#thank you all for following along with me this week

[starrysturnz]

overseas, under you

pairing. chris sturniolo x reader

summary. the boys invite y/n to come along on their winter vacation to hawaii, but problems arise when she finds herself sharing a bedroom with her long time secret crush… and it only has one bed.

warnings. mutual pining between two idiots. smut; a wet dream, some grinding… minor voyuerism in a way. they’re so cute they make me feel so lonely and i literally made them up.

word count. 3.9k

author’s note. one bed trope friends to lovers my beloved <3 a bit cliche but i think i was able to put a unique spin on it! lmk what you guys think :3 this started getting too long so i broke it into two parts!! part two will be released at the beginning of next week. happy valentine’s day to everyone, especially @strnilolover and @darksturnz for helping a girl out with ideas!! kisses!

masterlist | taglist | part two

© starrysturnz. all rights reserved.

a sharp beep beep! from her driveway was y/n’s cue to move along. she’d been rushing all morning to finish up her last-minute packing, having left half of the job for the day of, in true procrastinator fashion. a quick sweep through her mental checklist— phone, wallet, keys, passport— and she was scrambling out of the house.

she almost forgot to lock the door behind her when she caught sight of the boy in the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers impatiently against the leather of the steering wheel. chris always managed to take her breath away, as if it were the first time she was seeing his sharp jawline and piercing aquamarine eyes. shaking the thought away, she turned around and stuffed her key into the lock, triple checking that it was secure before shuffling off to throw her luggage in the trunk.

the slam of the driver’s side door fell on deaf ears as the girl hoisted her suitcase into the van, on a mission to be as quick as possible (after all, she was making them late). a light touch on her wrist had y/n jumping out of her skin, almost dropping the second bag onto the icy ground at her feet. her free hand flew to her chest as her head whipped around to find chris there, the feeling of his fingertips burning into the back of the other still gripping the handle.

chris was already smiling when they locked eyes. “i got it, ma.”

“chris,” she breathed, her shoulders dropping. “thank you.”

“’s nothing,” he replied warmly, in a way that had her cheeks heating up in the cold boston air. “go hop up front, a’ight? you’re picking music. but if you choose wrong, i’m giving matt aux privileges.”

⁺⁎˚

the ride to the airport was relatively uneventful. chris was too focused on following the gps to chat with anyone, not willing to miss an exit and add more time to detour. nick and matt were busy discussing the logistics of an upcoming space camp photoshoot in the backseat, leaving y/n to chew anxiously on her nails, her thoughts racing so fast they could lap the van on the highway.

she felt like an intruder. this trip had been a sort of anniversary gift from a brand the triplets had been partnered with for two years— an all-expenses-paid vacation to hawaii. they could’ve invited anyone, and they used their one extra ticket on her.

even though the boys assured her multiple times that their decision was instant and unanimous— “of course we want you there, you’re our best friend,”— y/n still felt guilty, insisting their brother, justin, might be a more logical choice. it was chris who’d spoken first, claiming that if they’d invited justin, they’d have had to find a way to include their parents as well, and then they’d be paying out of pocket.

it sort of made sense, y/n could admit. but maybe a part of her wished that chris wanted her there for another reason. she wished she was his plus one. that they could hold hands on the beach at sunset. that he would wrap her in his towel to keep her warm as the salty air grew colder. that—

“hey. y/n.”

a two-toned whistle had her tumbling off her train of thought, head snapping toward the driver’s seat at the sound of chris’s voice.

“you good? we’re here.”

she cleared her throat. “sorry. i was just….”

she wasn’t even sure the boy had heard her, already pushing his door open to grab their bags from the back. taking a deep breath, y/n followed suit, double checking they hadn’t left anything in the car before heading to the departures entrance.

⁺⁎˚

y/n was an infrequent flyer, to say the least. the few times she had been on a plane, she found herself in the back of the cabin, sandwiched between large men whose legs took up half her space, and unruly children who should’ve been old enough to know not to throw their toys into her lap.

this was something else entirely. a whole private cubical to herself, with a seat that reclined into a bed? no large men, no unruly children? it was a dream, if nothing else. she was thrilled.

but she also wished she wasn’t in first class. which is ridiculous, by the way— no one ever wishes they weren’t in first class, it’s a backwards thought process. and y/n knew that, but she also knew that if they’d just been in comfort plus, she could sit next to chris, chatting and laughing as usual. he would make the twelve hour flight feel like nothing, but instead, it would feel like double the trip in her little isolation pod.

the thought had her kicking herself in guilt. not only was she in first class, but she was there for free. it wasn’t fair of her to be upset about anything.

unbeknownst to the girl, chris caught the crease in her brow, frowning at the idea that something was bothering her. he waited a minute for the people around them to take their seats before crossing the aisle to her seat, knocking gently on the partition to get her attention.

“y’know, for someone going on a tropical vacation, you don’t seem too excited,” he mused. there was a teasing edge to his voice, but just beneath the surface, concern. “what, you worried forgot to take out the trash before you left and your house’ll be smelly when you get home?”

“well i am now!” y/n groaned. “jesus, chris, why would you even say that?”

chris’s eyes crinkled as he laughed at her expense. “relax, ma, i’m just playin‘. knowing you, i bet you even swept your driveway before leaving. you didn’t forget anything.”

“swept my—?”

“excuse me, sir,” a polite tone sounded from the other aisle on the right side of the plane, “you’ll need to take your seat now. we will be taking off shortly.”

“’s my cue,” said chris, offering her one last reassuring smile. “stop stressing, okay? everything’s gonna be fine.”

⁺⁎˚

everything was not fine.

it was now three hours into the flight, and y/n had made the mistake of falling asleep immediately, missing dinner. she’d needed it, too, since the whole day had been so busy that she’d only managed to grab a couple snacks here and there. a small bag of chips was the only sustenance at her disposal, and the thought of eating another helping of overly-salted junk food made her feel queasy. she supposed she’d have to wait five hours until breakfast was served.

she’d just decided on a movie to try to pass the time when she heard the unmistakable sound of chris’s voice, his chin resting in his palm as he propped himself upon the partition.

“you get your beauty sleep?”

the boy’s hair was mussed— clearly, he’d made himself comfortable in his own seat. his sagging shoulders gave the impression that he was tired, but his shining eyes were wide awake.

“guess so.”

he hummed, his gaze softening just so. “doing okay? it’s gonna be a long flight still. you need anything?”

y/n gave him her best fake smile, not wanting to ask for anything more than she’d already been given. “i’m good, chris, don’t worry.”

mischief crept its way onto his face at her response, and before she could question it, he said, “guess you won’t be needing this, then.” he pulled the packaged meal from behind his back with a dramatic sigh and a look of faux disappointment he could only hold for so long at y/n’s reaction.

a gasp fell from her lips, her stomach growling at the site. “oh, my god, chris, how did you get that?”

“they skipped you at dinner,” he shrugged. “figured you were passed out, so i asked for two. first class comes with perks, apparently.”

“you’re incredible,” she sighed, relief washing over her like warm water when he handed her the container. “thank you. seriously.”

“’course, ma.” chris turned to head back to his seat, but stopped at the sound of her voice.

“wait, chris…," she blurted, maybe a little too quickly, "can you stay?”

when he turned back around, y/n’s demeanor had shifted from relaxed to tense— like she was afraid she might’ve said the wrong thing. her neck was turtling just barely into her shoulders, and she was picking at her fingernails, a longtime nervous habit chris had (unsuccessfully) tried many times to help her break.

it made his heart hurt. “sure, yeah. scooch over a little.”

the seat was suitable for one person, but it was obviously not built for a cuddle session. the pair struggled to find a comfortable position for a few minutes, before settling on chris sitting behind y/n, arms wrapped around her middle as she ate her dinner. she tried to ignore the electric feeling of his thumbs rubbing into her waist through her hoodie— and it had almost made her choke on a mouthful when he’d first started. she wasn’t even sure he was aware he was doing it.

when she’d finished the last of her lukewarm meal, chris set her tray off to the side in favor of pulling her back to lay down with him.

“i know you’re tired, y/n,” he spoke quietly, his breath fanning her temple, flexing his biceps to bring her that much closer to his chest (a move that made her cheeks warm). he planted a hand to the back of her head to steady her against his heart. “go to sleep, okay? i’ll wake you up for breakfast. promise.”

y/n only nodded, and prayed he couldn’t feel the intensity of her heartbeat through their clothing.

⁺⁎˚

the hotel was nice. far nicer than any y/n had ever stayed in before. the lobby alone was massive, with advertisements for every amenity a person could ask for— including a spa, which the girl would happily be taking advantage of. the thought alone sent a shiver down her spine.

nick, noticing, asked, “everything okay?”

she nodded. “just excited to finally relax. i’m afraid the first thing i’m going to do is take a long nap.”

“i hear you. matt kept me up all night with his giggling next door.”

“sorry i like comedies,” the middle triplet rolled his eyes, “not my fault you’re such a light sleeper. y’know they had complimentary earplugs, right?”

“i have sensitive ears, matthew.”

“next guest?” called the concierge before matt could respond, and he gave nick a pointed look before stepping up to check them in.

“so, chris,” nick started with a teasing tone, “what happened to you last night?”

“what do you mean, ‘what happened’ to me?” chris said, seemingly annoyed by the conversation already.

“i got up to use the bathroom and when i peeked into your seat, you were gone. care to tell where you were?”

y/n felt the flush make its way to her face, avoiding eye contact with either of the boys. she opened her phone, hoping to appear busy as she listened anxiously.

“dude, why were you peeking, that’s so creepy—”

“don’t sidestep my question, mister,” nick pressed. “you were gone when i came back, too.”

“i was hanging out with y/n, jeez, man. and it’s weird that you were stalking me, like that’s insane.”

“what, how—? i’m your brother! is it insane that i want to know where you are and that you’re safe? what if you were being kidnapped?”

“on a plane? really, nick?”

grateful that the subject had changed, y/n tuned out the rest of their argument, having mastered that skill many years ago. she watched as matt spoke with the kind-looking older fellow at the service desk, who eventually handed him two room keys. matt offered him a smile in return, and waved the rest of the group over to the elevators.

“okay, so,” he began handing them their respective keycards, “me and nick will take 1207. chris and y/n, you get 1204.”

y/n’s head snapped up at that. “i thought i was rooming with nick.”

“originally, yeah,” said matt, “but we had to move the space camp photoshoot to the early morning, remember? and since me and nick will have to wake up at, like, six, we figured we’d just bunk together.”

she paused. y/n did recall the boys mentioning how matt would come along to the photoshoot because nick needed someone he trusted to help oversee the production, since they’d be working with an entirely unfamiliar crew. she didn’t know they’d changed the time, though.

this wasn’t even out of the norm— y/n had slept over at the sturniolo’s many times growing up, often spending the night in the boys’ beds with them. but something about sharing a hotel room with chris, just the two of them, for a week... it filled her with butterflies.

“and the rooms aren’t connecting?” she clarified.

“well, they’re across from each other,” said matt. “sort of. we’ll just be ten feet away, don’t worry.”

“that okay?” asked chris, a nervous tinge in his voice.

y/n smiled as confidently as she could manage. “yeah, yes. of course. as long as i can take my long showers in peace.”

“fine. but you better leave the door unlocked in case i have to piss.”

they all laughed at that as the elevator doors opened, and headed in the direction of their rooms.

“okay,” matt began, checking his phone, “can we all agree to meet downstairs for dinner at eight?”

“eight? why so late?”

“because i’m tired, nick. i want to sleep. sue me.”

“at least you got some sleep last night,” nick mumbled, and matt’s hand flew up to smack him in the arm, but chris caught his wrist before it could land.

“just go take your nap. we’ll be down at eight.”

with that, the two retreated into their room. chris fumbled with his keycard for a moment, and y/n’s mouth had just opened to offer help when he managed to open the door.

“finally, some peace and—”

chris’s words died in his throat when he saw the room ahead of him. it was beautiful, like the rest of the hotel, with a mini-bar, a luxury bathroom with a glass shower, and floor to ceiling windows on the back wall. what he wasn’t expecting, however, was the bed.

the one bed.

behind him, y/n yawned, pushing past to be able to close the door. “what’s the matter?” she asked, before catching sight of the issue. “oh.”

it was quiet for a few moments.

chris didn’t know what to think. on the one hand, he’d be a liar if he said that this situation wasn’t on par with countless scenarios he’d daydreamed about him and y/n; the prospect of sleeping next to her— feeling her soft skin against his bare chest, the fresh scent of her shampoo filling his lungs— definitely excited him, no doubt about it. he wished they could have that every day.

on the other hand, he knew this wasn’t like all those times she had spent the night at their place over the years. back in boston, y/n split her time relatively evenly between the triplets. sure, she slept in chris’s bed occasionally, cuddling up close to him under his painfully thin comforter (often complaining that it needed replacing), but she did the same with matt and nick…. chris wasn’t special for that. here, though, in this five star hotel room… it would be just the two of them, alone every night, without so much as a connecting room with the others. it felt different, and he’d be remiss to blindly assume her comfort there.

the silence hung heavily in the air around them, creeping into awkward territory, but it seemed nobody wanted to speak first. chris glanced at y/n, who shifted her weight from one foot to the other. he tried to read her expression, but couldn’t land on anything concrete.

wanting to get ahead of the situation, to prove to y/n that her feelings were his priority, chris said in his best reassuring tone, “no worries. ’s probably just a mistake. i bet they’ll find us another room if we call the front desk.”

y/n’s heart dropped. of course chris didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as her for a whole week. that would be weird, she knew it would be. she just hadn’t expected him to suggest getting another room so quickly— knowing chris, she assumed he would make a few jokes about sharing, maybe playfully suggest she sleep on the floor (to which she would gently smack him upside the head, probably), but ultimately leave it up to her to decide. and from there, she could’ve told him it was no big deal. but now… well, she didn’t want to make him feel like he had to do anything he didn’t want to.

“uh, yeah,” she cleared her throat. “yeah, let’s call, then.”

nobody mentioned the way their once-bubbly energy seemed to fall flat, like a soda that had been left out overnight. in fact, nobody said another word until chris got the concierge on the line.

y/n didn’t bother to pay any attention to the call. she was busy trying not to let her exhaustion and disappointment mark the beginning of this trip; they were supposed to have fun! she needed to shake this one minor thing off and get to vacationing. maybe a visit to the spa would—

“you’re sure? all right. no, it’s no problem. thanks. you too.”

a short huff came from chris as he placed the phone back onto the receiver. scratching the inner corner of his eye, he spoke in an apologetic voice, “they said they’re booked out.” a sympathetic smile graced his perfect lips. “’m sorry. guess you’re stuck with me.”

y/n had never tried so hard to keep her emotions off her face. relief and excitement trickled down her spine, kickstarting her brain. it was like her body forgot it was tired. but she figured chris was probably still uneasy about it, and she didn’t want to seem like a creep.

“okay,” she said, “how about we figure out plan b later? i really need this nap right now.” a minor fib— she was giddy in the moment, yes, but the second her back touched a mattress, she’d be done for.

“all right, sleeping beauty,” the triplet rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking up, eye crinkling. “you take the bed, i’ll take the chair.”

“don’t be ridiculous,” she tried, hoping she wasn’t pushing her luck, “you need to sleep as much as i do, chris. come lay down.”

“are you sure? it’s no big, honest.”

she giggled, partially to lighten the mood, but also because she found this whole thing to be a bit silly. they’d cuddled countless times! waving him over, she teased, “since when are you too good to nap with me? get over here.”

the content smile on his face was all the reassurance she needed.

⁺⁎˚

chris was losing his mind.

there was no one to blame but himself. he knew agreeing to sleep with y/n (in the literal sense) would be a bad idea, but he hadn’t anticipated this.

by some random fluke, he’d woken up before their alarm went off, disoriented. it took him a few moments to realize where he was, what he was doing there, and… why his chest felt so heavy.

his breath caught. somehow, in the midst of their nap, y/n had ended up right on top of chris— her face buried in his neck, ribs expanding and contracting opposite his own. her legs, which had fallen either side of him, were slightly bent, giving him a sinful view of her ass in those yoga pants.

chris laid there for a moment or so, dumbfounded by his sudden predicament. what was the right thing to do here? he couldn’t wake her up, they still had— (he looked over at the clock)— half an hour until the alarm sounded. and moving her felt like too risky a disturbance. if anyone needed the rest right now, it was y/n.

the boy sighed, gazing at the ceiling like it might have an answer written on it. a minute passed, and just when he thought things couldn’t get more complicated— a whimper.

so faint that at first, chris figured he’d imagined it. but then came another, louder this time, and he definitely didn’t imagine that.

she must’ve been having a nightmare. his heart broke a little at the idea that she wasn’t enjoying what little sleep they were able to get after such a long trip. his arms came up to carefully hold her, rubbing her back with tender strokes so as not to startle her awake. closing his eyes, he hoped that her subconscious would recognize his comforting touch and send the bad dreams away.

“i got you, ma,” he whispered quietly, continuing the motions on her back. it didn’t seem to help— she was still tense above him.

… then the craziest thing: the girl’s hips rutting gently into his own. “chris,” y/n whined, eyes still shut tight, another whimper spilling from her mouth.

chris’s eyes shot open.

no way. she was dreaming about him?

now he was really fucked. if he didn’t move her, he’d surely be getting hard any minute, and that would be… difficult to explain, to put it simply. but if he did, and she woke up, she’d suspect he’d done so for a reason, and she’d be embarrassed either way.

“please, chris.” she sounded desperate.

chris felt like a perv, with his unconscious friend unknowingly grinding on him and whining his name into his neck. god, maybe he was dreaming; she looked so beautiful like this. but she was clearly in some level of distress, and his concern for his friend outweighed his morals.

“okay, ’s okay baby. ’m here,” he laid his cheek against the top of her head, hugging her tighter to him. “’m right here, y/n.”

he kept rubbing her back— slowly, reassuringly. y/n’s body shook in his hold, and chris had to stifle a moan as she gave a particularly hard rut of her hips, another distressed noise hitting his ears. poor thing.

“shh. c’mon, ma… you’re okay.”

eventually, y/n’s movements began to still, and soon the only sounds to be heard were her soft snores filling the room, like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

the boy beneath her stared at a spot on the wall, in shock. his best friend just had a dirty dream about him, right on top of him! what was he supposed to do now? tell her? ignore it? the thought of letting this go made his stomach churn.

what if it meant nothing? he’d had countless sexual dreams about people he wasn’t romantically interested in. (if every accidental fantasy had a deeper meaning, he’d be married to his high school algebra tutor by now.) chris couldn’t help but wonder, though…

what if it meant everything?

taglist: @stylessuperwhore @sofieeeeex

[multific]

Heart of a Father

Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Summary: In the shadow of his illness, Caracalla worries for your unborn child. You try your best to reassure him but his mind is too far gone. Only the birth of his child would bring calmness to his internal storm. 

When the sun dipped below the horizon, you sat in the villa's garden.

Your hands rested protectively on your swollen belly, and the rhythmic chirping of cicadas filled the air. Though the scene was calm, the tension from Caracalla could be cut with a knife.

He paced restlessly.

“Calla,” you called out to him, watching as he paused and turned to look at you. His eyes were filled with worry.

“You should be inside. It’s getting cold,” he said as if suddenly he became aware of your presence.

You smiled faintly, reaching out a hand to him. “I’m fine. Sit with me?”

You watched as he sank to his knees beside you, his hand immediately moving to your belly.

The warmth of his palm against your skin through the thin fabric of your dress.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if… what if I’ve passed something to our child?”

You cupped his cheek, guiding his eyes to yours.

“We’ve talked about this, My Love. The physicians have said our baby is healthy. And I believe them.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his other hand moving through his hair.

“But they don’t know for sure. They don’t understand… the poison in my blood, the illness. What if it’s already affected done its damage?”

You tightened your grip on his hand, hoping to help ground him.

“Caracalla, listen to me. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. You’ve fought countless battles and ruled an empire. This is no different. You’re not alone in this. Geta will also help us. He promised many times. Everything will be fine.”

His eyes filled with tears as he looked at you.

“You’re too good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything, My Love,” you leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“I’m so scared, love. I’ve never been scared like this before.” his hands were shaking, you could feel that. You tried your best to ground him.

You placed your hand over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your palm.

“That fear only proves how much you love her already. We going to be fine, all three of us. I believe in us, Calla. Do you?”

He nodded, his breath hitching as he exhaled. “I do. I have to.”

---

The night your daughter was born was a day filled with all kinds of emotions.

The palace, usually so imposing and grand, felt small and suffocating as you were in labour.

Caracalla was made to wait outside as per tradition. You cursed tradition for that. You needed him by your side. Why wasn't he there? You felt so alone even if you had a room filled with women.

When your daughter's cries filled the room, a sound so pure and loud it chased away all your fears, Caracalla froze.

He watched, transfixed on the door.

The midwife wrapped the tiny bundle and placed her in his arms.

This is when another midwife opened the door and Caracalla barged in and to your side immediately.

With shaking hands, he looked at you before he looked at her.

“She’s… perfect,” he murmured, staring down at her in awe.

He traced a finger along her cheek.

You reached out for him, your voice soft.

“She’s strong,” you said, smiling up at him. “Just like her father.”

“No,” he said, his voice breaking. “She’s strong like her mother.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering. “Thank you. For her and for loving.”

In the days and weeks that followed, Caracalla proved to be a caring father.

Geta took on ruling an empire fully for the time being, he wanted to ensure his brother had time for his daughter, for which you will be eternally grateful.

Caracalla was constantly holding her in his arms during the day and pacing the halls with her when she cried at night.

One evening, as you watched him hold her while the sun was setting behind them, he turned to you with a look of pure adoration.

“She’s my redemption,” he said quietly, his voice filled with awe. “Through her, I can be better. For her, I will be better.”

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“You already are. She’s lucky to have you, Calla. We both are.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I believe, I’m the lucky one. I’ll spend every day proving that to both of you.”

Caracalla's fear of his illness affecting his daughter disappeared the moment his eyes laid on her.

A small treasure.

Treasure for an Emperor who thought he had it all.

But now he believed, he truly had it all. 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Another Heartbeat

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, captivity, elements/suggestions of feederism behaviour, breeding, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You get your valentine's surprise.

Based on responses: Lap sitting, breeding, creampie, plus size reader, being carried

Characters: Steve Rogers

This is #2 of the Valentines Roulette stories

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

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You wince as the light aches in your eyelids. You stay hidden behind them as you raise your hand shakily. Your lashes wet with tears as you search for the strength to open them. You hunch down and slump further into the corner. 

“Sweetheart,” his deep timbre fills the cramped space. “Hey, are you awake?” 

You sense him come closer. You don’t have the voice to answer him. Are you awake? This feels like another rotten nightmare. 

“Sweetheart?” His shadow dulls the glare shining through the open door. Open... there was a time when all you did was stare through the dark and pray for those hinges to turn. “It’s a special day.” 

He touches your shoulder. You flinch. He curls his hand around your arm and slides you against the wall to sit straight. He catches your head as it bobbles on your neck. 

“You can behave, can’t you?” His thumb brushes your cheekbone and he cooes at your witless murmuring. “I know you can be good for me. You have been.” 

Your eyes are like marbles, threatening to roll back. The days, weeks, months, however long, blend together in blackness. The only light comes through when he slides back that narrow latch and pushes through the tray. A thick bitter smoothie and bland food. Nothing sugary or processed. You eat it or... 

You shudder as your teeth ache at the memory of the metal clamp pushing open against them. The strain of your esophagus and the churning of stomach acid. No, you eat on your own and it keeps him happy. Nice, even. 

“Alright, let’s get you ready, sweetheart,” he slips an arm behind you and another under your knees. He lifts you effortlessly. “Oh, sweetie,” he purrs, “you’re so...” his hand squeezes along your hip. “Soft.” 

The food comes like clockwork. You clear the tray and push it back every time. You feel it engorging you, adding to the cushion around your hips and belly. Even your chest feels bigger. 

He carries you into the light. You turn your head and hide your face against his hard chest. If you open your eyes, they’ll burn out of the sockets. It’s too bright. You cradle your face as all of your trembles. 

“I know, sweetheart, gotta build up your strength,” he coaxes. 

The motion of the world around you adds to the dizzy spin in your head. You lean into him as you feel like you might fall out of his grasp, even as he holds you snug. He finally puts you down. You fold over your lap instantly and he pushes you back up. 

“Work with me,” he pets your hair. 

You tense and quiver as you hold yourself up. You stopped standing up a while back, stopped trying to get any sort of exercise in that space. A cell. The prison he made for you. 

“Alright, we’re going to get you cleaned up.” 

His knuckles brush down your temples and cheek, then along your neck. He follows the silhouette of your body along your shoulders and arms. He gently reaches behind your neck to untie the knot behind it. He peels away the open back linen gown. 

You shiver as your head hangs like a boulder. 

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he says. 

You shudder and ball your hands. You exhale as your eyes singe with the effort. You have to obey or... 

You whimper as you pry your lids open. He cradles your chin and forces your head up. Tears roll out and flow down your face. Everything around you is harsh yet fuzzy. 

“I know, sweetie, gotta adjust,” he stands and lets you go cautiously.  

You quake as you lean back against the cold tank of the toilet. He turns and dims the lights. You let your head sink again and watch the tile. The last time you saw those dainty blue diamonds, there was water splashed all around, your body was thrashing, your voice shrill and dry. 

You jolt as you come back to the present. He lowers you into the tub as hot water laps down from the faucet. The steam rises around you in a cloud as he helps you recline against the porcelain.  

His deep voice rises from his large chest. You stare at his shirt. He sings as he washes you with a cloth, suds foaming round his thick fingers. Your eyes creep up to thick beard along his jaw. His eyes are as bright as gems as they focus on his task. Everything is bright. 

And heavy and rough. Just the cotton is enough to make your skin crawl. After so long in desolation, it’s like sandpaper. His voice is low but rattles your eardrums. The song plucks at your brain but you can’t place the memory. 

What was before? 

“Till the end of time,   Long as stars are in the blue,   long as there’s a spring,   a bird to sing,   I’ll go on loving you.” 

You close your eyes and moan. He clucks. 

“No, don’t go to sleep,” he bids. 

Your eyes snap open. He continues his work. When he’s done, he lifts you out, leaning you against him as he wraps you in a towel. There’s a warm smell wafting from your skin. 

He dries you meticulously and replaces the towel with a robe. He takes you to a new room. He sits you at a table with a framed picture of a woman above it. You blink as he moves beside the woman. It’s not a picture. It’s a mirror. 

Is that really you? 

He moves behind you and tugs at your hair. He pauses to check something as he arranges it. Some sort of instruction? Then he shifts you to face him. He uses pencils and brushes on you; tugging at your eyelids and spinning a wand against your lashes. 

He puts you to face the mirror again. You look shinier. You? That’s you? 

He dresses you in red. A plush cloud of fabric in light layers, with roses on the bodice, a short robe with puffed sleeves. He guides you before a bigger mirror. Tall. He stands behind you as he makes you look. 

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart,” he drags his hands up and down your sides. “You ready for your surprise?” 

You mouth the words. You don’t think you can speak. He smiles and sits you on the cushioned stool again. 

“I almost forgot about me.” 

He leaves you and opens the closet. You watch his back. He’s so big. Tall, broad shoulders, thick hands. 

Your eyes list to the door. You can’t stand without him. You press your soles to the floor and your calves shake. No, you won’t get very far. 

“I can hear your excitement,” he turns with hangers hooked over a finger and taps on his chest with the other. “Sweetheart, you’re going to love it.” 

He goes behind a folding screen painted with golden feathers. You can see his head above it as he changes. He emerges, knotting a patterned silk tie over his crisp white shirt. The jacket is a pale shade of grey that somehow makes his eyes bluer. 

He nears and bends to check himself in the mirror. He combs his long hair back. His thick strands and beard don’t match the formality of his attire. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” 

He stands straight and bends his arm. You stare at it before your head clicks. He helps you stand and loops your arm through his. He walks you into the hallway. Your legs wobble dangerously. 

He stops you before a closed door. There’s a small wooden sign hung on it that shows a stork. You frown. You wonder what it means. You waver as you expect him to put you back into the dark. You step back on your heel and whimper. 

“Sweetie, you’re being good. You can stay out.” 

He turns the crystal door knob. Something about the decor feels so... out of time. He pushes the door inward and unhooks his arm from yours. He guides you by your shoulders into the room, staying behind you. 

The first thing you see are balloons. Big round balloons with pink ribbons and bows attached to them. The latex shines in shades of rose, blush, and ivory. They’re tied to the furniture that fills the room. 

The walls are painted in shades of pastel, one is a forest scene with critters and birds behind branches and stones. There’s a dresser and a table with a pad on top. A chair and a matching ottoman, a rug that looks softer than a cloud, and at the center of it all, a crib. Above hangs a mobile with stars and moon. 

“Happy Valentine's, sweetheart, you’ve been so good,” he praises as he trails his touch down your arm and takes your hand. He draws you around the room. “You like it?” 

Your stomach stirs uneasily. You nod despite the violent tide inside you. This isn’t right. What is this? 

“I knew you would. And you can help finish it. The little things. You know, I don’t have a good eye for the details,” he turns you to take it all in. The windows. There’s no sunlight coming in. Are they even real windows? They are just frames nailed to a wall. 

“Come on,” he brings you to the chair and he sits. He tugs you by the hand. You nearly collapse. “Right here.” 

He pats his thigh. You turn and he helps you sit. He pulls you against him to recline as the back lowers with his lean. He extends his legs onto the ottoman, yours with them. 

He sighs as you lay atop him. He traces the length of your arms then feels along your torso, squeezing the padding along your stomach and chest. You squirm uncomfortably. 

“You been eating good. Drinking your smoothies. Getting your vitamins,” he says. “I can see how good you’ve been.” 

His hands stop on your thighs. He rubs the fabric then slowly drags it up with his fingers, crumpling it high above your naked legs. He tickles you and you wince as he kneads you more firmly. 

His hand trails beneath the bunched skirt and he pets long your curly patch of hair. You hold your breath and tense. He pushes his fingertip between your folds and your voice trickles out in a squeak. 

He rubs you as your insides squirm. You shift and he spreads his other hand across your stomach to still you. You slicken beneath his teasing touch. Your legs fall apart as he pushes his hand further back. 

He exhales over you and drags his hand around your thigh. He slides it under you and his knuckles press into you as he plucks at his pants. He pushes his fly open as you wriggle against him. He shifts you up his body as his other hand dips down to your pelvis. 

He angles you down as he guides his tip long your cunt. You arch your back as he wet himself with your juices. He delves into you slowly and you latch onto his wrist. You convulse as he gets deeper and deeper. 

He rolls his hip, gliding out and back in. You clench around him and measure your breath around the tension in your muscles. He pushes in and you whine. He keeps a slow, even tempo as he stretches a finger down to toy with your clit. 

“I was reading a lot. They say it’s better when you cum. To make sure it takes.” 

His words confuse you. You can barely think as he makes his long thrusts. You brace the armrest as he unravels you tilt by tilt. 

He swirls his fingers as a fiery cluster blooms in your core. You push your feet down around his, digging into the cushion of the ottoman. You strain and writhe as your voice breaks through the brittleness of your throat. You twitch as the heat within unfurls into icy tendrils. 

He hums as he urges you through but doesn’t let up. He pumps into faster as his fingers keep their tempo. The layers of clothes build a fire between you, raising a sheet of sweat over your skin. He groans as he fucks you from below. 

His feet slip from the ottoman as it slides beyond his height. He plants his soles on the floor, rutting up into you as your legs splay wide. Your body bounces helplessly and you cling to the chair and moan, drowning in the shallowness of your breath. 

“I can feel how ready you are, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth. His hand roves up to your chest and he squeezes, your nipple throbbing tenderly. “You’re going to be a good mommy.” 

You shudder and gasp, your ribs wracking in dread. He groans and fucks you harder, puffing over your hair. 

“Sweetie, are you ready? Tell me you’re ready? You gonna make me a daddy?” 

You gulp and cough, head lolling as you cling onto his arm. He hammers into you harder and harder. 

“Tell me,” he snarls. 

“Y-y-yesssss,” you rasp from your tortured through. 

He grunts and spasms, a warmth flooding inside you as his pace turns wild. You close your eyes and they sting with another swell of tears. The painted walls, the glowing the balloons, it’s all so much worse than that black cell. 

[nickfowlerrr]

something good and true - part 1

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader

warnings (for all parts in whole): 18+ only. domestic violence. retelling of abuse and battery. minor character death mentioned. angst. sweet and protective bucky. fluff. not sure if this qualifies as a slow burn or not 👀 smut. there’s a happy ending! (as per usual)

words: 4.5k

notes: this fic was supposed to be posted last year for suz’s blind date writing challenge but clearly that is not what happened. a year later and some thousands+ words over the maximum allowed (in total), i was finally able to wrap this thing up. i’m posting in parts bc it’s just so long and ahhh i’m sorry i didn’t follow your rules suz @targaryenvampireslayer 😭 and honest to god there is absolutely no expectation for you to read or even acknowledge this! i just want to give credit where credit is due and so this, my first mob boss!fic, is all thanks to the mob boss au prompt you had given to me! so thank you - and sorry again 🫢 dialogue used: “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”. thank you in advance for reading, i’d be happy to hear your thoughts! as always, comments and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated. 🩵

He’s staring again. You can feel it. The heat creeps up your spine as your heart begins to beat a little faster. The feeling has become quite familiar. It’s been two months of this. You had a feeling he’d be back, but really you hoped he’d have just let it go by now. It’s not like you thought any of this through, though… Of course there’d be consequences; and none worse, you’re sure, than the ones he could dish out.

It’s not your fault, you try to remind yourself. It’s not. You finish wiping off the table of the newly vacated booth, tucking the cash tip left for you in your pocket, before you turn around.

You steel yourself, taking a strong breath before you start to walk toward his private booth. You’re not stupid, you know the only reason he comes here is for you, he told you as much himself. And everyone else knows that too as the place has become nearly empty since his arrival. Even your coworkers aren’t bustling about. You don’t know if you prefer having the audience or not. You don’t blame anyone for their fleeing, though. After all the stories you’d heard about the man, you always made yourself scarce in his presence, too.

Until the faithful night he requested you at his table by name… You sigh, it seems you no longer have the luxury of avoidance.

You remember that night well. The first time you formally met the infamous mob boss, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

You remember how it felt like your blood turned to ice in your very veins when Molly uttered your name with worried eyes, “Mr. Barnes is asking for you specifically,” she had whispered as she peaked into the kitchen where you’d fled when you heard he was being sat at his rarely used, always reserved table.

You felt sick. Like a lead weight was dropped in your stomach. You wrung your hands until it hurt before you finally nodded. You were sure she could see the fear in your eyes when you looked at her. “O-okay. I’ll be right there,” you’d nodded. You had to swallow down the bile threatening to creep up your throat. He knows, you’d thought. He has to know. That’s why he’s here. That’s why he’s looking for you. You were breathing hard and heavy and you could feel the tears welling in your still sensitive eyes. You were caked in makeup, had been all week, to hide the bruises that marred all over your face. It wasn’t anything unusual. But there was an eerie comfort you felt in knowing once they were finally gone this time, you wouldn’t have to see yourself like that again.

You were in a long sleeve so you knew he wouldn’t be able to see the marks along your arms, and unless he had X-ray vision he wouldn’t be able to see the contusions littered all over your body either. You had a brace on your wrist but it wasn’t too noticeable under the sleeve… Okay, you breathed. You can do this. Deny, deny, deny. You don’t even truly know what he’s here for. You shouldn’t freak yourself out before you’ve even seen him.

You exhaled a shaky breath before you reached for the kitchen door.

It was dead silent as you entered the dining hall and it only added to the compounding fear and anxiety growing inside you.

You approached his table cautiously, too nervous to make direct eye contact as you held your pen and pad in hand.

“Good evening, sir, - uhm, Mr. Barnes,” you corrected yourself, “can I get you started with something to-“

“I’m not here for drinks or the mediocre food, doll,” he stopped you easily, unnervingly calm.

You chanced a glance at him and his deep blue gaze had you swallowing hard.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you stayed quiet as he stared at you. Like he knew something. Like he knew you knew something.

“Hm,” he considered you for a moment longer before nodding, “ya know, I think you know why I’m here.”

“I-“, you shook your head almost imperceptibly, “I don’t,” was all you could muster as your eyes were now glued to him. You couldn’t will yourself to look away. You were too terrified.

He licked his lip seemingly out of habit before he spoke again.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asked, sounding exasperated, bored of the interaction already as he tilted his head at you.

You stiffened at the question, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“I don’t-“

“You do.” He stopped you again, the certainty in his voice leaving no room to deny his accusation. His eyes cutting into you as you stood before him, defenseless. You felt like you couldn’t breathe but you couldn’t just stand there looking terrified. You had to work up your voice and it came out quiet, but Bucky was listening, and watching you, intently.

“I don’t know where Freddy is,” you said, voice low, trying to keep the tremor from it as you finally felt your eyes sting, the fear and pain catching up to you as you blinked the would be tears away before a single one fell. “And he’s not my boyfriend,” you swallowed, “anymore.”

“No?”

“No. We broke up…about a month ago.”

“That’s interesting…” he hummed. “Why did someone see his car at your place the other week, then, huh?”

You winced at the images that ran through your mind as you thought back to that day, the one you knew he was referring to.

“He came over, to talk,” you forced out, no longer looking at the man before you. “But nothing came from it,” you added quickly, “and he left. I haven’t seen him since. Haven’t heard from him, I don’t know where he is.”

You didn’t look at him but by the weight of his gaze you knew he wasn’t buying what you were selling.

“What happened here?” he asked, reaching for your hand.

You were quite literally frozen to your spot as he grabbed your hand in his. His touch was the most gentle you’d experienced in a long while and it sent an unexpected hum through you. You watched your hand in his as he pulled you just the tiniest bit closer to him and the table. He inched up your sleeve to see more of the brace on your wrist and when he moved to raise your sleeve further up your arm, your body finally moved into action. You yanked your hand back, as if his touch had burned you, keeping him from seeing anything more than the brace.

“Fell,” you answered shortly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, but I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t know where he is. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t really care.”

You met his eye once more, feeling a little safer as the words came easily. It wasn’t a complete lie. You really didn’t know where he was. And you certainly didn’t care. Despite the scrutiny of the mob boss’ gaze, you didn’t feel nearly as scared as you had before he touched your hand. Something about the softness there… You wouldn’t dwell on it.

“If there’s nothing else,” you added, though it was definitely more of an unspoken question than anything. You weren’t as scared but you weren’t stupid either. You wouldn’t be going anywhere until he dismissed you.

He smirked, huffing a laugh as he watched you.

“You hear from him, I’d be grateful to know,” he slipped his hand into his coat pocket and took out a business card, placing it on the table as he flicked his sharp eyes up to you once more, moving to pull out his wallet next. You watched as he slipped out two bills and blanched as he put them down on the table, moving the card so it sat on the money.

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood from his seat, standing right in front of you as you took in his build and stature. Everything about him screamed success, power, and authority and the two hundreds he left on the table were nothing more than chump change to him, you were sure.

“Just so you know, doll,” he spoke lowly, “I will find him, one way or another,” he took a step closer to you, “and if you think you’re protecting him by not telling me the truth, I promise you’re not.” He held your gaze and you were terrified he could see straight into your soul with how intent it was, “What’s even worse, is he knows we know all about you. He doesn’t care if he’s putting you in harm’s way or not… Forgive me for saying, but nice girl like you, you deserve a hell of a lot better than that. So, if you think of anything you might wanna tell me, my number’s right there,” he said looking back over to the card and money on the table. “That’s your tip. You enjoy your night, sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you.”

His words weren’t a threat, but a promise.

He would be seeing you. Didn’t always call you to his table, sometimes just observed you while you worked, but every week without fail from that day on, he would be at the restaurant.

You never called him, you didn’t have anything to say. You wouldn’t tell him the truth, no, you couldn’t tell him the truth. He was half right, you were protecting someone. But it wasn’t Freddy.

You breathe another strong sigh as you get closer to him and once you’re at the table, you don’t say a word, only meeting his brilliant and pointed gaze.

There’s something different about him tonight, something unnerving in his stare that you take notice of right away. You work to keep your calm but you’re not sure how convincing your faux headstrong demeanor is tonight.

He lets the silence between you grow for a moment longer before finally, he speaks.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

His voice is like honey, smooth and rich with that familiar lilt as his lips quirk up just at the corner of his mouth. It warms you while he holds your eye. There’s unspoken tension between you two as you stand so close yet so far, it’s been brewing since your first meeting and has only grown with each interaction since. You’ve never named it, but you couldn’t deny it if you’d wanted to. You haven’t felt your tummy flutter like this since…you can’t remember when.

Surely he knows what his gaze does to anyone, you’re no exception. But the nerves you feel under the weight of his stare are twofold - not all due to fear, but to flustering.

You haven’t responded, but you’ve held his eye in the silence. He smirks at you before gesturing to the open space across from him.

“Why don’t you take a seat, sweetheart.”

It sounds like an invitation, but you know it’s more than that.

It’s an instruction.

You look around briefly, as if someone might stop you or get you in trouble - but that’s laughable when you’re standing next to, arguably, the most feared and respected man this city has ever seen. Standing. Why is he standing? You realize suddenly he’s still waiting for you to move.

You do as he said and gingerly sit down across from him. He retakes his own seat as you settle. How chivalrous.

“I’ll get right to it,” he starts, his deep blue eyes never leaving you, “Freddy-“

God, that name. You can’t hold your tongue. You know it’s why he’s here but you don’t want to talk about this. You just want this to be over!

“Like I told you the last time, and the time before, and the time before, and every other time you’ve asked, I haven’t seen him.” You cut him off without thinking. But you really can’t have the same conversation again. You can’t keep having to think about him. About that night. You're at your wits end - you don’t want to have to so much as hear his name again. You don’t catch yourself in the moment but it hits you when you’re done talking that you just spoke to Bucky in such a familiar way…someone walking past might wonder who exactly you are to him. Clearly you’ve forgotten your place, gotten a little too comfortable around him.

You look up from where you watch yourself wring your hand and shamefully meet his eye again. You inhale and start to apologize but he doesn’t give you the chance.

His hand is on yours before you realize he’s even moving and you flinch a second late, his gentle touch already on you, stilling your nervous habit.

His eyes soften as he makes you meet his gaze, his thumb gently rubbing your fidgety hand.

You swallow hard and watch as he blinks away the previous softness in his gaze, his familiar confident twinkle back as he speaks,

“I know,” he nods, his hand still on yours. He’s closer as he leans across the table. “I found him.”

Your breath catches and your face falls. Fuck fuck fuck.

What does that mean? What does he know? You’re on the verge of having a complete freak out and god he can probably see it written all over your face. You feel a squeeze of your hand and are brought back into your body, into this very moment.

“Don’t look so sick, sweetheart,” he says, a half smile on his lips. “You don’t have anything to worry about, you or your old man.”

Your heart drops at the mention of your father and Bucky must see it because he leans closer still, now holding your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting, but more so is the look in his eyes. The sincerity there, and the hard edge of protection.

You want to believe him but you’ve been gullible before.

“I just wanna know the whole story. I know pretty much what went down, some things I think can safely be assumed, but I wanna hear your narrative, just to get the full picture and get this whole mess squared away, yeah?”

The way he’s looking deeply into your shining eyes, the intimate gaze and soft touch as it seems like he’s trying to keep you calm, you can’t speak much but you give him a quiet, “yeah.”

He nods and you feel a single tear slip down your cheek. He slowly raises his hand, and your eyes are glued to him as he makes sure you watch his movements. Like he’s trying to reach out to a scared little puppy, he reaches to gently touch your cheek. You don’t flinch but as his hand makes contact with your skin, your eyes shut as you try and suppress a shudder.

“No tears, sweetheart,” he tells you in a soothing timbre as he wipes it from your cheek. “You’re too pretty to cry over a loser like that,” he adds with a soft smile.

You shake your head, “He’s not why I’m-“

“I know,” he cuts you off. “Look at me,” he orders gently.

You do as he says and slowly meet his eye. “You don’t have anything to worry about, ya hear me? Not the police, not my men, and certainly not me. Got it?”

You know you’re staring at him like he’s crazy, but you do understand what he’s saying. It takes you a second but you force yourself to nod.

“Good.”

His touch is still on you as his eyes trail all over your face before he lets his hand slip away.

“Alright, you wanna do this tonight or tomorrow night?”

You’re momentarily stunned. You definitely don’t want to do this tonight. You just need to get through the last two hours here and then you’re headed home to unravel in your own space. But tomorrow…

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” you point out, sounding unsure.

“What,” he sniffs, looking at you once again, “you got plans?”

“I, I have work,” you answer dumbly after a second.

“Not anymore you don’t,” he says, moving to stand. “So tomorrow it is.” He walks closer to you and extends his hand for you to take, helping you out of the booth. “And you’ve got the rest of the night off.”

“Oh, I carpooled today so, I have to wait anyway,” you explain, though the idea of leaving early sounds like heaven.

“I’ll drive you. Get your things, I’ll have the car pulled around,” he supplies easily. He leaves to the front of the restaurant and you stand in your stupor for only a moment longer before you move to get your things from the back. You have a silly thought worrying about giving him your address, then remember he’s had it this entire time. And he told you you had nothing to worry about.

You’re not a typically trusting person, even more so after Fred, but there's something about Bucky. Something trustworthy, something that feels safe.

You grab your bag and let Molly know you’re leaving early and you got a ride before you head to the front to find Bucky.

He’s waiting patiently and his eyes seem to light up just a bit when he sees you coming.

Your manager is smiling tightly behind the stand as she watches you go. You feel slightly bad for just cutting out like this, but once Bucky came in, the place cleared out some, so it’s not like they’re in the midst of a rush.

You let your work worries slip away as the brisk night air hits you, Bucky holds the door for you as you exit and then opens the passenger of his sleek, blacked out Jaguar for you to get in.

You always assumed someone like him, in his position, would have a driver, but maybe that’s just not his style.

Bucky gets in and as you buckle, begins to drive off. You don’t need to supply him with your address as he heads in the right direction without a word.

It’s quiet but not unbearably so. It’s not until you’re just a couple minutes away from your place that he breaks the silence.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. I figure it’s a delicate conversation we’ll be having, so somewhere private would be better. Are you okay with going to my place? We can have dinner.”

It’s a genuine question, and the earnestness of it eases your nerves even further. He’s truly asking, genuinely concerned with your comfortability.

“Mhm,” you nod with a quiet hum. “Yeah.”

He pulls up in front of your house, the porch light on and shining because you knew you wouldn’t be off until late.

The car cuts off and you turn to face Bucky only to find him opening his door and getting out himself.

You grab your bag and follow him with your eyes as he rounds the car to get to your side. He gallantly pulls open the door for you and helps you out with care. You stand and he closes the car door before you start up the path to the front door. It’s a short walk and as you reach the door you turn to look at him as he stays beside you.

“Thank you, for the ride, and…” you trail off not knowing how to articulate what it is you want to say. Thankfully he doesn’t make you continue. He smiles softly at you.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

You blink at him. You don’t know what else to say. You finally look away and turn to the door to unlock it.

“When you said I don’t have anything to worry about,”

“I meant you don’t have anything to worry about,” he answers you before you finish your question. “I’m gonna make this all go away, I just need to know if there’s any loose ends we need to tie up to be done with it, that’s all.”

Your eyes sting again. He makes it sound so easy, so simple.

“I-“ your voice threatens to break.

“Hey, we don’t needa talk about it right now, doll. You just go inside, relax, eat, get some rest. You don’t gotta stress a thing anymore, alright? I’ve got you, there’s nothin for you to worry about.”

“…Why are you being so nice to me?” you look at him with bleary eyes as you crack the front door open and ask the question you’ve been wondering for the past two months.

He takes a small step closer to you and gently turns your face to look at him. “Why do you expect cruelty?”

You stutter a breath as you look at him and feel the memories of the year you spent caught up with Freddy stab at you. You know why, and you’re sure he does, too. But there’s no sense of judgment coming from him, and you don’t feel embarrassed; not like the way you do in front of your mom. She’s the only other person who knows what happened, what your dad did. For you.

She never said it, you don’t expect she ever will, but you can sense the thoughts, the subtle judgement from her, especially when this all first happened. She doesn’t know the truth but you don’t have the care to tell her. Because even if what she assumed was true, it doesn’t change anything. No one deserves that.

But the truth is, you didn’t stay. The first time he put his hands on you, you were gone. He just wouldn’t leave you alone. You were together for six months at that point and they were nice, nothing overly romantic like you see in the movies, but nice. You weren’t expecting anything long lasting, marriage wasn’t even a thought. You knew he wasn’t the one, but dating was… fun. And then, one day, a switch flipped.

He wasn’t the kind, but nonchalant guy you thought he was. He was angry, like it was your fault the relationship wasn’t what he wanted, that it wasn’t more. He wanted it to work so badly, but he knew it never would. That only kept his ire burning. And so during the other six months you were ‘together’ you were really nothing close. You avoided him every chance you got and when he’d find his way in he’d always be sure to leave his mark. He kept up appearances of course, to everyone it seemed. You didn’t want to look crazy, so what were you going to say? ‘I broke up with him months ago and I don’t know why he won’t accept that. He uses me like a punching bag when he gets me alone - when he breaks into my car, my home, any way he can weasel into my life.’ He was in with the mob and everyone knew it, so even if they believed you, what the hell would anyone be able to do? At a certain point you just kind of accepted that this must be it. He’d always just be around somehow. Stories of your on and off again relationship floating around thanks to him - he wanted everyone to know that even if you weren’t together, you were together. Making it harder and harder for you in every way possible.

And then, one day, everything changed.

Now you’re here, and he isn’t.

Now you’re here, and so is James Barnes.

His warm hand is still holding your face and his thumb gently rubs your soft cheek, almost mindlessly, while he peers at you - intent as ever. That softness you saw before is back and you have to remind yourself to breathe when you notice his gaze flit to your lips. It’s brief, fleeting as his hand drops and he meets your eyes once more. He takes back his step and you watch him take a deep breath himself, the first time you’ve ever seen him be anything close to unsteady, if that’s what you can call it.

You break eye contact first, looking down to the small space between you while you push your door open a bit more, holding onto the handle with one hand.

“Have a good night,” he says, voice low and quiet as he watches you step closer yet to the door.

You look at him again then, “You too,” you bid softly, finally stepping inside.

He nods and waits for you to close the door behind yourself. As you push it shut, you catch a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and then that fluttering in your belly returns again.

You turn the lock and then press yourself up against the wood, exhaling heavily.

You feel relieved and yet ten times more terrified in the very same breath.

The most pressing feeling in this very moment though is a weird kind of guilt.

You feel more for a man you’ve only known for two months than you ever did for Freddy in the entire time you’d known him. Bucky is intimidating, obviously, and you know what he does, what he’s known for; he’s a man anyone would tell you to avoid at all costs. But when he’s around, there’s this feeling you get that you just can’t shake. You feel safe around him.

He’s known for being a man of his word, and his words to you have never been anything but thoughtful and…caring. He may prod, but he’s never threatened you. Truth be told, you think maybe he’s known this entire time what really happened. Or at least that you were involved somehow. And still, he wasn’t harsh with you even once. He was doing his own investigation this entire time, of course, and if he’d wanted to get the truth from you, surely he could have- he could’ve saved a lot of time too. Could’ve even gone after your dad.

But he didn’t do any of those things. No, he’s been patient, waiting until he had enough proof without having to pry anything out of you. At the very least you were grateful for that.

Not to mention the fact that he had called you pretty. It seems silly given the circumstances, but it did warm you when the compliment hit. It’s crazy but it’s clear that you’re feeling feelings for one James Bucky Barnes. God help you.

Alongside the unexpected romantic stirrings you’re coming to terms with, the anxiety and stress of the truth you’ve been trying, and apparently failing, to keep about what happened to Freddy has been weighing heavily on you, but with Bucky’s veiled acknowledgment of it, you feel more free already.

It’d be a lie to say you aren’t nervous for tomorrow night, but it’d also be a lie to say a part of you isn’t looking forward to it, too. If for no reason other than what Bucky said; to finally just be done with this whole mess.

[yelenasdiary]

Hiii! If its no trouble I'd like to request a fic!

(If it is just ignore this lol)

So the basic idea is Agatha comforting reader

You can make up like whatever reason you want for reader being upset I just cannot for the life of me find any Agatha comfort fics : )

Tyyy

You're Safe, My Darling

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x GN! Reader

Summary: Agatha comforts you after you wake up from a nightmare.

Fluff & Comfort

Warnings: None, if I missed any, please let me know! | 0.7K

AC: Thank you for sending this! I can completely understand the need for wanting more Aggie that isn’t so smut centred! I hope you enjoy this! x

Cupid’s Dream Masterlist 2025

Agatha’s back rested peacefully against the headboard as the moonlight’s comforting silver cast washed across the bedroom. Her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose; her eyes glued to the book in her hand while you slept peacefully beside her. One hand softly ran through your hair, evidence of how you fell asleep in the first place. Her eyes, following along with the black, small, printed words in her hand.

A strangled whimper left your lips, the sound instantly cutting Agatha’s attention from her book. Her expression softened, her gaze on you as your body trembled beneath the thick blanket. 

“Darling, wake up” Agatha murmured, her voice a low, soothing hum as she gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. 

You gasped, your eyes snapping open, wide and haunted. You sat up abruptly, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “Agatha..” You chocked out, your voice raspy, barely above a whisper. Agatha didn’t hesitate to gently pull you closer, wrapping her arms around you for comfort. “I’m here, darling. I’m right here” she said, gently rocking you.

Slowly, your trembling subsided as you burrowed your face into the crook of Agatha’s neck, clinging to her as if she were the only solid thing in a dissolving world. The scent of her body lotion brought a sense of comfort. “Everything was…. burning….I couldn’t….save them” you began, remembering the horrible nightmare.

Agatha tightened her hold, feeling the raw emotion in your voice. “Save who, my dear?” She asked softly. 

You trembled again, “them…the innocents, trapped. The others….their scremas, I can still hear their screams” you went on as Agatha held you a little tighter, her heart aching with empathy. Your dream sounding all too familiar to the witch. 

“It’s okay my love, it was just a nightmare” the woman assures you, “you’re safe and nobody is trapped” she added, her voice thick with comfort as she gently pulled you back, cupping your face with care. Her eyes were soft as you met her gaze. “I would never let anything happen to you, ever. You’re safe sweetheart, I promise”

You stared into her eyes, searching for any sign that this might just be a part of your twisted dream. “This is the third dream this week” you replied, your voice full of fear. Agatha nodded, “I know, it’s been tough” she spoke, siding with you on your unspoken concerns. “Maybe we lay off on the horror movies for a bit” she suggested. 

“But you love horror” you replied. 

Agatha chuckled lightly, “I do but, if I want a horror show, I’ll just pop over to the Maximoff’s for 5 minutes”.

Her playful tone was enough to make you chuckle, “there is nothing wrong with them” you argued, playfully. 

“Ha! And there is nothing wrong with Rio either” Agatha said with a cocked brow. You leaned into her hold once more, the warmth from her easing the lingering chill. “Maybe we stick to action movies for a little while” you said softly. 

Agatha gently rubbed your back, “please none of those mission impossible films, I will cry out of boredom and don’t test me on that”. You chuckled once more, “don’t worry babe, I won’t force you to watch those!” You assured her.

“Thank Salem for that!” Agatha sighed with relief as you nuzzled into the crook of her neck again. Her lightful banter taking the edge off as you focused on the way her hand felt rubbing your back. Agatha smiled softly to herself as you made yourself comfortable in her arms, even though it was just a nightmare, she meant her promise to keep you safe.

The wind outside seemed to soften, no longer whispering through the trees. Your breathing began to slowly even out, “get some rest, darling” she said in a soft whisper, “I’ll be right here”. She added, pulling the covers over the two of you. With a gentle flick of her wrists, Agatha weaved a spell, a shield of protection to ease your mind. 

Soon, your body completely relaxed, your face serene and untroubled as you slept peacefully in the woman’s arms. She watched over you, her eyes filling with love as she watched the soft rise and fall of your chest. She placed a kiss on the top of your head, not wanting to wake you.

“You’re safe my darling” she whispered.

Taglist:  @noturlondonboy | @deathbylesbianwitches | @yelenaslyubov | @sunshine-makes-flowers-grow | @boredandneedfanfics | @red1culous | @jooseboxxe | @starrycherie | @torihobby1226 | @filmedbyharkness | @the-lux-archives | @tigerlillyruiz | @uniquelesbianidiot | @n3bula-cats | 

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[tonysbed]

Secrets I keep | Part 16

Max Fewtrell x norris!reader

summary: You and Max have been dancing around your feelings for years but jealousy gets the best of us all..

warnings: again, the internet is cruel. Max gets into his head, mental health issues?? self doubt, crying, mention of cheating

not proofread

series masterlist | previous | next

-

“Alright, I’m leaving then! I’ll see you in a few days” You say, coming trough the door into the living room, where max was sitting on the couch. It had been a few good weeks since the whole incident and you were both cooled down from the drama.

Lando hadn’t really come to his senses, but you unblocked him. Your dad had a talk with him, that resulted in nothing.

“Alright. Be careful and text me” He gets up from his place and hugs you, kissing the top of your head “I will, don’t worry” You kiss him and smile “I gotta go now before I miss my flight or something!”

You look at your phone “And they’re here! Okay, gotta go. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! I love you” “Won’t do, I love you too” Max watches you leave the apartment with a suitcase, and sighs.

He still hadn’t voiced his concerns about Franco. Not to think wrong, franco was a super nice bloke but he was flirty and you two just got along a little to well for his liking.

But how would you know? You only had eyes for max, franco was not interesting for you. But that is something that Max has to get in his head first..

-

You slid into the backseat. Kika turned around to look at you “Ready?” You smile “A tour through the headquarters of tractors? Sure!” Pierre glared at you through the mirror “Do you want to walk?” He grumbled “Pierre!” Kika slapped his arm “What? She said I’m driving a tractor!”

Kika rolled her eyes smiling and pierre dropped it.

-

norris.yn

liked by franciscagomez, pierregasly, maxfewtrell and 36 others

norris.yn she’s everything and he’s… there

pierregasly why am I always catching strays

franciscagomez 🙂‍↕️😘

alexandrasaintmleux 😂😂

charlesleclerc oh pierre 🤦‍♂️

maxfewtrell always tired 😂

pierregasly of your girlfriend? Always

franciscagomez Pierre.

pierregasly What? She’s always stealing you

norris.yn she deserves more than you

pierregasly see??

maxfewtrell I choose peace and ignore it.

-

You three arrived at the Alpine headquarters and as you neared the entrance you saw a figure enthusiastically talk with Paul, who just looked like he was being tortured.

As you got closer, Paul spotted you three and sighed in relief “Thank god. Now he can talk your ear off. I really like you Franco, but it’s to fucking early” Paul says, yawning.

You chuckle as Franco huffed “Mean” He crossed his arms but smiled at you “You’re alive! You weren’t at the paddock, your brother acts as if you aren’t his sister and you don’t post anymore!” He throws his arms up in the air.

“Have you seen what happened?” You chuckled “Yeah I know” “Don’t you follow her on here new account?” Pierre asked “Uh..new account?” Franco looks puzzled at the frenchman and then at you.

“Yeah, I made one just for friends, no strangers, no privacy invasion, just us” You say smiling. Franco nods, pulls out his phone and hands it to you.

You type in his code, which kika raised an eyebrow at and request your account from his. You hand it back to him and accept the request.

“Ah, yes you have been alive!” He laughs. You nod and laugh. Pierre and Kika start to make their way inside, and you two follow them.

-

norris.yn

liked by pierregasly, kellypiquet, francocolapinto and 46 others

norris.yn @/ jackdoohan, pls get better soon, they’re crazy

jackdoohan I will try my best 😂

norris.yn pls hurry up 😭😂

franciscagomez we’re not that bad 🤔

pierregasly …

paulaaron you love us, really

francocolapinto now why would you post this? my my

norris.yn you’ll live

-

max grimaced at his phone. This is exactly what he feared could happen. But before he could continue his thought train, another notification popped up on his phone.

It was a gossip page that had tagged him. That was never good but he clicked on it, and immediately regretted it.

-

f1gossip

f1gossip Franco Colapinto was spotten near the Alpine Headquarters with Yn Norris. Mclarens number one drivers sister. Has she moved on from her boyfriend Max Fewtrell?

user oh my god. She’s disgusting

user what a bitch

user max isn’t even allowed to be mad, he did the same

user are we gonna ignore that Pierre, Paul and Kika were also with them??

user 🤢

user franco noooo

-

-

You sigh as you put the phone down. Kika tilts her head at you “What did he say?” “He’s being weird” Franco raised an eyebrow “About me? I swear, I know you guys are a thing! I don’t want anything from you” Franco raised his hands in surrender.

You chuckle “I know that. Something tells me tho that this is not based on todays events.” You look at Kika with a knowing look. She presses her lips together.

“Do we have to understand this?” Pierre asked confused “Are you a woman?” She asked him with an raised eyebrow “No?” “Then you won’t get it.”

“I’ll guess it’s an early leave for me” You sigh “Nooo, can’t he be weird alone for a few more days?” Paul pouts “I’d rather resolve this as soon as possible. I know how much Max can get into his own head because of the media. I’ve seen it with him, and i’ve seen it with Lando. I know what It does to people”

“Especially something like this” Pierre says, his voice now serious but calm. Kika nods “Of that is what you think is better for the two of you, that’s okay. We can do this another time. Maybe even bring max that time” Kika says, Pierre nodding along “Definitely”

You smile “Thanks guys. I guess I’ll see what flight will get me back the fastest” You pull out your phone again “Is he in monaco again?” Kika chuckled “Yep. He’s at my apartment” She nods “Obviously.”

-

While you were planning your trip home, Max was laying in your bed. His eyes fixed on the side you claimed as yours the first time he had officially slept over as your boyfriend.

He smiled a bit at the memory, which was quickly soured away by the pictures of you and franco flashing in his mind. He knew you would never do such things, he knew that Kika, Pierre and Paul had been there but in moments like these, his mind wasn’t quiet.

It screamed at him. Screamed he’d get hurt again, or more by the one person that could actually hurt him deeply.

He shakes his head. You wouldn’t.

Are you sure? You’re not even a racing driver.

She loves me for me.

does she now? why would you be enough

Max sat up and got up to go into the bathroom. He looked into the reflection of the big mirror. His eyes were red from crying, but not too bad that he couldn’t pass it off as sleepiness.

He splashed water in his face and sighed. His mind was playing tricks on him that only you could outplay. You were outplaying tricks you didn’t even know about.

He let his head hang and sighed again.

He turned off the light and made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. In moments like these, he would’ve called lando. Something he had also cost her.

She would’ve never argued about Daniel with Lando if it wasn’t for him. It was all his fault.

-

It was later in the day when you had finally arrived back in monaco. You sighed as you pulled out your keys but before you could put the keys in, the door swung open.

Max looked backwards into the apartment, his suitcase in hand. He closed the door and finally turned around to look at you.

you both stare at each other for a moment. You look between his suitcase and him “Uhm..where you leaving?” You ask confused.

“I..uh” Max didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected you back so soon. What in christs name-

“Why are you back already?” “That doesn’t matter right now. Did something happen?” Max’s jaw clenched and he looked away.

A knot forms in your stomach “Please don’t tell me this is about the Franco thing” You say quietly. Max still doesn’t meet your eyes. You abandon your suitcase for a moment and unlock the door.

You point for him to go back inside. Before he could protest, you shake your head “We’re talking about this. Inside. With your suitcase.”

-

You sat down on the couch, turned to Max, while he was faced forward, hands fidgeting.

“Max, please talk to me about this. I already told you, I would never..Franco isn’t..He doesn’t even fit into my life” You say, still looking at him.

“I know” He says quietly “Well apparently you don’t. You wanted to leave why exactly? To tell me what? You didn’t call, you didn’t text” His head turns to the kitchen.

You can see the island from the couch. There is a vase of your favourite flowers and a letter perched up against.

“I knew you would try to stop me” He says quietly. Now he had made you speechless. You look at him in shock.

“You..so” You take a deep breath “So this is it?” You ask, not entirely sure what you’re even saying. Max finally looks at you. He doesn’t say anything but his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

You clenched your jaw “why?” You whisper, biting back tears. Max weighs his options. You would try to convince him to stay, when he would tell you the truth. But he would only hurt you further.

His mind kept screaming to go, his heart was aching, and crying out your name, longing for your love. He knew you’d be better off without him. He had to go.

“You wouldn’t understand” “Then make me understand. Let me try to fix this! Us!”

“There is no us. Not anymore. There should’ve never been an us”

The words lie heavy in the room. You stare at him. You can only watch as he gets up, takes his suitcase and takes one last look at you.

This is it, she’ll be free of you.

-

Alexandra could barely understand what you were saying over the phone as she rushed out the door, Charles closely behind, having to drive her over to you.

She tried to calm you down, with no success. The only thing she understood was “Franco, Max, broke up” And the last one was what made her stomach turn.

-

She opened your door with her spare key, rushing inside, finding you curled up on the couch.

“Hey, hey.” She took you into her arms. Her arms tighten around you as your sobs got heavier and more pained. Charles looks worried, wording the name ‘Kelly’. Alex nods, hoping Kelly would get more out of you, knowing you two knew each other longer.

Kelly arrived sooner than Alex expected, and Charles left, telling Alex to call if she needed anything.

-

alexandrasaintmleux added to their story

[cap: @/kellypiquet our new master chef 👩‍🍳 🍝❤️

reply’s:

charlesleclerc how is she holding up?

she’s okay for now. Calmed her down but his story doesn’t make sense. It’s quite confusing and just really out of the blue.

charlesleclerc hm..you want me to play detective?

pls do

charlesleclerc no problem mom amor❤️

❤️

user isn’t that yn’s kitchen??

-

so uhm.. yeah. Here’s a good handful of angst and Max’s head full of chaos 😬 Ups

Happy Valentine or whatever

[treason-and-plot]

Hi Groovers! First of all, I'd like to say thank you for indulging me and coming along on the Vinnie and Georgina genesis journey! If you want to follow their story in its entirety here's the link: https://treason-and-plot.tumblr.com/tagged/vigina/chrono

Secondly, my game is now fixed and no longer crashing. Yay!

Thirdly, without going into too much detail this week has been a bit of a tough one due to the declining health of my 95 year old Uncle, for whom I am the primary carer. I know a lot of you are also carers and I don't need to elaborate about how challenging and demanding it is. I'm only mentioning it because the increasing demands on my time are unfortunately going to result in even fewer story posts than usual. I'm hoping to have some time this weekend for writing and updating but things are very unpredictable at the moment so apologies in advance if things don't pan out as hoped.

Anyway Happy Valentines everybody, I love youse all!

[cod-thoughts]

I know, how I feel when I'm around you

Word count: 5.1k

Relationships: NikPrice, PriceNik

Tags: Established Relationship, slice of life, just them being domestic as fuck, fluff, they're so in love <3

Part of a project that has a tiny explanation here. Keep reading under the cut!!

AN: This is a gift for @nekrosmos Happy valentines day !!! You're really such a kind soul in this corner of the internet, insanely talented in all aspects seriously why can you draw and write that well excuse me?? The way you encourage people and leave comments/tags on peoples stuff is absolutely insane in the best way possible <33 along with this im virtually gifting you a bunch of freshly baked cookies and some flowers. Thank you for sharing your work with us and happy valentines day bud i hope its a good day for you <33

The flat was wrapped in the slow, golden hum of afternoon when Price stirred, the warmth of sleep still clinging to his skin. The scent of coffee curled through the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something sweet, and the distant sound of music—low, familiar soft rock—drifted in from the kitchen.

The sheets beneath him still carried the remnants of body heat, the space beside him long since gone cold. He turned slightly, pressing his face into Nik’s pillow, inhaling deeply. The scent there—warm, familiar, something clean with the slightest hint of spice—was grounding, safe. It settled something in his chest, the kind of quiet comfort that came from knowing exactly where he was and exactly who he was meant to be with.

He stretched, wincing slightly, feeling the pleasant ache deep in his muscles. A reminder of what happened earlier, when they had stumbled through the door, tearing at each other with hands and mouths, sinking into the desperate kind of closeness they had been starved of for weeks. That had been rough, urgent, and now his body bore the proof of it.

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he rolled onto his back, letting out a low, contented groan. The soreness was a good kind, the kind that settled deep in his bones and made him want to stretch into it, made him want to chase it all over again.

Then, from the kitchen, the unmistakable clink of a spoon against ceramic.

Price cracked an eye open. He could keep lying here, wrapped up in the last traces of sleep, but the source of warmth and scent had moved. And he had never been much for staying in bed alone. Better to follow.

The cool floor met his feet as he stood, stretching once more before reaching for the first thing within arm’s length—a soft, worn t-shirt he must’ve tossed aside last night. He pulled it over his head, running a hand over his beard before ruffling his hair absently. Nik had once told him he looked downright domesticated in moments like this. Price had scoffed at the time, but right now, walking towards the scent of coffee and the distant hum of music, he understood what Nik meant.

Nik was sitting at the kitchen counter, pen moving in smooth, sure strokes as he wrote, his attention split between the two cookbooks splayed open around him. A fresh cup of coffee sat within reach, the steam curling lazily above the rim. Their mail was laid out beside him, mostly ignored, and the soft music hummed in the background.

The whole scene was so effortlessly Nik. A careful balance between order and chaos, planning and instinct. He looked as he always did—composed, intent, his focus shifting between his notes and the open pages in front of him, the kind of quiet determination that made Price certain he’d already memorized half the bloody recipes and was just double-checking for the sake of it.

Price leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, taking in the sight.

“Started without me?”

Nik looked up immediately, and the way his gaze lingered—just for a second—before his lips curled into a slow smirk was answer enough. The amusement in his eyes was unmistakable, dark and knowing. “You looked too peaceful to wake.” He reached for the second mug on the counter, sliding it across smoothly. “But I saved you a cup, Captain.”

Price pushed off the frame, stepping into the warmth of the kitchen, taking the offered mug. The first sip was rich, slightly sweet. His brow furrowed, lips pursing slightly. “You put cinnamon in this?”

Nik took a slow sip of his own coffee, watching him over the rim. “You like it. No need to lie.”

Price grumbled, but didn’t stop drinking it.

Nik chuckled, setting his pen down, stretching back slightly, all slow, effortless ease. The kind of movement that came with knowing exactly how to take up space without ever needing to try. “How are you feeling, my love?”

Price made a vague sound into his coffee, but then stretched again, rolling his shoulders, shifting his weight just enough to make a point. “Bit sore. Can’t imagine why.”

Nik’s smirk deepened. “Perhaps I was too enthusiastic in welcoming you home.”

Price huffed a quiet laugh, taking another sip. “That what we’re callin’ it?”

Nik only shrugged, gaze still keen, amused, appreciative. There was something about the way Nik looked at him—like he was something to be admired, like he was something worth lingering on. It was heady, that kind of attention, something Price wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to, something he never wanted to lose.

“Enjoying the view?” Price asked, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Nik didn’t miss a beat. “Always.”

Price rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Instead, he let his gaze drift down to where Nik’s hand still rested against the edge of his notebook, fingers ink-smudged at the tips from flipping through pages. His other hand rested against the counter, broad and steady.

For a moment, Price just looked.

Nik—mussed hair, soft t-shirt, relaxed posture, the slow, meticulous way he wrote out the grocery list, cross-referencing books, occasionally tapping his pen against his lip as he considered something.

He was stunning like this.

Price didn’t even think before he moved, stepping behind him, hands landing firmly on Nik’s shoulders as he leaned down, lips ghosting along the curve of his neck. “Y’know,” he murmured, voice low, lazy, “We could just stay in bed. Forget dinner. Just us. Right here.”

Nik exhaled a soft laugh, but Price felt the way his shoulders relaxed slightly under his touch. “Tempting,” he admitted, setting the pen down, tilting his head just slightly before turning around to face Price.

Price took the opening, settling in between Nik’s muscular thighs, trailing his mouth along the warm skin of his neck and collarbones.

Nik hummed, his hands sturdy, warm, and large, smoothed over Price’s sides, settling firmly against his stomach.

Price barely had time to register it before Nik squeezed gently, thumbs pressing into the muscle and fat there, slow, almost absentminded. Price looked down and it was absolutely unfair how much of his broad frame Nik’s hands could hold. Nik’s hands traveled up then back down, mapping out his torso, deliberately slow before pausing just under his sternum. “But you need to eat,” he said, low and thoughtful. “I have to fuel my Captain properly.” A pause. “For missions, of course.”

Price scoffed, shifting, just enough for Nik’s hands to dip slightly lower. “Sure it’s just for missions?”

“Of course.” Nik’s hands suddenly shifted, catching Price off guard as his grip tightened around his waist. “Which is why we need to get going, lyubov moya.”

Before Price could argue again, Nik moved.

One second, Price was standing there, digging his heels in, perfectly content to make a case for staying right where they were—the next, he was slung over Nik’s shoulder, the world tilting with an undignified oof as Nik hoisted him up in one clean motion.

“Nik—put me the fuck down—”

“Time to get dressed,” Nik said easily, completely unfazed as he carried Price towards the bedroom. “Before you try to seduce me out of feeding you.”

Price’s bark of laughter nearly drowned out Nik’s own amused huff. He let his head drop against Nik’s back, the warmth of him grounding in a way that was entirely unfair. His body fit against Nik’s like it belonged there, like being carried around by this man was the most natural thing in the world. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

Nik chuckled, patting Price’s arse for good measure. “You love it.”

And Price couldn’t exactly argue against that now could he?

By the time Nik finally set him down in the bedroom, Price was already plotting revenge. He landed on his feet with a slight stumble, quickly regaining his balance as he shot Nik a sharp look.

"You’ve got some nerve, Nik."

Nik, utterly unbothered, simply stretched his arms over his head, smirking. "I have no idea what you mean, Captain."

Price narrowed his eyes, but he could feel the corners of his mouth twitching. He wouldn’t give Nik the satisfaction of a grin—not yet, anyway. Instead, he stepped past him, tugging open the wardrobe and rummaging through the clothes inside. His muscles still ached in that pleasant way, every movement a quiet reminder of the hours spent tangled up in each other earlier. A reminder that if he played his cards right, he could make this evening end the same way.

Nik, for his part, seemed to sense the shift in mood because he hummed low in his throat, stepping up behind Price.

"Here," Nik said, reaching past him, his fingers grazing Price’s waist in a way that felt entirely intentional. "Wear this."

Price glanced down at what Nik had pulled out—a dark jumper, one of the nicer ones, along with a jacket to match. It was a small thing, but the fact that Nik had picked out his clothes made something warm settle in his chest.

"You dressing me now?" Price mused, eyebrow raising.

Nik grinned. "If I let you do it yourself, you would wear something that makes you look like you just got out of bed."

Price scoffed but took the clothes anyway, stepping into them without further protest. The fabric was soft, still carrying the faintest trace of Nik’s cologne from where it had been folded beside his things.

Nik, meanwhile, had already changed. Nothing particularly fancy—just a well-fitted sweater and a comfortable coat—but somehow, the bastard always looked effortlessly put together.

"Not bad," Nik said, surveying Price with an approving nod.

Price huffed, pulling on his boots before running a hand through his hair once more. "You act like I can’t clean up well."

Nik leaned in slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "No, I just prefer you without clothes,"

Price rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the flush creeping up his neck as he stepped past Nik and towards the door. "Come on, let’s get this over with, and maybe you can make good on that."

Nik’s chuckle followed him down the hall, the sound rich and warm.

---

The air outside was crisp, the kind that nipped at any exposed skin but wasn’t quite cold enough to be uncomfortable. The lingering warmth of the day still clung to the pavement, the last hints of sunlight casting a soft, golden hue over the city streets.

Price tugged his jacket tighter around himself, glancing sideways at Nik. The bastard looked entirely unbothered by the cold, walking with the kind of confidence that made it look like he belonged anywhere he went.

The streets were busy without feeling overcrowded—just enough people milling about to fill the space with a low hum of conversation. A street vendor nearby called out cheerfully, the smell of roasted chestnuts wafting through the air, mingling with the faint trace of coffee from a café a few doors down. The city was alive, but in a way that felt comfortable, familiar.

Nik’s eyes flicked over to him, lingering just a second too long.

"What?" Price asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nik shrugged, expression infuriatingly neutral. "Nothing."

Price huffed but let it slide, shoving his hands into his pockets as they made their way towards the market.

As they stepped through the doors, the market was much warmer than the cool air outside, the scent of fresh produce, baked goods, and slow-cooked meats filling the air in a way that made Price’s stomach tighten in anticipation. Overhead, bright lights illuminated the aisles and different stalls, casting a soft glow over neatly arranged displays of fruits, vegetables, and cuts of meat lined up behind glass.

Nik, as always, moved with purpose.

Price watched, amused, as Nik examined the butcher’s selection with the kind of scrutiny he usually reserved for high-value targets.

"Bloody hell," Price murmured, arms crossing over his chest. "Forget how much you like running this like an op."

Nik didn’t even glance up. "You would rather I pick at random?"

"I’d rather not starve while you analyse every cut of meat in the shop."

Nik ignored him, murmuring something in Russian to the butcher as he pointed out his selections.

Price took this as his opportunity.

With Nik distracted, he veered off toward a nearby aisle, his gaze landing on something far more important than whatever ‘perfect cut’ Nik was debating over.

The snack aisle.

Nik would argue he didn’t need it. Nik would insist that the tactical addition of biscuits, crisps, and maybe a pack of chocolate-covered raisins was unnecessary.

Price disagreed.

He had just slipped the first pack of crisps into the basket when a voice came from behind him.

"John."

He turned slowly, already knowing exactly what he was about to be scolded for.

Nik, holding the basket, gestured with his chin. "What is this?"

Price raised a brow. "Tactical addition."

Nik sighed. The kind of exasperated sigh that said ‘I love you, but you’re impossible.’ "We are not here for this."

"You say that," Price said, casually adding another pack. "But I say we plan ahead."

Nik gave him a flat look before just shaking his head and walking off, mumbling something about impossible Englishmen.

Price, smug, grabbed another pack for good measure.

---

The queue moved quickly, and Price busied himself by checking over the total as the cashier scanned their produce, while Nik loaded their groceries into some bags.

The cashier—an older woman with sharp eyes and an easy smile—had been chatting amicably, making the usual small talk about their dinner plans.

Nik, ever the charmer, engaged just enough to be polite, while Price mostly let him handle it.

And then it happened.

"How long have you and your husband been together?" the cashier asked, smiling warmly as she handed Nik the receipt.

Price stalled out completely.

His fingers, mid-reach for the bags, twitched ever so slightly.

Nik, the absolute menace, didn’t even blink.

"Mm," Nik hummed nonchalantly, tucking the receipt into his pocket. "A while."

Price blue-screened.

His brain short-circuited so hard that, for a terrifying moment, he genuinely thought he might have forgotten a major life event.

Husbands?

Husbands?

What?

The cashier, utterly oblivious to the existential crisis she had just triggered, simply smiled at them both.

"That’s sweet. Special occasion tonight?" she asked, still cheerfully beaming.

Nik smirked. "Ah, something like that."

Price felt himself buffering.

His heart had definitely skipped a beat—he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. His face burned, warmth creeping up the back of his neck, and yet his entire body had forgotten how to function.

Nik, ever the bastard, just nudged him.

"What do you think, mishka?"

Price panicked. His mouth opened. Nothing came out. His jaw worked uselessly before he let out a strangled sound, something between a grunt and a choked cough.

The cashier, completely misinterpreting his silence, laughed lightly. "Oh, don’t tell me he forgot it's your anniversary or something!"

Nik made a quiet, amused sound. "No, no. He would not forget."

Price was going to keel over.

"Right, well—" he finally managed to get out, clearing his throat as he straightened his shoulders. His voice came out gruff, far too casual for the absolute existential crisis happening in real-time behind his eyes. "Best get these home before it gets too dark, yeah?"

The cashier beamed. "Of course! You two have a lovely night."

Nik just smirked, tipping his head. "You as well."

Price all but shoved the trolley forward, practically marching them out of the store as Nik strolled lazily beside him, completely at ease.

They walked in silence for about half a block before Nik finally chuckled.

"You alright, captain?"

Price exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face as they slowed at a crossing.

"She called us husbands," he muttered, as if needing confirmation that it had actually happened.

"Mhm," Nik hummed, not the least bit bothered. "She did."

Price blinked at him, the weight of that settling in his chest in a way he hadn't quite expected.

Nik was watching him, eyes dark and warm, amusement still curling at the edges of his lips.

"You bastard," Price hissed, his ears burning.

Nik chuckled, slinging an arm around his shoulders, utterly relaxed. "You looked so shocked, I did not want to ruin her fun."

Price let out a strangled noise. "Her fun? Nik, she—she thought we were married."

"And?"

And?

Price stared at him. "That’s—Nik, that’s not—"

Nik raised an eyebrow. "Not what?"

Price’s mouth opened. Then closed. His brain refused to supply a proper answer. Nik just smirked, squeezed Price’s shoulder, and leaned in slightly.

"Something to think about, no?"

Price made another strangled noise as they walked home, choosing resolutely to think about that later.

The cold air hit again the moment they stepped outside, a stark contrast to the warmth of the shop. Price adjusted his grip on the trolley, letting Nik guide them down the pavement at an easy pace. The streets had quieted just slightly as the sky darkened, golden hues giving way to the deep blues of early evening.

The city had settled into that familiar lull—lights flickering on in shop windows, the occasional chatter of people heading home, the distant hum of a bus engine groaning as it pulled to a stop nearby. The smell of roasting meat and something fried drifted out from a takeaway shop down the road, mingling with the crispness of the evening air.

Nik had one hand tucked into his coat pocket, the other gripping one of the bags, walking with that same relaxed confidence. Price, still reeling slightly from the exchange in the shop, kept stealing glances at him out of the corner of his eye.

Nik looked entirely at ease, as if the cold didn’t touch him, as if he had all the time in the world to stroll back without a care. His gaze flicked lazily over their surroundings, sharp but unhurried, and Price had the distinct feeling that if anything out of place happened, Nik would clock it before he even had the chance to notice. Years of instinct, second nature now.

“You’re quiet,” Nik observed, voice low but easy.

Price exhaled, shoving his free hand deeper into his coat pocket. “Long day.”

Nik hummed, unconvinced. “Mm. And yet, you still had enough energy to sneak half the shop’s snack aisle into our basket.”

Price smirked. “Tactical additions.”

Nik huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, but there was something fond in the way he did it.

“What about you?” Price asked, tipping his chin toward him. “What have you been working on lately? Haven’t seen you buried in your schematics in a while.”

Nik shot him a sidelong glance. “You are suddenly interested in my engineering?”

Price shrugged. “I like to know what you’re tinkering with. Especially if it means you’re gonna disappear under that helicopter for hours again.”

Nik chuckled. “You sound jealous.”

“Not jealous,” Price muttered, shifting his weight as they walked. “Just making sure I don’t have to drag you out of there when you forget to eat.”

Nik clicked his tongue, his smirk deepening. “You do that anyway, lyubov moya.”

Price grumbled something under his breath, but Nik only looked more amused.

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the sounds of the city filling the space between them—car tyres rolling over damp pavement, the distant murmur of voices as people stepped out of pubs, the rhythmic tap of their boots against the concrete.

“And you?” Nik finally asked. “Have you been reading anything good lately?”

Price scoffed. “You’re the one with the library in the flat.”

Nik smirked. “Yes. And yet, you still steal my books. So, which one?”

Price didn’t bother denying it. Instead, he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, thinking. “Been picking through that history book you left on the table.”

Nik raised a brow. “The one on Cold War espionage?”

“Mhm.” Price took a slow breath, his shoulders rolling slightly. “A bit dry in parts, but it’s interesting. Bastards were creative, I’ll give ‘em that.”

Nik huffed. “That is one way to put it.”

They turned the final corner, the sight of their building coming into view ahead. The golden light from the windows made the place look warmer, more inviting, like it had been waiting for them to come home.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, the warmth of home wrapped around Price again—the lingering smell of coffee from earlier, the faintest traces of Nik’s cologne that always seemed to cling to the walls, the soft hum of the heating as it kicked on to ward off the night chill.

Nik wasted no time unloading the bags, moving through the kitchen with that same quiet efficiency. Price hung back for a moment, watching him, watching the way he moved like he belonged here in every sense of the word.

Nik’s hands moved without hesitation, pulling out ingredients with the same kind of precision he used when handling weapons. The roll of his shoulders as he reached for the cutting board, the way he shifted his weight slightly as he inspected the vegetables—it was all so calculated, so deliberate. Price had seen him work a battlefield with that same sharp focus, but here, in their kitchen, it softened just enough to make something in Price’s chest clench.

He shook himself from the thought, stepping in to help.

Nik glanced at him, lips twitching. “You sure you would rather not sit? You have done so much work today.”

Price snorted, nudging him with his shoulder. “Piss off. You still need me.”

Nik made a thoughtful noise, watching as Price began stacking the vegetables onto the counter. “Mm. Suppose I do.”

The words landed heavier than they should have. Not in a bad way—just in a way that made Price’s fingers still slightly before reaching for the knife. It was simple, the way Nik said it. Natural. Easy. A statement of fact.

The sound of a bottle uncapping had him glancing up just in time to see Nik pouring them both a drink, setting a glass beside him before taking a slow sip from his own. The rich, amber scent of whiskey filled the air, blending with the first hints of butter melting in the pan.

"I thought you wanted to help, Captain?" Nik teased, one eyebrow raised as he stirred the sizzling garlic.

Price hummed, swirling his glass. "Reckon I could be convinced to get my hands dirty."

Nik huffed a laugh, nudging a knife and a few tomatoes toward him. "Then you can cut these."

Price rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, taking a steady sip of his drink before setting to work. The kitchen filled with the familiar, rhythmic sounds of cooking—the sizzle of oil, the scrape of a knife against the cutting board, the low, absentminded hum of Nik’s voice as he worked.

They had done this countless times before, and yet, there was something about it tonight that settled differently in Price’s bones. Maybe it was the warmth of the whiskey, maybe it was the way Nik had looked at him earlier, or maybe it was just the quiet understanding that filled the air between them, the kind of thing that didn’t need words.

As they worked, Price’s hand brushed against Nik’s—once, twice—until finally, instead of pulling away, Nik let his fingers linger for a moment, warm and steady. It was such a small thing, but it made Price’s breath hitch slightly, made something shift under his ribs in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

Nik smirked like he had noticed, but didn’t comment.

That was the thing about Nik—he always noticed. He saw the way Price had been watching him, saw the way his shoulders had eased the moment they stepped back into the flat. He saw everything, and he never needed to say a word.

The scent of seared steak filled the kitchen as Nik flipped the meat with practiced ease, the edges crisping into something golden and perfect.

"Here," Nik said suddenly, holding out a spoon with a careful dollop of the sauce he’d been reducing. "Try."

Price leaned in, the deep, savoury richness hitting his tongue immediately—just the right balance of heat, something smoky, something that lingered.

Nik watched him expectantly.

Price swallowed, licking his lips. "Not bad."

Nik huffed a quiet laugh. "You’re impossible to impress."

"Hard to be impressed when everything you make is good," Price murmured.

Nik took a spoonful for himself, closing his eyes as he tasted it. The satisfied noise he made was absolutely sinful and completely exaggerated yet it still sent a sharp jolt down Price’s spine all the same.

Price inhaled slowly, steadying himself. "You’re doing that on purpose."

Nik cracked an eye open, all innocence. "Doing what?"

Price shook his head, biting down on a grin. "Nothing."

Nik’s smirk lingered as he turned back to the stove, his hands moving with the same practiced ease that Price had seen on countless occasions. It was a kind of control that translated across everything Nik did—whether he was cooking, fixing his helo, or handling a rifle, he always worked with the same quiet, unshakable confidence.

Price leaned against the counter, pretending to busy himself with his drink, but he couldn’t help watching Nik move. The way the muscles in his forearms flexed as he reached for the salt, the way his fingers tapped absently against the pan as he waited for the sauce to thicken.

By the time the steak was resting and the last of the side dishes were plated, the kitchen had turned comfortably warm. The steam from the food curled into the air, rich with the scent of butter and garlic and something deeper.

Nik grabbed the plates, nodding toward the table. "Go sit."

Price snorted. "What, you think I need an invitation?"

Nik smirked. "I think you will stand there all night staring at me otherwise."

Price opened his mouth to argue, but—well. Nik wasn’t entirely wrong, was he? He rolled his eyes instead, shoving down the warmth creeping up the back of his neck before moving toward the table.

The dining table was cluttered, as it always was—scattered books, half-folded newspapers, a notepad with Nik’s half-finished schematics. Price swept a few things aside, making room as Nik placed their plates down with practiced ease.

They sat across from each other, mismatched chairs tucked around the wooden table, the meal between them still steaming.

Nik had gone all out, as usual. The steak had a perfect golden crust, sliced thick and resting beneath a drizzle of sauce, while the roasted garlic mash sat beside it in neat, whipped swirls. The salad was a simple contrast—fresh tomatoes, crisp greens, a light dressing that cut through the richness of everything else. It looked damn near perfect.

Price grabbed his fork, giving Nik an approving nod. "If this is your idea of ‘fueling’ me, I might let you keep doin’ it."

Nik hummed, already cutting into his own steak. "Good. Would be a shame if you wasted all my effort."

They dug in, exchanging only a few murmured remarks between bites.

The first mouthful melted against Price’s tongue, the perfect blend of smokiness, richness, and just a hint of heat from whatever Nik had worked into the sauce. It was the kind of meal that slowed a conversation, made them pause between words just to enjoy it properly.

Price huffed quietly. "You really are too good."

Nik raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Price gestured with his fork. "Everything you make, it tastes too good. Makes it hard to pretend I can cook better."

Nik smirked, sipping his drink. "That is because you cannot cook better, mishka."

Price scoffed but didn’t argue.

After the last plate was scraped clean, Price made a move to clean up, rolling his shoulders as he reached for the dishes.

Nik, predictably, was already stepping in.

"I’ve got it," Nik said, nudging him towards the living room. "Go sit. I’ll bring you tea when I’m done."

Price scoffed. "What, you think I can’t wash a few plates?"

"I think," Nik said, placing a firm hand against his back and steering him towards the couch, "you need to let me take care of you every once in a while."

Something in Price’s chest twisted slightly at that, the quiet certainty in Nik’s voice settling somewhere deeper than he expected. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way Nik said them. No hesitation. No question about it. Just the simple fact that he would take care of Price, whether Price let him or not.

Price exhaled sharply, but he let himself be moved, sinking into the couch with a quiet grunt, one arm draped over the back as he listened to the sounds of Nik cleaning up in the kitchen.

The warmth of the flat, the weight of a good meal, the slow buzz of whiskey still lingering in his veins—it all made his eyelids feel heavier than he realised. He let his head tip back slightly, blinking slow, feeling the faintest pull of exhaustion settle into his limbs.

Nik moved around in the kitchen with practiced ease, the soft clink of plates and the gentle rush of water filling the space. After a few minutes, the sound of a kettle boiling replaced it, the low whistle blending into the soft hum of the heating system kicking on.

Price barely registered the exact moment Nik joined him, just the quiet shift of the couch as Nik settled beside him, his large hands wrapped around a mug.

He blinked down at it, fingers curling around the ceramic. The steam rose lazily from the surface, the faint and familiar scent of honey and black tea curling into the air between them.

Nik scooted closer towards Price and wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, slowly guiding his head to Nik’s warm shoulder with his palm. Price could feel Nik’s fingers softly scratching at his scalp around his temple, easing the tension there. Price murmured something—something he meant to be grateful, but it came out more like a tired grumble.

Nik chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Sleep, lyubov moya."

Price barely managed a small smile before the warmth of Nik underneath him, the steady sound of his breathing, and the gentle, absentminded stroke of his fingers through his hair pulled him under completely.

There was no need to fight it. No need to overthink anything. Not when Nik was here, solid and steady, warmth radiating from his side like a quiet promise.

Safe. That was what this was. That was what Nik had become.

Price let his body sink into it, let himself be drawn into the deep, dreamless pull of sleep, his last conscious thought a simple one—

Nik. Always Nik.

[mountedeverest]

BUCKTOMMY SKI PATROL AU | DRABBLE ⛷️

@geddyqueer this is your fault, I hope u like it

“Who the hell is that?”

Eddie’s ears perked up. In between two bites of his scone, Eddie’s eyes followed Buck’s, who was himself looking at the new guy smiling and shaking hands with Bobby. The guy was tall, square-like from his shoulders to his jaw down to the shape of his hands. He was wearing an old black Helly Hansen bib padded at the knees and a chest pack with a radio. He had on a worn dark blue and orange cap that said 'Palisades Tahoe HELIVAC'. 

Eddie had met him a couple of weeks ago – Buck was off-shift for a freeride competition he was patrolling in Sugarloaf – and they’d done a cliffside rescue that needed a short-haul air evac and they’d become fast friends. Nice guy, liked cars and muay thai, skied 40+ degree inclines like it was friggin nothin.

“Ah yeah that’s Tommy, he does air support with CALSTAR. He used to patrol full-time here in his twenties, I think he’s coming back? Pretty chill dude.” Eddie said, matter-of-factly.

Buck looked miffed. “How come you know so much about him?”

Eddie snorted through his mustache, Buck was so easily threatened. He’d done the same to him when they’d first met, so mortally afraid of being replaced all the time he had to puff up his chest in faux-male-dominance any time a remotely cool guy came along. “Chill out, Buck. He’s not taking your spot, besides there’s never enough of us on the mountain anyways.”

“I don’t know, something’s shady about this Eddie, I mean w– why would you quit being a pilot for this? A free ski pass? I don’t think so.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “CALSTAR is shift work dumbass. Like firefighters. He does like seven days a month or something like that.”

Realization dawned on Buck’s face as he made a silent oh of understanding when behind him, Bobby called everyone to attention for the morning debrief. 

“Heyyy, Tommy’s here! Hey, Tommy!” Chim called, walking in coffee in hand, plopping himself down right next to Buck.

Buck looked at Chim wearing a betrayed look on his face, which the latter didn’t even seem to notice. “He was here when I started waaay back. Tommy’s the one who got me into tele actually.”

“Alright folks! It’s another bright and sunny day in California and we’ve got multiple events on the mountain today.” Bobby started. Next to him, Tommy stood, hands behind his back listening intently. “Alpine: there’s a slalom down Dance Floor, whole run is cut off from junction to junction for the racing team. Lakeview chairlift is open but the avvy risk is considerable today so we need to monitor the out-of-bounds and change the placard up at the boundary. Sherwood and Ward Peak are also open but once again, there is a risk today and there will be smartasses out there that we’ll need to rescue.” Everybody let out a chuckle, even Tommy, briefly flashing his pearly whites. “Alright, that’s it for Alpine. Tommy, wanna help me out for Palisades?”

Tommy stepped forward. “Thanks Bobby. Um, a lot of you know me already, I’ll be stepping in for Gerrard as Assisting Patrol Chief who I believe has gone on overdue retirement.” Somebody uttered a won’t be missed! which earned another chuckle from the crowd. “Here’s the rundown for Palisades: KT-22 and the Base2Base are still closed for repairs. The bowl up Exhibition is still open, though. There’s a competition up at Gold Coast Park, we’ll need a sled and at least 4 standbys over there for the whole day.”

As Tommy listed off the various needs for Palisades, Buck couldn’t help but stare, quietly stewing about this guy that everyone seemed to know but him. He was his new boss? Sure, he seemed better than the last guy, wasn’t too hard to beat, but still. Something rubbed Buck the wrong way, something in the set of his shoulders, or the cut of his teeth, or the cleft in his chin, Buck still couldn’t tell.

“–need park experience. Evan? I’m told you’re the one to talk to?” Tommy spoke, breaking Buck out of his bubble.

“Uhh, uh yeah park experience, what? What do you, uhh, n-need me for?” Buck stammered.

“I’m going up to oversee the competition in Gold Coast, I’d like a second patroller with park experience in case I have to leave with a patient.” Tommy said. He seemed… kind, soft-spoken. For a guy that huge, it felt sort of weirdly satisfying. 

“Uh yeah, um. Eddie and Albert have done some park too if-if you need more of, uh, us.” 

“Good idea, Evan. I’m posting you guys further down by the 45-footer.” Tommy said to Eddie and Albert. Buck looked at his best friend, slight panic in his eyes at being so close but so apart for their daily assignment, like a puppy with separation anxiety. Anxiety that had nothing to do with the fact that he was going to be riding his new boss’s side all day long. Of course not. Eddie just shrugged apologetically.

Oh well.

—

“Sorry about back there, singling you out like that. I hear you prefer ‘Buck’?” Tommy said, putting on his ski boots next to Buck.

“Oh uh, no. No, Evan is fine.” 

“Okay then, Evan.” Tommy said with a soft smile. “You snowboard or ski?” Tommy asked.

“I-I do both.” Buck answered. The air felt charged somewhat. Tommy was being perfectly cordial but Buck couldn’t shake the feeling there was a layer under this.

“Huh. I tried snowboarding a couple of times but I was never any good. Guess I’m strictly a skier.”

A silence.

“I prefer skiing, I-I mean, I’m better at– I started with skiing. I, uh, I used to race.” Buck tried to supply.

“Yeah? So did I, although I guess it must’ve looked a little different back then.” Tommy answered back, still smiling softly.

The easy banter calmed Buck down somewhat. Tommy was nice, why was he so worked up over him before? The pipeline from attack dog to puppy was real, and though Buck would never admit it, he was an absolute golden retriever when it came to other people: bark first, and then never leave their side. 

Which is how a day he at first dreaded became one of the nicest in a long while. While posted, Buck and Tommy chatted about racing, Buck’s stint doing freestyle, knee injuries and patrolling. All while commenting on the tricks the contestants were executing. When Tommy called out a cork 7 mute – “I’m no expert, I just watch RedBull TV a lot.” – Buck might’ve fallen a little bit in love.

At the end of the day, they all met up at the bar at the request of one Chim Han, who absolutely needed to know everything that was up with Tommy lately and coincidentally was also very thirsty. Hen also had about a million questions, which were halted when Denny came in, back from his day of training, shin pads and helmet still on. There was an urgent need for hot chocolate, it seemed.

“That’s your kid?” Tommy said, awestruck. “He was just a baby when I left.”

“Yup, that’s my little champ, giving his mamas a fright when he goes and hits all those gates.” Hen looked so fond.

“That’s incredible, you must be so proud.” Tommy beamed.

“We are.” Hen said with a dopey grin. “But what about you? Are you still seeing that girl? The one who didn’t ski and we’ve never met?”

“Uh, no, uhh. I’ve moved on. Not seeing anyone currently.” Tommy said, a small grin on his face. Buck could’ve sworn Tommy looked at him when he said it, a fraction of a second before taking a gulp of his beer. And it seemed like Hen caught it too, but if she did, she said nothing of it.

-x-

TBC pleeeeease ask me about my headcannons for this story I am a ski girlie I have a chairlift tattooed on my arm

[zyonicorn]

Click to Start Chatting

Many months ago, I met my girlfriend through an app called “V-loop”. It was an app for meeting new people, and there was a function for you to follow people you liked and chat with them, though the requirement was that the other person had to follow you too.

The first time I saw her profile, I was hesitating if I should follow her or not, but she's literally my type. “Let’s just give it a try.” I stared at the “@_zyozyo/ 106 followers/ 5 following” for a few seconds, then clicked “follow” eventually.

I don't even know if she liked girls, all I knew was her name, Jihyo, which kept lingering in my mind. She was so gorgeous, every picture seemed like a piece of art, that I didn't even deserve to savor. 

“Click to start chatting”

It was my third time checking the chat session in an hour, my heart skipped a beat when I saw the line, indicating she followed me back.

“Hey there! Are you y/n?”

Yes! Nice to meet you 🫣

“Why’d you follow me?”

Cuz you look easy to get along with :)

“I see.. You’re cute”

Her direct expression made you don't know how to answer for a moment.

Thanks..?

The chat continued. The two of you started to share about your daily lives, people you've met, what you had for lunch. In just a week, you got closer to Jihyo that she told you about her work, stress, and some personal matters.

“Y/n.. I'm pretty frustrated lately.”

What’s wrong??

Everything sounded normal, just like how you usually chat with her.

“I don't know if I should tell you but..”

“What I meant by ‘frustrated’ is sexually.”

Oh um, but why are you telling me about this?

“I want you to solve it for me.”

Though you were really, really shocked by her straightforward words, you still replied right away, just to hide the fact that you were panicking, staring at the screen while your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

I mean, why me? We met online and you’ll never know who I actually am.

There are many scams nowadays, and despite being shocked, you’re also worried about Jihyo.

“Cuz I know I can trust you. I have my reasons, just say yes or no.”

“Of course, I won't force you if you don't want to, it's my personal problem after all.”

She’s so thoughtful, that your heart pounds faster for her again.

Well, sure I can help you. But it's not as easy as it’s said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll book a hotel room and send you the address. All you have to do is go there and help me out.”

She sent you a link right away, booked tomorrow, a whole day. She doesn't sound nervous or embarrassed anymore, unlike you, who still not believe your type asked you out, for sex.

That night you barely slept, the only 3 hours of sleep, you had a dirty dream about Jihyo. You woke up at 6, found your underwear wet. “What the fuck…” you breathe out, without thinking much, you change quickly and have a shower.

The time she suggested was 8, at a cafe near the hotel, so the two of you can have a small chat and get to know each other.

“I’m over here, Jihyo-ssi!” you waved while tipping your toes, trying to maintain your smile and not faint from the beauty of the woman approaching in baggy jeans and a white ruffled top.

“Hey there!! Oh…” she suddenly stopped talking, looking up and down at you. You thought you looked messy, or maybe disappointing her because you looked different from the picture, so you quickly fixed your posture and pulled your shirt straight.

“What’s the matter?” you hesitated before asking, the woman’s bright confident expression seemed to soften a little. She looked back into your eyes and smiled kindly, your face exposing your nervousness. “Nothing, but you’re even cuter than I thought” she calmly said. 

You blushed at her words, which Jihyo noticed right away. She smiled even more that it pushed her cheeks up perfectly. 

“Alright, let’s go in.” her arm wrapped around your shoulder, while you blushed even harder from her warm touch. She helped you with your chair, then sat at your opposite. Looking at you, she asked “Do you want to drink something?” though you had mentally prepared for what would happen today already, you’re still shy about being in front of Jihyo.

“N-no, thanks. I’ve had my breakfast,” you responded. “Okay. Our check-in is at  9, so why don't we have a small talk first?” she started the topic. The chat between you two sounded just like how you chatted online. Her friendly tone eased your anxiety. 

The chat went well, she started to brush your leg with her shoes. Leaning closer to you across the table, she asked, “Why don't we head off to the hotel now? It’s almost time.” her smirk showed her excitement.

“Sure” You got up as she held your hand, like a normal couple, though you were too timid to hold her back until her fingers crossed yours.

On your 5 minutes way to the hotel, you started the conversation. “Don’t get me wrong but, have you done this many times before?” you asked after hesitating.

“Done what?” “Like- having sex with people you met online?” you asked, though it’s hard to say it out loud. “Oh honey, what makes you think that?” she looked surprised for a moment, but fixed her expression quickly. “I-I mean, you’re all calm from the start, I wonder if you’re experienced,” you explained yourself.

“I did have sex before, with my ex-boyfriend. But he never satisfied me. We broke up and I'm feeling empty. So I wanted to try it with a woman, then you showed up.” she said. You were kind of confused, are you that extraordinary? You never found yourself attractive. That's what you asked Jihyo, she replied, “You’re kind and caring. Have some confidence in yourself! I found it really comfortable to be with you.”

That's almost a confession, you thought. Maybe confidence is what you lack. The two of you stepped into the hotel hall. It was big and the atmosphere was peaceful. The receptionist handed Jihyo the key as she took care of everything. 

There’s a big window in the room, with a large bed for two. The fact that you’re having sex with this beautiful woman hit you suddenly. Your heart pounded faster and faster, you tried to hide your blush while bending over to take off your shoes. Jihyo was faster than you, she put her bag aside and sat on the edge of the bed.

She pats her side, signaling you to sit there. The bed was soft and clean, the sheet felt cold like your hands. “So.. Do you want to start?” “S-sure” you answered, but you have no idea how to do it. 

She smirked and leaned closer, her face hovering above yours. “Maybe I’ll begin first,” she whispered and tilted her head so she could kiss your lips. The first kiss was soft, like testing the water. You closed your eyes, feeling her moist lip on yours, slowly opening your mouth and her tongue slipped in smoothly. It was as hot as you imagined, your hands reached for her shirt to pull her closer. She smiled at your eagerness, as you get turned on more and more.

The sound of heavy breathing filled the room, along with the sound you and Jihyo’s mouths made. You sneaked your hand down to Jihyo’s crotch, another to her tit. Feeling the temperature passing through the clothes, unlike your cold hands, she seems to be hot.

“Can you take the lead?” she noticed that you relaxed a bit, then asked softly while pulling away. “So we’re starting right now?” you smirked. You've thought of pushing her into the bed directly, but you know it’s polite and necessary to ask, you’re the one pleasuring her today, anyway.

“Sure, if you can,” she said and pulled you into a kiss, more passionate than before. Her soft whimpers are leading you to release your need, you press her into the bed, straddling her while kissing. “Take those off,” you said. She pulled her shirt and blouse, and you took off her jeans, leaving her underwear on.

You gasped from seeing her boobs spring free, they’re bigger than they looked like when she was wearing her bra and the shirt. “How do you want me to please you?” you asked while drawing slow circles on her abs.

“Suck on my tits and finger me, I know you want it,” she smiled in anticipation, while you were still not moving your gaze away from her breasts. 

You leaned down and grabbed her tits with both hands, though you couldn't fully hold on them. Enveloping one of her nipples with your lips, she felt your hot breath fanning her skin and your cold hands at the same time, feeling the sensation while giving out soft whines.

She guides one of your hands to her abs, then underwear. You pressed into her clit through the fabric softly, making Jihyo moan even louder.

You moved to the side of her and sat up, playing with her chest with one hand and another rubbing her clothes clit. 

“You’re dripping,” you smirked and circled even faster, brushing her slit occasionally. “For you, love” her voice unsteady. Love? She just called me love? That name is melting you on the inside, but you have to act calm.

“Can I take it off?” you asked while reaching for the strap of her underwear. She immediately nodded. It was a white normal underwear, matching her bra. 

A string of juice connected the cloth and her pussy, you didn't expect she would be this “juicy”. You cut the string with your finger and playfully licked it. She looked at you staring at her pussy, “Taste it” her voice was soft, you didn't catch what she was saying- or rather you would say, you didn't believe what she was saying.

“Sorry?” you asked her to repeat. She said again, “Eat me.” This time you made sure you didn't hear her wrong. You’ve never licked a pussy, you don’t know how to make Jihyo comfortable with your mouth.

“Tell me if it hurts,” you still asked just in case. She nodded and closed her eyes, “don’t push yourself too much just because of me, love” she said. You took off your clothing, naked while your face hovered on Jihyo’s pussy. She was being so thoughtful, to be honest, just by chatting with her, you thought she would use you like a sex toy. But turns out she cares about your feelings too.

You lapped your hot tongue onto her clit, feeling your saliva dropping from the roof of your mouth. Jihyo curled her legs and let out a whimper. “Just go for it, baby. I can’t wait” She sounded weak, almost begging you. And of course, you would obey this perfect woman. 

You sucked her clit and folds into your mouth, her juice covering your lips. Jihyo’s mouth fell open, she gasped and exhaled heavily under your touch. She’s so sensitive that you wanted to tease her. You flicked your tongue on her clit and fanned your breath on her pussy.

“S-suck me just like how you did..” she spoke up and her fist clenched onto the hotel’s bed sheet.

You remember you’re here to satisfy Jihyo, so you decided to stop teasing her. You took her clit into your mouth, saliva mixed with her juice. It’s something you’ve never tasted before, tastier than anything else.

It’s time, you thought. Putting your tongue into her cunt, it was moist and warm. Her tight wall clenched, although your jaw was sore, you didn’t stop. You started to bob your your head, paying attention to Jihyo’s breathing.

“Hmph-” her noises sharp but short, legs bending uncontrollably. Her back started to arch, she held your head and tried to fuck your face. You kept yourself in place and licked her sweet spot, her moans getting denser and denser.

Her juice squeezed onto your face, some dropped into the sheet below. Her eyelid was half closed, she panted heavily.

You lay next to her, she hugged you and kissed your lips eagerly. You thought she would need some rest, but it was the complete opposite. You looked up, “what’s next?”

She stared into your eyes, lust and desire filled her gaze.

“Now let mommy treat you nice and well, as the payback for the wonderful work you’ve just done.”

Mommy? What does she mean? Your brain did not really register her words. But that doesn’t matter, she flipped you so now you’re on your stomach. Your juice oozed out from hearing her moans just now, making your crotch a mess.

She leaned onto you, her hot wet pussy right under your ass cheek. You felt Jihyo’s chest pressed onto your back as her hand moved slowly from your upper back to your ass, then your wet needy cunt, the trail of touch her fingertip left giving you a chill in your spine.

She rubbed your clit and folds forcefully, teasing around the entrance. Her delicate touches don't feel like it’s her first time with a woman. She knows everything you need, every bit of skin is caressed.

Her hand moved around your stomach and went under it, giving her a better angle to touch your pussy. It went between the bed and your skin, hot and moist, you don’t know if it’s her sweat or your slick.

She started to circle your clit ruthlessly, your muffled moans covered by the pillow that you buried your face in. You felt Jihyo starting to grind her pussy on the back of your thigh, slick coating your skin as pleasure builds in your body. 

 Her bare pussy grinding on your leg, she rocked her hips with desire, while working on your clit with her fingers. “Oh god you sound so good” she moans and praises every sound you make. Pressing your head into the pillow even more, you felt the suffocation. Mind blank, only the knot in your stomach slowly unraveling, and tied tight again every time she slow down to tease. 

Your head spins and cunt clenches as she circle her fingers. She noticed your moans and softened to tease. “L-let me cum-” You raised your head, didn't notice the tears on your face. Sweat stuck your hair on your face, making you look messy.

“Call me mommy” she commanded. Maybe it’s her “kink”, you obeyed her immediately. “M-mommy please” you breathed out.

She sped up her fingers, the sound of wetness sent to your ears. You felt like you were almost blacking out. 

The knot in your core seems to be releasing, slowly consuming the little sanity left in your mind. Your feet clasped Jihyo’s hand in between, your moans becoming denser, you felt like someone was holding onto your lungs, not letting you breathe. Jihyo’s voice was right next to your ear, your back arching up from time to time as you felt Jihyo speeding up on your thigh. “Fuck” you heard her faintly breathe out. She sounds angelic, you would love to keep fucking her just to hear her again.

“Hmph-!!” you squeezed your eyes shut, almost crying out of pleasure. The organisms washed through your body completely, Jihyo’s juice coated your thigh, she hugged you tight and continued to draw circles on your clit, until you have fully ridden out your climax.

She took her hand out, dripping with your water. You couldn't move at all, mind blank, vision blurred. The bed sheet was all wet, you felt Jihyo’s honey going down your flesh. You uncontrollably shivered, slick still slowly flowing out of your cunt.

In Jihyo’s eyes, your face is washed red, cum dripping, hair stuck onto your face because of your sweat and tears, your mouth slightly opened, heavily breathing, while you shivered hard.

Jihyo sucked the slick on her fingers, and cleaned you up with her mouth. You felt her tongue going from your thigh to your dripping pussy. She sucked on it a few times, you felt your sensitive cunt go through some tiny organisms as she licked you up.

She flipped you over, looking at you from above with a big smile on her face. “Messy” She kissed you as you pulled her into your body. Your words were still shaky, “I’ve never had such great sex ever” “I think I might be addicted.” 

She sat up and put her head onto her thigh, you’re now lying as Jihyo strokes your hair softly. “Then we should do this often.” She looked at you and said. You smiled, if you do this often, you think you might be ‘used up’ one day.

“Rest for a while. I’ll help you with the shower later.”

You fell asleep. She softly said to your ears, “Thank you.”

-

Pretty much rushed, I’m not satisfied with this fic but I don't want to keep you guys waiting :( sry for the low quality and the long waitttt

[late-to-the-party-81]

How are Ari and Angel spending Valentine's Day?

Talking Talking Happy Talk

AN: Thank you sweet nonnie for this ask. Here is a little snippet of their first Valentine’s together and follows on from The day after tomorrow.

This is unbeta’d so apologies if the tenses are all over the place.

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Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board by me.

Master list | Series Master List

Relationship: Ari Levinson x Female Reader (Angel)

Word Count: 850

CW: Mild Angst, passionate thoughts about Ari, Fluff and flirting.

You didn’t know why you were in such a panic, it was just another day after all. That’s what you tried to tell yourself, anyway, but your mind had other ideas. It was screaming at you that you ought to do something, some grand gesture because it was Valentine’s Day, but on the other hand, you’d only been dating for seven weeks. Was that too soon? Would Ari think you desperate if you did something romantic?

You’d gone back and forth on this several times over the past week. There were three — THREE — Valentine’s cards stuffed in your drawer, all with differing levels of romanticism to them. Yes, you could have actually asked Ari what he wanted to do, but you weren’t feeling brave enough — secure enough — for that yet. He’d given you so much already, being supportive and sweet, and most of all patient.

It’s not like you didn’t want to sleep with him. You did. You absolutely, really did. But at the same time, taking that next step just hadn’t felt right. Not so far anyway. Maybe it’s because you were enjoying the build-up — the anticipation. The kisses that went on and on, burning you up from the inside and melting you. The touches, both those deliberate and long-lasting, and the ones brief and accidental. Every one sent shivers running up your spine and left you yearning for more. There’d been dates out — to the movies, bowling, restaurants, the zoo — and evenings at home that were similar to the ones you’d had before, except now with more cuddles. There’d been a few more sleep overs as well — ones that had tested your resolve — but Ari had been a complete gentleman throughout them all. 

Only once had you felt the evidence of his desire for you, last week, when you’d been sitting on his lap and the kisses and touches had become so heated you thought you’d burst into flames. As soon as he’d realised, Ari had shifted you along his legs, back towards his knees and apologised for making you feel uncomfortable, but not for being aroused by you. You’d already known, albeit only in an abstract way up until that point, that Ari was attracted to you — he’d told you as much on many occasions — but this was the first time that you really knew. And it made you feel powerful. Sexy. Desirable. 

However, no matter how much of a quandary you were in, you had to get ready. Ari was coming over. Not because it was Valentine’s per se, but because it was Friday and for the last few weeks he’d been coming over to see you for a cosy night in at the end of the working week. A chance for both of you to unwind, he’d said. To relax and reconnect ahead of the weekend.

You moved into your bedroom and observed yourself in the mirror. Should you change your clothes? Dress a little nicer? You shook your head at the absurdity of your wandering thoughts. What was an evening of relaxing for, if it wasn’t for wearing yoga pants and a baggy hoodie (that might have once belonged to your giant of a boyfriend)?

The familiar knock was welcome when it came, and you opened your door with a smile, only to come face to face with a massive bunch of flowers. A giggle wormed its way up your throat. “Are you under there, Ari?” A multitude of pink and red roses, intermingled with baby’s breath, moved to the side to reveal Ari’s broad grin.

“Too much?” 

You shook your head, your lower lip pulled between your teeth. “No. They’re perfect.” You man-handled the flowers from Ari so he could come and shed his coat, wondering if you had enough vases in your apartment to contain them all. As you stood by your sink, trimming the stems, you felt Ari’s arms wrap around your waist and nuzzle at your hair.

“I’m glad you like them, Angel. I couldn’t let the day go unmarked, but I was worried that it would be too much, too soon.”

You put down the scissors and turned in his embrace, brushing a lock of golden brown hair behind his ear. “You were unsure as well?” you questioned “I’ve got a selection of cards in my drawer because I wanted to get you one, but kept questioning how sentimental it should be.”

Ari chuckled and dropped a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Maybe both of us should have been better at talking to the other? I’ve been on tenterhooks all week, wondering if this was the right gesture, too much or not enough.”

“You could never be either of those things. You’re as perfect as those flowers.”

“And you, sweetheart, should never worry about not hitting the right amount of sentimentality.”

“Flatter,” you teased, moving up onto your toes and leaning in.

“Where will it get me?” he murmured as his lips came down on your own, effectively stopping you from responding. However, it didn’t stop you thinking that very soon, it would get him everywhere.

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

@peaches1958 @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive,

@goldylions, @crayongirl-linz, @nicoline1998enilocin, @king814318,

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[otaku553]

Luffy week day 7:

Free prompt: Sunrise

Happy birthday, Luffy :)

[awkward-parabuteo]

A little snack to conclude the season 🐭

[the-alan-price-combo]

60 years ago - on November 16th, 1964, the Animals recorded "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood"!! 🐾✨️

[confetti-critter]

The night is young and I am free to do whatever my heart desires but unfortunately I have once again found myself trapped in the Time Prison and so I

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

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