” A gloved finger tugs at the hem of your towel. “If I had my way I would keep you full and drunk on my power for all eternity.” He captures you in a searing kiss draping you over the cushions of his couch, his eyes turning predatory. “Do not worry about the side effects.” He purrs caging you in. “We have all the time in the world to get you accustomed to them.”

Diavolo

He knew. This bitch knew before he ever got you in his bed-chamber. Just think of the entertainment value~

So when he sweeps you up into his quarters for the night day weekend, he just forgets to mention it to you

He is curious about how his magic will affect a human of celestial descent. Will it show up all at once? Or over a long period of time? He hopes that your blood doesn’t cancel out his claim on you

He watches you like a hawk for a while- and nothing…

Hmm. Perhaps it just didn’t take the first time? No matter, try-try-try again as the saying goes. He certainly doesn’t see you complaining

But as the week passes he slowly puts it on his backburner as his work begins to pile up again

You on the other hand are having a time. One day you are fine and dandy and the next you can read and write in languages you’ve never even heard of.

Then you started seeing some frankly crazy shit. Had the ghost at the house always been this active?

The last straw for you was accidentally freezing half of the house’s rose garden with a sneeze. To say you are panicked is an understatement

Frazzled you run to the only mage you could (kinda) trust

“It’s not funny!” You hiss frantically staring bewildered at your friend. Your look of panic just makes him laugh harder. “Stop seriously Solomon! Gods, what did I do?” You scrub at your face hard. If you made yet another freaking pact with a demon you were going to lose it. Seven idiots were enough for several lifetimes.

Solomon howls at this, drawing curious and rude looks from the surrounding tables of the tea house. You swat at his shoulder hissing like a cat. “Sorry- sorry” He hiccups. “Your turn of phrase was just so fitting.” He collects himself by taking a sip of his tea. “Tell me, what have you been doing of late?” He smirks around the rim of his cup.

You squint at him not getting it. His keen eyes drift down to land on the garden of purple and blue bruises littering your neck. You slap a hand over your hickeys. He smiles leaning over conspiratorially. “What’s it like to sleep with a God? The perks are amazing no?”  

You shook your head. “I-what perks?”

“Oh~ Loverboy didn’t warn you of certain side-effects?” The mage leans back in his chair. He was going to have a great time today. ___________

Unbelievable. You march up the walkway to the palace, your mind absolutely reeling. Did he know about this? Of course, he did-how could he not! Did he just forget? No- Diavolo was many things, smart, cunning, conniving, but never forgetful. You knew him well and knew he had to be on the lookout for “side effects” as Solomon put it.

Fine, two can play at this game.

“Ah! Mio Giglio! How are you?” Dia glances up from his mountainous amount of paperwork when you throw open his office door. He rises in one fluid motion to scoop you up in a tight hug. Now that you know what to look for, you hone into the way he holds you. His large hands run down your back and sides possessively, he clings to you rubbing his bulking frame on you like a cat marking you. He leans in close to rub the bridge of his strong nose up and down your clavicle and neck. You feel his hot breath on your skin when he exhales. How had you not noticed this?

“Good, and you?” You smile into the fabric of his shirt. Carefully you wrap your arms around his solid waist. You hug him lightly so as to not give away your little surprise.

“Better with you here.” He chuckles stepping back to return to his desk. You follow closely behind waiting for the perfect time to strike. “What have you been up to?” He asks innocently, going to sit back down. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

You hum nonchalantly coming up behind him to rub at his tense shoulders. “Nothing much.” He nods closing his eyes as your fingers dig into sore muscles. “Usual school week, made some new friends...Went shopping with Asmo and Luke this morning. Bought you some treats, hidden from Barbatos of course.” You drop a quick peck on his cheek. Diavolo smiles sinking lower into his chair. He hopped it was something with lemon or orange, they were in season now. Barbatos had been on the warpath with his sugar and carb intake of late. “Then I had tea with Solomon and he filled me in on some very interesting facts.” You kiss his hairline.

“Mmmm?”

You pull away from his warmth to come around to straddle his lap while he is distracted. He jerks at your sudden weight on his lap but relaxes almost immediately. He opens a golden eye, not even realizing he had closed them. Your demeanor shifts when his gaze is fully set on you, all sweet innocence gone. A cheshire grin spreads across your face. “Funny you should ask if I’m feeling ok. I have been feeling a bit off of late.”

Diavolo tenses. “Are you well?” He tries to reach for you, his arms coming off the armrests of his desk chair. You strike like a viper, your small hands wrap and lock around his thick wrists pinning them to the chair. His eyes bulge in shock. You watch coyly as his biceps bulge under his clothes. He tries to break free for a few minutes before settling back. “I see-”

Leaning in you brush your lips across his ears, heart racing with excitement. “You forgot to mention quite a few things, Dia.” The low purr he emits shakes both of you.

“My apologies.” He admits. “You know I love a good show. Shame I missed it.” He throws you a rogue smile. “Forgive me?”

You slide closer until you rested chest to chest, legs wrapping around his to pin him down further. His purr drops down an octave. Locking eyes with him you remove a hand from his wrist daring him to move. He doesn’t. You move slowly and deliberately resting your hand on his strong neck. His reaction was instantaneous. His pupils dilate, and the gold of his irises turn molten. You start to feel his magic seep out, you match it, giddy with excitement that you could. “Only if you work for it.” You smirk.

Diavolo nods readily, licking at his dry lips in anticipation. He was more than ready to atone.

Satan

He is a good noodle and has the decency to tell you what will happen beforehand

It’s only polite to give you a heads up before he breaks your headboard

You both are curious about how it will affect you. He at least is excited to teach you some practical magic

Plus the idea of you pranking Lucifer with magic? Sublime.

He smells it blossoming under your skin while you sleep.

It’s sharp and minty with a smoky finish. Then the power hits him like a brick to the face. He is in awe.

It’s like an electrifying feedback loop that just energizes and excites him and you feel it too. He’ll lose himself in you and your body again, hyped up on the headiness of it all.

Once he has *cough* cleared his head *cough* he takes you out to try out your newly found powers. He has so many things he wants to teach you.

Satan kneels beside you nodding his head in approval at your chalk markings. Your lines weren’t exactly steady, he could see how your hand shook as you copied his paperwork but you followed it dutifully. He finds your nervousness adorable as if he would let anything bad happen to you. At his go-ahead, you get to your feet. Turning your palms down towards your summoning circle you recite your spell and watch in amazement as your runes glow bright green underneath you. In a flash of blinding lights and smoke, you sense the pull of the creature emerging from your rune work. Delighted you look down at your handy work.

“Congratulations my darling, exceptionally done.” He grins proudly from his perch by his bookshelf.

You bend down and pick up the little critter. “What is it?” It looked like a blob of flan but firmer. Its squishy form shivers in your palm when you poked it. Its body giving way under your gentle poke. It was dark green but lightened to an electric green at its base. It was surprisingly warm.

You feel Satan coming up behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder. “It looks to be a lesser familiar, not bad for your first time summoning ever.” The jelly wiggles at his praise even though you couldn’t find any discernible features on its smooth little body. You turn it this way and that in your hand, even though it didn’t have eyes you could sense it was sizing you up to.

“What can it do?” You raise a brow at your companion. His arms circle your waist, his grin turning mischievous.

“Let's find out.”

________

Your lungs burn, each breath coming hard and sharp while you run. The sound of your pounding feet was swallowed up by the rush of foot traffic around you. Satan drags you behind him ushering you both around the throng of students. “Quickly!” He looks over his shoulder and flashes you a brilliant smile. “The further away from his office we are the less likely he could blame us.”

You laugh breathlessly along with him.

________

“What Belphie say?” You lean onto Satan’s shoulder to peek at his phone. The two of you sit, crowding in on each other's space underneath a desk in one of the unused classrooms.

“It’s glorious. Everything is covered. He says it looks like magic won’t remove it either!” He cackles showing you his screen. Belphie sent him a selfie. He is grinning devilishly from ear to ear throwing you both a peace sign through the screen. In the background, you could clearly see a very irate Lucifer. His face was red with fury and his clothes covered in green goo. His office was wrecked. Your little jelly did a number on it, you hadn’t expected it to expand as large as it did. Your familiar popping on the edge of Lucifer’s desk wasn’t intended either, but totally worth it. “Think you can summon another?” Satan asks, darkening his screen. You shake your head, whatever power you had earlier today had been drained after your little stunt.

Satan nods in understanding. “Shame- imagine what one of your jellies could do to Diavolo’s office.”

“Satan-”

He chuckles wrapping an arm around your back. He plants a loud kiss onto your forehead. “Alright-alright. Perhaps after a bit of a rest and recharge?”

You poke his leg playfully and laugh. “If you wanted to have sex again you could just ask.”  

He dips low and kisses you. “Well then- if you are up for another round of delinquency…”

Beelzebub

Sweet baby didn’t know-

Well, he knew about it. Lucifer had given everyone “the talk” about it a couple of millennia ago.

He never really thought about it before you because he didn’t sleep with humans often (Him so big, human so smol if he isn’t paying attention it could be...bad)

So when you drag him into your room he just doesn’t think about it. You are both so oblivious

He doesn’t think about the shift in your scent, your kisses were just as sweet as always. If there was a peppery aftertaste to your kiss he chalks it up to something you had for breakfast

He doesn’t think anything of it when you practically drag him from your bed to shower together before school

He doesn’t think about it when at lunch your appetite starts to rival his

He starts to think about it during P.E. when your dodge ball puts a demon down for the rest of class

He definitely notices when you pin him down to steal his sandwich during your picnic date

Now he’s freaking out, whether it's because you are showing inhuman strength or the fact that you stole his food who knows

You nab yet another one of his sandwiches and start munching away with a hum of happiness. “Hey, babe.” He rumbles beneath you. “You feeling alright?” He wraps his large hands around your waist. Your weight was warm and comfortable over his prone form. He had whisked you away for an afternoon picnic, something to spend more time with you alone. After last night he craved being around you more than anything. He had packed enough food for him in mind. But it looks like it wouldn’t be enough. Odd. Beel rests his head back on the thick blanket protecting you both from the slightly damp grass underneath.

“Hmm?” You swallow down a mouthful of ruben. “Yeah! Famished though.” You lean back on his strong hip and swipe your finger around your mouth to brush off some crumbs. You reach for the other half of his sandwich to devour but pauses when you catch Beel’s kicked puppy look. With a huff of amusement, you offer the other half to him letting him chomp down with a fanged smile in thanks.

He chews in silence, watching you pick up a bowl of fresh fruit. Hmmm… He runs his rough palms up and down your thighs and hips ignoring your squirming and giggles when he runs over the thin skin of your sides. He squeezes you lightly. Huh- Your muscles were firmer than this morning, now that he was looking closer he could see that your frame was a bit sturdier too. Still his perfectly lovable and squishy human but more solid around the edges. In a last-ditch effort to figure out what has changed, he reaches out for his pact mark.

He jerks forward, upsetting your position on his lap, causing you to tumble backward, fruit flying everywhere. “Beel!” You shriek. He shushes you, squeezing your cheeks between warm hands.

“I forgot.”

“You forgot?” You repeat. “What dessert? I’m pretty sure the fruit was part of it...but I mean. If you want grassy cantaloupe it’s all yours.” You eye the remains of the seasonal fruit laying around you and then at the basket. You were pretty sure you saw some pastries at the bottom of it too.

“We had sex.” He blurts out bluntly, and quite loudly.

Your face heats. “Yes, thank you for the reminder.” You push him off sitting up on your elbows. “Please, why don’t you yell it out for all the wildlife to hear too.”

Beelzebub shakes his head groaning. “No-I forgot to warn you about our pact.”

Ahh-oh. You eye him wearily. If he was stressing you were stressing, it wasn’t like him to get so bent out of shape. “Ok-is it, like bad?”  What were you going to die? That would be a big thing to just forget. “How about you fill me in big guy.” You listen enraptured while he jerkily explains how you have strengthened your bond exponentially without even realizing it. Magic, super strength, the appetite, all because you jumped his bones.

Nice.

It sounded so cool- but then overwhelming all at the same time. Was it permanent? What if you lost control and actually hurt someone for real.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it-I just. You felt so good.” He wilts. “I should have been more careful- this is the first time I’ve done this.”

“Beel-”

“I swear.” He bulldozes over you. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you.”

You cut him off, combing your fingers through his hair soothingly. “I believe you, Beel.” You smile reassuringly. “It’s not like it’s gonna hurt me...right?”  He thinks about it for a minute then grunts, shaking his head. You grin brighter stretching out your arms. “And I get some cool powers right?”

He nods again. “For a bit yes.”

You get up off the ground excitedly. “Right then! You’ll show me the ropes right? I’ve never done anything magical before!” You look at your palms as if fire or sparks were going to fly out of them. Beel rises to his feet too.

“You sure? I doubt I will be as good of a mentor as Lucifer or even Belphie.” He looks around the large grove of trees and sprawling grassy acreage around you both. You both were far away from the populated areas of the mountain pass and town. He could practice with you freely and without worrying about damaging anything important. “Not the date I promised, but if you really want me to show you some stuff…” He offers you a shy smile. He did have a few cool tricks he could show you. You nod already rolling up your sleeves. Well- if this was what you really wanted then he would be glad to show you.  

[metalboiimunson]

Ghostly Kisses and Love Declarations

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warning: 18+, fluff x love making 

Spicy Level: 7/10 

A/N: It’s finally here!! First post on this blog and first xReader one-shot since like 2015? It’s been a long time so idk how this turned out, I’m posting it before I decide I hate it. Open for feedback and way to improve. Hope you enjoy!

————

Ghostly Kisses and Love Declarations

Music was playing on the speaker, loud enough to hear around the house as you cleaned. It was something to keep you going, to keep the energy flowing so you wouldn’t call cleaning a bust. You opened windows to let fresh air in, sprayed down countertops and mopped the floor as you swayed to the music. You took dance breaks when one of your hype songs came on, of course. 

A few hours later, you were sitting on the couch, leaning against the armrest with your head thrown back as you rested. You had been up on your feet all day, after all—you figured you deserved a break. Pedro was coming home tomorrow, hence the reason for your cleaning. You wanted a full day of doing nothing with him tomorrow, a day just for the two of you to catch up—in all senses. 

You let your eyes drift shut, listening to the low music still playing from the speakers when your current favorite starts playing. The smooth, laid back beat playing throughout the house, causing you to mouth along with the lyrics as you raised your arm and swayed it to the beat. Your eyes still closed and feeling the music, you couldn’t help but let your fingers trace along your face as you picture Pedro. 

There was a reason why you liked this song at the moment, it resonated with you. Pedro was traveling most of the time for work, so most of the time you were miles apart. Sometimes, if they allowed him, he could bring you along but that was rare. So you settled for nightly facetimes, listening to each other talk about your day. Sometimes, the way he looked at you through the screen turned you on. The way he looked at you with a sort of hunger when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way he bit his lip while he watched you speak. For a reason you couldn’t explain, you felt yourself start to heat up. He didn’t have to touch you, all he had to do was give you a simple look and Pedro had you melting. 

It happened when you first met him, browsing the shelves at the local bookstore. You were in search of nothing in particular, picking up whatever cover or title caught your eye. You were nose deep in a thriller novel when Pedro came up to you and striked up a conversation, apologized for being so forward before asking if you would like to go for a drink some time as he tried to fight a dimpled grin off his face when you agreed. 

Truth was, the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke to you was captivating—you would have agreed to anything he had asked you that day. 

Letting your mind wander, song forgotten in the background, you allowed yourself to rest your hand on your neck for a moment before bringing your thumb up to your mouth and biting on it gently. You thought of one of the many times you had been with Pedro, rocking against each other and becoming whiny, whimpering messes under each other’s touch. A layer of sweat coating your bodies as you whispered praises into each other’s ear, his arms holding you close while he pumped into you and your nails dragged down his back. 

This song reminded you of all those times and the ones alone with just your fingers caressing yourselves, moaning praises though the phone as you worked yourselves to reach your high, whimpering out each other’s name as relief spread through your body. 

You didn’t even notice that the song had ended until you heard someone clearing their throat, causing you to snap your eyes open. Pedro. He stood before you, a day early, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face that made your stomach flutter. You let your thumb slide from your mouth, dragging your bottom lip with it slowly as you maintained eye contact with him. You wanted to get up and hug him, kiss him—welcome him home, but the look in his eyes made you stay put.

You watched him walk towards you slowly, smirk still present on his face as he stood in front of you, the growing bulge evident in his jeans. He really missed you. “You’re home early...why didn’t you say?” You asked, looking up at him with a smirk. 

“Wanted to surprise you..” He smirked, hand coming up to caress your cheek and slowly inching a finger towards your mouth, letting his mouth fall open slightly with a gasp as he watched you take it into your mouth. 

You sucked his finger gently, perfect little ‘o’ forming around it as you did, letting it pop from your mouth as he leaned down to give you a kiss. You missed him—his scent, his eyes, his scruff. His lips, chapped and rough against your soft ones. It turned into a full makeout session in seconds, Pedro slowly rounding the armrest until he was straddling you. Your tongues fighting for dominance, nipping at each other's lips. You found yourself following him as he pulled away, not ready to give up the taste of his lips just yet. 

“I missed you, P..” you mumbled, looking up at him and caressing his cheek as he hovered over you. His lips were plump, face slightly flushed and you discerned the look in his eyes as love and lust. 

“I missed you too...so much.” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “I caught a red-eye, I couldn’t wait another day to see you..” he mumbled. “..to kiss you..touch you.” He pressed kisses along your jaw, gently nipping at your ear as he passed it and sucking on the spot below it softly. 

He earned a gentle moan from you, your fingers running through the hair on the nape of his neck. “You saw me a month ago when I went to visit you, I doubt you missed me that much.” 

“I recall you saying you missed me too, sweetheart.” He countered. “You also came for a week, I need more time than that with you.” He murmured, looking down at you with a small smile on his lips. “A lifetime with you would never be enough for me, nor would three.” 

Your heart fluttered and you couldn’t help but let your eyes water, a hopeless romantic he was. “In that case, I hope to find you in all my lifetimes. ” you whispered, caressing his cheek gently. 

“So cheesy.” He laughed, hiding his blushing face in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to kiss his cheek but getting his ear instead because of the position you were in. 

He pulled back and you could see the love in his eyes, the way he looked down at you with blown pupils. The way his face lit up with happiness, a dimpled smile fighting its way onto his lips. He almost resembled the sun after a rainy day, warming up the earth as it shined brightly. 

He picked you up, hands resting on your bum to hold you up as he walked down the hall towards your bedroom. There was a moment where he set you down so you could undress, but after discarding your bottoms you halted and watched him in awe. Taking him in as though it was the first time you were seeing him. The way his muscles tensed as he pulled off his shirt, the ridges on his back that you so many times had left marked up. The dimples sitting at the bottom of his back became visible as he slid out of his jeans, taunting you—begging you to touch them. 

“...and suddenly, you have too much clothes for me.” He smirked, snapping you out of your trance. You looked up at him, smiling softly as he walked towards you and slowly lifted the hem of your shirt. He made sure to drag his fingers over your skin slowly, raising goosebumps as he slipped it off, tossing it to the side and crawling over you.

He pressed kisses down your jaw, wasting no time in sucking at your neck when you threw your head back to give him access. He left light bruises behind, pressing feathered kisses across your skin. His scruff tickling you as he inched further down your body, slowly inching your legs apart. His touch was gentle, pressing kisses over the most sensitive parts of you. He knew exactly where and how to touch you, having spent so much time figuring out your body. 

So many hours memorising each other, it was an intimate thing for you. You knew every part of him, all his scars and birthmarks—even the tiny, faded tattoo behind his ear that resembled a broken flower. He knew every part of you too. Where your biggest scar was to the tiniest birthmark he could find, what took you over the edge and what turned you on. 

 Pedro took his time with you, making sure sex felt good for the both of you and not just him. His fingers slipping in you, touching you in just the right way as his lips pressed ghostly kisses to your inner thigh, whispering gentle praises against your skin. He earned soft moans from you, your fingers tugging at his hair as you withered under his touch. He could feel you start clenching around his digits as he ran his tongue over your clit gently, kissing and nipping at it softly. Your moans grew louder, trying to raise your hips to meet the thrusts of his fingers, but his hand was over your stomach to keep you in place. 

“..Please, Pedro.” You mumbled breathlessly, ready for release. 

“Please what, baby?” He hummed, still working his finger at your sex. “Tell me what you want.” 

“...You. I need you..” and he wasted no time in slipping his fingers from you and licking them clean. He lined up to your entrance, coating himself before slowly slipping into you and bottoming out, earning a throaty groan from him. 

You looked at each other, your legs wrapped around him to keep him buried inside, hands on either side of his face and you gave a short nod for him to move. Moans and groans filled the room, foreheads pressed against each other. You pulled him for a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip as he rocked into you, your tongues exploring each other’s mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue. Your hands trailed down his back, digging your nails deep enough to leave crescent moons behind. You mumbled incoherent praises against his lips, throwing your head back to let out a loud moan. 

“I love you..” you breathed, feeling Pedro attach himself to your neck. He placed sloppy kisses against your skin, thrusting into you at a steady pace. You could feel yourself clenching around him, the moan that slipped past his lips letting you know that he felt it too. You let your arms drop, clenching the sheets as he picked up his pace, lips never leaving your neck as he searched for your hand. He let your fingers intertwine, gripping you tightly as he thrusted into you. 

‘I...fuck, I’m cumming P.” you whimpered into his ear, tightening your grip on him. 

“Come on...come on, baby...” he hid his face in the crook of your neck, letting out soft moans, “Cum for me, baby.” 

Moans echoed through the room, both cumming at the same time, holding onto each other tightly. You were sure you would have bruises in the morning, scattered over your bodies from all the love making. 

Neither of you moved a muscle, letting the orgasm course through you. “...I love you..so much.” Pedro whispered after a while, slowly sliding out of you and laying beside you. 

“I love you too, P...” You smiled softly, turning to face him, caressing his cheek gently. “..and I meant what I said, I really hope to find you in all my life times.” 

He chuckled softly, pulling you into him but not before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “..and I really hope you choose me in all your life times.” 

You laughed, nuzzling into him. It was quiet for a while, taking in each other’s silence. His chin rested on your head, fingers drawing figures across your back. You wouldn’t trade these moments for the world, they were intimate for you—sacred even. It was a moment to breath each other in, hold one another—bonding in the quietness. 

“...you know, I really enjoy our love making but maybe we should try recreating that scene from Narcos.” You spoke after a while, laughing into his chest. 

“Which of the many?” He countered, pulling away just enough to look at your face. There was a grin on his face, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you with a loving glance. “You have to be more specific, baby.” 

“You know exactly which one I’m talking about, Pedro.” 

“I’m ready for round two...” He smirked, taking your lips in his and crawling on top of you. By the neediness in his touch and the roughness of his kiss, you knew exactly what was in store for you. 

It was going to be a long night.

[davidpastrsnack]

back for more - matthew tkachuk

a/n: first of all idk what this title is i just wanted to post this lol. back with more matty but this time with a splash of smut. wasn’t expecting it to be so filthy but here we are. let me know what you think! (it seriously means the world to get feedback)

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

You grew up in St. Louis, becoming quite close with the Tkachuk family when they moved in next door. You were basically inseparable from Brady and Taryn, but Matthew had been another story. He knew exactly how to piss you off, somehow managing to strike a nerve with every comment he threw your way. It didn’t help that he made you so nervous, he was attractive and he knew it. No matter how much both your parents tried, there was no way you two could peacefully coexist. Safe to say you avoided him at all costs, which wasn’t a lot with how close your families were. When Matthew left for Calgary, you finally got a break, able to enjoy your time at the Tkachuk house without his constant bickering. 

Fast forward four years and you were offered your dream job right out of college. But there was a catch: it was in Calgary. It wasn’t even a decision to be made, this was the opportunity of a lifetime and you knew that the city was big enough to avoid Matthew. Except apparently it wasn't, and now you were stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of winding up in his bed. 

You were lucky enough to know one of the other girls that worked at your company, quickly falling into an easy friendship with her. It was Saturday night and you and Ella decided to go out, both looking your absolute best. You went for all black, throwing on your favorite jeans, v-neck bodysuit, and heeled booties. As soon as you walked into the bar, you were hit with the dense, warm air, your attention drawn straight to one of the tvs showing highlights of the Flames win that night. You scoffed, not even wanting to think about Matthew, and pulled Ella to go get your first round. Soon enough, you found yourself talking to a guy at the bar, the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. But little did you know the young guys of the Flames had just walked in, in the mood to celebrate their win. Matthew felt his breath hitch in his throat the second he saw you. He knew you had moved to the city, his mom begging him to reach out and make you feel welcome, but of course he hadn’t. What he didn’t know is how unbelievably good you looked. He had always harboured a crush for you, something about the sweet girl next door just doing it for him. But you quickly became close with Brady and he didn’t want to intervene if there was something there. So in typical teenage boy fashion he did his best to annoy you at all times. By the time it was clear that you and Brady were just friends, he had already established his dislike for you and felt that it was too late to backtrack. But now here you were. Maybe it was the way your jeans perfectly cupped your ass or the high he was still riding from scoring two goals just hours before, but Matthew headed straight towards you. 

There was no denying that the guy in front of you was hot, but something about his personality was straight up boring you. Just as you began plotting your escape, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You eagerly turned, expecting it to be Ella coming back from the bathroom, but your face dropped when you saw him. “Matthew,” you sighed, a self-satisfied smirk already on his face. 

“Long time no see Y/N, hmm?” he grinned. 

You may have hated him, but you couldn’t say he wasn’t beautiful. He towered over you, messy brown curls falling onto his forehead just above his baby blue eyes. His black t-shirt fit him perfectly, tight on his broad shoulders and around his biceps. His scent was intoxicating, daring you to move closer to his frame. And that’s when you knew you were a goner. 

He somehow charmed you into coming home with him that night, not that you were putting up much of a fight. Nearly two months later, you found yourself under his spell, spending night after night together. 

Tonight was no different. After a long east coast road trip, Matthew was begging you to come over despite the early hour of the morning. And that’s where you found yourself, pressed up against his door weakening beneath his body. His hands were heavy on your waist, moving his mouth from yours to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. You whimpered as he started to suck your sweet spot between his teeth, feeling him smirk against your soft skin as he wound you up. “Matt- Matthew, please,” you begged, hands gently pulling his curls making him groan. With just a few touches he had you dripping for him, no one compared to the way he worshiped your body. He moved his hands down your body, splaying across your ass then your thighs. He gently tapped them urging you to jump, which you did right away, gasping when you felt how hard he was against you as you wrapped your legs around his hips. 

“What do you want babygirl? You just gotta tell me,” Matthew whispered in your ear, making sure to grind into your core a little extra as he spoke. 

“Fuck,” you whined. “Your t-tongue, your fingers. Please Matty.”

Matthew moved to carry you into his bedroom, continuing his assault on your neck. “Whatever my girl wants she gets.” You tried not to overthink his possessive language, and luckily you were quickly distracted as he dropped you on his bed. You couldn’t help but giggle as you bounced on the soft material, him grinning down at you, eyes full of admiration. It was moments like these that made you question the original agreement of just sex. He could be so sweet, so respectful. But you didn’t let yourself go there, knowing he had no interest in a relationship, especially not with his former childhood enemy.  

Your thoughts were interrupted as Matthew went back to work, lips reattaching to your neck and rough hands slipping underneath your sweatshirt. You arched up into him in desperate need of more friction. He was taking his sweet time marking up your collarbone, but you couldn’t wait any longer, pushing him off your body so you could pull off your top. 

“Someone’s eager,” he chirped with a smirk. 

“Oh shut up,” you snapped back, pushing his head further down your body. 

Matthew chuckled and wrapped his hands around your back, gracefully unclipping your bra and throwing it across the room. His pink lips trailed down, covering your boobs in fresh bruises, the partially healed ones still lingering from previous nights. Once he reached the band of your leggings he wasted no time pulling them off your legs in one swift motion, but he left your panties behind. He wasn’t quite done teasing you. Matthew hooked both your legs over his shoulders, settling in. His dominant hand moved to finally ghost your core, fingers faintly dragging up the black lace. He smiled up at you as he took in the sight in front of him. You were squirming beneath him, already losing control of your body completely. His thumb rubbed your clit in painfully slow circles, your arousal becoming visible through the material. 

“Mattttty,” you whined, begging him to do something, anything. 

He normally hated that nickname, it reeked of desperation from girls he had no plans of calling again. But when it fell from your lips he felt his dick twitch and his heart melt. No matter how many times he told himself differently, you weren’t just another girl and deep down he knew it.   

“Okay, okay princess. I got you,” he cooed, finally pulling your panties off. “Fuck,” he groaned as he saw you glistening before him, “So wet for me baby.”

He delved right in, dragging his tongue up your slit, reveling in hearing your moans as he finally gave you what you needed so desperately. Your hands flew straight to his head, pulling at his curls making him moan into you. Slowly but surely he reached your clit, wrapping his swollen lips around it before detaching his mouth with a pop. 

“Mhm, you taste so fucking good babygirl,” he groaned. 

You didn’t have time to respond before he went back to work, tongue massaging your clit just right. You had learned very quickly that this boy knew exactly what he was doing. With one finger he teased your entrance, feeling you out before sliding it in. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, your back arching off the mattress as he curled it against your g-spot perfectly.   

Matthew smirked against you, blue eyes lifting to lock with your gaze. He added another finger and picked up his pace. He knew you were close, and he also knew just how to finish you off. He flattened his tongue against your clit and shook his head back and forth, arm resting heavy on your waist to keep you from moving.

“Ma-Matty I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck,” you yelled out, not holding back in the least bit. His name continued to fall out of your lips in a chant as you reached your high. 

Matthew milked you through your orgasm, making sure to look up and watch as you fell apart. It was his favorite sight: the way your back arched, face twisted, and legs shaked. He finally slowed his movements, pulling back to watch your cum spill out as he removed his fingers. You sat up on your elbows trying to regain your breath, in awe of the man in front of you and the earth shattering orgasms he never failed to give you. He locked eyes with you, a devilish smirk on his face as he moved to suck his fingers clean. 

“Feel better?” He teased with a self-satisfied grin on his face. 

You rolled your eyes and laughed, dragging him up by his shirt to kiss him, sighing as you tasted yourself on his tongue. He gently bit your bottom lip, making you pull away to urge him to shed his clothes.

--------

Two more orgasms later, you fell back against the mattress, chest rising with each breath as your body started to come down. Matthew laid next to you, his head tucked into the crook of your neck and his arm heavy across your waist. The two of you stayed like this for several minutes, basking in one another’s warmth. Neither of you would ever admit it, but this was your favorite moment of the night. That short bit of time when it was acceptable for fuck buddies to hold each other right after sex. But eventually you found yourself fighting everything within you and escaping from his grasp, moving to the bathroom to go clean up. Like usual, Matthew loosened his grip on you and watched you walk away, the door closing behind you. 

Normally he would push his feelings to the side and let you leave, but he didn’t know if he could handle pretending tonight. Before he could talk himself out of it, he got out of bed, throwing on a fresh pair of boxers and grabbing a t-shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed waiting for you to emerge, heart beating out of his chest. 

When you opened the door, you were expecting to see Matthew already half asleep, mumbling a goodbye to you. Early on in your arrangement, he insisted you stayed over in the guestroom, not wanting you to go home alone so late, but you refused. The best he got out of you was a text when you got home safe. You just couldn’t allow yourself to wake up in his apartment, that would be a cruel joke to your true feelings. But tonight, he was waiting up for you, a t-shirt in his hand. 

You gave him a confused look, suddenly feeling very exposed in front of him. 

Matthew moved his hands out to you, urging you to grab the shirt.

“What are you doing?” you questioned. There was no way this was what you hoped it was, he wouldn’t.

“Put it on,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. 

“Wha-,”

“I can’t do this anymore, okay? I can’t watch you leave every night and then fall asleep alone wishing I was holding you. So put the shirt on and get back in bed.”

It was almost like you didn’t believe him. You gave him another quizzical look, to which he responded by gesturing it towards you again. You finally reached out and grabbed the shirt, slowly pulling it over your head. It was big, and you couldn’t deny that your heart fluttered as the soft fabric fell over your frame. You hesitantly moved towards the bed, climbing back under the sheets. Matthew slid in behind you, immediately reaching and grabbing your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

You stayed silent for a minute, but your mind wouldn’t shut off. You couldn’t just pretend that this was normal. 

“You know we have to talk about this, right? You’re not that dumb,” you mumbled at the end. 

He scoffed, but it quickly turned into a chuckle as you turned in his arms and he saw your face, laced with confusion. 

“What is there to talk about?” he smirked. 

“Matty,” you warned, not blind to how his cheeks pinkened at the name.  

Matthew sighed, “Look, Y/N, I don’t think you hate me as much as you pretend to. And I’m telling you that I never hated you like it seemed for all those years. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure we’ve been exclusively hooking up for a while now and fuck, I want more,” he declared. 

You of course agreed with him, but you decided to have a little fun. 

“How do you know you’re not just one of many on my roster, hmm?” you teased, but he saw right through you. 

“You’re here almost every night I’m not away. I would honestly be impressed if you were doing that,” he laughed as he looked down at you, moving his hand to play with your hair. 

You didn’t even have words, just cupping his cheek and pressing a slow kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, he was staring at you with the softest eyes, and after so long you finally let yourself stare back. 

“Okay but I’m not telling our parents. That’s on you,” you spoke. 

“Umm, about that, I already told my mom-”

“You told your mom that we’re fucking! What is wrong with you Matthew?” you exclaimed, playfully hitting his bare chest as he burst into laughter. 

“No! I just told her we started hanging out a little bit. That’s all baby.”

“Oh thank god,” you sighed, relieved that the woman you basically considered a second mother didn’t know that your relationship with her son started as a Saturday night bar hook up. 

After another fit of giggles, the physical and emotional exhaustion of the night finally struck. You turned into Matthew’s body and nuzzled into his chest, his arms holding you close. His lips grazed your forehead, whispering goodnight. But just when you felt your eyes slipping shut, you heard that voice one more time. 

“I should probably tell you though, Brady knows about the fucking.”

“Mathewwwww,” you groaned into his skin, feeling your body shake as his vibrated with laughter. 

Even though you had a lot of explaining to do back home, you were so happy to have the pest by your side through it all. 

[lesbianrobin]

hey guys it's me again back on my bullshit <3 wanna hear my theory about how tommy created king steve? warning it’s like 2800 words long okay let's go!

So, at first glance in S1, the Steve and Tommy dynamic seems somewhat obvious: King Steve and his loyal sidekick. This post is me arguing that the only reason we really have this perception is because Steve is the more attractive of the pair (no hate to Chester Rushing, he’s very cute, but. Joe Keery) and because Tommy himself encouraged it. Tommy was actually the more “dominant” partner in the duo. I believe that it was Tommy who encouraged Steve to lean into the “King Steve” persona and who encouraged belief in this persona among their classmates, all for his own benefit.

Before we can really get into it, I have to establish something about Steve’s character, specifically that he bases his self-worth and self-image almost entirely on what others say and think about him. I’m basing this assumption off of a few key moments in the series, but I don’t want this to be insanely long so I’ll try to focus on season two where this trait is most evident.

At the Halloween party, Nancy tells Steve that they killed Barb and that their “love” is bullshit, and then later outside of the gym she insists that he isn’t being fair or reasonable in his anger with her. The next day Steve shows up to her house with roses, rehearsing an apology (”I’m sorry... what am I sorry for?) even though he doesn’t feel that he’s done anything wrong. That’s important: apologizing even though he doesn’t actually believe or understand his feelings and actions to be wrong. He’s trusting Nancy’s perception that he’s been unreasonable above his own hurt feelings and his own perception that he’s done nothing he needs to apologize for. Then, at the end of the season, he tells Nancy that he may have been a shitty boyfriend, but he’s a pretty damn good babysitter. 

Sometime between going to the Wheelers’ house with flowers to apologize and talking to Nancy at the Byers’, Steve did a pretty serious 180 from “What the hell am I sorry for, what did I even do wrong” to “I was a shitty boyfriend and you should go be with Jonathan.” The last time he interacted with Nancy was prior to the flower incident, so what happened to cause this shift in perspective? I’d like to suggest... that nothing happened! 

See, Steve is on a pretty linear emotional path in S2 after the Halloween party. At first, he’s so upset that he can’t even look at Nancy, asking Jonathan to take her home. The next day he avoids her until she confronts him, at which point he’s rather confident in his own feelings that Nancy has hurt him and doesn’t love him like she should. As time goes on, though, he loses confidence in his feelings. He buys her flowers to apologize. He isn’t remotely angry with Nancy or Jonathan once they show up together and it’s pretty clear that something’s going on between them. Finally, he calls himself a shitty boyfriend. I think that the more time passes, the less Steve believes in himself, and the more he tends to default to believing others despite his own feelings. As the anger fades, he questions himself, and since he loves and trusts Nancy, he’s inclined to believe her! Since she doesn’t love him, he must have done something wrong. Because Nancy doesn’t love him, because she wants Jonathan, because their relationship was “bullshit,” he now believes he must have been a shitty boyfriend.

Sidenote, in S3 he says a lot of shit about how he’s a loser with no future, and the way he says it indicates (to me) that it’s something he hears quite often, likely from his father. Even though it’s pretty normal to be working minimum wage the summer after you graduate high school and not have things figured out yet, even though he’s literally helped save his friends’ lives, perhaps even helped save the whole town, Steve has internalized the idea that he’s a total failure at the ripe old age of 18 (19?) and I can’t help but think that it’s because his father has told him. So. Also in S3, he says his hair is his greatest feature, and apparently people literally call him Steve “the Hair” Harrington so like, maybe he just knows he has really good hair, but he ALSO might be responding to the nickname by saying like, “Oh, okay, the hair is Objectively my best feature, okay.” Just a little bit of speculation!

I know this is a lot of my own personal opinions and speculation, but if you can get behind it, let’s keep going! If Steve is someone whose every belief about himself is a direct response to the words and feelings of those around him, if he places the opinions of others above his own feelings, it would logically follow that he might be easily emotionally manipulated.

So, let’s apply this lens to his friendship with Tommy!

Let’s run down the list. Steve cleans up after Tommy, making excuses for his shitty behavior, even wordlessly giving Carol his own food at lunch after Tommy ruined hers. He allows Tommy and Carol to have sex in his mom’s bed, and as indicated by their familiarity with the bedroom and knowledge of where the spare sheets are, this is a regular occurrence. He’s also always seen driving the two of them around. 

Neither Tommy nor Carol is ever really seen doing anything kind for Steve. They tease his girlfriend, then later use his heartbreak as an excuse to graffiti some shit and make cruel jokes about Nancy and Jonathan. That’s just not the behavior of a couple hangers-on to the most popular kid in school! Neither of them ever even pretend to give a shit about Steve. It seems that Tommy and Carol were very comfortable using Steve for his big empty house and his nice car and his popularity at school because they’d been using him for years at that point, and they thought there was no way he’d ever ditch them.

I think it’s generally accepted among fans that Steve and Tommy have been close friends for years. Tommy’s familiar with Steve’s father’s infidelity, and is comfortable enough to joke and laugh about it with Steve. The two of them just... operate like people who’ve existed around each other for a long time. So, if we accept that Steve and Tommy have been friends for awhile, we can then accept three things: the two of them know each other very well, Tommy is used to having fun at Steve’s expense, and Steve is used to allowing it.

When Steve does finally stand up to Tommy and Carol, Tommy turns on him immediately. It’s an incredibly fast turn. He shoves Steve up against his car, physically threatens him, and proceeds to taunt him angrily even as he’s driving away. Specifically he yells, “That’s it, run away Stevie boy, run away! Just like you always do,” and continues to shout variations on this phrase even after Steve’s driven far enough that Tommy’s only yelling to himself. The fact that Tommy keeps shouting after Steve can’t hear him indicates that he is genuinely very upset by Steve’s standing up against him and Carol. His fury, however, as indicated by the speed with which he turned on Steve, seems to be less like that of one who feels betrayed by a friend and more like one angry at some perceived loss or threat. 

Now, let me just state the obvious: that was a really weird thing for Tommy to be yelling!

There’s no real precedent at this point (or any time) in the show for Steve “running away,” unless you count him running from the cops, which... Tommy also did, and which also happened, like, ten minutes ago, which I don’t think would really qualify for the wording “like you always do.” Tommy also suddenly calls him “Stevie boy,” which (correct me if I’m wrong) nobody has called Steve thus far. Maybe he’s just trying to mock and belittle Steve in any way he can think of, but it’s just... weirdly specific. The whole thing is a bit of a non-sequitur.

But! Remember how we established that Steve and Tommy, by virtue of having been friends for a significant period of time, know each other pretty well? Remember how Tommy is knowledgeable about Steve’s father’s infidelity, so familiar that he’s comfortable joking about it? Keep that in mind.

This phrase that Tommy shouts at Steve only makes sense in the context of some offscreen information that we the viewer are not privy to, but which Tommy and Steve are. What might that information be? Nothing in the show indicates that Steve has a history of picking fights prior to the incident with Jonathan. He’s a fairly respectable suburban kid, what is Tommy accusing him of running from? It’s my opinion that the only logical answer is that Tommy’s referencing a specific event with Steve’s “asshole” father, or a specific phrase that Steve has perhaps often heard from his father. I’m gonna ask you to sit on this assumption for a minute, and I’ll come back and support it soon.

Okay, so that’s S1 out of the way. At this point, a few things are clear: Steve has issues with his dad. Tommy knows about those issues. Steve allowed himself to be used by Tommy and Carol for some indeterminate yet significant amount of time before finally snapping and dumping them completely, something which infuriates Tommy.

Tommy is also in S2! And... all he does is tell Steve that Nancy and Jonathan are skipping school together. He never actually interacts with Nancy or Jonathan; he shows up in S2 entirely to mock Steve, to use his deepest fears and insecurities against him. 

First thing: in the S2 shower scene after basketball practice, Tommy makes it a point to shove Jonathan and Nancy’s relationship in Steve’s face. Billy doesn’t know Steve, so he attacks his basketball skills and his keg stand record, but Tommy? Tommy knows about Steve’s dad cheating on his mom, he was there for the S1 fistfight, he knows how monumental infidelity is to Steve, especially in the case of Nancy and Jonathan, and so that is what he chooses to torment Steve with, and it clearly strikes a nerve. 

Now’s where I circle back to my assertion that Tommy was referencing/quoting Steve’s father while yelling at him back in S1. S2 makes it clear that Tommy  knows Steve’s biggest insecurities, and he intentionally exploits them for his own purposes. This, combined with the way Tommy demonstrates intimate knowledge of Steve’s family situation and the fact that his words just don’t quite make sense in context, the fact that “Stevie boy” sounds like something a father may call his young son, makes me believe that at some point, Steve told Tommy about something his dad said that hurt him, and Tommy remembered that to use against him later. 

This paragraph is just speculation on what Tommy might be referring to, so skip if you want, it’s entirely my own opinion. We know that Steve’s parents sleep in separate bedrooms and his father can’t be trusted not to cheat, and thus we might assume that they argue a lot. Maybe his parents get into lots of arguments, and whenever Steve chooses to remove himself from the situation, he’s accused of running away. Maybe Steve runs off whenever he gets in trouble with his father. There’s a lot of possibilities, but either way, “run away, Stevie boy, run away just like you always do” just... sounds too personal and specific to be something random and meaningless that Tommy came up with on the spot.

Now, in S2, Tommy also appears to have latched onto Billy rather quickly after Billy’s arrival in town. Coincidentally, Billy is kind of obsessed with Steve and taking him down, despite the fact that Steve never sought him out or challenged him in any way. Steve has been minding his own business! When they later end up in a fistfight, Billy says that he’s “been dying to meet this King Steve” that people have been telling him about, and I can’t help but think... who would make it their priority to talk to Billy about Steve Harrington? Like, new guy from California moves to my small Indiana town, I don’t want to tell him about some popular guy at school who’s gotten kinda lame and quiet lately, I want to ask him about himself, or tell him what we do for fun around here, right? So who might be incentivized to talk Steve up to a guy who’s clearly itching for a fight, a guy dying to prove that he’s top dog? Who did we see hanging out with Billy a couple of times?

Did you say Tommy? Because it’s Tommy! It certainly seems to me as though Tommy saw an opportunity in Billy. The opportunity to befriend someone with a certain social power (much like with Steve), but also the opportunity to torment or get back at Steve in some way. I think that Tommy intentionally inflated the character of “King Steve” to Billy in the hopes that Billy would pick a fight with Steve and Steve would get his ass kicked without Tommy having to get his hands dirty.

Which makes me wonder... what if Tommy played up that King Steve image to people besides Billy? Other kids at Hawkins High... or perhaps Steve himself. Remember how Steve internalizes things? Believes that he must be whatever others see in him? Yeah.

Let’s say you’re an asshole teenage boy who wants it all. You want to be popular. You want to have a spot to hang out with your girlfriend with no parents around. You want to feel strong and powerful. You meet a kid who could give you all of that, and all he wants in return is friendship. He doesn’t even seem to care if that friendship is genuine or not! All you have to do is hang around and make him feel like a cool kid. Convince him to throw a small party, you and your girlfriend get free reign of his nice big house. Make sure he knows that he’s got Prom King potential, that he’s the top dog, and you get to be one of the popular guys, too. It’s a pretty sweet deal if you can recognize the opportunity for what it is.

One last thing: Actual Steve is nothing like he seems around Tommy and Carol in the start of S1. Making friends with Dustin and coming up with a goofy handshake, singing to cheer Robin up in S3, singing into the bat to try and cheer Nancy up in S1, holding her hand during their first time, unabashedly telling her she’s beautiful and that he missed her even if only an hour had passed... Steve is a very emotional, dorky guy, and we never really got to see that side of him when he was around Tommy. I just find that interesting in light of the fact that Steve and Tommy seem to be otherwise rather close. Steve was clearly playing a part to some degree while around them, and in S3 he explicitly says that he behaved the way he did in high school because he was concerned about what others would think of him, about losing his popularity. Even prior to their argument, Steve was wary around Tommy, concerned about losing his friendship despite the fact that Tommy was a pretty objectively shitty friend.

So, here’s what we know. Tommy knows a lot about Steve, including his private family issues, and he isn’t above using that knowledge to hurt or manipulate Steve. In fact, he seems to be really good at it. Tommy benefitted from Steve’s popularity, from him throwing parties and living up to the “King Steve” image. Steve followed Tommy’s lead in their friendship, cleaned up after him, made excuses for him, and let him get away with just about anything. He masked aspects of his personality that didn’t fit the image that he and Tommy aimed for. He was desperate to retain Tommy’s friendship and afraid of letting the mask fall. Tommy was furious when Steve rejected him, taunted Steve with deeply personal jabs, and a year later he latched onto the new “top dog” in town with record speed. Steve is a completely different person when he’s around Tommy versus when he’s around Nancy, Robin, and the kids. Most importantly, we know that Steve has a tendency to construct himself in the image provided by others. 

Taking all of this into account, I think that Tommy Hagan met sad, rich, handsome little Steve Harrington, saw just how lonely and desperate he was to feel a sense of belonging, and used that to nudge Steve into striving to be the person that Tommy wanted him to be: King Steve. 

[babbushka]

omg mrs z!! "saddle up, doll" + flip could be life changing :') however, i understand if you don't want to write it bc i know that you're posting some flip oneshots later :') you're too kind to us :') have a good brunch!

Anonymous said:  Howdy! How about Buck with your cowboy, Flip? ;) Thank you for coming up with such fun ideas!!!   &  I sent in the Buck prompt with cowboy Flip lol. I just saw the prompt “Saddle up, Doll.” My mind is really running with this now lol!

(1.7k, semi-public sex, dirty talk/name calling, its seedy lol)

You’re good at it, pool. Real damn good at it, if Flip’s anything of a judge. You call out the pockets and then you hit them, impressing everyone in the smoky bars you like to visit. Flip’s impressed, impressed with the way you chalk up the pool cue, the way you walk around the table, a hand trailing along the velvety surface.

He’s hard in his jeans, watching you. He knows you do this on purpose, the bending over. Low-cut tops that show your pretty tits all pushed up in your bra, practically begging to be kissed, bitten, sucked. Tight fitting pants that hug your ass, or even better – skirts too short that he can see your panties when you bend over just enough.

You’re wearing one of those skirts now.

And you’re bending over more than enough.

He knows you know what you do to him, because you’re always looking over your shoulder at him with a pretty smile, a devious smile, a knowing smile. You know he knows you know.

He blows smoke through his nose and hazes up the bar, and fuck, he’s hard.

“Five in the corner pocket, three in the left side.” You announce, angling up something of an impossible trick.

Crack!

He can feel it in his balls how fucking sexy you are, how suggestive all this is. You make the shot, and look over at him. Not so impossible, you say with your smirk, and Flip just has to fucking have you.

“Eight ball, corner pocket.” Still looking at Flip, you announce to your opponent. They’re nobodies, some guys who had really given you and Flip a run for your money, but in the end – crack! – lost.

“Good game.” Flip shakes hands with the guys, and he prays they can’t feel how clammy he is, how pent up he is for you in that handshake.

They return the sentiment, and the second that you hang up the pool cues, he’s got an arm around you and is walking you back back back into the dark, into the employee only hallway, past some doors and around a corner.

You’re giggling, hands already prying open the fly of his jeans, already tugging out his cock. It’s some kind of office, something left unlocked. You wonder how many other people get fucked back here, but it doesn’t stop you. You’ve been aching to have your pussy filled for hours now, ever since he came in you at the house before leaving to go out for drinks with some friends who wound up bailing anyway.

“How do you want me?” You ask as he quickly works your shirt over your head, nearly tears at the clasps of your bra.

You sigh happily when your breasts can rest naturally, sigh even happier when Flip’s immediately drawn to them, nuzzles his face into your cleavage as you stroke at his cock, hot and heavy and throbbing in your hand.

“Bounce on my dick, I want to see your tits move.” He grumbles before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, hard.

Your free hand flies to his hair, holds him against you as you push him down down down to the floor. It’s seedy here, but that’s okay, you’re seedy sometimes. Loud music spills in from the main bar area, but all you can hear is the thumping base that makes your pussy tingle as you straddle his hips.

“You got it cowboy.” You grin, letting him lay flat back against the floor. He’s fully dressed, right down to those sexy cowboy boots of his he’s always strutting around in. The lights pulse red neon around you in the office, and you grind your hips against his cock, feel it through the cotton of your underwear.  

“Mmm, saddle up ketsl,” Flip tucks his arms behind his head, playfully bucks his hips up against your pussy, “You’re in for a ride.”

You gasp out a laugh from the surprise feeling, and immediately go to unbutton your little denim skirt.

“No, leave it on. And your panties.” He instructs as he licks his lips. “I want them soaked and sticky until we get home.”

You nod, bat your lashes at him as you simply tug your panties to one side and waste no time sinking down onto his dick. You’re wet, so wet and stretched, so it’s easy. You like that, you think to yourself, you like being easy for him.

“Oh fuck, Flip – your cock’s so fuckin’ big honey.” You moan as your pussy grips him, clenches around his length when he bottoms out inside you. You rub a hand over your lower stomach, imagining for a minute that you can feel him in there, pushing your insides around, rearranging your guts to fit.

“Still sore from earlier?” He asks as you begin to move on his cock, undulating your hips to the beat of the music.

“Uh huh.” You moan, head tipping backwards, pushing your tits out. You know he likes them, loves them, wants to come all over them all the time. There’s some dried come on them now, if anyone looked close enough.  

“Good.” He grunts, planting those boots of his onto the floor and bucking up hard with his hips, making you yelp a little, making you gasp, making you moan.

Fuck he loves to listen to you moan.

“You’re mean to me.” You whine, biting at your lips as he meets you thrust for thrust, the head of his cock knocking against your cervix and making your knees turn squeeze his sides.

“Tell me about it ketsl,” He wants to kiss you, so he sits up there on the floor, wraps his arms around you and holds you close. Your hands immediately tangle into his hair as you press open mouthed kisses to his jawline, spit-slick and hot. “Let me hear you.”

“Oh! Ah – hh – I -- ” You try, but you can’t, because this angle lets you move faster, and you’re bouncing in earnest, your pussy squelching and throbbing around him, pulsing, blazing on his cock that’s oozing into you.

“Faster honey.” He bites at your cheek, catches your lips with his own and licks into your mouth slowly while your body shakes shakes shakes around him hard, “Moan into my mouth and go faster.”

“Fffffffflip -- yesyesyes.” You pant, gasp, whine into his mouth while you grind and roll and fuck yourself on his cock.

“You’re such a fucking whore aren’t you? Bending over for anyone to see, I should have fucked you over the pool table.” He growls, that possessive flare bubbling up inside of him, fueled only by the way he always seems to get drunk off of you, your touch your taste your smell.

“Touch me?” You ask, and how could he deny you when you’re so sweet to him? Even when you’re a fucking brat, you’re so sweet.

“You would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you? Your cunt’s wet about it, slut. Perfect beautiful slut, all mine. I’d’ve made you drool all over the place, fucked you dumb.” He drops a hand to your pretty clit, has a hard time getting a hold of it because your hips move move move, and you’re sweat covered tits are driving him crazy with need, so badly that his hand shakes.

“Do it – do it, fuck me dumb Phil, please!” You’re close, he knows you are.

“When we get home.” He kisses your neck, worries the tendons there between his teeth, makes your back arch against nothing, trying to wind yourself press yourself climb yourself closer to him.

“Ugh,” You groan, and he rolls his eyes, pulls back enough to pinch your nose.

“You get to come on my cock, don’t be so fuckin’ glum ketsl.” He kisses you, breathes into your lungs until you’re dizzy and gasping for fresh air. He lets go of your nose and you grin.

“I just love fucking you honey,” You pant, moving erratically now, right on the edge, “I love when you get riled up for me, so strong and big and protective. You wouldn’t fuck me in front of anyone, you love this pussy too much, it’s all yours, no one else gets to see it.”

He could make you wait, could tell you not to come, but you’re so good to him, and he loves you so fucking much.

“That’s fucking right – say it again.” He makes up his mind, wants you hoarse, wants you wrecked. “Say it until you come.”

“I’m yours, yours honey.” You’re quick to comply, so eager, as your pussy pulls off of him nearly all the way and drops back down, again and again, really feeling the length of him, the girth of him, again and again, whisper-moaning right in his ear, against his mouth, “Yoursyoursyoursyoursyours – fuck!”

Your whole body shudders, toes curling in your fancy platform heels. Flip’s hands rub at your nipples and make you whine as you moan, as you some around his cock, as you gasp gasp gasp on his dick. You weakly keep saying it, over and over, all yours.

He pulls out of you until just the tip of his cock is right up against your pussy, and then he comes in your underwear. It’s hot and thick and sticky, and as he comes and empties his load, he pushes the head of his cock back into your cunt and comes some more, smearing it between your folds.

It takes you a minute to stop coming, to stop the shakes. Your body’s like jelly on top of him, but you seem to have enough strength to lick up the long trails of sweat that dripped down Flip’s neck.

“They’re soaked, just like you wanted.” You’re raspy when you whisper, feeling the slippery slope between your thighs as he finally pulls away.

“Good, that means you’ll have to sit on my lap while I finish my beers.” Flip tucks himself back into his own clean underwear, buttons up his jeans. He kisses you hot and heavy, tongue against yours, sweet sounds of making out daring him to get hard again.

“If we wait ten minutes, I’ll sit on your cock.” You dare him too, pull him up off the floor as you stand, “It’s dark, no one will be able to tell.”

“I love the way you think ketsl.” Flip reaches into his pocket for a cigarette, and you take the little book of matches from him, strike one with your fingernail and light up the smoke for him.

And you just grin, because well, you know.

[tellmealovestory]

That Summer (4/?)

Summary: You’ve spent every summer since you were a child in the idyllic beach town you call home three months out of the year. This summer should be no different except for the addition of Bucky Barnes. Sparks fly upon first meeting, but it’s only a summer fling, right? Modern AU.

Notes: Also posted on my ao3. 

Warnings: A few lines of suggestiveness, angst if you squint

Series Masterlist

"How come you never cooked for us before?" Wanda asked.

"Last time she cooked she almost burned the kitchen down," Natasha added, laughing when Wanda's eyes grew wide with a mix of shock and worry.

Standing over the wooden cutting board you ignored them as you concentrated on slicing cucumbers and tomatoes for salad. "That's not completely true," you muttered under your breath. Wiping your hands on the red apron you had borrowed from Wanda you walked over to the stove checking on the potatoes.

"You never told me that."

"Because it was a long time ago," you started, opening the oven door to check on the chicken. "And I'm not going to burn down the kitchen so please stop looking so worried, Wanda."

A snort came from the other side of the room. "It was two years ago when she was dating that guy Eric."

"The musician?"

"Are we really doing this right now?" You groaned. 

Ignoring you she continued, "That's the one. She tried making him a fancy dinner and when he got there how'd you say it happened again?" Smirking she snapped her fingers. "The lust overcame you and you guys went at it like rabbits."

"Okay, okay, first off," you started, raising your voice to be heard over their peals of laughter, "Natasha is lying I did not say anything like that! Although I might have gotten distracted when he came over and we might have had sex making me forget about dinner and there may have been a small fire in the kitchen, but it didn't burn down! And Wanda, please stop looking at me like that because I promise you that's not going to happen tonight!"

"Which part isn't happening tonight, Y/N?" Nat teased.

"I hate you." Untying the apron you focused on folding it into neat squares while trying to ignore Natasha's laughter and Wanda's growing nerves as she hovered around you, checking the boiling potatoes and chicken roasting in the oven. "Also, for the record it was different with Eric. Our whole relationship was about sex and with Bucky... it's deeper than that. I've never felt this way about someone else before and..." Letting your words trail off you stared down at the counter, your fingers running over the apron. "After the movie in the park and all the dates he's taken me on I wanted to do something nice for him so no, tonight is not going to be a repeat of the disaster with Eric and you guys have nothing to worry about. We're going to have a nice homemade dinner and that's it."

Greeted with silence you looked up to find Natasha scribbling down the number for the fire department and Wanda again hovering by the stove.

"You guys really have no faith in me," you sighed. "I made brownies this morning and you weren't worried."

"That was before," Wanda murmured, fingers turning down the burner of the stove.

"I promise you by the time you get home the kitchen will still be here, everything will be cleaned up and-"

"You and Bucky will be making out on the counter again?" Natasha added, deftly catching the apron you threw at her.

"Wanda!" You snapped. "You said you weren't going to tell her about that!"

"She went into some very graphic details about where she saw your hands disappearing."

"I hate both of you," you muttered. Heat burned your face and you couldn't tell if it was from the conversation, the oven being on during the heat of summer or the memories of that late night in the kitchen with Bucky kissing you until your lips were swollen, exploring his body with your fingers and hands until you swore you knew it as well as yours.

Ignoring their laughter and the way you could still feel your face burning you glanced over at the clock. "Shouldn't you guys be leaving?"

"Someone's eager for us to be gone."

"I'm not eager," you lied. "But you guys don't want to be late. You know traffic and parking and all that."

"Uh huh. I get it. I think she wants some alone time with Bucky. Come on, Wanda."

Peeking into the oven again Wanda fiddled with the knobs of the stove. "We could help you finish dinner first."

Exchanging a look with Nat across the kitchen you watched the way she went over to Wanda, slinging an arm around her shoulder and murmuring something you couldn't quite hear, but still she didn't budge. 

"I promise that I'm not going to burn the kitchen down. Natasha exaggerated what happened with Eric. You guys have nothing to worry about. I've got this under control."

Twenty minutes later and you did not have it under control. 

After darting upstairs to freshen up you had stepped out of the shower only to catch your first whiff of smoke. Thinking nothing of it you had taken your time in searching for something to wear. But as the minutes ticked by the ashen smell grew stronger until you couldn’t ignore it anymore and when the piercing screech of the smoke detector blared in your ears you had raced downstairs. Tugging your dress on only half aware it was on backwards you skidded to a stop at the edge of the kitchen.

The piercing screech was amplified downstairs as smoke filled the kitchen, billowing out into the living room. Acting on instinct you raced to the oven, flinging the doors open only to be met with more smoke. Coughing, eyes burning with tears you waved it away before reaching for a pair of oven mitts and pulling the pan out.

Burned beyond repair you slammed the pan onto the stove, the thunk reverberating throughout the kitchen. Hours of preparation for tonight ruined in a matter of minutes. Tossing the mitts onto the counter you ran a hand over your hair determined not to cry, but it was so hard when all you had wanted was tonight to be perfect, a small thank you for all the time and thought he had put into your dates and it was ruined.

Letting the screen door slam shut as you left behind the smoke filled house you inhaled the saltiness of the ocean and the sweetness of freshly cut grass. Sitting on the bottom step of the front porch, brain trying to come up with a plan b for tonights date, clean feet getting dirtier by the second as you ran them over small pebbles, loose piles of dirt, grass clippings from early this morning when you had cut it. In the distance you could hear the familiar rumbling of Bucky's motorcycle, the soundtrack to your summer. 

Like a child eagerly waiting for the ice cream truck to drive down their block on those hot summer days you stood up, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you watched Bucky effortlessly maneuver the motorcycle to a stop in front of the house. No matter how many times you watched from the living room, peering through the curtains, or standing on the front porch watching him leave you would never get tired of the way he so easily climbed on and off as if the bike was part of him and in someways you supposed that was true. Meeting him halfway the sidewalk burned the bottoms of your feet, but you paid it little mind as you flung you arms around his shoulders, inhaling that familiar scent of exhaust and woods and him. The smells of your summer.

"Hi," you breathed, lips landing on the corner of his mouth as you struggled to break the news to him. 

"What happened? Are you okay?" Eyebrows knitted together, callused hands resting on your shoulders before gliding down your arms, gaze scrutinizing your body looking for any sign of injury before briefly glancing to the house. 

"I'm fin-,"

"You're not." Sliding his hands up to your face he cupped your still warm cheeks, striking eyes filling with a cloudiness, voice gruff. "Something happened, pretty girl."

Guilt pooled in the pit of your stomach for making him think the worst. "I'm fine." 

"That why your dress is on backwards and you're out here waiting for me?"

"Maybe I missed you." Warmth found its way onto your face and though you wished you could blame it on the mugginess of the night you knew it had more to do with the current situation. "Okay, okay, there may have been a little accident in the kitchen, but I didn't burn anything this time. Technically I burned dinner and the kitchen is probably still filled with smoke, but other than that I'm fine."

"This time?" He laughed and like the waves washing away sand castles you could feel the guilt and the worry about trying to impress him tonight washing away. 

"I tell you I burned dinner and I ruined our date and the only thing you take away is that I've done this before?" His laughter was infectious.

"You didn't ruin our date," he murmured, offended at the thought that you would ever think that. Dropping his hands from your face he rested them on your waist, tugging you closer to him. It was too hot to be held, but that didn't stop you from resting your head on the burning leather of his jacket or to let out a content sight when he kissed the top of your head. 

"I did though." Voice muffled against his chest you pulled back enough to stare up into his eyes. "You've been planning all these amazing dates for us and I wanted to do something nice in return and instead I made a huge mess and dinner was gonna be good, like really good, Bucky. Better than your chocolate chip banana pancakes good."

"That so, pretty girl?"

"Mhm." 

"Weren't you the one who said my pancakes were the best thing you ever ate?" Dipping his head down so his mouth was pressed against your ear he whispered, "Weren't you the one who moaned after the first bite? Said they were as good as that orgasm I gave you the night before?"

You swore the temperature rose a hundred degrees on that sidewalk and it had nothing to do with the night air. Opening and closing your mouth you were at a loss for words.

“Hm?” 

“Brownies,” you blurted, a twinge of embarrassment working its way through you. “I made some brownies this morning which unlike dinner aren’t burned.”

“Brownies? You trying to distract me?”

Laughing you shrugged your shoulder. “Maybe,” you said, drawing the word out until he was laughing too, until he was leaning down and kissing you, until you momentarily forgot about dinner, until you were so happy you swore you would sink straight down into the cement. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Kissing you again, a little longer this time, one hand sliding to your lower back holding you close. “C’mon, I’ve got an idea.”

His idea turned out to be brownie sundaes shared on the patio, double scoops of vanilla ice cream dripping with extra whip cream and enough chocolate sauce to make your teeth ache. Watching as the sky turned from rosy pinks reminding you of the way he’d blush to deep purples that reminded you of the wildflowers that dotted the grassy fields on the drives he’d taken you on outside the city. And when the pinks and purples of the sky changed to deep blue to black, when the stars came out, when your stomach hurt from laughing too much and eating too many sweets you had grabbed his hand, leading him down the steps and onto the sandy beach.

Deserted, stars twinkling above, your bare feet sinking into the damp sand, cool ocean water running over your toes, holding hands, his rich laughter drifting outward when he teased you about Jaws getting you when you dared to wade a little further into the dark water.

Tugging you back to shore, your feet kicking up water, your own laughter joining his when you accidentally splashed him, soaking the bottoms of his jeans. Feet and legs wet, sand sticking to your skin like sugar on fried donuts you stumbled into his open arms deliriously happy.

“Careful there,” he laughed, so reminiscent of that first night you met. 

“I’m always careful.”

“That why you burned dinner?”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down either are you?”   

“Not a chance.” Pulling you close to his side he wrapped his arm around your waist, your feet sinking into the sand as you continued your lazy stroll along the beach. 

Almost back to the house you paused your steps gaze swiveling to the patio where the light was still on illuminating the wicker furniture, the piles of fluffy blankets and oversized pillows you used during your girls nights, the same set that you used when it became too hot upstairs, the fans and open windows doing nothing to cool you off as you slinked down the stairs and settled in for a night sleeping out under the stars. The kitchen light was still off telling you that your friends weren't home yet. Except for the waves rolling against the shore it was quiet out. Down the beach you could see a bonfire, the orange flames dancing in the night as a small group of friends huddled around the warmth. 

"Why were you so worried when you came over?" You hadn't meant to blurt it out, but since his arrival and the worry that had seeped from him even after you told him you were fine to the way he had been so tense in the kitchen watching those final curls of smoke float around the ceiling you could tell something had been bothering him.

"I told you," he murmured, voice a little gruff, arm tightening around your waist as he led you in the direction of the stairs.

Holding firm you dug your feet into the sand. "Come on I'm serious. You were weird. I've waited for you outside before and in the kitchen? You saw the smoke and you just shut down. I've never seen you act like that before so talk to me."

Dropping his arm from your waist he said, "'Bout two years before we moved here there was an accident." Silently climbing the stairs after him you shivered when he reached for your hand, pulling you down onto the lush pile of blankets and pillows. 

"Got into some trouble with another biker group." Refusing to meet your eyes he stared out at the horizon. "Started off small with fights. Didn't take long for things to escalate. Sure you wanna hear the rest?"

"Nothing you say is going to make me think less of you, Bucky Barnes," you whispered. Lifting your hand to his face your thumb smoothing over his stubbled cheeks and jaw, tracing the plumpness of his lower lip, you smiled softly when he relaxed into your touch and met your eyes.

"They weren't good people, Y/N. It was a small town, they were ruining it by running drugs through. When we got word we tried to stop them and." A pause. A deep breath. A humorless chuckle. "We confronted them, got them to leave and thought that was the end. Couple months later our bar burned down." 

Another pause. Another deep breath. Eyes turning downwards. "Nobody got hurt, but they burned it to the ground. Didn't take a genius to figure out who was behind it. After that we left town. Haven't seen 'em since, but tonight when I saw you sittin' on the porch, your dress on backwards the only thing I could think about was they were here and hurt you. Then in the kitchen when I saw the smoke, dunno, guess I went back to that night."

"Jesus," you breathed, at a loss for words. It was the deepest you had ever delved into your pasts and sitting next to him on a floral blanket, the patio light bathing him so that you could see the pain in his eyes, could see the way his shoulders were hunched as if by telling you he was still worried you'd think less of him. Seeing him so vulnerable next to you had your heart shattering. You had heard rumors around town about him and his friends, had seen the way the locals had pointed and stared, but you had never given it much thought when they had been nothing but kind and generous towards you. And when you had asked your friends about it they had simply shrugged their shoulders, murmuring offerings about how it was a small town and rumors spread like fire around here. 

"Yeah."

"I meant what I said it doesn't change anything.” The thought of Bucky and his friends getting caught up in another round of fights, of their war escalating, bringing with it the possibility of casualties didn’t sit well with you. “You really think they’d come back after all this time?”

Gently removing your hand from his face he pressed a soft kiss to first your knuckles and then your palm in a gesture that was both calming and sensual. “No,” he finally said. 

“But what about other groups coming after you or-“

“Hey, you got nothing to worry about, pretty girl. Haven’t been in trouble since and don’t plan on getting into more. ‘Sides, nothing interesting happens in this town anyway.”

“Really, Bucky?” You asked, trying and failing to hold back your growing smile. You didn’t understand how he could go from talking about something so serious and dangerous to making jokes, but a small part of you was thankful for the lighter conversation. “Nothing interesting has happened here? At all?”

“Well,” he smirked, “Guess one interesting thing.”

“What’s that?” 

Your breath hitched when he leaned in closer, your eyes fluttering shut, heart picking up speed at the thought of feeling his lips on yours again. Warm breath against your mouth, fingertips dancing down your jaw and neck, but still, you didn’t feel his kiss. The growing impatience you felt turned to frustration.

“This patio. Most interesting one I’ve seen. Wanna tell me why you guys have so many pillows and blankets out here?”

“Seriously?” 

“What?” He asked innocently with a shrug of his shoulders and an infuriating smirk. “Expecting a different answer?” 

And this time when he leaned forward he gave you the answer you were looking for in a kiss that left you tasting brownies on his lips and tongue. Breathless when he pulled away you went back for seconds wanting him to kiss away your fears over his past, wanting to kiss away his worries of seeing you on the porch. 

“How was that answer?”

“A lot better,” you breathed. 

Stretching his body on the floral blanket he spread his arms, an invitation you accepted without hesitation as you curled into his side, feeling instantly safe and at home. Stroking his fingers down your back you let your eyes flutter shut as every beat of his heart and every roll of the ocean against the shore lulled you into a sense of peacefulness.

Your feet were still caked with sand, his jeans still a little wet and when you shivered against him he grabbed a light blanket, draping it over your body so delicately you were convinced it would take a week before your smile faded. 

“Sometimes when I can’t sleep I come out here and look at the stars.”

“You ever gonna tell me what’s so special about those stars?”

“Jealous?” You teased.

“No,” he scoffed. “Already showed you I could make you feel better than the stars, pretty girl, don’t tell me you forgot already.”

There was no way you’d ever forget that night,. The way his body had pressed yours into the edge of the blanket and grass, the way he kept laughing, husky voiced reminding you to be quiet. The memories came rushing back and as you buried your head in his chest you now knew it’d take a month before your smile faded.

“I didn’t forget,” you mumbled, face burning as you left out the part about how’d you never forget. In a summer that was already filled to the brim with snapshots of your time together that one was on the top of the pile. 

“I always tell people it started when we learned about them in school, but it started earlier than that. When I was a kid I always had trouble leaving at the end of summer. I used to throw tantrums and beg my parents to let me stay here year round and obviously that never worked out,” you laughed. “One year my mom told me that whenever I got lonely and missed the beach and my friends all I had to do was look at the stars and I wouldn’t be lonely because they’d be watching over everything I left behind. I know it sounds dumb, but I was a child and didn’t know any better. But as I got older it just became this sense of comfort, you know? I’d leave and even miles away from everyone I loved I took comfort knowing that no matter the distance we’d still have the stars watching over us.”

“You never thought about staying when you got older?”

“All the time. When I was a kid I used to picture myself moving here right after graduation and sharing a house with Wanda and Nat and sometimes when I’m having a bad day I dream about packing everything up and coming here, but I’ve got a life back home, a job. My mom is expecting me to take over the business one day. It’s not that simple.”

It was the closest you had come to talking about the end of summer and with a pang in your chest you realized for the first time just how hard it was going to be saying goodbye to him. Blinking back the tears you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, telling yourself you still had time with him even though it felt like every second was slipping through your fingers. 

“That what you want?”

You wanted to tell him he was the first person who ever asked you that, wanted to tell him that before meeting him that was the plan, wanted to tell him that a part of you, a large, scary part of you that was reckless wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, wanted to tell him that even though you didn’t know each other well enough you wanted to settle down making a life with him here in this little slice of paradise. Even to your own mind you knew how ridiculous you sounded. But there was something about him, about the way he made you feel whole, the way you couldn’t get him off your mind no matter how hard you tried, the way those simple good morning texts sent your heart racing and your smile growing so large it hurt your face, the way you never slept so well as when you fell asleep next to him, the way you wanted to grow old with him by your side learning new things about him everyday, the way you were convinced you’d never feel this way about anyone else.

You couldn’t tell him that though. You hadn’t even told him that you thought you were falling in love with him. Instead you softly said, “What I want is to stay like this for a little longer.”

“He’s still here? That’s a good sign means she probably didn’t burn the kitchen down,” Wanda murmured as the headlights of Natasha’s car swept over Bucky’s motorcycle and the darkened front of the house.

“Or it could mean you’re about to walk in on them in the kitchen again,” Natasha retorted. “Or the living room.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Entering the house each of them made sure to make extra noise, stomping their feet, using their outdoor voices in a bid of warning. With each light that was flipped on to illuminate an empty room they became more confident.

“Maybe they’re upstairs,” Natasha said before getting shushed by Wanda.

Sliding the patio door open Wanda lightly stepped out being careful to avoid the creaky boards that would awaken you and Bucky. Slipping her phone out of her pocket she snapped a few pictures of you on your side fast asleep with Bucky holding you to his chest, arm wrapped protectively around your middle quietly snoring.

“Because that’s not creepy at all,” Natasha smirked. 

“She’ll thank us for these later.”

Tags;

@nacho-bucky​

@redhairedfeistynerd​

@19mrs-rogers18​

@ceeellewrites​

@shawnie--jo​

@breakfast-at-kelseys​

[aion-rsa]

HBO Max New Releases:. July 2021

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LeBron James might be out of the NBA playoffs, but he’s still angling to be a big part of the summer entertainment season. That’s because HBO Max’s list of new releases for July 2021 is highlighted by a very special sequel.

Space Jam: A New Legacy premieres on July 16. will find LeBron teaming up with the Looney Tunes in a Warner Bros. IP-extravaganza. Can ‘Bron and the Looney Tunes beat the Goon Squad before Warner Bros.’ server steals LeBron “Bronny” Jr.’s soul (or something)? Let’s hope so. The two other major WB releases this month, No Sudden Move and Tom and Jerry in New York, both come to HBO Max on July 1.

HBO Max is also bringing some fun TV shows to its stream this month. The long-awaited Gossip Girl revival premieres on July 8. That will be followed by Mike White’s satirical limited series The White Lotus on July 11. Ronan Farrow’s excellent book Catch and Kill gets a docuseries adaptation on July 12.

July 1 will see the arrival of library titles like Planet of the Apes, Reservoir Dogs, and Scream. Recent hit Judas and the Black Messiah comes to HBO Max on that date as well. It’s a good month for geek TV with the Doctor Who 2020 Christmas Special (July 1), Nancy Drew season 2 (July 3), and Batwoman season 2 (July 27) all coming home to their streaming residence.

HBO Max New Releases – July 2021

TBA FBOY Island, Max Original Season 1 Premiere Romeo Santos: King of Bachata, 2021 (HBO) Romeo Santos Utopia Live from MetLife Stadium, 2021 (HBO)

July 1 ¡Come! (aka Eat!), 2020 8 Mile, 2002 (HBO) All Dogs Go to Heaven 2, 1996 (HBO) All Dogs Go to Heaven, 1989 (HBO) Behind Enemy Lines, 1997 (HBO) Beneath the Planet of the Apes, 1970 (HBO) Bio-Dome, 1996 (HBO) Black Panthers, 1968 Blackhat, 2015 (HBO) Brubaker, 1980 (HBO) Cantinflas (HBO) Conquest of the Planet of the Apes, 1972 (Extended Version) (HBO) Cousins, 1989 (HBO) Dark Water, 2005 (HBO) Darkness Falls, 2003 (HBO) Demolition Man, 1993 Dirty Work, 1998 (HBO) Disturbia, 2007 (HBO) Doctor Who Holiday 2020 Special: Revolution of the Daleks, 2020 Duplex, 2003 (HBO) Escape from the Planet of the Apes, 1971 (HBO) Eve’s Bayou, 1997 Firestarter, 1984 (HBO) First, 2012 For Colored Girls, 2010 (HBO) For Greater Glory: The True Story of Cristiada, 2012 (HBO) Full Bloom, Max Original Season 2 Finale Ghost in the Machine, 1993 (HBO) The Good Lie, 2014 (HBO) Gun Crazy, 1950 House on Haunted Hill, 1999 Identity Thief, 2013 (Extended Version) (HBO) Ira & Abby, 2007 (HBO) Joe Versus the Volcano, 1990 Judas and the Black Messiah, 2021 (HBO) Laws Of Attraction, 2004 (HBO) Lucky, 2017 (HBO) Maid in Manhattan, 2002 Married to the Mob, 1988 (HBO) Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, 1997 Mississippi Burning, 1988 (HBO) Monster-In-Law, 2005 Mousehunt, 1997 (HBO) My Brother Luca (HBO) No Sudden Move Pleasantville, 1998 The Prince of Tides, 1991 Project X, 1987 (HBO) The Punisher, 2017 (HBO) Punisher: War Zone, 2008 (HBO) Rambo, 2008 (Director’s Cut) (HBO) Reds, 1981 (HBO) Reservoir Dogs, 1992 (HBO) The Return of the Living Dead, 1985 (HBO) Return of the Living Dead III, 1993 (Extended Version) (HBO) Rounders, 1998 (HBO) Saturday Night Fever, 1977 (Director’s Cut) (HBO) Scream, 1996 Scream 2, 1997 Scream 3, 2000 Semi-Tough, 1977 (HBO) The Sessions, 2012 (HBO) Set Up, 2012 (HBO) Snake Eyes, 1998 (HBO) Staying Alive, 1983 (HBO) Stuart Little, 1999 The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, 2003 Tom and Jerry in New York, Max Original Series Premiere Trick ‘R Treat, 2009 (HBO) Tyler Perry’s Daddy’s Little Girls, 2007 (HBO) Tyler Perry’s Diary of a Mad Black Woman, 2005 (HBO) Tyler Perry’s I Can Do Bad All by Myself, 2009 (HBO) Tyler Perry’s Madea Goes To Jail, 2009 (HBO) Tyler Perry’s Madea’s Big Happy Family, 2011 (HBO) Tyler Perry’s Madea’s Family Reunion, 2006 (HBO) Tyler Perry’s Why Did I Get Married Too, 2010 (HBO) The Watcher, 2016 (HBO) The Water Horse: Legend of the Deep, 2007 (HBO) Westworld (Movie), 1973 White Chicks (Unrated & Uncut Version), 2004 The White Stadium, 1928 Won’t Back Down, 2012 (HBO) Zero Days, 2016 (HBO)

July 2 Lo Que Siento por Ti (aka What I Feel for You) (HBO)

July 3 Let Him Go, 2020 (HBO) Nancy Drew, Season 2

July 7 Dr. STONE, Seasons 1 and 2 (Subtitled) (Crunchyroll Collection) Shiva Baby, 2021 (HBO)

July 8 The Dog House: UK, Max Original Season 2 Premiere Gossip Girl, Max Original Series Premiere Human Capital, 2020 (HBO) The Hunt, 2020 (HBO) Looney Tunes Cartoons, Max Original Season 2 Premiere

July 9 Frankie Quinones: Superhomies (HBO)

July 11 The White Lotus, Limited Series Premiere (HBO)

July 12 Catch and Kill: The Podcast Tapes, Documentary Series Premiere (HBO)

July 15 Tom & Jerry, 2021 (HBO)

July 16 Betty, Season 2 Finale (HBO) Space Jam: A New Legacy, Warner Bros. Film Premiere, 2021  Un Disfraz Para Nicolas (aka A Costume for Nicolas) (HBO)

July 17 The Empty Man, 2020 (HBO)

July 18 100 Foot Wave, Documentary Series Premiere (HBO)

July 22 Through Our Eyes, Max Original Documentary Series Premiere

July 23 Corazon De Mezquite (aka Mezquite’s Heart) (HBO)

July 24 Freaky, 2020 (HBO)

July 26 Catch and Kill: The Podcast Tapes, Documentary Series Finale (HBO)

July 27 Batwoman, Season 2 Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel (HBO)

July 30 Uno Para Todos (aka One for All) (HBO)

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Leaving HBO Max – July 2021  

July 3 The ABC’s Of Covid-19: A CNN/Sesame Street Town Hall for Kids and Parents Part 2, 2020

July 4 Annabelle, 2014 Annabelle Comes Home, 2019 (HBO) The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It, 2021 The Curse of La Llorona, 2019 The Nun, 2018

July 5 Lost And Delirious, 2001

July 8 Mad Max: Fury Road, 2015

July 10 It: Chapter 2, 2019 (HBO)

July 11 An Elephant’s Journey, 2018 In the Heights, 2021 Thanks for Sharing, 2013

July 15 Burlesque, 2010

July 17 The Notebook, 2004

July 26 The King’s Speech, 2010

July 31 17 Again, 2009 A Clockwork Orange, 1971 A Nightmare on Elm Street 2: Freddy’s Revenge, 1985 A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master, 1988 A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child, 1989 A Nightmare on Elm Street, 1984 A Nightmare on Elm Street, 2010 Adam’s Rib, 1949 America’s Sweethearts, 2001 Anaconda, 1997 The Apparition, 2012 (HBO) Are We There Yet?, 2005 Argo, 2012 (Alternate Version) (HBO) AVP: Alien vs. Predator, 2004 (Alternate Version) (HBO) Badlands, 1973 Beau Brummel, 1954 The Benchwarmers, 2006 Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2, 2011 (HBO) Beverly Hills Chihuahua 3: Viva La Fiesta!, 2012 (HBO) Billy Madison, 1995 (HBO) The Book Of Eli, 2010 (HBO) Bram Stoker’s Dracula, 1992 Bringing Up Baby, 1938 The City of Lost Children, 1995 The Color Purple, 1985 The Comebacks, 2007 (Alternate Version) (HBO) The Conjuring 2, 2016 The Crocodile Hunter: Collision Course, 2002 (HBO) Don’t Let Go, 2019 (HBO) Downton Abbey, 2019 (HBO) El Angel (aka The Angel), 2018 (HBO) Eyes Wide Shut, 1999 Fool’s Gold, 2008 Fort Tilden, 2015 (HBO) The Four Feathers, 2002 (HBO) The Gay Divorcee, 1934 Get A Job, 2016 (HBO) The Goonies, 1985 Grand Canyon, 1991 (HBO) Hairspray, 1988 Happy Gilmore, 1996 (HBO) Hellboy Animated Collection, 2006, 2007 The Hurricane, 1999 (HBO) I Know What You Did Last Summer, 1997 Iniciales SG (aka Initials S.G.), 2019 (HBO) J. Edgar, 2011 Jackie Chan’s First Strike, 1997 Jacob’s Ladder, 1990 (HBO) Jeremiah Johnson, 1972 Keeper Of The Flame, 1943 Kill Bill: Vol. 1, 2003 (HBO) Kill Bill: Vol. 2, 2004 (HBO) Kung Fu Hustle, 2005 The Lego Ninjago Movie, 2014 Less Than Zero, 1987 (HBO) Life Stinks, 1991 (HBO) Lincoln, 2012 (HBO) Little Children, 2006 (HBO) Little Man Tate, 1991 (HBO) Lovely & Amazing, 2002 The Lucky One, 2012(HBO) The Madness of King George, 1994 (HBO) Marisol, 2019 (HBO) Me 3.769, 2019 (HBO) Michael Clayton, 2007 Mickey Blue Eyes, 1999 Monster-In-Law, 2005 Mulholland Dr., 2001 Muralla (aka Muralla, The Goalkeeper), 2018 (HBO) Murder on the Orient Express, 1974 (HBO) Music and Lyrics, 2007 My Dream Is Yours, 1949 My Girl 2, 1994 My Girl, 1991 My Sister’s Keeper, 2009 Now, Voyager, 1942 Old Dogs, 2009 (HBO) The Opposite Sex, 1956 The Pledge, 2001 (HBO) Precious, 2009 (HBO) The Producers, 1968 The Prophecy, 1995 (HBO) The Prophecy II, 1998 (HBO) The Prophecy III: The Ascent, 2000 (HBO) Prophecy IV: The Uprising, 2005 (HBO) Prophecy V: The Forsaken, 2005 (HBO) Pulp Fiction, 1994 Rachel and The Stranger, 1948 Radio Days, 1987 (HBO) The Reluctant Debutante, 1958 Revenge of the Nerds II: Nerds in Paradise, 1987 (HBO) Revenge of the Nerds IV: Nerds in Love, 2005 (HBO) Revenge of the Nerds, 1984 (HBO) Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, 1991 Roger & Me, 1989 Rollerball, 2002 (HBO) Romance on the High Seas, 1948 Rumble in the Bronx, 1996 Safe House, 2012 (HBO) Salvador, 1986 (HBO) Shall We Dance?, 2004 Shallow Hal, 2001 (HBO) Shocker, 1989 (HBO) Sinbad of the Seven Seas, 1989 (HBO) Sprung, 1997 (HBO) Stop-Loss, 2008 (HBO) Sunshine Cleaning, 2009 (HBO) Swing Time, 1936 Tea for Two, 1950 Thief, 1981 (HBO) This Is Spinal Tap, 1984 (HBO) Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, 2011 (HBO) Top Hat, 1935 Trapped in Paradise, 1994 (HBO) Troll 2, 1990 (HBO) Troll, 1986 (HBO) Two Minutes of Fame, 2020 (HBO) Underdog, 2007 (HBO) Untamed Heart, 1993 (HBO) Up in the Air, 2009 (HBO) The Visitor, 2008 Waiting for Guffman, 1997 The Wedding Singer, 1998 Wendy, 2020 (HBO) Wildcats, 1986 (HBO) The Wings of Eagles, 1957 Without Love, 1945 Woman of the Year, 1942 Worth Winning, 1989 (HBO) Young Man with a Horn, 1949

The post HBO Max New Releases:. July 2021 appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3jwDnnp

[barrysjumpsuit]

blindsided - oc x rafe cameron (ch. 2)

me??? posting chapters two days in a row???? (who is she)

part one

word count: 3k

warnings: abuse and mentions of past abuse, cannabis use, cocaine use, mentions of sex, plot/timing holes (just dont think abt canon too much it’s pretty loose)

synopsis:  christy is a lifelong resident of the outer banks. after a series of hookups with rafe cameron, kook royalty, she’s smitten. what she doesn’t know is about what her boyfriend and brother are involved in behind her back

a/n: really enjoying how this is coming along bc i’m totally just making it up as i go. ya boy jj makes an appearance in this one!! and BARRY!!!! next chapter has more plot i PROMISE 

 --------

The sun was about to set as Christy arrived home.

“Home” was a relative term. She lived in a trailer with a leaky roof, messy yard, and weird smell. Strange people she didn’t know were always there, and it was hard to truly feel at peace when she was there. The only thing that kept her coming back, especially after getting with Rafe, was her brother. 

Barry truly was the only thing she had left. The two of them had always been as thick as thieves – they still were, but their own respective businesses had changed them. Christy just grew and sold a bit of weed. She made a couple hundred bucks here and there, mostly targeting tourists. Barry’s dealings were much more illegal, and all the bad things that came with selling blow naturally happened at her house. 

She could hear the crackling of a fire as she rounded the corner of the trailer. Barry and a couple others sat there, whooping and hollering. “Look who finally decided to make an appearance,” she heard her brother yell. He raised a beer in the air as if to make a toast. “My favorite sister!” 

“Just making sure you’re not twitched out somewhere, B,” Christy said back, not altering her path to the door. Right as she went to pull open the screen door, someone pushed it open, stumbling out of the trailer. “Excuse you.” 

“Watch your mouth when you speak to me, little girl,” the man growled at her. 

“I’m the one who lives here,” Christy replied flatly, not budging, and the man suddenly had her pinned to the wall of the trailer, a forearm pressing against her throat. 

“Yo Luke, lay off of her!” she heard Barry call. Her hands were grabbing at Luke Maybank’s arm, her eyes forced to meet his. His pupils were blown up and delirious. “What the fuck, man!” 

Barry pried Luke off of her, and Christy leaned against the cheap railing on the front steps to catch her breath. “Get the fuck out of here,” she heard Barry tell him before he turned to her. “Bro, you good? Where have you been the past few days?” 

“I’m fine,” Christy said. Her heart felt like it was going to beat through her chest. Barry reached out to grab her shoulder, but she instinctively flinched away. “I’ve been staying with someone.” 

She was aware of Barry watching her as she pulled open the screen door and went into the trailer. It was hot and stuffy. Inevitably, somewhere, something was growing mold, and they would have to deal with it like they had to almost every other time a storm knocked out power. It made her feel guilty as hell, knowing she was staying with Rafe in his kook mansion, while her brother was stuck here, alone, with whatever coked out friends he had with him. 

After deciding there was nothing she wanted to eat, Christy made her way through the messy living room and down the hallway to her bedroom. She kept the door locked. Fishing the key out of her back pocket, she unlocked the padlock and stepped into her bedroom. 

Her plants were moved hastily in front of her window, since the power knocked out the lights they normally sat under. They took up most of the space in her bedroom, and they also occupied her parent’s old bedroom. Christy couldn’t be bothered to water them; she just took off her shirt and laid on her bed, sweaty and with nothing to do. 

She rolled over, pulling out an already loaded bowl and lighter from her nightstand. Pushing herself up, Christy brought the pipe to her lips and lit up, breathing deeply and bringing the smoke into her lungs. She blew out a thick cloud, almost having to cough. The greens were strong but tasted good. She took another hit, then another, before leaning back and closing her eyes. 

It was almost unnerving to think about how quickly she had fallen for Rafe. They sporadically hooked up throughout the past couple years. A lot of times they were each other’s rebound. Other times, it was at parties. Despite being from the Cut, Christy was often welcome at kook parties, going where her brother wouldn’t dare going to move product. She didn’t like having a middle man. Grow, harvest, sell, consume. That’s how she liked her bud to go. 

She knew Barry and Rafe had a history. But Barry has beef with a lot of people, and so did Rafe. Christy didn’t side with either. Rafe hadn’t paid Barry enough, failing to hold his end of the deal. But Barry had ripped Rafe off, knowing his family had more than enough money to repay him. It spiralled from there until they fought and beat each other an inch from death. Since then, Rafe had cleaned up his act as well as sobered up, and she hadn’t seen him at her place since. It was better that way. She didn’t have to worry about the crossover between her relationship with him and her relationship with her brother. 

Barry was a shitty person. Everyone knew that. He moved more cocaine than anyone else on the island. It was impossible for him to hold onto a relationship for more than a week or two. He had a temper, and a mouth and fists to back it up. Despite this, Christy knew he was her lifeline, and she was his. Whenever they had to run errands or go anywhere on the island, they tried to go together. Safety in numbers. 

Both of them had people that hated them. 

Barry more so than Christy, but they both had enemies. It was just how the politics of drug dealing worked. Christy mainly targeted tourists, playing her cards smartly. In and out, one and done. She premeasured the bud into $10 bags, or as joints using cigarettes. It was a big hit. At each kegger she went to, she could usually pull two or three hundred bucks. 

Christy took another hit before inspecting her pipe. A friend of hers had blown and crafted it for her birthday this past winter. It was a swirling design of pinks, yellows, and oranges. It looked like a sunset; every night, she would smoke on their west-facing dock and watch the sunset. 

Except tonight. The sky was dark by the time she made her way outside. Barry was no longer by the fire, which was dying. Two of his buddies were still there, laughing at something funny only to them. Christy walked past them, down the dock and onto their little boat. She sat down next to Barry, their shoulders lightly touching on the small bench seat. 

Her mind was still racing, and she lit her bowl again. “You’re not going to that kook party tonight?” Barry asked, his voice still with its disinterested tone. 

“Nah. With the power out I’m not sure how much bud I’m going to able to get through this. They need light to grow.” 

“I’ve been rotatin’ them in front of the windows for you. And watering them,” Barry said. She could tell he was coming down from a high he had likely been riding all day. 

Christy could also tell he brought this up for a reason. 

“How much short are we?” she asked quietly. “I can see if I can pick up extra shifts.” 

He shook his head beside her before putting his head in his hands. “I don’t know man, but we’re short. Fuckin’ Agatha fucked us over, man. I can’t get any more for another couple weeks and I don’t have much left.” 

“A lot of mine won’t be ready to harvest for a few weeks. Shit, B, why didn’t you tell me?” 

“It’s not like you were here,” he said. His words stung, and I knew he was right. “It’s not like you’re ever here anymore except to smoke pot.” 

“Barry,” Christy said, trying to be as stern as possible. “I’ve been working every fucking day. Agatha scared people away, so I’m not making good tips. It’ll bounce back soon, okay? I’ll make ends meet. Every time I come home you’re just blitzed to high heaven off your own product. You’re as guilty as I am.” 

Her brother’s shoulders shook with a laugh, and he wiped his nose with a forearm while she took another hit. “I suppose so. You’ve got something on your neck, by the way. Who’s that from?” 

Christy stiffened and almost launched into a coughing fit, and Barry knew he caught her. He looked over at her, expecting an answer after she exhaled the smoke. “Some tourist I met the other night at a kegger. Thought he could strike a deal with me.” 

“Hmmm,” Barry mused. She couldn’t tell if he was buying it or not. “You’ve gotta be careful with them tourons and kooks, never know how they’re gonna use you.” 

The weed had hit her enough so that Barry’s words didn’t fully register in her brain. “They’re always up to something,” she agreed. The swaying of the boat underneath her was an odd feeling and she leaned back in the seat, throwing an arm on the back of the seat behind Barry. 

The stars were brilliant on the south side of the island, with no light pollution to drown them out. Two nights ago, she and Rafe sat on the roof of the Cameron house, looking at the same sky, but the lights were so bright you could see only a handful of the stars. 

It was the simplicity of being a pogue that Christy liked. She didn’t have to worry about her social life or schedule outside of work. She didn’t have to worry about her image. She didn’t have to worry about businesses or making people happy or petty things that Rafe worried about. She could do what she wanted, when she wanted.

With the sky stretching endlessly above her, she felt like she was inside a dome. Like she was in a snowglobe. Agatha was the shake, mixing everything and everyone up. Now, the snowflakes were settling into new positions. Some were unstable, perched on plastic trees or people or houses, bound to fall to the ground. Some were already on the ground, back to their original positions. Others still, small little pieces of glitter, swirled around in the liquid inside. 

She didn’t want to inevitably settle back into her old life. It was too mindless and mundane. Wake up, work at The Wreck, sell weed to tourists, hook up with random people. It was repetitive. Christy wanted something with meaning and risk. What was the view like, perched on top of the tallest tree in the snowglobe? Sure, it had potential to fall back to the ground like all the other pieces of snow. But there was also potential to stay there, seeing things no one else could and experiencing something it hadn’t experienced before. 

Maybe Rafe was her tree. Holding her up with supportive branches, his roots deep into the soil of Tannyhill. He was here to stay, at least for now. 

Maybe it was Christy’s turn to join him.

--

By four in the afternoon, Christy was done with her day. 

She woke up early, tending to her plants before locking up the two rooms and heading to work. The morning shifts were her favorite. Less asshole tourists and more local residents. Christy knew them well, making polite small talk with the older people and getting plenty of tips. Working at The Wreck was nice. It gave Christy a sense of anonymity, making her feel less like a pogue and more like a normal person. For her work shifts she cleaned up nicely, interacting with people who didn’t know about her relation to Barry or her side hustle. 

After Christy clocked out for the afternoon after her ten hour shift, she shouldered her backpack and lazily threw her apron over one shoulder. Under her work clothes she wore her swimsuit, ready for an afternoon of surfing with Rafe and his friends. 

Stepping outside into the bright sun, she saw Kiara talking with her friends. Christy liked Kiara – she was one of her closer friends, but their relationship didn’t touch the bond she had with those three boys. Christy was friendly enough with them, and she gave them a wave as she walked past. 

“Hey, Christy!” 

A voice called out behind her and she turned around to see JJ jog up to her. John B rolled his eyes as he left the group to follow Christy. “Yeah, JJ?” she asked. 

“Hey, uh, we’re going to have a kegger at the Boneyard tonight, if you’d like to come. I’d like to do some business with you.” 

“How much you want?” Christy asked, ignoring any euphemisms people often use when asking for weed. “You better claim yours now, I’m running low.” 

“You and everyone else on the island,” JJ said, smiling. “Five grams?” 

“You got it, I can bring it to you tonight.” Christy pulled her cigarette carton from her pocket, taking one out and lighting it. “By the way, tell your father it’s rude to assault people at their own home and my brother doesn’t want to see him again for some time.” 

JJ’s face dropped. “What did he do? Did he hurt you?” 

She blew out the smoke before answering. “Pinned me against a wall. Nothing that hasn’t happened before, but… B’s stressed out and it won’t be good for either of them or for us if he sees him any time soon.” Christy lowered her voice slightly. “If he needs any blow, let me know and I can be a middle man. Okay?” 

“He’s a piece of shit,” JJ muttered, not answering her question. 

“JJ,” Christy said sternly, and JJ’s wandering eyes returned to meet hers. “Give him my contact information. I’ll deal with it so you don’t have to. Okay?” 

“He’s not your problem,” JJ said, but Christy knew she got through to him as good as she could. “Thanks, Christy. I’ll see you tonight?” 

“You got it,” Christy answered, giving him a playful salute with the hand that held her cigarette. At that, they turned away from each other and she started off to where she told Rafe she would meet him to go surfing. 

The cigarette gave her a slight buzz. It felt like a warm hug, enveloping her. That little bit of pep was what she needed, coming off an early morning and long shift. Pretty soon, the pavement turned into sand, and she could see several figures ahead holding surf boards. 

“How was work, baby?” Rafe asked as she walked up to them. He pulled her into a kiss before she could answer. Christy’s hands rested on his bare shoulders, standing on her tiptoes in the sand to reach his lips. 

“It was good,” she replied. “Glad I’m here and not there, though.” 

Kelce fake gagged at her words, and Rafe rolled his eyes at him. “Fuck off, Kelce,” Rafe said, kicking sand towards him. Rafe was wearing his sea foam green board shorts, the color glowing against his tanned skin. 

“He’s just jealous,” Christy cooed, walking away from Rafe to give Kelce a hug. “It’s okay Kelce, I love you too.” 

“Oh wait a second, was that the L word?” Topper asked, breaking Christy and Kelce apart. Topper looked from Christy to Rafe, raising his eyebrows. 

Christy looked at Rafe, who jumped in. “Sure was, Top,” he said nonchalantly. “Now can we shut the fuck up and get into the water?” 

Kelce gave Christy a confused look at Rafe’s short temper, and Christy just shrugged. They had brought her board, which she left at Rafe’s house. After taking off her clothes, much to the boys’ delight, she slipped the band around her ankle and the four of them started towards the water. 

It was a good evening for waves. The water was refreshing, and it was nice to do something normal after Agatha. Rafe’s idea of a date defaulted to a ride on the Druthers, as if to wow her, followed by expensive wine and sex on the boat. It was nice, and she enjoyed it, but Christy had had sex on plenty of boats and it was never her favorite thing.

Surfing with Rafe and his friends was much more up her alley. She was a good surfer, and Rafe knew it. While they were on the water, Topper and Kelce gave him shit for having his ass owned by hers. Christy countered right back, pointing out that she was also owning their asses. It gave her a small victory: something she was better at than the kooks.

They tired quickly, and Christy mentioned the kegger at the Boneyard. “Bring Sarah, it’ll be like a double date,” she told Topper, much to Kelce’s dismay. “And Kelce, look at you. You’re gorgeous, all wet and glistening and half naked. Just stand in the water like that tonight and the girls will be all over you. I’ll make it my personal mission to find you someone.” 

The kooks were never one to turn down a party, especially one with easy pickings for both fights and girls. Topper called Sarah while they were walking back to Rafe’s truck; they put their boards in the bed and Christy climbed into the front seat, while Topper and Kelce crammed into the back of the cab. 

“She’ll come,” Topper reported. Rafe dropped off Kelce before driving to the Cameron estate.

Topper left to find Sarah, while Rafe took Christy to his bedroom. “Can I shower?” she asked, and he nodded. 

The Camerons had hot running water. Another thing she didn’t have on the Cut. It brought up those conflicting emotions again, as she remembered hearing Barry grumble about not being able to shower, which was a very non-Barry thing to complain about. Christy had insisted he use some of the distilled water she had for her plants, but he refused. 

She would have to swing back home before the party tonight to get weed, both for JJ and the tourists. Not much was left – she wanted some to keep for herself, but she needed money. 

Christy really didn’t want Rafe anywhere near her place. 

She just had to hope Barry was out, and that no one was there, or things could get bad.

----

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[lynne-monstr]

fic (leverage, eliot/quinn)

title: (don’t think i can take anymore) wasted days and sleepless nights

summary: Sleeping together is easy. Quinn trusts Eliot with his body while he's awake and aware. He draws the line at actually falling asleep with Eliot.

contains: mentions of violence/torture, mild sex, banter

ao3 link

In the past thirty-six hours, Quinn had been shot at, stabbed, drugged, locked in the trunk of his own car, and nearly run over twice while making his escape. Every muscle in his body blazed like an inferno as he ran.

Running on empty, the coolly rational part of his brain chimed in. Quinn ignored it. He couldn’t stop; if he stopped, he was dead, and if he was going to die he’d do it on his feet. So he kept going, the soles of his uncomfortable dress shoes pounding along the pavement in the dead of night, every sense straining for the slightest rustle of an approaching attack.

When no one jumped him sliding down a fire escape to street level, he risked taking a quick breather. On silent feet, he ducked behind a dumpster in the narrow alley. His singed leg ached, and he made a note to add ‘near escape from a burning office’ as part of the litany of reasons he was never working for Hungarian arms dealers again. Unfortunately, that same burning building also meant the police were too busy investigating the arson downtown to notice the small war being waged in the otherwise silent streets. There’d be no interruptions or distractions that he could use to slip away.

He was quickly running out of options. And worse, ammunition.

When his lungs felt a little less like they were about to burn their way out of his chest, he took a last sweep of the darkened alley and got ready to move out. Unfolding from his crouch, he sprinted for the exit, keeping close to the wall as he rounded the corner.

And ran full speed into the man waiting for him on the other side.

There was no time to curse his bad luck as they hit the ground. Instead, he bit his lip to muffle the scream as his injured shoulder took the brunt of the impact. Not daring to stop and assess the damage, he rolled, coming up on top of his assailant, pinning him to the ground with his body weight as he brought his sidearm to bear one-handed. And froze.

Staring down the sights of his gun was the last person he expected. Long hair. Casual clothes. Keen eyes narrowed in an expression of imminent violence that would send a lesser man running for cover. Despite the job gone belly up, Quinn couldn’t help the pleasure unfurling in his gut. If he played his cards right, maybe he wasn’t completely fucked after all.

Quinn slowly withdrew his gun, careful to telegraph non-aggression as he put it back into the holster at his shoulder.

Eliot Spencer eyed him for a long moment. Until finally, with a twitch of lips, he pulled back the knife poised to strike Quinn in a very private and painful place. Quinn’s eyes widened when he saw the blade was his own, pulled from his ankle sheath without him feeling a damn thing. And here he thought Eliot Spencer was the type to fight fair. The man was just full of surprises. The warmth in Quinn’s gut flared and spread at the thought.

The hint of a smile curled around Eliot’s lips, and just like that the moment snapped, disappearing as quickly as it came. Quinn stood and offered a hand.

Eliot took it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. “Quinn,” he greeted.

“Eliot.”

“Bad day?”

“Getting better.”

The merriment faded as Eliot gave him a more thorough onceover. He twirled the knife once, offering it hilt first. “Looks like you need this more than me.”

Quinn tucked the weapon away, happy to have the familiar weight back where it belonged. His eyes scanned the tops of the nearby buildings for movement before refocusing on Eliot. He was running out of time. “I didn’t realize you were coming to my party.”

“My invitation must’ve got lost in the mail.” Eliot eyed the angry red slash at the shoulder of Quinn’s suit jacket. A misstep he was still paying for. “Your friends don’t seem very nice, though.”

Quinn’s response was cut off by the sound of heavy footfalls.

Between the both of them, it didn’t take long to clean house. Soon they were the only ones standing amidst a sea of unconscious hitmen. Quinn would have preferred them dead—dead men couldn’t get back up and come after you again, or report to their boss about your unexpected new ally—but Eliot had knocked his hand askew when he’d lined up the first headshot, growling something about no killing. Quinn fell into line. If that was the price to pay for Eliot Spencer’s assistance, so be it. What the two of them had done in forty-five minutes would’ve taken him all night to do alone, and he might not have finished before getting himself killed.

Besides, Quinn could always kill the hired guns later if they made the mistake of coming after him again.

It had been good, working with another professional. At times like this, Quinn could maybe see why Eliot settled down with a team. Not that he had any intention of doing so himself. It had been pretty clear on the Dubenich job that Eliot trusted his people unconditionally; Quinn didn’t have anyone like that in his life. It was better that way.

For now, he was happy to hole up in a dingy motel under one of his more obscure aliases. Whoever set him up was still out there, no doubt hiring more people at this very moment, and until Quinn’s contacts came back with more information, he was happy to wait it out in relative safety. His next move was going to depend on whether this was an independent hit or if his employer had double-crossed him. He suspected the latter.

After double checking the room’s only door and window, he shrugged out of his jacket, hissing through his teeth as the motion reopened the wound in his shoulder. He fumbled at his tie one-handed. His shirt followed shortly after, landing in a heap on the bed beside the rest. The slight chill in the room prickled at his skin, one more item on the list of discomforts he was ignoring.

“Still here, huh?” he asked the silent figure by the window.

Once all the hired guns were too busy napping to run amok in the city streets, he half-expected Eliot to bail. Instead, he’d stuck close, watching Quinn’s back as he picked up shell casings, rifled through his assailants’ pockets, and finally holed up for the night. He couldn’t quite decipher if the other hitter was being friendly, weirdly protective of Quinn’s injured state, or if he figured out that Quinn had half a mind to break into the local police station and make sure all the hired thugs they’d taken down reached a more permanent end.

Whatever the reason, Eliot was still here, peering steadily through a crack in the window curtains. Quinn wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or annoyed. Instead he asked, “You staying all night?”

Eliot spared Quinn a glance before going back to his vigil of the street. “Got nowhere else to be.”

Quinn rubbed at his bare arms and settled for mildly grateful but cautious. “Thought your team would be waiting for you or something.”

“We ain’t all joined at the hip, you know,” Eliot answered, a thread of affection buried under the gruffness. “I like to head on out every once in a while. Wasn’t expecting to run into a street war on my time off.”

“Looks like I owe you the favor, then.” Normally, Quinn resisted the idea of being in debt, but he couldn’t deny the flush of warmth at the thought of Eliot Spencer calling on him sometime down the line. Quinn had always been a little bit of an idiot for a pretty face.

He was halfway through a shrug before thinking better of it. His shoulder was a raw mass of pain now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Every breath felt like a red-hot lance through the wound.

“Want me to take a look at that?” Eliot asked, correctly reading the pinched lines of his face.

Quinn paused, already halfway to the tiny bathroom. It was barely more than a toilet and a shower, both of which had seen better days, but it had running water and that was enough. “I’ve got it.”

“Gonna be a bitch to stitch that up one handed.”

“Yet somehow I always manage.”

Eliot shrugged, not turning away from his post. “Suit yourself, man. Give a holler if you change your mind.”

Quinn rolled his eyes. Twenty minutes later, sitting hunched on the dirty toilet seat and trying to tie off a knot with one hand and his teeth, he was maybe beginning to regret not taking Eliot up on his offer. Pausing to catch his breath, he cursed the wound, this job, his (probably) turncoat of an employer, and everything in between. His shoulder throbbed in time with his heart, which almost stopped as a silhouette suddenly filled the tiny bathroom doorframe. His hand was at his hip for a gun he wasn’t carrying before he recognized it as Eliot.

Quinn frowned. “Who’s watching the street?”

“If they haven’t showed by now they aren't coming.”

“Or they’re waiting for us to get complacent.”

“Then stop screwing around and get out here. You can watch the street while I fix this mess you call stitches.”

“They’re functional,” Quinn protested. “Doesn’t have to win any knitting awards.”

“Functional, huh? If that’s what you’re calling that mess, I’m gonna have to seriously reevaluate what I think of your skillset.” Eliot huffed and shook his head, then swiped an errant strand of hair from his eyes. “I won’t even count how that’s so far from pretty, it makes ugly look good. Come on, Huckleberry, let me patch you up.”

Using the dumb nickname Quinn had thrown out in a moment of adrenaline-fueled weakness wasn’t playing fair. But he was too tired to keep arguing, and so he let Eliot lead him back to the pair of armchairs by the room’s only window, perfectly angled as to be out of sight from any outside observers.

He kept his eyes trained on the crack in the window while Eliot hovered over him and fixed up his stitches in the dim light filtering in from the street lamps. The scratchy fabric of the chair itched against his bare back, and he focused on that rather than the unpleasant pinch and pull of his shoulder being mended. Eliot’s hands were hot on his skin and despite the pain, Quinn found himself relaxing.

When it was done, Eliot cleaned the blood from Quinn’s shoulder with a scratchy hotel towel and went to wash his hands while Quinn redressed in his soiled shirt and jacket. ���Get some sleep. I’ll take first watch,” he offered when he was done, settling back into the hideously ugly chair by the edge of the window.

Quinn laughed. “Real cute.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Eliot to guard them both. Hell, he had no problem with Eliot keeping guard while he’d been cleaning up in the bathroom. But there was a world of difference between letting someone have your back while you were all there, and trusting someone to watch over you while you were slow and heavy with sleep.

The only person Quinn trusted like that was himself. He didn’t need to say it out loud, though. The look in Eliot’s eyes said he understood just fine.

What was left of the night passed in mutual silence, both of them on guard against the world.

Their patience paid off. Right before sunup, they both jerked to attention, noticing the same movement in the orange rays of early morning light. If whoever was creeping towards their room was expecting them to be caught off guard, they were in for a nasty surprise.

Quinn grinned like a shark and reached for his gun.

When none of their assailants were left standing (shot in the knee, courtesy of Quinn, and handed over to the federal authorities, courtesy of Eliot over Quinn’s fervent objections) all that adrenaline building since the previous night only had one place to go.

Looking back, he wasn’t sure who made the first move, him or Eliot. But it ended up with them back at Eliot’s place, their hands in each other’s hair and their mouths crushed together as they fell into bed. Casual touches and play-fighting quickly turned into something more heated and deliberate. Soon enough, Quinn found himself without his clothes and his weapons, Eliot’s teeth grazing his throat and his rough hands pinching along his inner thighs. Blunt nails raked down his stomach and Quinn arched up into it for more. And how delightful to discover firsthand that Eliot’s gravel-rough voice got ever rougher when Quinn held him down and kept him writhing on the edge.

When it was all over, they were tangled together across the dark blue sheets of Eliot’s safe house, struggling to catch their breath. Quinn felt his eyes grow heavy as the past couple days finally caught up with him. And that’s where he drew the line. Sleeping with Eliot was one thing; actual sleeping was a line he wasn’t willing to cross.

Not with Eliot, not with anyone. He’d learned that one the hard way.

“You leaving?”

Quinn paused with one leg in his suit pants and bit down the sarcastic reply about Eliot’s keen observation skills. He was almost surprised to find that his smile was genuine. “Thanks for the good time.”

Eliot nodded and Quinn finished redressing. He headed for the door, but Eliot’s voice stopped him as he was about to walk out.

“I’m too wired to sleep. Thought I’d make some coffee. Maybe check on the tomatoes in the garden. You’re welcome to stay for a cup.” Not bothering to wait for answer, he rolled out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the large wooden dresser in the corner. He didn’t bother with a shirt and Quinn allowed himself a moment to appreciate the view.

He could picture the scene as clear as day. Lounging on the couch in borrowed sweatpants that weren’t quite long enough to reach his ankles. Sipping coffee and watching Eliot work shirtless on the back patio, the late afternoon sun washing warm across the naked skin of his back and highlighting his hair with gold. Pulling Eliot down on top of him afterwards until they were both sweaty and sated all over again. Falling asleep in his bed.

He should go. That much was obvious. Working with Eliot on business, indulging in sex with Eliot—that was all standard fare. Practically a perk of the job. But this? An invitation to stay in each other’s company like they were anything other than sort-of colleagues and occasional allies.

Now that was dangerous.

For all the dark rumors of his past, Eliot was a bonafide good guy now. How long until he remembered that Quinn was still taking the kinds of jobs he’d long since washed his hands of. As much as he liked the guy and could rely on him to have his back on a job or against a mutual enemy, Quinn could never fully trust him. He would be an idiot to forget that.

So, he shook his head and locked away the sliver of regret that slipped past his defenses. “Maybe next time,” he lied, straightening his tie so he wouldn’t have to look Eliot in the eye.

(The next several times they fell into bed—a combination of planned meets and one uncomfortable instance when they’d both been trailing the same mark—Eliot never repeated his offer to stay afterwards.

Quinn was grateful for it.)

Quinn liked working the occasional job for Eliot and his strange team. There were several reasons, but it all boiled down to three main things.

The first being that it was a nice change not to worry about being double-crossed when it came time to collect his fee. Not that he couldn’t handle that kind of trouble when it happened (“The perils of being a freelancer,” he’d told the last person to try that on him, right before putting a bullet in his head), or that he didn’t still plan for it, but it was like a little vacation to be able to wrap up a job without any dramatics. Quinn liked clean and tiny.

Second was that Eliot never asked for more than Quinn was physically capable of delivering. He was good at what he did, but even he’d go down if someone threw enough armed men his way. It worried him sometimes just how well Eliot knew his strength and his limits, but he consoled himself with the fact that his knowledge of Eliot ran just as deep.

Last and most fun was what Quinn considered his personal bonus of a job well done. Namely, that Eliot was great in bed.

They were at the safe house Quinn had procured for the week, celebrating the successful completion of doing bad things for a good cause. Quinn, his bank account newly full and wearing nothing but a smile, dangled the cuffs Eliot had pretended to slap onto him earlier as part of the con they’d run. “Looks like it’s finally my turn to put these to good use.”

“Nice try,” Eliot said, grabbing the cuffs and casually dropping them over the side of the bed. “Not gonna happen.”

Quinn pouted. He didn’t think Eliot was going to go for it but it was worth a try. With a dirty smile, he shifted his hips where he straddled Eliot’s lap on the bed. The friction made them both groan, so Quinn did it again, watching the tension slide from Eliot’s face as pleasure took its place.

“I let you put them on me,” Quinn countered, hands sliding along the sweat-slick skin of Eliot’s chest.

Eliot caught his hands. “And I didn’t lock them tight enough to keep you from slipping free.” His fingers clamped down on Quinn’s wrists. Like the cuffs from earlier, they weren’t nearly tight enough to keep him contained if he chose otherwise.

He didn’t choose otherwise. He did, however, concede the point.

Eliot slid his hands up Quinn’s arms, lacing his fingers together behind Quinn’s neck to pull him down. It was easy to let himself be reeled in, to let Eliot flip their positions in a move that was telegraphed slowly enough that Quinn could have countered it any time he wanted.

(Again, he didn’t.)

There was a fine line between fantasy and accidentally triggering the defensive actions Quinn had spent the better part of his life honing. Eliot rode that line with the same skill he did everything else, pinning Quinn with enough force to be real but not enough to make him feel trapped. It was nice, the weight of Eliot pressing heavy on his limbs. There weren’t very many people capable of keeping him down if he didn’t want to be down but Eliot had more than a passing shot of making it happen. He’d done it before, back when they weren’t anything more than two hitters on opposite ends of a job.

A rush of heat raced down Quinn’s spine and he grabbed a fistful of Eliot’s loose hair, arching his hips up until they were pressed together from head to toe. Eliot slipped a leg between Quinn’s, fanning the spark of heat into a raging fire until it was all he could think about.

Six hours later, in a business class seat somewhere over the Pacific, Quinn set aside the last lingering thoughts of Eliot Spencer and got his head back in the game.

There was someone in his hotel room.

Quinn had a fair idea who it was (he practically sent an engraved invitation, after all) but that was no reason to be stupid. All hitters came to end in an some kind of ugly fashion and Quinn had made his peace with that, but when it happened to him it wasn’t going to be because he was stupid.

Silently, he pulled his backup gun from the small of his back. Taking a last look down the hall to ensure he was alone, he opened the door with the electronic keycard, ducked, and burst into the room gun first.

The precaution was unnecessary.

“No word from you in months and this is the greeting I get? I’m beginning to think you don’t like me anymore.” Eliot detached himself from where he was pressed up against the far corner, partially hidden by the faux cherry wood armoire holding the room’s entertainment center. He gestured towards Quinn and the gun, the muzzle now pointing at the floor.

“Worried I don’t like you anymore? Do I need to check a box for yes or no and pass the note back?”

Eliot raised an eyebrow. “Were you always this juvenile or is it a recent development?”

“You bring out the best in me.”

Setting aside the handgun on the nearest bedside table, Quinn carefully shrugged out of his worn leather jacket. It felt a little strange to not be wearing the suit around Eliot, but he wasn’t here for a job so there was no need to dress the part. He winced as the movement pulled at his back, quickly hiding it behind a lazy grin.

Narrowed eyes appraised him from head to toe and Quinn stilled. It was instinctive. Never let anyone know where the weak spots were. Any known injury could be used against you in a fight. It was a dumb thing to stick to in front of a guy he planned on getting naked with pretty soon, but Quinn never claimed not to be a creature of habit.

Eliot straightened, gaze turning leering and playful as he shook his hair out of his face. “I like the new outfit. Not a bad look on you.”

It was a safe topic, and as a close to an outright declaration that Eliot wasn’t going to press for details.

The knot between Quinn’s shoulder blades eased and he let his arms relax at his sides. Pushing the dark thoughts from his mind, he started unbuttoning his shirt. “I didn’t come here for fashion tips.”

“Well then,” Eliot drawled, stepping into his space and brushing Quinn’s hands aside to finish the job himself. “That’s good ‘cause I didn’t come here to give them.”

He never could figure out how much of Eliot’s midwestern charm was affectation verses actual upbringing. But as those rough hands swept over his chest with each opened button, he decided that he didn’t much care either way. Taking full advantage of his hands being unoccupied, he quickly fumbled Eliot’s belt open, popping every damn button on his inconvenient button fly jeans on his way downward.

They moved to the bed by unspoken agreement, hands scrabbling to cast aside the last of their clothes, mouths hot on each other’s skin. Fuck, he’d missed this. Well, he’d missed a lot of things these past several months, but he’d really missed this.

He’d missed Eliot’s broad hands pressing into the dip of his hips to hold him down, and the taste of his skin when Quinn traced lines into the muscles of Eliot’s stomach with his tongue. He’d almost forgot how It felt to press Eliot’s legs apart and take him into his mouth, watching beneath his lashes as Eliot fisted one hand into the sheets and the other into Quinn’s ponytail. He missed coming apart under someone’s hands in a way that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with heat and desire.

Eliot didn’t say anything about the new marks on Quinn’s skin save for how he meticulously avoided digging his fingers into those particular spots. There was nothing to say; they both knew the risks of their occupation. Not every fight was a win.

Losing a fight was the last thing on Quinn’s mind as he finally pressed inside the heat of Eliot’s body. Beneath him, Eliot’s breath hitched and his legs wrapped tighter around Quinn’s waist, drawing him in further.

“Come on,” Eliot growled, pushing himself forward to bite at Quinn’s shoulder.

Quinn licked his lips and obliged, happy to lose himself in this for the time being.

Once they’d cleaned up and got comfortable under the duvet, Quinn trailed a lazy hand down Eliot’s arm. “How’d you know I’d be passing through here?” Not that he needed to ask, but he wanted to hear the answer anyway.

Eliot laughed, a low amused rumble. “You practically left me a calling card, man. How could I turn down an invitation like that?”

Quinn smiled, something warm uncurling in his belly. There was no job, no enemy, no reason for Eliot to be here. Except that Quinn asked him to come.

Eliot’s gravely voice broke him out of his thoughts. “So, should I be worried about identity theft, here? First you grow your hair long after I kick your ass. Then you—”

“Hell of an ego you got there, pal,” Quinn cut in. “My hair has nothing to do with you.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Eliot shot back with a smile. “Anyway, you entered the freaking country under my favorite alias. Did you expect me not to notice?”

He’d counted on it.

Quinn rolled to his side and slung an arm across Eliot’s chest. “Thought all that hair might’ve finally rotted your brain,” he mumbled. “And anyway, it wasn’t your name.”

“Just ‘cause you rearranged the letters don’t mean it ain’t still mine.”

“It’s a real alias. And it got your attention didn’t it.”

Instead of answering, Eliot reached over to grab Quinn’s leg and hitch it over his hip to tangle with his own. “Damn, you’re heavy,” he teased as they resettled.

“I work out,” Quinn agreed with a lazy smile, letting himself be maneuvered.

It was pleasant to be sprawled across Eliot like this, to feel the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart. He’d debated for weeks about using that particular alias after the job in Jakarta. It felt too much like running to safety for his liking, and so when the thought had first crossed his mind, he hightailed it to the most dirty, corrupt corner of the world he could find instead. Took every job that came his way until they all blurred together.

When the dust settled and he’d still wanted to see Eliot, he let himself use the identity that would no doubt raise every red flag in the Leverage team’s playbook. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that leaving a trail for Eliot to follow was the right move, but the sex was great and the company wasn’t awful so he was calling it a win.

One of Eliot’s fingers stroked a steady back and forth along the patch of skin just under Quinn’s shoulder blade, skirting the edge of what had been one of the deeper wounds on his back. Serrated knife, he remembered. He’d screamed—he remembered that, too—screamed until his voice had gone hoarse.

He felt the intake of breath a split second before Eliot’s voice broke the silence.

“They dead?” The words were growled in a way Quinn had only ever heard in an empty airport hangar, when he was the one standing between Eliot and his team.

Raising his head from its place on Eliot’s chest, Quinn looked him in the eye. “Yes.” He paused, remembering how Eliot almost knocked the gun from his hand the last time he tried to kill someone. “If you have a problem with that, you can see yourself out.”

But Eliot didn’t leave. Or ask who they were or how long they had him or what they’d wanted. Hell, Eliot had gotten his hands dirty enough back before he’d turned white-hat that could fill in the details on his own.

After a moment, Eliot gave him a tight smile and nodded.

Quinn didn’t know what to do with that, so he just laid his head back on Eliot’s chest and closed his eyes. For the first time in a long time he wanted to throw out all his old rules and let himself drift off to sleep. Against all odds and good sense, Eliot had somehow wormed his way under his skin.

This is why he shouldn’t have used the alias.

Nothing between them had changed; Quinn was still a bad guy and Eliot wasn’t. There was no silencing the voice in the back of his head shouting how it was only a matter of time before Eliot remembered what kind of person Quinn really was. Maybe he’d decide Quinn was better off in jail, or thrown to rot in some deep dark government hole, rather than be allowed to roam free and do what he did. Lulled into complacency by sleep and trust, Quinn would be a pathetically easy target.

In the end, caution won out.

It didn’t escape his notice that although Eliot’s eyes were closed, he hadn’t let himself fall into sleep either.

Taking a job in Portland had the potential to go all kinds of wrong, but wasn't that half the fun? But the money was good, and he wasn’t one to turn down a sizable fee. Predictably, it got him tangled up in one of Eliot’s cons. Not so predictably, the whole thing went off relatively smoothly. Before he knew it, he was invited to a post-victory dinner with Eliot’s team and not long after that found the two of them tangled up in Eliot’s bedsheets.

Once they caught their breath, Eliot propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at him. “Would you tell me if you were gonna take a hit on me or my team?”

“If this is your idea of sweet nothings, it’s no wonder all those women you’re rumored to sleep with only do it once.”

“Hey, I never had any complaints.” Eliot flicked at Quinn’s nose, but his wrist was caught before it could connect. His other hand shot out and Quinn caught that too. Eliot didn’t resist as Quinn rolled them until he was looking at Eliot spread out beneath him.

The playful spark faded from Eliot’s pretty blue eyes. “I’m serious, Quinn. Would you tell me?”

Most people couldn’t pull off an intimidating scowl while naked and pinned by the wrists to their own bed. Then again, Eliot wasn’t most people.

Quinn considered. It was a fair question. The truth was, he wouldn’t accept a hit on Eliot, at any price. And anyone who came to him with one wouldn’t stay breathing much longer. He couldn’t say the same for Eliot’s team, however. He liked them, they were smart, deadly competent, and occasionally funny, but they weren’t Eliot. But they were important to Eliot and, when he stopped to think about it, that was apparently enough for Quinn.

“I’m not taking any hits on you or your people. Not now and not ever.”

All it earned him was a nod.

Quinn put the pieces together. “You already knew. So, why’d you ask?”

“Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it.” In one smooth motion, Eliot extricated his arms and rolled out from under Quinn. “That’s a long timeframe for that kind of promise."

“If I change my mind, I’ll be sure to give you fair warning.” In an echo of their first meeting as allies rather than adversaries, Quinn held out his hand. “Deal?”

Eliot grinned, clearly remembering the same dirty warehouse in Kiev. “Deal,” he said, and they shook.

Quinn braced for the inevitable sneak attack in retaliation for his earlier move, but Eliot seemed satisfied to let it lie. Resting back against the pillows, he resembled a large jungle cat, content and sated with the world. His hair was loose around his face, disheveled from their slight tussle.

Taking his cue, Quinn settled back against his pillows too, feeling like he’d accomplished something but not sure exactly what. He spun the thought around in his mind, poking at it over and over before giving it up as a lost cause. It would come eventually, it always did. Didn’t mean he liked waiting for it though.

It wasn’t until he heard the breathing beside him even out that he realized Eliot was asleep.

For a moment, he just froze in surprise. If Eliot was awake, he’d probably make some dumbass comment about catching flies. Or maybe a dirty joke about what else Quinn could do with his mouth. He did neither.

In his sleep, he was as restless and grouchy as he was while awake, forehead scrunching and nose twitching every once in a while. One hand was balled in a fist where it rested on top of the covers against Quinn’s leg. There was something comfortable in that, in knowing that Eliot didn’t turn into something drastically different just because he was asleep. Which brought Quinn to his current problem. If there was one thing he hated, it was a puzzle whose pieces didn’t fit. Aside from his fists and his guns, information was the other stock in trade that kept him alive and ahead of his enemies.

Was that all it took for Eliot to trust him? A promise that he wouldn’t go after Eliot or his team. Quinn had specified nothing about not going after him for any non-job-related reasons. Eliot was smart enough to know the distinction. The more he thought about it the more it didn’t make sense. Eliot knew exactly what kind of man Quinn was. Right now he could do anything, anything, to a sleeping Eliot and without that split second of reaction time consciousness gave him, he could inflict serious damage.

Before he knew what he was doing, he shook Eliot by the shoulder.

Eliot snapped awake in an instant, eyes scanning the room. That bright gaze fixed on Quinn when no threat popped out of the shadows, and the tension bled out of him. “The hell? What is it, Quinn?”

“I didn’t stop doing my job when I started sleeping with you.” It wasn’t what he meant to say but fuck if he knew what that was. He’d reacted and now he was running on instinct. And the jarring feeling of something poking at the inside of his chest, desperately clawing its way out into the open air.

Eliot blinked and squinted at Quinn. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Do you? Do you really? And you expect me to believe it’s not a problem for you?”

“Won’t say I like it. But until you do something that crosses my path, then I can live with it. Besides, I got it on good authority that most of the people you go after are scumbags in their own right.”

Most, but not all.

Quinn looked him in the eye. “And when they aren’t?” Because he needed to say it, to see Eliot’s reaction.

“What you said earlier. About fair warning.” Eliot put a hand on his leg. “It goes both ways, you know. If we have a problem, we’ll deal with it. I’m not coming after you in the middle of the night.”

Quinn tilted his head, studying Eliot. He had on his serious face, mouth set in a tight line and a little crease right between his eyebrows. He stared at Quinn like he half expected him to bolt and half expected him to fight.

Truth was, Quinn didn’t want to do either of those things. Eliot’s bed was comfortable and Quinn was tired. This was usually the part of the night where he put his clothes on and slipped back into his life. The pull of that was strong, but there was a part deep inside him that felt hollow at the thought of giving up whatever this thing with Eliot was.

In the end, he could either trust Eliot or he couldn’t.

It sent a cold chill racing down his spine. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to give that kind of trust anymore, against all the instincts that kept him alive. But he wanted. Wanted so badly he could taste it in the back of his throat. He glanced up at the ceiling as if the answers were somewhere in the expanse of dim white. As expected, they weren’t. Just a few streaks of plaster covering what must have been the remnants of old cracks. Quinn let his eyes trace over them, mind following not far behind, circling an answer he knew was inevitable but wasn’t sure he was ready to admit.

He sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist.

“You asked me a question, now it’s my turn.” Quinn didn’t bother to wait for Eliot’s nod. “Why’d you let me go?” He wasn’t exactly sure why he was asking, other than the fact that it had been burning a hole in his mind for years.

The corners of Eliot’s mouth pulled down. He propped himself up on his elbows, head cocked. “What’re you talking about?”

“When we met that first time. The hangar. You had me down. Why’d you let me go?”

Eliot snorted, like Quinn was asking an easy question, like he should have been able to work it out himself. He always was a bit of an asshole, which was part of why Quinn liked him. “Sterling wouldn’t have told you anything about his plans for us. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s a smart pain in the ass.” Eliot paused, his expression pinched. “Don’t you ever tell him I said that.”

Quinn nodded solemnly despite the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “On my word.”

Eliot smiled back before turning serious again. “Even if you had the information I needed, I was on a tight schedule. You’re too much of a pro to break easy and I didn’t have that kind of time to burn.”

Quinn nodded at the assessment but couldn’t help pressing. “I wasn’t just referring to information, you know.”

“You mean, why didn’t I torture you for getting the jump on me. For that payback you were so sure I was looking for in Kiev?”

Quinn trailed a finger along Eliot’s chest in an idle, invisible pattern. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Eliot looked up at him. “You know, your pillow talk really sucks, man.”

“Never had any complaints before. Then again, usually I just get up and leave.” He ran a hand down Eliot’s side to take the sting out of the words.

“Don’t I know it.”

For a moment Eliot just looked at him. Quinn stared back. They were both comfortable in silence, and Quinn wondered if they might spend the rest of the evening like this. There were worse ways to spend the night, he figured.

Finally, Eliot sighed, running a hand across his face. “I had more important things on my mind.”

“Ah yes, saving the team. They were family even back then, weren’t they?”

Eliot nodded once before settling on his back. After a moment, Quinn did the same, their shoulders brushing. They stared at the ceiling for a moment before Eliot spoke again. “It ain’t just them, you know. If some punk upstart hitter was between me and you, I’d drop him in a heartbeat..”

Quinn rolled, straddling Eliot’s hips in one swift motion. Leaning in, he placed his hands on the bed so they bracketed Eliot’s head. “A punk upstart hitter?”

He could feel Eliot’s chest vibrate with laughter, rich and low. “Quinn, man, your hair was gelled. And I’m pretty sure you had frosted tips like some boy band wannabe.”

“Since when are you the expert in boy bands? And what the hell are frosted tips? I don’t even know what that means.”

“I dated a hairdresser once.” Eliot gave a playful tug to the loose strands around Quinn’s face, down from their usual ponytail. “And it means I like it better long.”

With that, Eliot swept Quinn’s arms from under him. Quinn let him, not bothering to catch himself as he fell against Eliot’s bare chest.

To his surprise, settling back down at Eliot's side wasn’t nearly as difficult as expected this time around.

Eliot followed him, clicking the bedside lamp off and shifting to throw an arm over Quinn’s chest. “Now, we done here, or do you wanna keep talking all night? Maybe braid each other’s hair while we’re at it.” The words were barely audible, muttered into Quinn’s shoulder.

Quinn rested his free hand against the dip of Eliot’s back and let his eyes fall closed.

[fics-and-shits]

Marvel Fic Recs

***smut

Tom Holland x Reader

Oneshots

The Interview (Actress!Reader) by @bigballofstress​

You’re Tom Holland’s costar and girlfriend since the end of Civil War. Usually, you go on interviews together, but this time, you are requested alone on Ellen.

Cinderella (Actress!Reader) by @thewackywriter​

Who knew that going to another boring award show and walking around barefoot would lead her right to her Prince Charming?

Drop the Mic by @young-and-bitchy​

You’re in a rap battle with Tom Holland. 

Vlogs by @spideyyeet​

Being in the vlog squad was dope af but having David Dobrik run into Tom Holland and getting him to surprise you was a whole other thing. Now let’s see what’s it like to have Tom meet the vlogsquad and be with the girl that’s making him rethink some decisions.

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Oneshots

Send to All Pranks (Actress!Reader) by @thrandybaby​

You’re a British actress appearing on the Michael McIntyre Chat Show, but hilarity ensues at your expense when you accept the challenge to play the infamous ‘Send to All’ prank.

Morning After by @mindrunningfree​

After a drunken night out, you wake up in a stranger’s bed, and on a scale of one to ten, your level of confusion is a fifteen.

Platonic!Avengers Cast x Reader

Oneshots

Beliefs (Teen!Reader) by @supersoldierfreak​

A group press conference with the Avengers cast where you reveal your political views.

Sleeping Beauty by @chrixa​

You didn’t know that the Avengers cast can also be called sneaky paparazzi. Also you love sleeping. Who doesn’t, right?

Handmade With Love by @capsicletho​

Christmas is the time to give your loved one some gifts. What happens when you give your famous second family something handmade?

Clint Barton x Reader

Series

Agent 41 (Agent!Reader) by @nacho-bucky​

An easily-distracted SHIELD agent with a sweet tooth and too many pairs of sneakers. Nothing ever quite works out the way she wants. But hey - it does work out! Usually

Peter Parker x Reader

Oneshots

Clingy Peter Parker by @spider-bih​

A clingy Peter Parker and the reader loves it

Anything For You by @pparkerwrites​

Introducing Peter Parker, dog whisperer by day, Spiderman and dog whisperer by night.

Series

Far From You Trilogy and Blurbs by @hey-marlie​

Y/N Stark is really not here for this European school vacay because in this post-endgame world, she’s mourning the loss of her dad. But one (1) sticky boi Peter Parker is just trying to be the friend he once was while also trying not to flirt too much because if she rejects him (which she wouldn’t, not that he knows that) while they’re in Venice, holy hell he’ll just pitch himself off the gondola right then and there.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Oneshots

Sparks (Enemies to Lovers AU) by @sunriserose1023​

You and Bucky started off on the wrong foot and it’s just been downhill ever since, and the last time you gave him a chance, you ended up with five broken ribs. It’s just not meant to be.

Cheap Thrills by @avengerofyourheart​

A bet within the Avengers becomes a battle of the sexes, with you at the center of it. Who will be victorious and could it somehow help you snag the man of your dreams?

Air B&E (Enemies to Lovers AU)  by @avengerofyourheart​

When a mission requires close proximity with your least favorite teammate, you try to make the best of it, but a change in plans adds new challenges and possibly a new opportunity.

Notebook (College AU) by @softlybarnes​

 Bucky and Y/N sit next to each other all semester. They never talk to each other, until one day they do. 

The Florist  // The Beekeeper // The Pumpkin Carver (Enhanced!Reader) by @softlybarnes​

Bucky and Y/N make flower crowns together. Both reveal more than they plan to.

Freckles (Drunk!Reader) by @softlybarnes​

The Reader likes Bucky’s freckles a whole lot.

The Regular by @brooklyn-boy​

Bucky Barnes is a regular at your bar. He comes in, he makes sure trouble stays away, and then he leaves. This really wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t so good looking and you weren’t totally in love with him.

Fourth Time’s the Charm by @brooklyn-boy​

Bucky remembers the three times he meets a certain thief, and is blindsided by the fourth.

Trepidation by @brooklyn-boy​

You’re rescued from HYDRA by the Avengers, only to be met with a ghost of the past in the form of Bucky Barnes. They tell you he was brainwashed, that it wasn’t him, but you aren’t so sure.

Blink Twice by @brooklyn-boy​

Zemo kidnaps Bucky and injects him with some sort of drug that paralyzes him and takes away his ability to speak. He’s meant to die alone, in a ditch like he was supposed to back in 1944. But then someone finds him…

Uptown Boy (30s AU) by @brooklyn-boy​

You’ve spent so long pretending to be a selfish, conceited, spoiled little rich girl that somewhere along the way, the line was blurred. Now faced with an ultimatum, you have to decide if your pride is worth the only person who’s ever truly loved you.

The Scoop (POC Journalist!Reader) by @brooklyn-boy​

Bucky Barnes laments the fact that every single person he cares about is a dumbass when it comes to their own personal safety. He also hates every single journalist, newscaster or reporter he’s ever met until you.

Who Are You Trying to Fool by @notimetoblog​

A perfect chance of messing with new recruits presents itself to Bucky. Can he pull it off or will you foil his plan?

We’re Gonna Need a Bigger House by @sunmoonandbucky​

You find the courage to tell Bucky about your latest ultrasound.

But Here I Am (Agent!Reader) by @sunmoonandbucky​

After years of being separated from the Avengers, Bucky finds you during a job.

Take it Easy, Romeo by @sunmoonandbucky​

The Soldat remembers one person through it all.

***A+ (Dark!Professor Bucky x CollegeAged!Reader)by @chixkencxrry​

You thought that all your credits had been complete, but a glitch in the system forces you to take a summary course in order for you to graduate. Insert Professor Barnes, your history professor who’s a total ass.

A Year of Firsts (College AU) by @whitewolfbumble​

Part One // Part Two

It wasn’t supposed to be a year of firsts, but then you met Bucky and everything started to fall into place.

13 Cats and a Sorceress by @kentuckybarnes​

Beings from another dimension start to invade New York City, and cats invade Avengers Tower.

Sounds Like a Personal Problem (Law Firm AU) by @kentuckybarnes​

Part One // Part Two

“Remember that favor you owe me?” “Uh-oh”

Pulling Rank (Agent!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes​

A mission has gone badly, and you have a reckoning.

Start With My Name (Medic!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes​

Part One // Part Two

Things get out of hand at a strike mission against Hydra, and you’re responsible for cleaning up the mess.

It Doesn’t Mean Anything (Until it Does) (Agent!Reader) by @cordytriestowrite​

The things that you and Bucky do don’t mean anything so just drop it okay?

Vulnerability (Modern AU) by @mareli-carter​

“We’re both in small claims court and I got into a huge fight with the person suing me but you stepped in to hold me back before security got there.”

Important by @mareli-carter​

“I did that annoying thing where I put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box, and you’re getting really mad, but I can’t wait to see your face when you open the smallest box.”

Two Punks In Love (40s AU) by @jaamesbbarnes​

Years go by but the way you and Bucky care for each other doesn’t change. You’re still the punk who starts fights with anyone breathing in the wrong direction, he’s still a charming little fucker.

Bulletproof (Agent!Reader) by @jaamesbbarnes​

You and Bucky are the most competitive little shits there ever was.

Fair Play (Agent!Reader) by @jaamesbbarnes​

After a rough mission, you and the team go to Coney Island for some fun. Still injured, you can’t go on the rollercoaster with the others so Bucky decides to keep you company and to make your day as memorable as possible.

Saving the Day by @jaamesbbarnes​

On your way back home, you are being followed by a couple of creeps. When your eyes fall on the most impressive and handsome Avengers, you don’t think twice and find yourself a fake boyfriend and savior.

I’m Not Going Anywhere by @jaamesbbarnes​

Working for Stark isn’t always a walk in the park, it’s exhausting. But a certain super soldier and his constant flirting make it bearable. 

Emergency Room (Doctor!Bucky) by @jaamesbbarnes​

Who would have thought that going to the ER could made a bad night turn pretty nicely?

Series

Holiday Heist (Thief!Bucky, Modern AU) by @avengerofyourheart​

When the art gallery you manage is robbed on Christmas Eve, you suspect the handsome stranger who flirted with you earlier in the day, but instead of involving the authorities, you take matters into your own hands with surprising consequences.

Flour Girl (Enemies to Lovers AU) by @avengerofyourheart​

Discovering the cute guy you just flirted with is the heir of a rival bakery, you suddenly find yourself running into him all over the city. Can your small boutique bakery compete? And how do you deal with the guy who seems determined to make your life a living hell? Luckily you’re distracted by a secret admirer…But who is he? 

Playing With Fire (Modern AU) by @sunriserose1023​

Some things just do not mix. Oil and water. Fire and gasoline. You and Bucky Barnes. When it was good, it was great, but when it was bad, it destroyed everything in its path. You’d tried–both of you had–but some things just aren’t meant to be. A year after your break up, Bucky gives you a call, and you willingly dive headfirst back into his orbit. You set boundaries this time, put up walls, determined to keep yourself from being burned again. You’re not about to let him get too close. Only problem? Bucky didn’t get that memo.

***Incubus (Incubus!Bucky) by @after-avenging-hours​

When some of the best sex of your life leads to the unveiling of a world you barely even knew existed, you know you’re in a heap of trouble. James Buchanan Barnes is the kind of man that fills your deepest and darkest fantasies, mainly because he is one. When emotions get involved in a relationship that’s been founded on sex, there’s no turning back. And honestly, you’re not even sure if you want to.

***Disney Corruption by @after-avenging-hours​

Bucky joins you for your late-night Disney movie sessions.  It’s difficult for him to get through them without finding the sexual innuendos

***Hunter!Bucky by @after-avenging-hours​

Bucky is part of the hunting party for the village.  One day, he catches you in the woods, long after you should be tucked away, safe in the village.

Heartbeat (Soulmate AU) by @after-avenging-hours​

Soulmate AU where your heartbeat matches the beat of your soulmate’s; they speed up together, slow down together, skip at the same time, but that means they also stop together… 

I’ll Be Seeing You by @brooklyn-boy​

The Howling Commandos come across a tortured Italian woman in the winter of 1944. With only rudimentary means of communication, Sergeant Bucky Barnes still somehow finds himself falling in love.

Siren’s Song by @brooklyn-boy​

The Avengers come across the profile of an enhanced individual, missing and presumed still under HYDRA’s control. With the power to bend anyone’s will with just a command, the team decides to prioritize freeing this individual. But trust is hard to earn from a former HYDRA asset. Nobody knows this more than Bucky.

Clan of Three (Mandalorian!Bucky) by @brooklyn-boy​

Bucky Barnes is a Mandalorian bounty hunter. All he has to do is take this kid and her glorified babysitter back to the client and be done with it. That’s it. Simple?

Revival by @brooklyn-boy​

Bucky returns to his childhood home only to discover its inheritor struggling to return it to its former glory. Luckily for you, Bucky’s memory isn’t that bad.

Compromised by @brooklyn-boy​

As a Senator for New York, you’ve been fighting hard to have Sergeant James Barnes acquitted. An attempt on your life by a new terrorist sect brings you in contact with the Avengers themselves, and even closer to the man you’ve been working so hard to protect…

Uptown Girl (Millionaire!Bucky, Modern AU) by @brooklyn-boy​

Epilogue

Bucky Barnes is a bit of an eccentric millionaire. He lives alone, aside from his housekeeper/personal assistant. When his mother tells him he needs to get married or be cut off, Bucky lies and tells his mother that his long-suffering assistant is his fiance.

Out of Time by @brooklyn-boy​

On the run from HYDRA in 2023, you accidentally use your time-traveling technology to jump 80 years back in time. Safe for the time being and with Howard Stark vouching for the legitimacy of your time travel claims, you’re stuck in the SSR headquarters until you can fix your gear. Which wouldn’t be half as hard if a certain James ‘Bucky’ Barnes wasn’t so damn distracting…

Stereotypical (Model!Bucky, Modern AU) by @avasparks​

As a PA/secretary, you are all too familiar with the fantasies nearly all men share: banging their hot assistant. Former jobs haven’t worked out for you for that exact reason, and now starting out at a new company, as the secretary for the CEO of the hottest modeling agency in the country, you’re hoping this one will be different. But after meeting your new boss, Mr. J.B. Barnes, you’re not so sure if it will be. Then again, maybe Mr. Barnes is not as stereotypical as you think he is.

Sugar (40s AU) by @softlybarnes​

By a miracle of fate, Bucky Barnes does not fall off of the train. He does not spend decades as a brainwashed assassin. Instead, he goes home to Brooklyn to spend his life with a girl he adores, a snarky nurse that he met during the war.

Two Kingdoms (Royals AU) by @softlybarnes​

Y/N, set to be a queen, is taken on her wedding day by King James, the ruler of another land. At first glance, James’ Kingdom seems to be thriving but Y/N soon realizes something darker and more sinister is at work in James’ land. And she seems to be at the center of it.

City Love (CEO!Bucky, Modern AU) by @chrevastan​

You attend one of Natasha’s office parties against your will and end up meeting a charming stranger who turns out to be the person who runs the company.

Next to Me by @sgtjbuccky​

After an attempt on you and your identical twin’s life, your father calls in the Avengers for protection. Bucky soon realizes your father’s goal is solely to keep you sister safe, and decides that the times of doing the bidding of others are long gone, and takes your protection into his own hands.

Most Wanted (Thief!Bucky, Modern AU) by @sgtjbuccky​

The life you dreamed of wasn’t the one you lived. Day in and day out you tried to change the outcome, but somehow you always ended up right where you began. Fed up with it all, you wished upon a star and was granted with Bucky Barnes, and it wouldn’t take you long to realize that whatever mess you were about to get tangled up in, it would change your life entirely.

Merry and Married (Modern AU) by @sunriserose1023​

It’s been almost a year since the most humiliating moment of your life. You’ve done your best to move on—by literally moving across the country, starting a new job, and you’re finally starting to feel settled. That, of course, is when your bubblehead cousin sends you the invitation to her wedding—which is exactly one year to the day that you were left at the altar. You have to go, but you don’t have to go alone.

Astrophile (Firefighter!Bucky, Single Dad AU) by @all1e23​

Orion Rebecca Barnes’s favorite thing in the whole world (Besides her daddy of course) was spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house. Aunt Nattie takes her every time her dad has to work an overnight shift at the station and it’s her absolute favorite place. Plus, the owner GIVES her any book she wants because she’s the coolest girl Ori has ever met. It didn’t take long for Bucky to notice his daughter’s sudden interest in constellations and the large stack of astrology related books piling up in her room. He’s spent her entire life trying to teach her about the stars and where her name came from with little interest from his little comet and all of sudden she’s in love?

To Build a Home (Family AU) by @ussgallifreyfics​

The glimpses into a life Bucky never thought was possible for himself. A world where he would find someone who he could love and be loved in return - a person he could start a family with. This is how an ex-assassin navigates the world of parenthood.

Not Happening (Modern AU) by @notimetoblog​

An online dating site clearly makes a mistake when it matches you with the one person you cannot stand.

Hero For Hire by @delicatelyherdreams​

Tired of constantly being sat on the sidelines for missions, Bucky Barnes decides that he’s going to do his own hero work and offer his services to the public as a freelance “hero for hire.” He expects to be asked to rescue cats from trees or help little old ladies cross the street, but he doesn’t expect to get tangled up in your life. He definitely doesn’t expect to fall for you either. But, when you’re a hero for hire, you’ve gotta see the mission through.

<<p>Stray by @jaamesbbarnes​

When Bucky stumbles upon a stray cat near his building in Bucharest and takes him in, he doesn’t expect for his world to turn upside down.

Schlaflos (Rogers!Reader) by @mareli-carter​

Steve’s younger sister, a nurse during the Second World War, finds herself in Hydra’s possession after trying to help the Howling Commandos save Bucky.

The White Wolf (Mobster!Bucky) by @captain-ariel-barnes​

James “Bucky” Barnes is the most feared man in New York. What happens when a flower shop owner gets tangled up in his empire?

Sly as a Fox (Vigilante!Reader, SocialMedia AU) by @sunmoonandbucky​

After the blip, the Avengers continue on with business as usual.  But they soon find out that while they were away, someone took it upon themselves to do the job they left behind.

A Lesson in Love (College AU) by @buckyywiththegoodhair​

In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

***Artistic License (Sugar Daddy AU) by @cametobuyplums​

Once upon a time in Paris, there was an aspiring creative down on her luck. What’s a beautiful young woman to do? Agree for the wealthy Bucky Barnes to be her Sugar Daddy, of course.

I’m With You (Modern AU) by @wkemeup​

When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they are sent on a whirlwind weekend filled with cancelled flights, painful questions over giant checkers, an ex-boyfriend’s wedding, and a confrontational graduation. They find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love.

Flowers Bloom (Soulmate AU) by @revengingbarnes​

Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. You are born with flowers around your entire left shoulder.

Agent 28 (Agent!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes​

He’s a Soviet-trained assassin. You’re a secret agent. He has a thing for thigh holsters. You have a thing for his behind (who doesn’t?) But it’s all hush-hush. What shenanigans will the two of you get into to keep your affair concealed from the rest of the Avengers, all while you’re trying to save the world?

Howler & The Black Cat (Vigilante!Bucky x Vigilante!Reader) by @kentuckybarnes​

By day, you’re just another employee at Stark Tower. By night? A justice-seeker known as Black Cat. No one knows your secret, and certainly not your sometime partner in vigilante activity, sometime-pain in the butt Romeo, Howler. But no matter how hard he tries, you have no intention of giving in…

While You Were Sleeping (mentioned Steve Rogers x Reader) by @kentuckybarnes​

Mistaken as Captain America’s girlfriend following a near-death experience, you keep up the pretense under the suspicious eyes of his best friend, Bucky Barnes. But soon you find out that Steve Rogers isn’t all he’s supposed to be, and somehow, Bucky is so, so much more.

Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree (40s!Bucky x OC) by @kentuckybarnes​

In 1941 Brooklyn, a young woman spends her nights sneaking out of her parents’ house to play jazz piano at clubs. Although she disguises herself to keep out of trouble, it doesn’t fool everyone.

Sugar Daddy’s (Modern AU) cowritten by @kentuckybarnes​ and @nacho-bucky​

Suave, confident, charming Bucky Barnes has a deep dark secret – and you, a small-town investigative journalist, are determined to get to the bottom of it. What lurks in his shadowed past, and how deeply will you be drawn in? Co-written with @caitfairwrites!

Seven-Thirty (Modern AU) by @nacho-bucky​

You were planning on a productive — if lonely — weekend, but the little girl across the hall has different ideas about how you and Bucky Barnes should be spending your time.

Lemon Pie (40s AU) by @nacho-bucky​

Moments measured in messy days and peaceful nights; in too-tart pies and slobbery toys. Bucky returns from war to find a life he never expected: a rich symphony of mishaps and mayhem and immeasurable love.

​