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montrealmadison · 11 months ago

Note

I'd love to read a happy snuggly fic about Bitty & Jack.

Number #15 (for Bitty 😉)

thank you for this delightful prompt! whenever i get stuck on where to start with jack and bitty, i always revert to them snuggling. this was a really nice excuse to polish a scene that i've had kicking around my WIP folder forever. hope it's okay that the boys took it in a, shall we say, steamy direction. ❤️

15. zimbits + happy snuggly vibes + I Love You Always Forever by Betty Who for @jadedmandarin81

You’ve got the most unbelievable blue eyes I’ve ever seen You’ve got me almost melting away

Hot morning sun on his shoulders, a big, hot hand on the small of his back, and Bitty has no clue where he is.

He blinks, and—right. His childhood bedroom, sometime after sunrise: lemon-yellow walls, a mess of posters, crisp white curtains hanging limp from the humidity. It can’t be very late, because Coach’s morning shower isn’t whining through the walls yet. July fifth dawns the same every blessed year: Mama having a lie-in, Coach firing up the truck, long lazy days of few words and a blue sky and a beer that Bitty's too young to be drinking. Lord, what he wouldn’t give to be fifteen and at the lake right now, cold water closing over his head.

He brings himself slowly back to earth by wishing really hard that the Olympic-sized rink behind Michelle Kwan’s paper smile would just sort of… replace the air conditioner they haven’t been able to afford to fix for years. As it stands, he’s fucking hot.

Jack, for all that he’s peaceful in sleep, is not helping. Bitty’s cheek is stuck to his bare chest, his massive thighs are trapping Bitty’s calves, and every inch of bare skin in between is tacky and gross. The Jack of his dreams is so tangled up with the call of the ice that he feels like he should be cold by default. Jack should be white and gray and blue; frosted winter mornings, distant sun, minty breath. The Jack of reality is—well, he’s beautiful, dark sweeping lashes and all that, but he’s just as sweaty as Bitty is and his breath definitely does not smell like mint.

Bitty doesn’t mind.

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He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. From the moment they’d locked eyes at baggage claim, this weekend has been the weirdest song and dance: Bitty letting Jack into his life inch by inch, arranging the pieces of his soul for approval. Here’s where I went to high school. Here’s our family dinner table. Here’s my truck bed. Let’s make out. In return, apparently, he gets to have this now: his college hockey captain, on his back in Bitty’s bed, breathing slow and deep and measured with his hand skimming Bitty’s ass.

That’s my best friend. The thought makes Bitty feel floaty and weird. He knows Jack’s gym schedule and the slant of his real smile and what he eats for breakfast, but he’s only seen him sleep once: the morning of graduation, when they’d climbed up to the roof of Faber and Bitty had woken up on Jack’s shoulder, in the folds of a jacket that smelled like him.

He hadn’t let himself believe, even then, that they might be more. After all, the thing about Jack is that sooner or later he’s always stopped being Jack and turned back into Jack Zimmermann, a living legend in the shape of a teammate. Bitty had pretended it was easy, once, not to lean into the intimacy of knowing just a little more than everyone else. It feels new and exhilarating and dangerous for him to get to see Jack like this now, all pretenses abandoned, one of his wildest fantasies come to life.

Jack chooses that moment to stir, like he can hear Bitty’s thoughts shouting his name. Bitty feels the flush rising in his cheeks, embarrassed that Jack’s caught him staring—but Jack doesn’t seem to mind, just lets out a long satisfied breath through his nose and murmurs, morning-low, “Bittle.”

Lord, but that makes something pop in Bitty’s gut and then fizzle into butterflies. Before last night he’d never even really been kissed before, and now—and now. His senses are overloaded, filled with the flash-fire knowledge that at long last someone else wants this as badly as he does.

“Jack,” he says, sure that his morning voice must sound squeaky and childish in comparison.

But Jack’s eyes on his face are sleepy dark blue, weighty with something that looks a hell of a lot like approval. Bitty follows the slow roll of Jack’s Adam’s apple so he won’t do something really embarrassing, like explode and die.

“Bitty,” Jack sighs again. Jesus Christ. There go Bitty’s chances of getting out of this bed alive. “‘S’hot.”

“Yes,” Bitty grumps, but neither of them make a move to separate. That self-satisfied thing flashes through him again. Jack is, apparently, so into this, into him; the bruises to prove it are probably already darkening low on his belly and hips. Being watched this way makes Bitty feel slightly insane, drunk with power.

“I like this,” Jack says. His voice rumbles, far-off thunder. Bitty thinks about flash floods, dams breaking, the crackshot sound of shattering ice.

“What?”

“Waking up with you.”

There’s the sincerity that’s been driving Bitty wild all weekend. He’s long since mastered the art of lying smoothly through his teeth, but Jack’s graceless honesty punches holes through every pretense he can muster. It’s how Jack got him on his back in the truck bed last night, why they apparently can’t stop talking unless they find other ways to occupy their mouths. Just like that, Bitty's cheeks are in full flame.

“Me too,” he says, too quickly. Jack doesn’t seem to notice. His arms are huge, and Bitty is welcome in them. He feels positively unhinged. He has zero desire to move.

“Do we have to get up?”

“Probably,” Bitty groans, seizing the change of topic with both hands. He thunks his forehead into Jack’s shoulder for emphasis. “Coach’ll be up soon.”

“‘Kay,” says Jack, not moving one blessed inch.

Bitty squirms a little, thrilled. They keep ending up on the same page, wanting the same things. Feeling bold, Bitty mouths over the hot expanse of skin between Jack's shoulder and his neck, loving the way Jack immediately makes that pleased sound deep in his throat.

"Sorry."

“For—ah."

Jack honest-to-god moans when Bitty reaches the spot beneath his ear, and that's it: Bitty's deceased. He's gone. He's gonna die right here in his childhood bedroom, and he'll be damn well pleased about it. "Don't be—sorry for what?”

“That it’s not private,” Bitty murmurs. He waves his free hand toward the door, beyond which his parents hopefully believe that Bitty and his good friend Jack are passed out in separate rooms after the (completely tame, very platonic) excitement of last night's festivities. It seems like a tall order even in his head. He's gonna have to spend the next month before he goes back to school being very careful about the thoughts he lets show on his face.

When Bitty flexes his toes against Jack's bare leg under the sheets to prompt an answer, Jack hums a little, turns and drags his nose lightly across Bitty's forehead. "Don’t be sorry,” he says. “Actually, I was thinking about that last night."

"You were? Huh," Bitty says. "Sounds like I didn't do a very good job, then."

Jack gives him a gentle, one-handed shove. "After... uh, well. After that." He blushes so pretty, right over his nose and hot up his cheeks. Bitty kind of wants to eat him whole. "What would you say about coming to visit me?"

Forget what he’d say; Bitty can barely even think about it without going insane. Just the two of them, alone, four soundproof walls and a chance to figure this out for real. "In Providence?"

"Yes,” Jack says. “And we can do, um. More. Of what we did last night.”

Bitty is acutely aware of Jack’s hand, which is now rubbing little circles into his back, and all the other places it was last night, and how much he’d like for it to be in those places again.

“Yes, okay,” he says, too quickly to be polite; Jack is grinning, though, so. Right answer.

"Deal."

Bitty smiles back, megawatt. "Deal."

"First I have to make it home, though," Jack says. "Got a whole kitchen to get ready for you, eh?"

He says get ready like it has multiple meanings, and Bitty gets to pick the one he wants. Despite the heat, he finds himself shivering in anticipation.

"Sounds amazing," Bitty says, definitely not just talking about the kitchen. He shoves Jack back, teasing. This is his best friend and so much more. "Then you better get packin', mister, you got a flight to catch."

When the alarm clock goes off down the hall, Jack rolls out of bed and goes for his bag, sleepy chirps in full effect. Bitty stays put, though, watching. The sun catches just right on the hard planes of Jack’s shoulders, melting winter into spring, and Bitty is okay with losing control.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #zimbits #my writing #efickegster 2024 #thank you thank you this was so much fun ❤️ i hope you enjoy!

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wiypt-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Rawhide

Epilogue: Until The Cows Come Home

Summary: Five years post the final battle, Life at Avengers Ranch is pretty sweet

Warnings: Language, smut (NSFW) 18+

Pairing: Cowboy Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader. Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any of the characters contained within this series bar the Reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. I do not give permission for this to be translated and/or reposted on any other platforms. Reblogs are fine: Sharing is caring.

By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So here it is! The epilogue. I hope you enjoy. As of now, I have no plans really to continue but…perhaps if the muse strikes we might see a few one shots to follow up.

Rawhide Masterlist // Main Master-list

Part 14

W/C: 5.4k

“My grandad told me about a cowboy he knew, once. We’re going way back to the forties here. He rode into town and stopped at a saloon for a drink. Unfortunately, the locals always had a habit of picking on strangers, which he was. When he finished his drink, he found his horse had been stolen. He went back into the bar, pulled his gun, and fired a shot right into the air.” Clint made a gun motion with his fingers and mimed the action.

“Way to make friends an influence people.” Pete rolled his eyes.

“Well, it was his horse, ya know, valuable commodities in those days. They still are.” Clint shrugged, “So, he goes back into the bar, kicking off, demanding to know which snake had taken his horse. No one answered, so he says that he’s gonna have one more beer, and if his horse ain’t back outside by the time he finished his drink, that he’s gonna ‘do what I dun in Texas, and I don’t like to have to do what I dun in Texas…’” Clint mimicked a southern accent and cleared his throat. “Some of the locals start shifting a little, ya know, nervous like. Anyway, true to his word, he has another beer, heads outside and his horse has been returned.”

“So, that’s it?” Bucky frowned, “that’s the point of this story?”

“Pretty much.” Clint shrugs, “he saddled up, and started to ride out of town. He hasn’t got more than a few yards though, when the bartender comes out and asks ‘say, partner, before you go…what happened in Texas?’ Dude tips his Stetson as he looks back and says, ‘I had to walk home’.”

There was a moment of silence, before the group groaned collectively, as Clint laughed. Bucky threw the crust of his sandwich at Clint’s head.

“That is the stupidest joke I’ve ever heard.”

Steve snorted, listening to the guys banter as he leaned back against the tree trunk, his hat pulled down over his face. It had been a busy few days, moving the herd back down to the summer pastures and getting ready to bale the hay and silage that would see them through the winter. But he wasn’t complaining. In fact, he hadn’t complained about much over the past 5 years or so.

Well, bar Bucky being a persistent pain in his ass, but what else was new?

In the months that followed the battle, Fury had been appointed interim president of the WSC and had been permanently installed following a term of elections, for two terms running now. As such, the World Security Council had made good on its promise. Each state had their own elected representatives, and the divide which had separated red and blue states had been torn down.

Of course, some states still held conservative views, but even in those areas things had gotten much better for Omegas. Because their basic human rights had been secured through the Omega Rights Act at a federal level, something they failed to do the first time round due to the WSC preferring the appeasement method. Now, violation of those rights was punishable by law, no matter where you were, although how much it was enforced was anyone’s guess and varied, again state to state.

It wasn’t perfect, but then again nothing was. And it had been met in some instances with violent opposition, but that had been quashed pretty quickly. Some had been in favour of a more gradual overhaul, suggesting that each state should be allowed to install their own laws around Alphas, Betas and Omegas, as a sort of half-way house with a view to eventually changing the overall attitudes of people.

But, as Tony said in his speech when he was elected as the Senator for Montana, “sometimes you gotta run before you can walk.”

Essentially, it was all that they could have hoped for, and whilst it wasn’t perfect, it was a damned site better than it had been. Steve's shield and suit, and indeed the rest of the Avengers’ weapons and kit remained untouched, gathering dust in the armoury.

Things had even taken a turn for the better at the ranch. It was bringing in good money, both from the cattle and the sudden tourism boost, people flocking to see the battle grounds where the latest Civil War had taken place. This, in turn, had seen an expansion to the ‘Dude Ranch’. Although Steve hadn’t been particularly on board with that idea at first, he’d quickly been talked around.

As such, life for all the Avengers Ranch and everyone else in Stark Wood was good. In fact, life all round was good, but from a selfish point of view, the former was all Steve really gave a damned about now.

His mind strayed to you, and a soft smile spread across his face. Married now, you bore his name and his rings. More symbolic than anything, given the fact you were bonded beyond the normal ties of a bond anyway. But he’d wanted to show you exactly what you meant to him. Following his casual proposal, the night you’d returned home to the ranch, he’d done it properly a few weeks later. The pair of you had taken a ride up to the top of the hills and he’d gotten down on one knee at sunset, offering you his Mom’s ring. Which you’d tearfully accepted.

You’d married in the same place, the following summer, Thor overseeing the ceremony in his ordained state as Sheriff, and then you and your friends had partied long into the night in the huge tent on the grounds of the ranch.

Steve had kept good on his word too. Once he felt it was safe, the pair of you had gone to Texas where you’d visited your mama’s grave and told her you were okay, laying a bunch of her favourite wildflowers by her headstone. And then, you’d located Colin’s. Tactfully, Steve kept his distance there and allowed you to say a proper goodbye to your previous alpha. You’d told Colin (or at least you’d spoken to his modest headstone) all about your job at the ranch, how you worked shifts at the Vet clinic with Banner. You’d chuckled when you’d explained how you were still the one doing the books because your Alpha was just as bad at it as he had been…and you’d finished by thanking him for his sacrifice which meant you were alive today, and living the best possible life you could. Whether Steve believed in the afterlife or not, it had clearly made you feel better having said a proper goodbye, and who was he to deny you that?

He’d deny you nothing. He’d give you the moon and the stars in the sky to make you happy.

A boot kicking at the sole of his foot jerked Steve from his daydream, and he tipped his hat to look upwards.

“Ready to kick on?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” He smiled. With a groan, he pushed himself up and dusted down the seat of his well-worn wranglers before he mounted Star.

Together, the five men herded the longhorns down towards the pastures which surrounded the ranch, where the work would start over the next few weeks to tag the calves and conduct the health checks needed on the females. When the last one was in the correct pasture, Clint closed the gate with a click.

As they turned the final corner towards home, Steve couldn’t help the smile as he saw you in the riding arena. You leading Quin around, your Stetson sat on your head, a grin on your face as you walked. And upon Quin’s back sat a smaller figure, whose head was covered by a safety helmet.

Your daughter, Serenity Clara Rogers, known as Seren. It was a name chosen for its various meanings. In its full form her first name meant peaceful, which was what your lives had been since the battle and what you both hoped it would be for the rest of your lives. In its shortened, it translated as star, a small tribute to Steve’s emblem.

Her middle name was a payback to your Southern roots, and it meant bright and clear. And when it was all put together, it was exactly what she was to you both, a shining, bright star of peace and love and hope.

Getting Star up into a trot, and then a loping canter, he was pulling into the main grounds of the ranch a few minutes later.

“Daddy! Looks! I wides Quin!”

Steve grinned as he hopped off his horse and strode towards the paddock fence, looping the reins around the top rail. “I can see that!”

“Cans I has my own?”

Steve laughed, “you think you’re old enough?”

“I’m free!” A tiny handheld up three fingers as Steve faulted over the post and rails and strode towards you both.

“Hi, Cowboy.” You beamed as he kissed you softly.

“Hi, Doll.” His lips brushed yours before he turned to look at his daughter. She was much like you, same eyes, same hair, same attitude, and excitement to life. But, very much with the Rogers attitude and, funnily enough, his cheekbones and nose.

“Good day?”

“Yup, all cows present and correct. Did that new family check in?”

“Yeah, all good.” You nodded. “Oh, Banner called. He asked if I could cover the on call shift tonight at the surgery. Apparently Natasha has come down with that bug that’s going round, and he doesn’t want to leave her to take care of the baby Danny alone. Think they’re all still adjusting, ya know, after the adoption…”

“I think that’s okay, don’t you, Wren?” he playfully poked Seren’s tummy, speaking his nickname for her and she giggled.

“Cans we watch Toy Story? Wivs popcorns?”

“Toy Story? Again?” Steve groaned and Seren narrowed her eyes.

“I wikes it. Is my fave-rite.”

“Really, I’d never have guessed.”

Her Daddy’s sarcasm went right over Seren’s head, and you chuckled. “We got everyone coming for dinner tonight, baby, so you might not get chance.”

“After dinner?”

“We’ll see.” You smiled, “you ready to get down? I think Quin could do with a drink before we pop him out.”

“Otay…”Seren sighed, dramatically. She held her arms out and Steve reached up to pluck her out of the saddle. Her little arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her cheek. “Daddy, your whiskers are scratchy!”

“Are they?” Steve frowned, before he rubbed his cheek against hers, causing her to squeal. Her hands pushed at his face as she giggled. With a laugh, Steve pulled back and she cupped his face, her fingers threading into his beard as she smushed his cheeks together.

“I wobes you, daddy bear.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than all the stars.”

Your heart swelled, the way it always did when you watched Steve with your daughter. She was the apple of his eye and he doted on her in all the right ways. He indulged her, let her be her own person, but wasn’t afraid to dish out the discipline when needed.

In contrast to Bucky, who pretty much let her get away with anything and everything.

Steve carried her out of the paddock, and you followed, leading Quin.

“Unca Buck!” Seren squealed as she spotted her favourite uncle and she wriggled. Steve let her down and she took off towards him.

“Hey, Squirt!” Bucky grinned as he picked her up. “You had a good day?”

“Yips. Me and Mama took ‘Mando for a walk, dens we made lunch, and I rides!”

“yeah, I saw you on Quin. Bout time daddy got you a pony of your own, huh?”

“Dass what I saids!” Seren held her hands out to her side and Bucky laughed, ignoring the death stare Steve was shooting him.

“She might have a point, Alpha.” You smirked as you passed him by and tried not to chuckle as his head whipped towards you.

“huh?” he followed you into the barn. “Really? You think she’s old enough?”

“It’s not like she’ll be going on cattle drives.” You smiled as you undid the girth to Quin’s saddle. “But what harm can it do? A little pony or something she can love and cuddle. You’ve seen what she’s like with every animal she comes across.”

“Yeah, which is how we’ve ended up with a damned cat that lives in the house now and not the barn, much to Commando’s disgust.”

“Hey, Barney would have died otherwise…”

“And the guinea pigs? Were they on deaths door too when Bucky and Sam bought them for her?”

“Sparkle and Cookie live outside, well in Summer anyway…”

“The tank of goldfish?”

“She won one at a fair. Thor was right, it was mean to keep him in a bowl on his own. He needed friends.”

Steve scoffed and you snorted.

“Stop being a grouch.” You teased, “make the most of her being like this. Because give it ten, twelve years she’ll be out dating and chasing boys instead.”

“Over my dead body.” Steve glowered.

“You can’t fight her growing up.”

“No, but I can fight any punk that comes within a three mile radius of her.”

That made you laugh, as you placed Quin’s saddle on the rack. “Oh, Steve.” You turned towards him, stepping into his arms. He groaned, his face pressing into his neck.

“Stop it…”he whined. “I don’t want her to grow up, ever. Where’s our baby gone?”

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You kissed his cheek.

“What time are you on call from?”

“Seven-ish.” you stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, which was a little damp with sweat. Not that you cared. “I might not be needed but, you never know.”

“Okay, so if we grill for dinner at sixish, you should be okay?”

“Counting on it.” you smiled, “sides and fixings are all ready.”

“You’re too good to me, to us.” He smiled, his lips pressing back to yours.

You hummed into the kiss, allowing him to pull you closer. The smell and feel of your Alpha, your soul mate, your husband washed over you as his strong arms wrapped around your back. You allowed yourself to get lost, giving into that Omega part of you that you now loved as much as Steve did.

“Mama and Daddy is smoochin’!” A loud giggle came from behind you and Steve gave a small groan as he pulled away.

“Ewww!” Bucky wrinkled his nose, “do they smooch a lot?”

“Aaaallls da times!” Seren said, dramatically. “Unca Tony says mama wobes daddy’s animal maganatism…”

“I’m gonna kill Stark.” Steve muttered as you, and the rest of the gang laughed.

**********

As was customary post the cattle drives, you hosted the guys, plus their partners for dinner. Thor and Tony also joined you, along with his daughter, Morgan and Pepper who was sporting a pretty large bump as Baby Stark number 2 was very much about to make an appearance.

Morgan and Seren, separated in age by less than a year spent the spring evening playing in the garden, and by the time everyone was leaving they were both exhausted. Steve took this as a win as he didn’t have to sit there and watch Buzz and Woody for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

After bidding everyone goodbye, after clearing down the dishes and table, you headed off to take a call which had come through from the surgery.

Steve scooped his daughter up, “bedtime, baby.”

“I nots tired…” Seren protested, as she yawned and blinked hard.

“Sure…” Steve chuckled, “well let’s get you bathed and then we can discuss this, huh?”

Once bathed, dried and in her little set of cowgirl themed pajamas, Seren had given up the fight and was, indeed, half asleep. Steve tucked her into her little bed, chuckling as Commando took up his usual place on top of the comforter, by her side. Her little hand curled into his fur as she yawned.

“Story?”

“You bet.” Steve smiled, “which one tonight?”

“Spinderella.” She grinned. “I wikes dat one.”

“Spinderella it is…” Steve crossed the room to her bookshelf and then looked as you wandered into the room.

“I gotta go in.” You sighed, “one of Mr. Craft’s horses has injured itself, pretty badly in its stall. He said it can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“That’s okay, we got things here, huh Wren?”

“Yups.” Seren yawned again.

“I give her two pages, tops.” Steve chuckled, waving the book at you.

“I bet its four.” You smiled, leaning over to kiss her head. “Night baby, momma loves you so much.”

“Wobes you too, momma.” she hugged you before you stood up, ruffling commando’s fur. You then turned to Steve and kissed him quickly.

“I dunno how long I’ll be.”

“It’s okay’ Mega.” he smiled. “Drive safe, okay?”

You winked before you pulled away, his hand squeezing yours and you turned and left.

****

Seren actually fell asleep after three pages. When Steve heard her breathing even out, he glanced down and saw her eyes closed as she snuggled into him.

With a soft chuckle, he gently moved, his hand curling the back of her head. He lay her down, made sure she had her little bunny teddy with her and tucked her in.

“Night, my little star. Sweet dreams.” He whispered as he kissed her head.

Commando followed him as Steve headed down the hall after quietly shutting Seren's door. He padded his way down the staircase and found refuge at the wet bar for a drink before he settled up on the couch. His faithful dog hopped up next to him, resting his rather large head on Steve's lap. Flicking through channels, he found the mundane drone of the news filled his ears.

He watched the report and the panel as they chatted over a high profile court case that was filling the news at the moment, an actor versus his ex-wife who was accusing him of having jars of cocaine and ‘mega pints’ of red wine or some bull shit like that.

It was frivolous. And really, Steve had no idea why it was news. But the fact it was, meant there was nothing more worthy of the airtime, meaning things with the WSC and senate were calm.

Which was fine by him.

He sighed contently and brought his whiskey to his lips. He'd nearly finished the glass by the time he'd heard your truck pulling up toward the porch.

He checked his watch, all in all you’d been gone just over an hour. Which meant whatever it was can’t have been that serious. Hopefully, you wouldn’t get another call that night. It was rare that you did when you were covering the emergency shift.

Commando grunted and slipped off the couch to greet you at the door.

“Hi…” you bent down to give him loves, “hi, fella…”

His tail wagged and wagged happily. And when Steve snapped his fingers, the dog walked off. The simple command allowed you to get back inside and shut the door.

"That was quick," Steve spoke gently as he stood from the couch. He made it a point to never, ever have his back to you in conversation if he could help it. You were his equal and you deserved equal respect.

“Oh, daft animal had been rearing in his stable and got his leg stuck. Nasty cut but I managed to clean it and pad it. Gave him a tetanus booster and that was it, said I’d check back in tomorrow.” You smiled, “I just need ten minutes to type up the notes before I forget.”

"Alright," Steve nodded. "Can I get you a drink. 'Mega?"

“I’ll take a tea, please.” You smiled, “best not drink anymore in case I gotta go back out.”

You took your tablet from your bag and headed to the couch. By the time Steve was placing your drink down, your notes were done.

You shut the device down and placed it on the coffee table, picking up your drink and getting yourself comfortable as you swung your legs up beside you.

Steve picked up your leg from the ankle and set it in his lap, his strong hands rubbing over your calf through your jeans.

"Seren go down okay?"

“Three pages.” Steve chuckled.

You smirked as you blew a little over the rim of your mug, "new record."

“Think today tuckered her out. And I did a little thinking…”

He watched you wince a little as he dug into a knot, "what's that?" You looked at him.

“Maybe a pony of her own ain’t such a bad idea.”

“Okay, that…that didn’t take much convincing at all, Alpha.”

Steve chuckled then he sighed, "I think she's ready. I could make a few calls, see who's got one available."

“No need…” you bit your lip. “The Crafts have one…their youngest has outgrown him. I said I’d talk to you…”

"Oh," Steve nodded, "that works then."

“Yeah, convenient…” you agreed. And then Steve noticed the smirk on your face.

He gave a groan and a snort. “Was I actually going to get a say in whether or not she got a pony or was this just something you were gonna do regardless?”

"I mean I was just making it known that we'd discussed it. Formalities of checking with my mate and all that."

Oh, checking with your mate? Don’t you mean asking permission from your Alpha?” Steve teased.

"Details, details," you sniggered.

Steve rolled his eyes and took a sip from his drink. “So, what is it?”

“A male Shetland pony. Called Coco.”

Steve merely nodded as you continued.

“And. Let’s face it, it’s an investment.” You continued, “because when Seren has outgrown him, well…hopefully there’ll be another little one who’s ready to take the reins so to speak.”

Steve's face softened. "yeah?"

“Yeah.” You looked at him, a smile on your lips. “I thought that maybe when my next heat is due to hit, I don’t get my shot…see what happens.”

"Don't, don't do it." He sat forward, "I'm ready, darlin'."

You bit your lip, “me too.”

Steve held your ankles on his lap with one hand and leaned forward toward you more, "I want as many pups as we can, while we can."

“Woah, slow down there cowboy…” you chuckled, “I’m absolutely happy for two, I could be persuaded for three…”

Steve pecked your lips, "I'm teasing. We talked about two, but I'd be alright with three."

You smiled, your hand running through his hair, and then you moved to press your fingers to your mark.

I love you… your voice echoed in his head.

“I love you too," he whispered lowly. "So much, 'Mega."

“Kiss me Alpha.”

It took a tiny growl from his chest before his lips slowly, tenderly melted against your own. His soft kiss fluttered your insides and without though to it, you were in his lap.

Your hands cupped his bearded cheeks, the pads of your fingers softly brushing against his bristles as your lips allows his to lead them in a slow, sensual dance.

"Lemme love on you, 'Mega."

“Always…” your nose brushed his, “take me to bed.”

Steve needn't say another word, nor make any extra moves. He simply stood as he settled you into his arms and began his way towards the stairs. Blindly, yet expertly, he carried you up and up, to your bedroom where your bed awaited.

With a tenderness he reserved especially for you, he laid you down in the middle, on top of your pale blue comforter and positioned himself over you. One knee nestled between your thighs, his left hand planted by your head whilst his right hand cupped your face.

"My beautiful 'Mega," his voice whispered as his breath gently fanned your face.

Your own hand reached up, fingers gently tracing the curve of his jaw as he closed his eyes.

“My handsome, strong, protective Alpha.” You purred.

Time stood still when the two of you were like this. The intimacy so pure, that it squeezed at the heart in your chest that now beat for only he and Seren.

Steve dipped his head and captured your lips in a soft kiss. The feel of his lips on yours made you hummed against him. You parted your lips as the tip of Steve's tongue tickled at the pucker lines of your bottom lip.

Your hands dipped, finding the hem of his shirt and you gave a tug.

Steve's kiss barely stopped as you pulled the shirt up and over his head. The material pooled at his wrist by your ear. His fist curled together in his right hand, and he knuckled the mattress to flick away his tee. His lips were quickly back on yours trailing across your jaw and down your neck.

You sighed, happily, an Omega trill rolling in your throat which made Steve grumble a chuckle in response.

He sat back on his knees and pulled at the hem of your own tee as he did so, taking your body with him. With a light giggle you fell back with a little bounce to the mattress.

"That's better," Steve rasped as he bent back over you. He continued his trail of bearded kisses down your décolletage, to between your breasts and descending towards your navel.

He smiled against your skin as your belly twitched, always the same. So sensitive and ticklish in areas. He found it cute, and sexy.

He gave a nip to the skin below your belly button at the tip of your scar that gave him his daughter. Then he kissed the sting away tenderly. Those glittering, cerulean eyes looked up at you and he smiled against your skin.

You felt as if you blinked and then suddenly you laid naked before your Alpha, bar the bra that covered your breasts.

You chuckled and Steve looked at you, his chin resting on your sternum.

“What?”

“Nothin, just the speed at which you undress me always amuses me.”

"You make me very impatient, doll."

“I bet you say that to all the girls…”

"Just you," he smirks as his beard began to tickle the inside of your calve.

“Good to know…” you sighed.

"Mmhmm," he kept his lips to your leg.

You trilled again as whiskers tickled the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, Mega…I love those noises…” he worked his way up.

He nudged that joint where hip and thigh came together, scenting you. Your hand automatically tangled in his hair, your breath hitching in your chest.

Tentatively, Steve nosed your mound, the tip of his tongue tickling your swelling, sensitive bud. You whined, your back arching off the bed.

A low rumble sounded in your ears as Steve tasted you. He locked at you like a kitten to milk.

You whimpered and moaned softly, your knees caging his head in at his ears as your alpha gave you what you craved, what you wanted.

He'd eat away at you with fervor, then he'd slow to a near stop and make love to you there like it would be the last time.

And you loved every single moment.

Your orgasm was growing close, and you felt your body teetering on the edge of bliss. Tingling through your body felt like soda bubbles in your nerves.

"S'close, Alpha..."

He growled a little, before just as you knew he would, he slowed down. Leaving you mewling and begging for more.

"Please, Alpha..."

With a final grunt, Steve pulled away and wiped his face on the comforter. With a quick movement, he was up, out of his jeans and then back over you.

You were breathless, your body aflame. A sheen of sweat was beginning to cover your skin as you burnt hot from within.

“I got you, mega…” he whispered.

Steve held himself as he slipped right into you, a moan from you and a groan from him filling the airy space of the room.

Your hands flew to his broad back, curling round his shoulders as you dug your fingers into his muscles.

"You feel so good, doll." Steve's voice tickled your ear.

“You too…” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper over your panting.

Steve pulled back and slowly thrust back in, a rolling tide to his hips as he set the pace of loving on you.

His hands reached for yours, fingers lacing through your own as he pressed them either side of your head.

You sighed as his body melted into yours. The weight of him felt like a warm blanket, comforting you and securing you. It gave you a never ending sense of security. And to lock your bodies together tightly; you raised your hips and brought your ankles up to settle the heels of your feet against his lower back.

“Shit…” he grunted, his eyes closing for a moment before they opened, locked back on yours.

"There you are, Alpha," you sighed as he kept rolling those hips into you. "Don't ever hide." His eyes flashed a little as you arched into him even more. “Let go, Steve…”

"No....not 'til you...."

Always putting you first, that never changed. No matter what, you were his priority in your moments together.

You preened your neck, stretching out for him. You felt his nose dip along your mark, and he shuddered. Your lips parted in a sigh as you started to tilt your hips again to meet him.

His teeth nipped softly at your mating gland, enough for you to feel it, but not enough to break the skin.

"Oh shit," you rasped. "Alpha...."

“Mega…my mega…”

"I'm...." you needed just a little more, you were so damn close.

Steve knew, he always knew. His hips picked up the pace, but somehow he kept the same depth and rhythm.

His lips claimed yours, the kiss deep yet soft. A juxtaposition. Just like your alpha himself. So strong, get gentle. So firm, but soft.

"Alpha...." you whined as you tightened around him, your nose buried right against his mark.

“Cum for me, mega…” his voice was deep, his instruction clear. It was an alpha command, the only time he ever used them in you was in moments like this.

And you craved it.

"Oh my....fuck, yes," you came with a cry.

“Good girl…” Steve panted, his lips back at your mark.

You whined, whimpered then whined again at the praise.

“My beautiful Omega…” Steve’s words were almost whispered, a strain in his voice.

He was close.

"Steve....let go, baby," you cooed.

“Fuck…”

You nudged at him with your nose, bringing his eyes back to yours.

Like times before there was the fleck of gold that flashed in his eyes, and you knew he saw it in yours. For the room went black and beyond the gaze of your connection a galaxy swarm around you.

When you finally found yourself again, Steve’s face was buried in your neck. He was panting, deeply. The rise and fall of his chest pressing against you and then releasing you from its hold.

Your fingertips danced up his spine and into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He gave a soft hum.

"I love you, my Alpha," you whispered.

“I love you too, my Omega. And I always will. Until the cows come home.”

“Until the cows come home,” you kissed his neck, before he moved and captured your lips with a soft, sweet kiss. “Until the cows come home.”

#rawhide #alpha steve rogers x you #alpha steve x omega reader #cowboy steve rogers x you #cowboy steve rogers #avengers au

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pierres-general-deliveries · 5 months ago

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Hello Mr. High Quality Seeds, would you like customer feedback? Great, cause you're getting some. Basically your store kicks balls but you know what would make it even better? Music. Invest in some speakers and play some music. You know why? Cuz I know for sure that I get damn creeps from the lack of music in Joja. Like for real honestly genuinely, the main reason I don't even want to go in there is because the buzzing is liminal and terrifying. You want to buy milk or whatever but all you hear is goddamn bzzzzzzz. I mean, what is this, a sopping wet cold liminal sound torture blue ass fridge-themed beehive? That's what it feels like. Pierre's doesn't have that so it automatically wins but just imagine it for a moment. The atmosphere you could create with some tunes? Impeccable bro. Absolutely scrumptious. Anyway, consider it. Good day.

Thanks for the suggestion. Gus gave me a jukebox for the Feast of the Winter Star one year, and I tried playing my depressed indie rock at a low volume with it… but every time I did, Abigail just blasted her Tiktok music even louder, so there’s not really a point.

#pierre sdv #stardew valley #pierre would play ‘the very best of the smiths’ in his store #and abigail would blazt her music during every song except ‘this charming man’#i think thatd be sufficiently gay for her to fw it

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joselialopes · 1 year ago

Text

“And when I first showed him my scar, he said it was interesting. He used the word ‘textured’. He said ‘smooth’ is boring but ‘textured’ was interesting, and the scar meant that I was stronger than whatever it was that had tried to hurt me.”

BIOGRAPHY | CONNECTIONS | MUSINGS | PINTEREST | SPOTIFY

STATS

Name: Joselia “Jo” Lopes Silva Faceclaim: Bruna Marquezine Gender & Pronouns: Cis woman & she/her Sexuality: Pansexual Age: 30 Birthday: June 3, 1993 Zodiac: Gemini sun, Leo moon, Virgo rising Education: BSW, UC-Riverside Occupation: Addiction Counselor (Social Worker) Neighborhood: Bighorn Hills + open-minded, adaptable, passionate - hot-headed, flaky, impulsive

BIOGRAPHY

tw: drug mention, alcoholism, abortion

also tw I say “daddy” one billion times and I’m so sorry that’s just what Joselia would say

Daddy was always a free spirit. He and Mama married young– him 17 and her 16– and he promised her the world. He painted a beautiful picture of a long, successful career as a football player, a big move to America, and a life where she seldom had to lift a finger. But Gisele Lopes Silva was always more grounded than her husband. She didn’t want all of that, really, just a man who loved her and happy kids. Still, Daddy was determined to shoot for the stars and, in the end, he landed pretty close. Roberto Silva qualified for the Campeonato Brasileiro Series at 19 and he swore up and down it was a straight shot to US Nationals from there. Mama got pregnant with Roberto Jr. that winter, 1984, and five years later in 1989 they had Miguel. With two babies, Mama’s asking Daddy to retire and get a real job graduated from passing remarks to deadpan questions to begging.

They were doing okay, what with Grandma helping with the boys while Mama worked, but Gisele was wise. She knew it wouldn’t last long. Besides, she’d rather have Daddy around the kids than him be some big, international soccer star. It was a fight she didn’t have the energy for but every now and then, and Daddy became an expert at weasling out of it– bringing home expensive gifts, magazines about life in America, VHS tapes of sitcoms. Money was tight, though, and it was Daddy’s magic-making that made the room dividers in the living room that hid Jr.’s cot feel enchanted, like a portal to another world instead of a family bursting at the seams. In retrospect, Jr. says Mama resented him even then. She was caught in the trap of working all day in the factory and coming home to cook and clean, all the while the boys tugged on Daddy’s pant legs and clamored on top of him and asked to hear the story of his trip to San Fransisco for the hundredth time.

Mama says that having Joselia in 1993 changed everything. She was finally getting somewhere with Daddy– touting the baby, the only girl, as the reason why he should quit chasing this crazy dream and get a real job. Settle down and give them all the life they deserved. Of course, the very next year was the beginning of the San Jose soccer club. The Earthquakes wanted Daddy on their inaugural team, and Daddy leaped at the chance to move to California– the land of opportunity. According to Daddy, getting recruited to the U.S. was the best thing that ever happened to him. Mama was just grateful that he finally got a kick in the ass to make something of himself. In 1994, the family migrated to San Jose to start their new life.

Daddy always talked about those first few years like they were something out of a fairytale– all blue skies and palm trees and balmy breezes. Long days of doing what he loved, coming home to a slice of Brazil in Mama’s cooking and Jr.’s singing and the artifacts they’d managed to bring with them. Mama isn’t so romantic about it all. Sure, it was nice to not be so strapped for cash. But it was lonely, she says– hardly anybody else spoke Portuguese, and Daddy was alright with his English but Mama struggled. She could hardly make it through trips to the grocery without aid, and she missed her mother. But, Daddy was happy, which had been the point all along, right?

Daddy’s first season with the Earthquakes was a building year– at least, that’s what all the players would say when they would crowd around the kitchen table, drinking and talking and making messes that Mama stayed up well into the night cleaning up. But the kids loved it, crowding around the table with wide eyes and hanging on every word they said. It was this way that Joselia learned English; When her kindergarten teacher wrote home and asked where she’d learned to say “damn it all to hell!”, Daddy just laughed and laughed and laughed.

Season two was better. By the end of it, everybody was talking about the Earthquakes, and Daddy was even named in a couple articles as a player to watch. That was 1996, a year he still calls the best of his life. Joselia remembers the whole family travelling to LA and Washington, DC and Dallas to see Daddy play. It was exactly what Daddy always promised– traveling the world, staying in fancy hotels, a balanced diet of stadium hot dogs and room service. Even Mama loosened up on their trips, had a glass or two of champagne and got giggly. It was like they were really in love, then. Life should’ve been like that forever– and it would’ve been, if Daddy hadn’t gotten injured.

Three games before the end of the 1997 season, an ill-timed slide tackle caused Daddy’s leg to break in two places. Mama, Jr., Miguel, and Joselia were watching from home, and everything instantly devolved into chaos. Mama screamed and immediately called the neighbor to come watch the kids while she rushed to the hospital. The three kids planted themselves in front of the TV, watching any and all coverage they could find on the local channels, and praying to every saint they knew.

Daddy put on a brave face, at first. He had high hopes, unreasonable expectations that he’d be as good as new after surgery. But then came the minimum two years of physical therapy, and by the time he was in any condition to run again, they were so far behind with medical bills that Mama put her foot down. He had to get a job– they had to get back on their feet before he started his crazy training regimen. His old teammates still came around back then, and one of them even pulled some strings and got Daddy a job as a daytime bartender at a pub near the training facility.

But there’s always a point in time where the sympathy runs out. People can’t hold pity forever. The guys stopped coming around, Coach stopped inviting him to closed practices. Mama was never gentle with him– she said that was that, it was time to move on. Find a new dream. Joselia wouldn’t know until much later, but underneath all of his bravado, Daddy was incredibly sensitive. He didn’t take to normal life well, and started mixing his pain meds with a few too many drinks. At first, it was an inconvenience. He would get too drunk and forget to pick up Jr. from school, he would leave Miguel an hour or two longer after school than he meant to. Most nights would end in whispered arguments behind Mama and Daddy’s door– Jr. learned to press a glass to the wood young, but he’d never tell Miguel and Joselia what was said unless it was really bad.

It got really bad when Joselia was in middle school. Jr. was twenty-one and still home, fulfilling the role of oldest child and peacekeeper while he saved up for college. Plus, the income he brought in from his grocery store job helped keep them afloat when Daddy overslept and missed his shifts, which was becoming more and more frequent. Jr. kept them together, with Miguel’s help– they would divide and conquer, Jr. going to Daddy and Miguel going to Mama. But when Daddy started gambling and they lost the apartment, Mama was done.

Joselia was thirteen when Mama moved them into a new apartment and refused to give Daddy the key. Jr. had to drag her, kicking and screaming, refusing to leave Daddy behind. She’d let him in at night, and Mama would wake her up yelling every morning that she woke up to discover him on the couch. He can’t be trusted! she would say, pleading with Joselia to keep him out. Everybody else had enough of his broken promises, except Jo. She loved him so much that she moved with him to Philly at fifteen, pledged the next decade of her life to following Daddy around, dreaming big dreams with him and picking him up when he fell.

It was difficult leaving Mama and her brothers behind, but Joselia was so hurt that they could be so cruel to Daddy that she buried the grief under anger. Life with him was the same as always– high highs and low lows. On good days, they’d catch a game in the city and share a hotdog and Daddy would tell Jo-Jo all about how he was gonna become a soccer coach. If you can’t do, you teach, he said, and she believed him. She always believed him, and that belief carried her through the bad days, when he would stumble home angry at four a.m., cursing her Mama and her Grandma and the world, vomit dribbling down his chin and too-heavy footsteps.

It took an extra year, but Joselia graduated high school. Her part-time waitressing job became full-time, and her steady paycheck made up for the weeks and months that Daddy was out of work. Mama sent money every couple months with express instructions not to let Daddy touch it– but she always did, and he always blew it on a scratch-off or a round for all his friends. He was chaos personified, but Joselia wasn’t afraid of his self-destruction. Mostly, she was afraid of who she’d be without his fantastical tales and his believing the best in her and his promises that he’d take care of her, one day.

Joselia met Matthew Foster in Philly, at a show for some grungy band she was just drunk enough to enjoy. Their whirlwind romance felt like home– the ups and downs, the unbridled passion and the teeming rage felt like what Joselia reckoned love was supposed to be. Daddy wasn’t consistent or stable, and he loved her more than anybody in the world– So must Foster. Midnight screaming matches faded into afternoon picnics and so on. He never said so, but Joselia knew he loved her– he showed it dozens of ways, whether by making the best food she’d ever eaten in her life (aside from stadium hotdogs, of course) or by buffing out the same dent in her car over and over from the damn apartment gate.

They were young and dumb and it felt like everything. Daddy hated him and loved him, depending on the day– and when things were going right for everybody and the three of them drank and watched Daddy’s old matches, well, that was the best feeling in the world. It was after one of those days and a couple of Foster’s custom-made cocktails that they decided to get married at the courthouse. They didn’t have a ring or a dress or a care in the world, and somewhere in a box covered in a thin layer of dust, Joselia has a picture from that day: her in one of Foster’s button downs and a Dodgers hat, him in his usual tshirt and jeans combo, all bright smiles hanging off one another.

Being married didn’t stave off the fighting at all. If anything, it made it worse– gave them each more ammunition to launch at each other, and made it a hell of a lot harder to untangle from the mess. They fell into a familiar pattern– a couple of good days, maybe a week, a fight where they swore they were broken up for good this time, and a couple days later they’d make up. Anything was fair game on these breaks– and it’s not like Joselia had a ring or anything to stop her from seeing other people, so she did. Nothing that stuck, but a couple one or two night flings before she surrendered to Foster’s gravitational pull again.

When Joselia found out she was pregnant after a week “off”, she panicked. She wasn’t going to tell Foster, she was just going to take care of it on her own– but they had such a good day, and she was half convinced they could make it work. They were perfect, they only fought so hard because they loved each other so much. He bolted after that, and in retrospect, she couldn’t blame him. Joselia still harbors that hurt on especially lonely nights, revisits the feeling of waking up and seeing his shit gone, the days-late realization that she’d never see him again.

But it was okay, because there was always Daddy to take care of, and with no Foster and no baby to distract her, Joselia poured all of her energy into him. She was twenty-five and working the same waitressing job she’d had since graduation, spending her weekends taking care of her drunk father– and with nothing else in Philly, reality stung. She started to resent Daddy the same way Mama always had– she resented being the stable one, she resented not being able to fall apart because it’d hurt them both when that’s all she really wanted to do.

A decade late, Joselia’s breaking point finally came when Daddy wrapped her truck around a streetlight. He survived, thank God, but he had a broken arm and a couple of years in jail and mandated therapy. With no other choice, Joselia made her way back to California and turned up on Mama’s doorstep, tail between her legs. The rush of apologies for years of hating her, of thinking Mama was selfish and wrong for abandoning Daddy, was crushed in her mother’s arms. She was home, for real this time, and reconnecting with Mama and Jr. and Miguel helped Joselia figure some things out.

It wasn’t perfect, and she still felt an unreasonable degree of protectiveness over Daddy– they kept in touch, between letters and phone calls– but Jo decided to enroll in college. Better late than never. She started at UC-Riverside and declared Social Work as her major, staying home with Mama until she graduated at 29. It was a big deal, because Jr. had enlisted at 22 and Miguel had gone to trade school. Joselia was the first in their family to graduate college, a fact that Daddy cried about on the phone the morning of her graduation– a fact she still holds with pride.

Her fresh start extended to Colorado Springs, where Joselia took her very first “real” job a year ago as an Addiction Counselor for a nonprofit serving unhoused and at-risk individuals. It was Jr.’s idea, originally, and Joselia ended up loving it– finally her life experience was helpful with something, and the tough love she always should’ve given to Daddy was a requirement. It’s such the perfect fit, in fact, that she was promoted after only a year and transferred to the Providence Peak location. Joselia was hesitant at first to leave Colorado Springs and the comfort of Jr. right down the street, but it was high time for her to forge her own path. She made it up to Philly one more time, to visit Daddy and to clear out the rest of her shit from a storage unit, and is now settling into her new routine.

#providence.intro #biography

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fragrancenthusiast · 8 months ago

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They call me Ryder because of how damn hard i was Rydin on Russ that one night in the Summer of 1969. Also because that's what my Mama named me.

RIP Ma.

That goddamn Skank

Caught Russ sleepin wit Ma in my Childhood Bed in the summer of 2009. I kicked that Boy ass harder than them Hydraulic Pressed squish the Things in them Ticky Tocks . My Ma committed suicide.

Good.

My ma Only hugged me once and that was in the Winter of 1893. Four year after I was born. I was only 8 years old.

She said Ryder... My sweet boy ... I will protect you. Until you turn 12. And then you'll be old enough to work the big tractor on the farm. She didn't. She only protected me until I was 6. And I was not big enough for the Tractor.

I always knew She was a Bitch and a Liar. Ever since i was 8. That was the year that Russ entered my life, a year before my Foot entered his ass. I kicked him so hard that he was the first real man to ever experience the Moon.

That goddamn Moon landing was fake. Russ took photos of the moon for me while he was up there, my shoe still up the rectum. It was blue And smooth. Maybe that was Jupter. Jupter was the blue one Yes? Saturn? ...Was that the Sun?

Might been the Sun because when Russ visited Earth again after falling really hard he was a little Bald in the head, hair singed off. I saw his brain. A little. I stook my finger in it. Squish. Didn't like it much. Took a little taste, Tasted like mama's cookin.

Was that the secret sauce?

Musta been.

Ma wasn't the most sharp tool within the shed. She had a few screws loose up there. She kiled my pa.

RIP Robert Jones.. My first Pa. My second Pa, my Step pa, Gibby Jr was a madman. He took his shirt off and would pour barbecue sauce on himself and gollybe he would jump off the table, Ma's BBQ splattin all over, and the floor would CRACK. He was not okay. I hope he isn't alive. What a freak. What a sick fuck that boy was, I hope Jesus enters his life and his rectum and tells him to Put down the BBQ...

I haven't seen Russ since March 25, 2015... He was pretty broken up that day. Wonder what had happened, my shoe hadn't even entered his rectum yet. Hadn't even kicked him a little bit. Not even to say good mornin. Just up and left, didn't even say goodbye. Called him up the day before (After kickin him around a little bit. (A lot.)) And he said He had to leave his four British boys behind. I don't like Brits much. Too much te and biscuit... Fuck...

I miss you Russ... I miss takin my Shoe out and hearin it go POP!!! I miss cleanin it off afterwards. I miss wonderin why you didn't just put some pants on so it didn't go Right up there. No lube required. I never seen him pantsed. He was never dressed right.

Goodbye Russ, You Five nighted Fredy.......... You godamnFreak they made a Game about you nd you Dont even know . A whole movie. They casted Paul rudd to play you. You always thought he was a sexy hunk... Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh :(

I liked that one.

I miss when Russ came back to life in the summer of 2010 And he Yanked on my doodle so hard I thought I was meeting god and jesus and Mother Mary, I thought I was ascending to the Heavens to reunite wit my Ma. I would have Kicked her in the ass.

Russ likes the Consistent numbers so Maybe he comeback 2030 ... Or maybe in Good ole 3010. My mama's birth year. I will be Waiting at her birth place. Kill her like they shoulda done to Hitler when he was born. Godamn sack knackle.

Oh how me and Russ used to look over the desert together when it was reaching Dusk... The mountains the tumbleweeds. The way the Sun set over the horizon. I can still see it now. The way He would look at me. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh The way he would look at my shoe and Yell. He go "Oh brother it Hurts." I said. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Hush boy.

He loved

Wine

He would cry to the cops every day I never laid a finger on Russ I loved him I really did I only put my shoe up him sometimes from kickin him so damn hard my wooden shoe gave him Splinters in his rectum Sometimes. I would always help him pull em though.

I was a good friend and an even better lover. But what I was best at, was Kickin him in high noon and Throwin him in the outside and he would fly up in the air so fast you could hear a Whistlin sound.

PSHEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Like a Rocket ship.

But sexy.

I cannot wait until 3010 for my dear ole Russ to re-enter my dreary lifestyle. My heart aches for you, Russy.. My pain grows like a fire in the fireplace. My heart swells. I can no longer add new wood to my fire. Not without you, Russ. I can't do it alone. I can't do it.

Today will be the Last day for me, Ryder Jones. Patriotism swells in the heart of the American boy, But my heart is no longer. My heart is broken, and I no longer care about the president. I hate you Joe, You never cared about ME or RUSS or MAMA. You left me. I know you don't remember me, Joe Biden. I was real, You were real, You cared for me once. You could care for me again if you would just listen. Find my Russ and I will find your Queen Elizabeth.

Grandpa, I know I was a disappointment in my younger years.

I never learned to drive that tractor, Truthfully. And God, and Mama, and Joe, and Russ, and Bruce. They all know I was big enough. I was just scared.... Scared of the Tractor, Scared of myself. Scared of Russ. Scared my Tractor would run me over just like it did to Pa.

I shouldnt have been scared of the Tractor. I should have been scared of Mama. She was the one behind the wheel. But her, and Grandpa Biden, they told me "Ryder, it wasn't Mama's fault. The tractor. It malfunctioned, Ryder. My boy, It'll be fine without Pa."

But truth be told Ma or GrandPa Joe never cared about me, or Pa, or Russ, or Brother Bruce... They only cared about ... About... Nothing.... They never cared about nothin.

I once broke my arm tryin to rake the yard. I don't recall how I did it, I don't know how it happened, or if Ma did that to me... But nobody cared. Nobody. But Russ. But Brother Bruce. And... And papa...

Oh Pa :(

I miss when Auntie Margaret would come over on Tuesdays at high noon when the sun was shinin bright over that beautiful wheat farm. Oh the smell of cow manure. How it mixed within the grass And allowed the crops to grow... The circle of life is beautiful. But the circle of life isn't always beautiful. Sometimes it's cruel, it's relentless, it claws at you until you're all out of skin. Sometimes it takes away the ones you love most. Like your lover, your brother, and your dear ole Pa.

Life gives you exactly what you need, but never at the right time. Russ if I could only have you now, I wouldn't even put my shoe up ya. (Unless you wanted me to, of course.) I would hold you. In a tight embrace and I would never let go until God himself came down.

The rapture itself would be the only thing that could take you out of my arms, my dear.

Oh, the things I would do to have you in my arms just once more. Russ Tikitchen, if you were still here. If you were still with us, right now. I would go out, I would get the finest ring ever crafted by any being. Anything better than mother nature could ever dream of. And I would get down on my knee, I would look you in the eye and I would say "Please? After all we've been through... After all I put you through... Please, just this once, let me give back to you." And you wouldn't have to say those two words, "I do." I would still love you the same. No matter how many shoes are up you. Or how many rings are on your finger. Or even if there is a ring on your finger, even if it isn't from me. No matter whose it is, I still love you.

And, Pa. I'm sorry about that fight we had the day before you died.

I knew I was in the wrong, and I hope you know I did still love you all the same. I was just stubborn. Young, naive, not knowing how cruel the world could be. Not knowing how cruel Mama could be... God rest your soul, Pa. And may God bring her soul down into the deepest pits of Hell

Mama.... I wish I could have ended your life with my own very hands. It's a pity you got to do it yourself.

You got to take your own wheel, Mama. But you took Papa's wheel too. You took Russ's (metaphorical) wheel. You took Bruce's (metaphorical) wheel. Bruce is still alive, thank the heavens. But now you're going to take my wheel Mama. Not metaphorically.

Mama... I know this is what you would've wanted... But mama, ow.

I can't do this no more Mama. Papa I love you. I am so sorry. Russ Tikitchen, you were my first lover. And last. God knows I never touched another man. Or woman for that matter. Brother Bruce. You goddamn knucklehead... Bruce if I could only Thwap you on the back of the head one more time. But you're already halfway across the country by now. You've moved out West to fulfill your dreams of becomin a real Star. You're already a star to me brother. But I'm proud of you regardless.

Takes a lot of balls to move out halfway across the country with nothin but the clothes on your back and the money in your pocket. Ooaohwfowagouhdjfjfjj I misss y7ou brother I hope you, Brother Bruce, are doing good with your old lady Lisa. You know I saw her with a woman right? But I won't tell you... Don't wanna ruin your trip. Your dreams. Your lifestyle. Your innocence. You.

I know you were callin me spaghetti fingers. The guys at the bar told me so. Dave, Jeff, and Jack. You remember them, right? I know that was about 93 years ago... But you're still young, you still got that memory of a young whippersnapper.

Well... Goodbye. To Pa, to Bruce, to Russ, to auntie Margaret who came over on Tuesdays at high noon, to Grampy Biden, to step-pa Gibby Jr, to Lisa, and to mama....

Goodbye.

#story #russ #russ tikitchen #ryder jones #ryder x russ #one direction #russ might be zayn?#spaghetti fingers #creative writing #muppets #joe biden #inspired by colleen hoover #victorious #gibby #1969 #read this in a southern accent please #ticky tocks #artistic storytelling #zayn

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lieshot · 6 months ago

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Truth be told, some things right before were a vague blur. Maybe trauma, either physical or mental, he couldn't say for sure. There was only a vague recollection of Bobbi. Blonde, could probably kick Clint's ass. Mostly just blurs. ❝ Stupid reason. People die, people kill. Happens all the time. ❞ It wasn't as if his own hands weren't coated in blood long before HYDRA. Be it in the military as a sniper, or when he had to get his hands dirty while undercover. He'd always been more BRUTAL than his brother.

But the explanation was enough to make him relent seemingly. A slight relaxation in his eyes before he stepped away from the glass, accepting it for now. Even in Barney's mind, it was far fetched but he had to KNOW for certain; how deep did it all go? He couldn't shake the idea that Clint had pretty much just ABANDONED him down there but he'd allow him to clear himself of any guilt in orchestrating it.

Barney obviously didn't have much CARE for the little history lesson on anything he might have missed, nor how he and the Winter Soldier had come to be an item. Instead, walking around the tiny cell. Barely anything, barely any room. A glance up had immediately taking note of the camera in the corner. Taking in every corner, every detail in the room, the door, just outside of it. He was searching for a WEAK POINT, anything he could use to his advantage later on. This wasn't his first prison but he'd sure as hell make it his LAST. Take them all out just like those in the bunker.

❝ You tryin' to justify your sexuality or your relationship to me? ❞ he asked suddenly. Not even a glance at his brother, having reached down to feel the fabric of the sheets on the cot. Weak. Wouldn't keep him warm much and probably would RIP if he tried to strangle someone with it. ❝ Don't give a shit. What I DO give a shit about is you being with the guy that beat my ass for who fuckin' knows how long. And defendin' him at that. ❞ Time wasn't REAL down there. There was no concept of it, no way of knowing. It wasn't until getting out that he realized ten years had passed, but it felt so much LONGER. No idea really how long he'd been put up against their prized Soldier even if Barney had gotten better each time.

Was he going to sit there yapping forever? Barney's head was still pounding and the GRATING voice was only adding to it. Annoyance with every word, wishing he would just shut the hell up. If it wasn't for the glass between them, Barney would have already beat his ass into SILENCE by now.

Blue eyes finally went back to Clint. The anger was still there, ready to BURST and unleash hell the first chance he got. But there was also exhaustion, a weariness in them. ❝ You keep talkin' like I did. I didn't. Nearly did. Took a lot of bullets and got left there. But those assholes dragged him out of there HALF dead and made sure I didn't. ❞ No body, no death. It was what a lot of military members held on to until there was proof a comrade was GONE. Apparently Clint didn't hold that same belief. But he was under the firm belief that he was being WATCHED for them to act so quickly.

❝ Tell you what. You get me some smokes and I'll tell you exactly what they said to me. Gonna need something to kill my time here, right? ❞

Clint’s eyes flick over Barney as he processes the question. DID HE - DID HE THINK THAT CLINT STARTED A RELATIONSHIP WITH BUCKY BEFORE HE’D FREED HIMSELF FROM HYDRA?

His sighed and his hand went through his hair. He couldn’t believe how successfully HYDRA had gotten to him. And it wasn’t as if Barney was brainwashed. Not the way Bucky had been. They’d just twisted the facts and Barney ate them up. It was heartbreaking. If Clint had been a better brother, he was sure they never could have convinced him that Clint was the bad guy here.

He leaned his forehead against the barrier, the cool smooth surface easing the throbbing in his head that had started.

“Of course, I didn’t. I didn’t know Bucky when he was the Winter Soldier. I met him when he broke free. I was married to Bobbi when you - when you died. Remember?” He sighed and closed his eyes. “And before you ask, I broke up with her. It’s complicated, but some shit went down and she killed a man in cold blood. I knew she wasn’t my Bobbi anymore.”

He stood back up and grabbed a chair dragging it over to the edge, sitting down and stretching his injured leg out in front of him. “You know he was Captain America’s kid sidekick, right? Whatever happened with him, and I know it’s gotta be bad. I want you to tell me, and I’m not minimizing it, but it wasn’t HIM. He was a victim like you. He was sent after Cap and Cap managed to get through to him. Bucky has been Captain America since then. I think he’s been struggling with his sexuality. Sam - that’s the other Captain America - he said Bucky was bringing me up all the time. So I made a move. But I swear to god - I swear on ma’s grave, Barney - I didn’t meet him until after he was free. We’ve only been dating for about five months.”

He sighed again. He didn’t really know why he went into so much detail. Barney wasn’t going to listen. He wasn’t going to believe him. But he’d missed his brother. He’d regretted the way they had been estranged when he died. He regretted not making sure he’d brought his body home. He was full of regret, and he wanted to at least sow the seeds that maybe his world view was wrong.

But he also wanted to share his news with his brother. It had been so long and he wanted to get through to him.

“Why won’t you tell me what they said about me?” he asked. “You’re so angry and you blame me for what happened. I get that. But that can’t be all of it. It can’t be.”

#➵ won't accept your silence | v. 001 #barnesandbarton

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venusthepirate · 2 years ago

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like any unloved thing part three : weed and early nights

ao3 / part one / part two

Masterlist : @avocado-writing @little-sunflower-bug @evangelineflowers @humbug5 @yume904 @chloeforde @sarcastic-sourwolf

Hi ! I am so sorry for the late update, college has been kicking my ass :( but here we go !! I hope you’ll like this chapter ^^ please if you could reblog or comment it would mean the world ! I think Tumblr ate this post :(

Fawn steps inside the restaurant, relieved at the way the chill of the outside is suddenly cut short by the door closing behind her. She sighs, enjoying the warmth seeping into her skin. Her fingers feel frozen, even despite the mittens she put on before going out.

A waiter greets her courteously. She tells him she’s joining a friend, and gives him the name for the reservation.

It’s a fancy restaurant, but not too fancy. The kind normal people will go to when they want to treat themselves without spending all their savings on the meal, where, typically, Fawn doesn’t feel underdressed with her simple attire. It was too cold outside for her to be able to put anything on than blue jeans and a white turtleneck. Her long black coat does fancy it up a bit, though.

The waiter leads her to her table. Her friend/colleague Violet is already seated. She smiles widely when she sees Fawn stop in front of her, rising to kiss her on the cheek.

“Hi”, Fawn says, softly, detaching herself from her embrace. She pulls off her grey beanie, and then her coat, draping them on her chair, and sits down in front of Violet.

“How are you, baby ?” Violet asks, sipping on a glass of red wine. She looks sheepish, then. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind, I ordered wine without you.” She raises a hand to catch the waiter’s attention.

“Oh, I’ll take the same thing, please”, Fawn tells him.

“It’s been a long time since we went out for a meal”, Violet continues. “Or drinks. Or shopping. Or anything, really. You’re always busy. Found some new friends ?”

Fawn’s traitorous thoughts take her almost immediately to Tangerine, but she shakes her head to disperse them. The truth is, Fawn’s days simply alternates between working at the café, clients, and going home to curl up under the comforter to scroll on her phone. Nothing very exciting or scandalous as Violet may think.

“Just the winter, you know ?” She offers to her. “Gets me a bit down. I’m hibernating.”

Violet snorts.

“You know, the cold isn’t a reason to isolate yourself ? Aren’t people supposed to stick together, share warmth ?”

Fawn smiles, twirling her glass and taking a sip. “Maybe.”

They order their meals, make small talk, talking of everything and anything. It’s only when their plates are deposited in front of them that Violet finally addresses the reason why they’re both here.

“So, who hired you ?” She asks.

“Kenneth Hall”, Fawn replies, dipping a piece of carrot in the sauce. “He’s hired me before. Only escort jobs, though. What about you ?”

Two days earlier, Fawn had received a call from her handler, telling her one of her clients had booked her for a night. A gala, apparently, for Christmas’ Eve. She had been told Violet too had been hired, by another man, for the same event.

“William something”, Violet tells her, while she twirls pasta around her fork. “Never worked with him, and I asked around, and I don’t think the other girls know him.”

Fawn frowns. “Is it for an escort job too ?”

“Yeah, I only take those these days.” She smiles, then, leaning towards her as if she’s about to spill a terrible secret. “I found myself a boyfriend.”

Fawn arches her eyebrows, surprised.

“Oh, wow. I mean, congratulations. It must be serious, if you’re only doing escort jobs.”

“Yeah, he’s very sweet, you know”, Violet continues. There’s some sort of dreamy expression on her face, like she’s reminiscing herself of him. “But what about you ? How long has it been since your ex-girlfriend ?”

Fawn washes the bitterness in her throat with a mouthful of wine. The ex-girlfriend was… well. It didn’t last, did it.

“Four years”, she murmurs. “And no, I’m not dating anybody right now.”

Violet makes a disappointed moue, pressing her chin against the palm of her hand as she looks at Fawn with some kind of puppy eyes expression.

“Why not ?”

She shrugs, trying to act like she isn’t bothered. She is, though. She doesn’t like to talk about things like relationships and such. She’s crossed those off her list long ago.

“Too much of a hassle”, she replies, twirling her glass.

It really is. She knows of other girls who do it and manage to find the perfect balance between their work and the relationship, but Fawn has never been able to. It’s difficult, too, because it mostly goes against any expectation people have of a conventional relationship. Most people expect her to drop this job, others will try to “save” her, whatever that means. There are also cases of jealousy, and well. It just seems like a lost battle.

Violet eyes her critically.

“It’s not good for you to completely, you know”, she says, waving a hand in front of her, “close yourself.”

“I’m not”, Fawn protests, but it sounds a bit empty, even to her own ears. She shakes her head. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me. I am perfectly fine.”

Violet doesn’t look exactly convinced, but she doesn’t press the issue.

“I’m glad you’ll be at this gala too”, she says, changing the subject. “That way, we can look after each other.”

Fawn smiles at her, feeling oddly touched by her words. Violet is right, though. In their line of work, it is important to have someone to rely onto, someone who knows where you are, in case something happens.

“Me too. Though, to be honest, my client is more like a huge sort of… rich teddy bear. With sweaty palms. But he’s harmless.”

Violet snorts, looking disgusted at the mention of sweaty palms.

“Also, it’s good I won’t be alone to bear those pompous rich assholes”, she adds, and Fawn heartfully agrees with her.

A gala means good alcohol, and good food. It also means making awkward small talk with snobbish people, shaking hands with creepy old men and being scrutinized for every little mistake.

The rest of the afternoon is spent in a blur. Violet insists they go shopping for the night in question, even if the gala is three weeks away. Apparently, her client sent her money to buy herself a dress, and Violet insists the money is enough to buy Fawn’s one too.

So Fawn lets herself be guided into expensive clothing shops, where the sellers busy themselves with finding the right fabric and the right color. She chooses after a short while a long dress in a dark brown. However, Violet isn’t so quick to make her decision, and she seems to have an infinite amount of energy, trying on shoes and dress after dress. Fawn eventually has to admit defeat and just collapses in one of the comfy leather chairs inside the shop, watching as her friend tries on yet another piece of clothing.

Eventually she finally settles on a long, deep purple dress. Fawn can’t help but smile. It fits her. Besides, Violet has always aimed for clothes that match her names.

When Fawn finally gets home in the evening, she is exhausted. Her back feels sore from having to stand up for so long, her feet hurt and she can feel the beginning of a migraine creeping in on her.

She’s relaxing in a warm bath, planning on maybe smoking some weed and calling it an early night, when her phone rings.

She frowns, leaning outside and reaching out blindly until her fingers finally close around the device where she had dropped it on a pile of her clothes. She fails to swipe the screen a few times, her thumb too slippery, before she finally manages to accept the call.

“Yes ?”

“Your client Tangerine asks if you’re available for the night”, her handler tells her.

Tangerine.

Shit, this is really the worse moment.

She’s never refused, though, but right now, her limbs still sore and her head feeling like it’s wrapped in cotton, she really doesn’t feel like leaving the warmth of her apartment.

“I’m sorry, tell him I can’t tonight”, she says. “Tell him I’m available tomorrow, but tonight is going to be difficult.”

She hangs up after that, dropping the phone back on the pile of clothes and trying to relax again in her bath. She lets herself sink deeper into the water, until it covers her shoulders and only her head is out. She closes her eyes, breathes in deeply.

She’s surprised, then, when her phone rings again. She thinks she is imagining it, at first, but then it rings a second time. She sits up in the tub, swiping her phone back up.

She frowns. She doesn’t recognize the number.

She accepts the call, bringing the phone up against her ear.

“Hello ?”

“Hey”.

Fawn recognizes his voice instantly. She wrenches her phone away from her ear, incredulous, checking the number again. When it’s clear that she’s not having some kind of fever dream, she brings the phone back against her ear.

“How the fuck did you get my phone number ?” She demands, heart beating loudly against her chest. She grips the edge of the tub in her panic. What the fuck, what the fuck.

“Are you alright ?” Tangerine asks, ignoring her question. Anger starts to settle in, replacing the surprise and fear quickly.

“Al- Why wouldn’t I be alright ?”

He suddenly sounds less sure of himself.

“You… You didn’t fuckin’ take my offer for tonight”, he says. “You’ve never said no before, so…”

“Yeah, because I’m exhausted, not because I’m… Dead, or whatever”, she retorts, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh”, he simply lets out. “And it’s not because of, y’know, last time ?”

Meaning the time when he got drunk out of his mind and begged her not to leave. She does him the curtesy of not spelling it aloud.

“No”, she reassures him, even if she is a bit pissed off about him using her phone number, whatever way he managed to obtain it. “I’m just tired, alright ?”

“Right”, Tangerine says. He stays silent for a moment. “Look, I’m only here for the night, and I’d really like to see you, love.” Fawn opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts in before she can speak. “I’ll pay you as much as last time.”

She sighs, but she can already feel her resolve fading.

“I’m exhausted, Tangerine”, she argues. It doesn’t sound very convincing, even to her own ears.

“You won’t have to do anything”, he insists. “I’ll still pay you, alright ?”

“I was planning on smoking weed and falling asleep.”

“Well, you can do that at the hotel, can’t you ?”

Fawn guessed she could.

“ And you’re gonna pay me to do that ?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ pay you do that.”

“Alright, it’s your money, I guess.”

“I’ll be at the hotel in, say, one hour, if you head there before me, you can just order room service or anything you’d like”, he tells her. “Or I can pick you up, if you want.”

“I’m not giving you my home address, Tangerine.”

He chuckles, amused. “Fair enough. I’ll see you in an hour, then.”

He hangs up, and Fawn is left sitting in the now cold water of her bath, holding a phone in her hand. Well. So much for trying to deny him for once. Boundaries, and whatnot.

Half an hour later she’s standing in front of the hotel. This time she didn’t even bother at all with the way she dressed, opting for the warmest and comfiest clothes she could get her hands on. The sweater she’s chosen is big, the sleeves completely swallowing her hands, and the hem of it falling down mid-thighs. She wonders, amused, what people would think if they saw her next to Tangerine, who she’s never seen leave the hotel in less than tailored, expensive suits.

He isn’t in the room when she goes up, just like he told her, so she makes the most of his offer, and orders herself a chocolate dessert from the room service. She takes the plate with her in the bed, and relishes in the soft mattress while eating.

She really loves chocolate.

She decides that she might as well start smoking now. She takes the spliff that she had packed into her bag before leaving her apartment earlier, and lights it. She sucks the smoke in, holding it for a moment in her lungs, before slowly exhaling, watching tendrils twirl in the air as she does so. Fuck, that feels good.

She relaxes back against the cushions, the taste of weed and chocolate heavy on her tongue. After a while, she feels like all tension just left her body, like her limbs have turned into jelly or something.

She realizes that she would have never done this with any of her other clients. It’s too late now to start second-guessing herself or panicking, though. She trusts him. Maybe she shouldn’t.

She hears the sound of the door opening, and Tangerine steps inside the bedroom a few seconds later. He’s still wearing one of his suits, but she can see that there are wrinkles here and there, and his hair has started reversing back to its natural curls.

“Started without me, did you ?” He asked, loosening the tie around his throat.

“Didn’t realize you intended for me to share”, she replies. Her tongue feels cottony in her mouth. She closes her eyes.

Tangerine collapses down on the bed next to her with a sigh, face down against the mattress. She snorts. He’s always been somewhat dramatic. She curls a hand inside his hair, lightly scratching against his skull. Tension seems to bleed out of his body from this mere touch.

“Rough day at work ?” She asks. She doesn’t even know what he does for a living.

“Yeah, more like a fuckin’ week”, Tangerine says, groaning and he rolls onto his back.

Fawn extends the hand holding the spliff towards him, waving it a bit in front of his face. She feels pleasantly warm.

“Want some ?” She asks.

“Why, yes, thank you so much”, he replies, sarcastic, but he does raise a hand to take the spliff from her. Their fingers brush against each other, maybe a bit longer than normal, but Fawn is too high to try looking into it more deeply.

He puffs it, and then immediately dissolves into coughs. Fawn grins.

“Jesus”, Tangerine says, voice choked up as he struggles to catch his breath. “That shit is strong, how the fuck can you smoke it ?”

“Aww, not used to smoking weed, are you ? Can’t handle it ?”

“No, I don’t, actually”, Tangerine retorts, passing her the spliff back, wiping at his eyes. “So, what, you won’t accept drunk clients, but you’ll smoke weed with them ?”

“I don’t smoke weed with all my clients.”

He looks up at her then, blue eyes seemingly searching her face for something. She takes a drag from the joint, holding his gaze. He arches an eyebrow.

“What, am I a fucking special case or something ?”

“Maybe you are”, Fawn answers, without really thinking about it.

He doesn’t answer for a while, like he’s deep in his thoughts. She continues to gently caress his hair. The curls feel so soft and his skin so warm underneath her fingers. Maybe she ought to feel overheated, in her chunky sweater, but she just feels pleasantly drowsy, lightheaded from the weed, but content.

He raises a hand eventually to ask for the spliff.

“Pucker up”, she tells him. He frowns, but does as she asked. He looks a bit ridiculous like this, and she can’t help the large grin that breaks out of her face. Jesus, she hadn’t realized weed made her act this silly.

She pops the spliff between his lips. He almost splutters in his surprise, but manages to puff it without actually hacking off his lungs.

“Good job”, she says, unable to resist, and patting his head lightly.

He glares at her in answer (it’s not exactly convincing) and blows the smoke into her face. She laughs a bit, taking the spliff back.

“Wait, are you really going to take the last fucking…” Tangerine tries to protest, rising a bit on his elbows.

Fawn arches an eyebrow, taking the last drag, but holds the smoke in her lungs. She scoots a bit closer to him, and taps a finger at his bottom lip. He seems a bit clueless, confused. Still, he opens his mouth all the same.

She doesn’t really know what suddenly comes over her, but she leans in, and blows the smoke inside his mouth. He sucks in sharp breath, staring at her with lidded eyes. She leans a bit closer. She doesn’t know who closes the few final inches separating them.

But then, they’re kissing.

His mouth is hot against hers, his lips soft and wet. He tastes like weed and coffee. She parts her lips, licking lightly at his bottom lip, and then she feels his tongue against hers.

Fuck, it’s been a while since she’s been kissed like this. Just kissed, just for the sake of it.

It might be the best kiss she’s gotten in months. Maybe years.

She cups his cheek, tilting her head for a better angle, and he hums against her, tongue sliding in deeper, rolling against her own. Fuck.

Her other hand, that had already been in his hair, pulls a bit at his curls.

Suddenly, he wrenches himself away from her, standing hastily from the bed. There is… some sort of panic in his eyes, his curls completely messed up on his head, his lips swollen.

“Fuck”, he says, pushing his hair out of his eyes, raking a hand through them. His chest is heaving. Fawn is completely lost. What is happening ? “Fuck”, he repeats, louder.

He doesn’t even look at her, storming out of the room. She hears the entrance door slam closed a few seconds later.

She stays rooted where she is, still sitting on the bed. Alone.

She feels like she just brutally fell of her high. The warmth that had been infused in the room mere minutes earlier seems to have completely disappeared. She shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. She doesn’t dare move.

What the fuck ?

She… Doesn’t understand.

They were kissing. Alright, she had kissed him first, yes, but he had kissed her back. He could have simply said no, if he didn’t want to. She wouldn’t have felt offended.

Fuck, the bastard just… Fucking left. She feels gutted, for some reason. Like someone just tore open her chest and left a gaping hole behind, not bothering to close it back. The loneliness creeps in, all at once. She is surrounded by it, sitting alone in a huge hotel room.

He couldn’t just… Leave. He was going to come back, right ?

He hadn’t even paid her.

Fawn swallows around the lump in her throat. Fuck. She’s not going to cry. Not for a man. Not for a fucking client, of all things. She’s long past that.

Okay, so maybe she had thought Tangerine was a bit different than the rest. But he is still a client.

She blinks furiously against the tears threatening to spill out. She feels cold. Humiliated.

Fuck, this really is humiliating.

Her mind keeps jumping to all sorts of possible explanation, each one worse than the other.

A small part of her keeps foolishly hoping that he’s going to come back. He’s going to come back. He just… has too. She had stayed, when he had asked her. Even though he had been drunk. She had stayed because he had asked.

She waits three hours, until she finally decides to go home. Confusion and sadness have long morphed into anger, and a deep feeling of emptiness.

She curls up in her own bed, back in her small apartment. She feels completely pathetic. For allowing this happen. For allowing herself to hope for a fucking client to be at least decent. For allowing him to put her in this situation. She shouldn’t have accepted his offer.

She just wasted a night of sleep, and she didn’t even get paid for it. And now, here she is, alone back in her apartment. Just… Alone.

#tangerine #lemon and tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fic #tangerine x reader #tangerine x oc #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #bullet train fic #bullet train fanfic #bullet train tangerine

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cassieb1617 · 3 years ago

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Voice like honey and a sweet Smile💌

Pairing: Steve Rogers x f!reader

Fluff/slight angst

Summary: Steve Rogers fell in love with your smile.

Warnings: overuse of the word ‘worried’;language I think; small angst; insecure!Steve; black widow!reader; small mentions of parents giving up their kid but it’s only one sentence; let me know if there are more

Steve Roger thought in the 40’s way even if he now lived in the 21st century. In 1940 you fell in love once and that love stays forever. He thought that that was life. He fell in love with Peggy Carter and then he was frozen for 70 years. He woke up and was still in love with her and he thought that was it. But, dear Lord, he was so wrong when he first saw you smiling.

He first met you when he joined the Avengers and New York was under attack. He saw you talking to Phil Coulson and later found out you were also apart of the, at that time not so functioning, team. Natasha Romanoff was the one who introduced you to another and when you were saying your name, god your voice was like honey, you smiled. That smile was so sweet and in that moment he wondered how a person with such an sweet smile could possibly be apart of a job so cruel. But then he saw you kicking ass, having a very similar skillset like Natasha and he was smitten. He didn’t know if he just had a thing for women who could end him.

The missions you had together were his favourite because of your sweet smile. Somehow you managed to always light up the mood even when missions started to get out of hand. For example when Steve, Natasha, Sam and you were taking down SHIELD and HYDRA you managed to bring the four of them hope. And your smile, my god, he fell in love with it. When it came out that the Winter Soldier was actually his old best friend, James Buchanan Barnes, you went through all of that with him. You smiled and he felt better. He swore that you put him under some kind of spell. Natasha, being herself, teased him endlessly for that. In her words he was a simp for you and by the time you all were defeating Ultron he had fallen completely in love with you and his feelings for Peggy died down.

Peggy may be his first love but he was sure you were the one of his life.

When the big fight between the Avengers broke out you were on his side, having quite a similar opinion upon choices and rights, but you still tried to stop them from actually fighting against each other. Tony and Steve were both stubborn to no end and you knew it but you still hoped that you could stop this. It was to no end, though, because only hours later you were on the run with Steve, Bucky getting help from Wakanda.

You stayed in contact with Natasha and he knew that. After getting to know you better he found out that the two of you grew up together and were practically sisters. Being in the redroom together but not fighting each other because you were three years younger. He also got to know that you had a little sister, not biologically but still, her name is Yelena. He also learned that you knew Bucky from the redroom. He had trained the widows in fighting and also in English, apparently you grew close and Bucky remembered you when he saw you again in Romania together with Steve.

When Steve finally got the courage to ask you out and to tell you how he fell in love with you in every way possible, Natasha stood infront of the house you were in at the moment with a picture. In the picture were three young girls; one with blue, short hair; one with blond hair and an never ending smile; and a (y/h/c)-haired one with a shy smile on her face, hiding behind the other two. He noticed that it was you, probably with Natasha and Yelena as he began to connecting the dots. Natasha explained that it was Yelena who sent this, being the only other possibility than you considering you three had all a part of one big photostripe.

You wanted to stay with Steve, believe me you really wanted to, but if there is the possibility of more widows being in training you couldn’t let this go and you told the same thing to Steve while packing a few things in a bag. “I have to go Steve, I owe that everyone, I owe it Yelena.” You desperately tols him. “Please, understand.” Steve’s heart broke a little at the tears in your eyes but of course he understood, how could he not.

“Stay safe, will you?” He told you gently while holding you in a hug and you nodded. “You too, Nat.” And she teasingly smiled at him and nodded. “I take care of her, don’t worry.” She whispered to him when he took her in a short hug too and then you were off.

Steve was worried to no end. You were gone for a while now and he was glad he didn’t see a single news page that said that two Avengers were found dead but he wasn’t happy either. He hadn’t heard of you and he worried that you might’ve gotten yourself killed. He was constantly pacing, cleaning something up, making plans or trying or relax just so that he didn’t have to think about you and something bad happening.

And then there was someone knocking, once, twice, a third time and then a rythm and he knew it was you. It was something you both invented in case you got split up. Steve rushed to the door and he stilled upon seeing you. You had a cut above your eyebrow and there was blood on your side. You wore a white fighting outfit and had a grey vest over your body but you still looked gorgeous. “Hi, is that the senior home? I’m searching for an old man, blond to brown hair, has a thing for doing the right thing, stubborn, great body and probably a bit annoying too?” Your voice showed your exhaustion but you smiled that sweet smile at him and he melted. “Hilarious.” And with that he took you in his arms, walking backwards and closing the door as soon as he could.

“You’re safe. Oh, you’re safe I was so worried.” He mumbled that over and over in your hair, showing just how much you leaving effected him. “I’m safe, Steve, of course I am.” You comforted him upon feeling tears on you from him and squeezed him just a bit more. He got back out of your arms, just to hold you at arms length and looked you over. His eyes settling on the blood on your clothes. “It’s not mine, it’s from on of the agents there.” You explained. He led you to the couch and you watched him walking around. “Did you clean?” He looked up at you from his bag and nodded slightly, blushing a bit. You laughed. Of course he cleaned up. “Had to distract me a bit. Was so worried that you’d get hurt.” He threw you a shirt and sweatpants of him, then your bag and told you to wait as you wanted to make your way to shower. He took the first-aid kit. “You have a cut.” You wanted to protest but seeing him so vulnerable made you stop. He was worried and if that makes him sure you’re okay, you let him do whatever he needed to.

“I was so worried that you got hurt or worse. Everytime I saw the newspaper I expected to see something along the lines of ‘two Avengers found dead’ or something like that. You have no idea. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” He expressed his fears and he didn’t stop talking. Not even when you wanted to tell him you’re okay and that it takes a lot more to kill you. “Everytime I thought: ‘what is if she’s dead?’ And everytime I thought about how I didn’t get to tell you.” At that you had to stop him.

“Didn’t get to tell me what?” He didn’t answer but he looked like a deer caught in headlights. “What do you want to tell me, Steve?” He stuttered for a bit and avoided eye contact. “Steve? You know you can tell me.” Insecurities came up in him. His whole life he was rejected or not even looked at by women. He got beaten up and god knows what else and then there was Peggy Carter but she isn’t alive anymore and he, quite frankly, wasn’t in love with her anymore. And then there was you. You’re gorgeous, intelligent, can kick ass like no other and he fell in love with you amd your smile. So, despite the little voice in the back of his brain telling him not to, he spilled everything.

“I’m in love with you. God, I’m so in love with you, your smile and the way your nose crinkled whenenever you laugh or the way care for everyone around you despite your past it-I just fell in love-“ you had to suppress a smile at the way he flushed red under your gaze. “-with you so badly. I didn’t know I could feel something so strong for someone.” He ended breathless and looked at you waiting for a reaction but saw nothing but amusement and he thought he crossed the line, that you would start laughing at him every minute but you didn’t. You just sat there. “Finished?” You asked him teasingly and he nodded, a bit too fast and you worried his head may falls off. Steve was still waiting for any other reaction but he didn’t expect you to kiss him. “I waited so long for you to tell me that.” And Steve kissed you right back.

That day may have been one of the best he ever had. When you both calmed down you laid beside him on the couch, both of you fresh showered, together may I add, in his clothes. He asked you about what happened and you told him. You told him about how you met Yelena again and how angry she was. About how worried you were that she would hate you now and that you met the only parents you ever truly had again. You told him that you found out that your biological parents gave you up, not wanting a daughter and about how sad you felt when Melina, the woman who raised you for three years, told you that. You also told him about how Natasha has blonde hair now after losing a bet between you three and that you missed him while you were away and how you took down the redroom, freed the widows and killed Dreykov and his men with your family. And he told you he was happy you were happy. And that he was proud that you got to fight your demons.

And in that moment everything was alright despite the current circumstances.

#steve rogers x reader #marvel #steve rogers #avenger!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #mcu #bucky barnes #fluff #angst #marvel cinematic universe #fanfiction #captain america #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x sister!reader #the redroom #black widow

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thegh0sting · 1 year ago

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No because I'll put myself up there like Jesus on the cross for this one- sling my dead body around by the ceiling fan

The Christmas horses FUCKING SUCK ASS.

I have NEVER bought a Christmas horse except for the very first one with the stupid fratboy gelhawk mane, and I regret it like a stay at home mother with a CEO husband who's absolutely rawing his secretary after-hours. I have no idea what kind of methamphetamines the team snorts for Halloween and then suffers the withdrawal from after in the half-month between Halloween and Christmas, but there's something fucking rewiring in their brains from October to mid-November and it's BAD.

Fawncy and Brinicle I can excuse because magic horses were fairly new at that time. Brinicle's coloring pisses me off so bad because why- WHY the two different blues from the coat and the mane? Why the mix of dull and saturated? It's ugly, and the Fawncy looks way too bright. But I can give it a pass.

SIKE, BECAUSE PEPITA AND WOODEAR LITERALLY FUCKING ATE THE PLATE WITH THE MEAL- SILVERWARE AND ALL. GONE. CRUMBLESS. EVEN CLEANED THE TABLE AFTER THEY WERE DONE COMPARED TO FAWNCY AND BRINICLE.

Heidrun is the only one I admit was better than a Halloween horse because it came out with Tombhoof- who is still fucking gorgeous compared to the rest of the Christmas horses.

Snowdancer and Shadowshield? That's not even Christmas themed- it's fucking arabians with black and gold paint at MOST. There's nothing magical about them compared to Duskgrim and Songsorrow. Even in a year where the magical coats weren't the best- I adore Duskgrim and Songsorrow, but they're nothing mold-breaking or particularly 'magical' apart from their story or premise- the Halloween horses absolutely slayed it.

ZERO. EXCUSE. For the "sylvan unicorn" and Kátur. The unicorn is shit, and Kátur- while adorable and I love- is just a horse with fucking snow on it. Compared to Laverna and Nemain? What fucking heroin were they shooting? What absolute balls to the walls madman designed the Halloween horses, and then went "you know what would be great? A HORSE. With SNOW. And NOTHING ELSE." And I won't even start on the "sylvan unicorn" because I WILL be a hater- I understand it's a kid's game and kids like unicorns, but be so fucking for real- the coat is just cranked brightness and blue hooves. It's the dictionary definition of disappointing.

And then this year.

Be so, so, so, seriously, gravely, deadly for fucking real. From Audra and Alvirah, who absolutely KILLED IT with the jewelry, antlers and coloring-

TO THAT?

What seasonal depression kicks in between the end of Galloper's Keep and the beginning of Winter Village? Is it a lack of holiday inspiration? A different team? Dropout? What HAPPENS?

Not bashing people who like the Christmas horses, it's a kids game, I'm just really fucking disappointed in the obvious quality drop in such a short timespan. And not model or art quality- the fucking designs. What the fuck is this shit?

I might get tied to a ceiling fan for this but bear with me-

Example one

Example two

Example three

Example four

Example five (spoiler)

Are you guys picking up the pattern of disappointment or do I just hate whimsy and fun?

#yes i'll get the lebkuchen horse because i like the natural coat #but i wont be caught DECEASED riding the magic coat #again im not here to bash people #like what you want #pop off if you love the christmas horses more than the halloween ones #or you think these are good #im just being a hater because i love the halloween horses designs' and REALLY want to like the christmas horses #because i love the holiday season #but this shit cannot fly #sso spoilers #ssoblr #sso #star stable #star stable online #sso halloween #sso winter

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kirieshhhka003 · 3 years ago

Text

Pairing: La Squadra x GN! Reader

Warnings: language

La Squadra harem

Risotto Nero

Risotto, as a leader of the hitman squad, immediately notices the change of atmosphere among La Squadra once Y/n appears. Albino, to his huge dismay, understands that he’s not the only one who’s developed feelings for Y/n. Albino knows every member’s habits and usual behavior, capo is the first one of all hitmen who figures out that everyone is his rival now (but only when it comes to Y/n, he’s still their leader and he respects every member equally)

Risotto is more of a father figure to Y/n. He warms up to you shortly, pampering you with his attention and genuine care, always being there for you. You’re hungry? The two of you are going to the nearest cafe for you to have a proper meal and Capo won’t take “no” as an answer. You’re stressed and something messes with your pretty head? What a poor thing, come here, Risotto is always ready to listen. Others immediately catch on the change of Capo’s treatment, every day it becomes even more obvious that he has a huge soft spot for Y/n

Least favorite rival: Melone. Risotto hates how smooth purple-haired is around you, how he is open with his flirting, how sincere all of his words sound. Nero wishes he had at least half of sans gêne Melone has. He’s a Capo and he has a reputation to uphold, but behind closed doors Risotto has tried flirting with Y/n and it was so so clumsy and awkward, it’s just… not his style

Prosciutto

The second father figure for Y/n, but if Risotto is more of a sugar daddy, indulging you with expensive gifts and foods, Prosciutto mostly acts like a real father would, scolding you for going outside at winter without your hat on (tho he never wears a hat himself) or for petting stray animals on the streets

Even despite all of his parental sternness, Prosciutto is really caring and attentive towards Y/n, even more that Risotto is. You got scratched accidentally because of your clumsiness? We gotta clean the wound up and patch it, don’t even try to protest; it may be a simple graze but what if some dirt got in it? Your shoulders ache after a long tiring day? Come hither, your dear Prosci will rub all the pain away

Least favorite rival: Risotto. Prosciutto doesn’t hate or despise albino, no. Risotto is a capo, and he got this status for several reasons, so blonde man still respects his boss, but both man have pretty familiar tactics of charming Y/n, and that definitely annoys Prosciutto

Formaggio

Formaggio is one of the most oblivious of all La Squadra men, he doesn’t realize that he’s not the only one having interest in Y/n and even when other guys flirt openly with Y/n in front of him red-haired just thinks that his teammates just try to be friendly towards a newcomer

He’s definitely that type of macho from all the cheesy movies - attractive, excellent smooth talker with constant flirtings. Formaggio is not opposed of using all possible cringy lines what annoy everyone in La Squadra, even Risotto has hard times restraining the urge to roll his eyes at all those shitty teasings. But Maggi is an easygoing guy, it’s so easy being around him and even all his pick up lines don’t repel you from him

Least favorite rival: doesn’t have one. As I said, this man doesn’t notice that other guys try to get Y/n to themselves, the thought of having possible rivals doesn’t even cross his mind

Illuso

It’s not a secret to anyone that Illuso is a little nasty bitch with a huge god complex and all his wooing is no better. “You wanna spend time with me? Shit, you’re such a pain in my ass! Okay, I guess I will indulge you this time, but that’s only because of your cute face” - doesn’t sound so appealing, does it? And that’s exactly the way brunette flirts with Y/n (well, at least he tries to)

Illuso wants to make you crawl to him, to make you crave for his presence and his touch, you make you fall in love hard. Brunette wears his best outfits, uses the best of his perfumes make up stuff just to show you that he’s better than all of his teammates. Surprisingly, even his behavior changes slightly when Y/n is around - he’s not that unbearably churlish towards you, on the good days he may even compliment you - “Your hair… looks good today, I like it”

Least favorite rival: he hates all of La Squadra equally. Illuso is certain that he’s the only one who truly deserves Y/n’s attention, he’s the best partner for you and only he can treat you properly. Doesn’t even try to hide his hostility towards teammates - why would you want spending time with such a trash?

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio is a tsundere, do I even need to explain why? Is obvious to everyone in La Squadra that he’s head over heels for Y/n, but he still aggressively denies everything if someone points that out. He’s also very protective of you, if Formaggio or Melone or Sorbet try to flirt with you in front of Ghiaccio - they’ll get their nose bleeding soon (blue-haired gets scolded for that by Risotto often)

Blue-haired tries his best to hold all his outbursts in front of you. Even when you ask the stupidest questions, Ghiaccio would clench his fists til his knuckles turn white, grit his teeth, try doing breathing exercises - everything just to remain calm and not to get tantrum in front of you. And you guess that means really a lot

Least favorite rival: Sorbet and Gelato. Those guys (gays, lmao im sorry) don’t even try to hide their interest in Y/n, pinning for you, prying your attention only to themselves. They flirt so openly with you, some of their lines and allusions make even Melone feel slightly uncomfortable, so Ghiaccio sees those almost as if two husbands were shamelessly molesting Y/n

Melone

Melone knows that at times he may be a little bit… too much, so he turns it down for as much as he can so his “strange” tendencies won’t scare Y/n off. For the first few months purple-haired is nothing but sweet and caring, looking pretty normal, just like an average man that doesn’t think of breeding and all possible kinks every two minutes of his time

Even though, he acts like a gentleman with Y/n. Carrying heavy bags for you, giving you a hand when you get up, and if you’re studying medicine he’s up to help you if you have problems with understanding something. Melone had been studying for almost four years at medical uni but got kicked out for having sex with his cogrouper right in the uni. So he may be pretty helpful if you don’t get something or if you’re just interested in medicine

Least favorite rival: I can’t say that he cares much about other guys from La Squadra, but if he had to pick out one it’d be Illuso. It’s not about the way brunette tries to charm Y/n, purple-haired from every beginning didn’t like this guy. All of his conceit and arrogant behavior - it all just pisses Melone off

Pesci

Pesci is so so timid with Y/n, every time you walk by him, saying hi or just smiling at him, poor boy’s heart twists into tight knots. How are you so sweet? How are you so perfect?

Despite all your friendliness green-haired is still incredibly bashful, he is simply afraid of approaching Y/n. It doesn’t matter how much he likes you, Pesci just can’t force himself to try and initiate a chat. Sometimes Prosciutto helps him out with that a little (even though he doesn’t realize that he helps), but blonde is still careful with his actions, not letting even his precious Pesci get too close to Y/n

Least favorite rival: Formaggio. This guy is so noisy and vigorous, every time Pesci finally pulls himself together and finds the courage to approach Y/n this guy seems to appear from fucking nowhere, hogging your attention all to himself and leaving green-haired an angry blushing mess

Sorbet and Gelato

At the very beginning it feels more like you are Sorbet’s and Gelato’s child and they’re your parents fretting over you. They often take you with them on some trips, Gelato helps you with your school (if it’s something he knows about), Sorbet picks you up from work/school and drives you home etc

Sorbet is more of a tease, playing around with you, shamelessly flirting with Y/n, littering with not so pure compliments and comments. His touches are a little bit too long, his gazes are slightly too intense, even stupidest one would notice brunette’s longing for Y/n. Gelato is way less intense than his husband, blonde is way easier with his words, charming you with his sweet talking and constant doting. He’s more of a pillow that eases the expression Sorbet gives you

Sorbet’s least favorite rival: Risotto. Brunette hates how calm and well-composed Capo is, what if Y/n thinks that albino is cooler than he is? But Sorbet immediately makes a new plan in his head: if Risotto is more of a dad to Y/n, always doting on you and being so kind, Sorbet’s going to become your daddy, making you fall for him and Gelato, make you hungry for their attention

Gelato’s least favorite rival: blonde is pretty acknowledged that everyone in La Squadra tryies to get Y/n to themselves, he sees everyone (except Sorbet ofc) as his rival. Man dislikes everyone, seeing them as his opponents, but he doesn’t have a least favorite one. Yes, other members are hella pain in the ass, but blonde is pretty sure that Y/n will end up in his and Gelato’s arms anyways, so there’s no need to jangle his nerves

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

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sacredsorceress · 4 years ago

Text

Milestone || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: a journey through some of the biggest milestones in yours and bucky’s relationship from the day you first met to sharing a home of your own

a/n: in this we’re gonna pretend that bucky didn’t get dusted! also reader has powers similar to those of wanda’s. reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

The First Time You Met

Running down the hallway of the airport, you watched as Peter was swept off of his feet and into the air by none other than Falcon, leaving the man you recognized as the Winter Soldier in your midst. Your shoes squeaking against the floor as you stopped short, you threw your arms into the air, stopping the man from moving.

Snapping his attention towards you, he furrowed his eyebrows and you could feel him fighting against your magic. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried your hardest to keep him contained but with only so much experience, he broke through it in a minute, coming for you straight after.

“Shit.” You cursed to yourself, watching as he strode over to you.

Clasping your hands together before pulling them apart, you created a baton of sorts in just enough time to hold it in front of yourself as Bucky cornered you into a wall. Pushing him back with the beam, you grunted, trying your hardest to keep the magic from dying out.

“You’re not very good at this.” He commented, attempting to pull the magical beam from your hands.

“I’m...” You grunted. “.... new.”

Using all of your force, you shoved him back. Taking the first opportunity you saw, you began shooting blasts of magic at him while he stumbled backwards. Attempting to dodge the blasts, he moved forward, putting his hands in the air.

“Look,” He said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Watching as he stumbled backwards, closer to a ledge, you halted the blasts, tilting your head sideways.

“Lucky me.”

As soon as the words fell from your mouth, you used the rest of your force, swinging your arms backwards and then pushing forward to shove him through the railing and over the edge, his eyes wide as he fell backwards. When he fell, he took the Falcon with him.

Glancing up above, you saw Peter, shooting a web to hold the two men to the ground. Feeling the energy in your palms, you floated down to the floor they were held to, standing above them.

“Look guys, I would love to keep this up but I’ve only got one job here today and I’ve gotta impress Mr. Stark, so I’m really sorry-” You watched as the drone took Peter’s web and pulled him through the window cutting him short, Peter screaming as it did.

Turning back to the men, you pulled the hood of your cloak over your head.

“Don’t worry about the drone thing,” You said. “I know when to see myself out.”

Turning to make your way towards the exit of the airport, you heard Bucky call from behind you.

“Hey!” He shouted. “Who are you?”

Bucky didn’t know why he was asking. He could barely even remember facts about himself, never mind keep track of every super human person he came across, but there was something nagging in his mind, begging him to learn more.

Glancing over your shoulder, looking at the Winter Soldier one last time, you smirked.

“Y/n.”

And with that you left the airport.

First Touch

The hatch to the ship opening, you stumbled down the steps, gripping Nebula’s arm to keep your balance. As Steve took hold of Tony, Pepper rushing to his side, you looked up to find the familiar face of Rhodey making his way towards you.

“I chose the wrong day to go see who Dr. Strange was.” You chuckled somberly, trying to make light of the situation.

Grabbing your arm to steady you as you slowly walked down the steps, Rhodey shook his head.

“The fight wasn't much better back here.” He said. “At least we had oxygen though. You’re not looking so good, kid.”

Too afraid to have looked at your deteriorating reflection the past three weeks, you knew he was being too kind.

It had been nearly three weeks since Thanos snapped away a half of the universe’s population, leaving you, Tony and Nebula stranded in space. You had run out of fuel weeks ago and had nearly lost hope of ever returning home as the oxygen supply began dwindling until Captain Marvel had found your ship and brought you all safely back to the Avengers Compound.

Despite being back, three weeks in space had left you exhausted, starving and dehydrated- just to name a few.

Biting back the dizziness you felt, you sighed.

“I’m- I’m fine, Rhodes.” You said, beginning to feel lightheaded. “It’s nothing-”

Missing your footing on the step, you tripped, losing your balance from Rhodey, about to hit the ground until you felt an arm wrap around your torso and the cool touch of metal grasp your hand. Looking up, you were met with the familiar face of the man you had fought two years ago at the airport in Germany, his hair cut shorter since the last time you had seen him, but recognizable nonetheless.

“Bucky Barnes?” You asked, standing up straighter with his assistance.

“Y/n.” He replied, shooting you a gentle smile.

Although you had what many would consider super-human abilities with your magic, due to being discovered after the civil war between the Avengers that had effectively split up the group- you weren't used to being recognized. Hearing your name fall from his lips felt somewhat gratifying.

“You remember my name?” You asked in disbelief

“Hard to forget the name of the woman who kicked my ass.” Bucky chuckled, helping you walk towards the doors of the Compound. “Doesn't happen often.”

For the first time in weeks you allowed yourself to smile as you gazed up at the man holding you steady, making sure you didn’t fall. When his blue eyes met yours, you adverted your gaze, turning your attention towards Natasha who wheeled a wheelchair through the doors of the Compound and towards the two of you.

Moving his flesh hand to rest on your lower back, his vibranium one still in yours, he helped you slowly ease into the chair. When you sat back in the chair, resting your feet on the footrests, you looked up at the super soldier and smiled.

“Not looking for a rematch are you?” You asked, slipping your hand out of his and resting it on your abdomen. “‘Cause I think I’m gonna need a raincheck.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he laughed shaking his head.

“No, I think I’m done with fighting.” He said.

Feeling Natasha pulling back on the wheelchair, about to spin your chair around and towards the doors, you threw him one last smile.

“That makes two of us.”

Just when Bucky was about to turn around and walk away as Nat wheeled you through the doors, the chair stopped and he watched as you glanced over your shoulder.

“And Sarge?” You called.

“Yeah?”

“I like the new arm.”

For the first time in decades, Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks as he watched you tiredly speak to Natasha until you left his line of sight.

First Kiss

It had taken you nearly a month to recover from your time in space since returning back to Earth. Although you understood that there wasn’t much to be done since Thanos had wiped out half of the universe, you still felt guilty taking up space in the Compound when all you would do was lay in bed, attached to an IV.

The one thing that made your time on bedrest a little more bearable was none other than Bucky Barnes.

Throughout your stay in bed he had consistently visited you. Though at first he was a bit shy, you had proven to be someone he could trust- assuring him that he could never be a bother to you and that you genuinely enjoyed having his company- maybe a bit too much, but you would never tell him that.

Bucky himself was surprised that he had put himself so out there with you after living such a solitary life for nearly the past 80 years, but there was just something about you that drew him to you time and time again. He couldn’t pinpoint it- whether it was your kindness, humor or intelligence- he found both joy and peace in your presence- something he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be in.

So, despite the voice in the back of his head telling him that you didn’t want to see him, he had visited you while you got better in bed, taking care of you in the littlest of ways until he watched the dark circles under your eyes fade away and your ability to walk without his assistance return.

Finally feeling somewhat better, you had insisted to bucky that you were ready to train again and no matter how many times he tried to convince you that you weren’t, he could never say no once you squeezed his hand and pouted up at him.

He was regretting not saying no to you as he now stood across from you in the training room.

“Y/n, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” He said, watching you sway in your spot despite your feet being planted to the mat.

“C’mon Barnes,” You taunted, raising your hands. “You scared?”

Just as he was about to open his mouth again, you shot a blast of magic towards him, Bucky dodging it just as it whooshed past his head.

“I wasn’t even ready!” Bucky exclaimed.

Shrugging your shoulders you formed another beam made of magic, holding either ends of it with your hands as Bucky came towards you.

Trying to plant your feet to the ground, feeling another hit of dizziness wash over you, you pushed him back with the beam, but before you could do anything more, his leg swept under yours, making you lose your balance.

Before you fell to the ground, however, the magic in your hands diminished as you gripped your hands into Bucky’s shirt bringing him down with you.

Flipping over before you fell, you landed on top of the super soldier, your hands planted firmly on his chest. With his hands above his head that was inches away from yours, you both stared at each other- you finally noticing just how much you liked the scruff that coated his jawline and him admiring the color of your eyes and how he swore he could lose himself in them if only he had the chance.

Opening your mouth, you felt the thumping of Bucky’s heart against your fingertips that were resting on his chest as he gazed up at you.

“Your heart is beating really fast.” You whispered, out of breath despite you barely having trained.

“Yeah, it does that when I see you.”

You could barely believe what you were hearing until you felt Bucky’s hands come up and cup your face, glancing down at your lips before back to your eyes, asking wordlessly for your approval.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you eagerly nodded back at him.

Before you could even process it, you felt Bucky’s lips meeting yours as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands moving from cupping your face to wrapping around your body, pulling you tight against him. All you could remember thinking was that despite his tough exterior, his lips were soft and you could lose yourself in the comfort of having his arms around you all day if he let you.

Pulling away first, a beaming smile spread across Bucky’s face as he rubbed circles against your back.

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” He teased. “You could’ve just asked.”

First “I Love You”

Sitting on the edge of the rooftop, your legs swinging in the air, you offered the bag of popcorn in your hand to your boyfriend who was sat beside you. Taking his eyes off of the view in front of him, he grabbed a fistful of the salty treat from the bag, popping it in his mouth.

“Did you have stuff like this back in the olden times?” You asked, laying your head on his shoulder.

“What?” He asked despite his mouth being full. “You mean fireworks? How old do you think I am?”

Laughing at how he mocked offense over your question, you sat up straight, pecking his cheek.

“One hundred doesn’t sound much better, babe.”

Rolling his eyes, knowing that you loved him anyway, he brushed off the remaining salt from his fingertips, wrapping his vibranium arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

Just as he pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, he jumped in his spot as he heard the loud sound of the first firework shooting up into the air over the water before “popping” and bursting into an array of color.

“Look!” You exclaimed, pointing towards the display. “It’s starting!”

Although he took a quick glance at the firework display, his attention was purely focused on you. He couldn’t help but admire the way the colorful lights reflected on your skin or how you had a hint of an open smile on your face watching as the fireworks burst midair. No show could compare to looking at you.

He couldn't help but feel his heart race in his chest, breath caught in his throat as he admired your beauty- even when you were still in your suit from watching over the parade with him earlier that evening. He was convinced there wasn’t a single thing about you that he wasn’t completely enamored with and you only gave him more reasons to love you every single day.

Before he even realized what he was saying, admiring you in complete bliss and utter awe, the words slipped out of his mouth.

“I love you.”

He thought you wouldn’t be able to hear, the sound of another firework popping ringing in his ear, but when you turned towards him, your eyes wide and mouth agape, he knew you had.

“Did you just say that you love me?” You asked, fireworks continuing to burst behind you.

Not one to lie- especially not to you- he nodded his head.

“Yeah.”

A smile beginning to form on your face, you grabbed the strap on his jacket, pulling him closer to you.

“I love you too.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his, the sound of the finale of the display ringing behind you as the fireworks burst one after another in air, every color imaginable washing over your joined figures sitting on the edge of the rooftop on that cool summer night, almost as if it were taking the feeling shared between the two of you and bringing it to life for the world to see.

First Home

“Okay!” You nodded, pointing to the corner of your living room. “That one can go over there. Thank you so much for your help, Steve.”

“I helped Buck move into his first apartment, Y/n.” Steve said wiping his hands on his pants. “I wouldn’t miss stuff like this for anything.”

Smiling at Steve’s comment, you felt Bucky’s vibranium hand land on your lower back, pulling you closer. Leaning into his touch, you wrapped your arm around him in return, staring up at your boyfriend.

“Yeah and the first time he was about a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter.” Bucky chuckled. “This is easy for him.”

Watching Natasha set down the last box on top of a pile of the others in the kitchen, you excused yourself from your boyfriend and his best friend, making your way into the other room.

When you had left the two of them’s earshot, Bucky watching as you left, Steve rested his hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“You know,” Steve said. “I’m happy for you, Buck. I think this is gonna be good for you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s comment- despite how cheesy it was- because he knew it was true.

When Bucky’s memory had finally been cleared, a part of him had always feared that even though he had been given a new chance at life, he would never have a normal one. Although he knew “normal” was a strong term for the life you two shared together given that he was a century old super soldier and you had magical abilities- you had given him a chance at a peaceful life full of love and contentment which was all he could ever dream of asking for.

The idea of finding love and having a family was something that he worried was left eighty years in the past, but you proved to him that life didn’t end for him when he fell from that train- if anything it brought him the beginning he had always hoped for.

“Sure you won’t miss me too bad, pal?” Bucky asked.

Taking his hand back from Bucky’s shoulder, Steve laughed shoving his hand in his pockets.

“No, I think I’m used to it by now.” Steve chuckled. “It’s just like you to be able to find a woman with shared life experience even when half the world disappears.”

Shaking his head at his friend’s joke, he shoved him playfully.

“C’mon, ya’know this is different.” Bucky said. “I think this is the last one for me.”

Without missing a beat, Steve smiled.

“I know.”

Hearing the sound of you and Natasha’s footsteps stepping back into the room, Bucky kept his mouth shut, feeling your hand run over his shoulder as you stood beside him.

“Don’t forget about me now that you have your own place, okay Y/n?” Nat said crossing her arms.

“Don’t worry.” You told her. “I’ll come visit every day.”

“Well, not every day-” Bucky interjected.

“No. I meant what I said. Every day, Nat. You’ll wish you never said anything.”

Once the laughter that had erupted in the room settled, Steve and Nat said their goodbyes to you and your boyfriend, you both waving them off as you shut the door behind them. When the door was shut and you and Bucky were left in your new apartment alone together, you rushed over to your bag by the door, pulling a neatly wrapped gift out of it.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked as you handed him the present.

“Just a little housewarming gift.” You smiled.

Gazing at your smiling face, a smile finding its way onto his, he looked down at the present in his hands, carefully tearing the paper off of the gift to reveal a framed photo of the two of you.

A framed photo of the two of you fighting in an airport three years ago on the day you first met.

“So, Tony had put a camera in Peter’s suit back before we went and fought you guys.” You explained. “And I thought it had to be gone since Peter was... you know... but it turned out that Tony still had the footage so I was able to find some from that day at the airport and in it there was this quick little shot of us fighting and I just had to have it, Buck.”

Flipping the frame around at you, he raised his eyebrows.

“A photo of us fighting?”

“Yes!” You told him. “Do you like it?”

Despite the fact that it was a photo of the two of you fighting- a fight that he had gotten his ass kicked in no less- he loved it more than anything else you could have possibly given him because it was the day he met you. It was the day his life changed and he didn’t even know it in the moment.

Although your story was far from “normal” it was your story and that’s what mattered the most to him.

“I love it, doll.” He said, pulling you into his embrace. “This is a crazy story to tell our kids though, huh?”

“All of them are.” You laughed into his chest. “But I wouldn't have it any other way, Buck. I love you.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a photograph of the day your story first began in his hand, he smiled.

“I love you too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff

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arc-misadventures · 3 years ago

Text

A Knight and a Dragon Talk it Out

By Quijibo

Yang: Hey Vomit Boy

Jaune: You're never going to let that go, are you?

Yang: You puked on my shoes.

Jaune: Air sickness is a common problem for people!

Yang: Yeah, at least I grossed Ruby out with it.

Jaune: Ugh... so what did you want?

Yang: Just to say thank you for sticking up for Weiss. I know she hasn't always been the nicest to you. I'm glad you're proving to be a decent guy. Unlike a little blue haired twit...

Jaune: What did you do?

Yang (shows a video on her scroll): Just posted the go pro video of when he was riding Bumblebee.

Jaune: Wow, the camera is amazing, you can see really see the fearful tears as he prays...

Yang: Yeah the dude hit on two girls that night too. Weiss is better off. So you made Pyrrha's night! Good work there.

Jaune: She's my partner and best friend. I'd do anything for her.

Yang: You two a thing?

Jaune: A thing? How do you mean.... No, Nonono. Me and Pyr aren't like that!

Yang: You sure?

Jaune: Absolutely.

Yang: Good to know.

Jaune (smiles): How about you and Blake? You seemed to enjoy your dance?

Yang: Ha! Blake wishes!

Jaune: She does?

Yang: Well probably not. Blake is Blake though, I pity whoever opens that can of worms. I love her, she's basically family, but she's not someone I could ever rely on.

Jaune: But your partners.

Yang: Yes we are.

Jaune (sighs): Pyrrha probably feels the same way...

Yang: Maybe, but you showed up in this dress specifically to help her. Blake, well Blake would never do that. Sure she could kick your ass in Professor G's class, but who couldn't?

Jaune (smiles sheepishly): Nice to know my limitations are common knowledge.

Yang: You put your team and your friends first. Trust me than makes up for most of it.

Jaune: Thanks I guess

Yang: You're welcome. Now comes the moment where you compliment my dress.

Jaune (Laughs): I've been meaning to. I love The Seven Year Itch!

Yang: You recognized it! Damn, I thought I'd need to stand on a steam grate for someone to realize!

Jaune: ...

Yang: You're picturing it now, aren't you?

Jaune: Sorry.

Yang (waits a second): You know what, you looked out for my teammate and your own. Feel free to fantasize a little.

Jaune (laughs): I don't think that's a good idea. Hey Yang?

Yang: Yeah?

Jaune: Thanks for coming over. I know Ruby and I are friends more than you and I, but it's nice to talk with you.

Yang: No problem Vomit Boy. Anytime.

Jaune: ... How about lunch tomorrow?

Yang: I'd like that.

///

Alrighty, here’s a story written by my dear friend, Quijibo. Several of his short story prompts will be appearing on here. I’ll take ‘em, By Quijibo in the tags to keep it separate from everything else.

And, here’s a link to his Fanfiction Account, he has a fantastic Winter Knight story there, and a bunch of others as well. I do hope you enjoy it all. Till Later then.

Quijibo7609 Fanfiction

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #yang xiao long #ruby rose #blake bellodona #neptune vasilias #jaune x yang #yang x jaune #rwby dragonslayer #weiss schnee #by Quijibo

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ev-pierce-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin. He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #winter solider smut #definitely not canon #i refuse to believe steve went back in time for some 1940s kitty kat and left his best friend behind #tony and nat are alive bc they are the only truly valuable characters #sebastian stan #also youre the daughter of agent hill #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #winter soldier #wEiNeR sOlDiEr

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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

Text

Fit to be Tied

Jason Todd x reader

Warning: Christmas? And the f word.

Christmas series 2

Jason didn’t pay much attention to holidays. Nope. That was for the living. He didn’t have much of need for it. But he did know that Christmas was quiet and New Years was busy for patrol. He guessed everyone ate Christmas dinner and and then got bored of playing nice. Or maybe that just wanted to start the new year with a big ass bang. Who knows?

Even when he was a kid, he didn’t celebrate the holidays. Too poor, mom too lost in drugs, and dad? Well fuck him. He was a piece of shit when he was around.

Jason kicked a beer can out of his way into the pile of trash on the sidewalk. They didn’t get the trash again this week it looked like. Daddy Bruce could play bat but couldn’t throw his money around enough to keep trash from piling on the street.

It was fine. He had more important things to do anyways. He had to buy a Christmas present. He didn’t care for the holidays but the sweet girl he had at home was a doll and fuck, if she didn’t deserve something. So Jason went down to the local pawn shop. Usually not a problem but it was 2 AM. Not exactly prime business hours.

So yes, Red Hood was breaking into a pawn shop to get a bracelet. He was leaving cash, $20 over the cost too. It was something you had seen earlier in the week and had admired. Gems of some kind shaped to look like a butterfly. You’d taken a minute longer to stare at it.

He left as quick as he came. And it wasn’t long until he was opening the window of your apartment dressed in street clothes. You were asleep. Jason had used the excuse of patrol to get out. But in the early morning hours of Christmas, he wanted to wake you.

“Princess,” he said gently. You moved a little before opening your eyes. You smiled up at him. Fuck, he didn’t deserve the way you looked at him. Your eyes looked so innocent and sweet. You never looked at him like he scared you.

“Jaybird, what’s going on?”

“I got you something for Christmas and it’s technically Christmas..” he said pulling out the box. You sat up, curious.

“It’s Christmas Eve. You got me something? I didn’t think we were- I didn’t get anything. I couldn’t-“ you said turning red. Money was too tight to consider it. The fact that the heat was still on this late in the month was a Christmas miracle.

“No no. It’s fine. Just being here is enough for me. I’ve never really celebrated Christmas anyways,” Jason said pushing the box in your hand. You held the box before kissing him.

You opened the box to see the bracelet you had been looking at the pawn shop. You smiled and stared at the pretty little butterfly. Jason watched you carefully for a reaction. He’d never admit it but he was more nervous now than fighting on the street.

“You saw me looking at it. I didn’t think you’d notice,” you murmured softly as you picked it up. Jason took it and wrapped it around your wrist. He clasped it on and you looked at it, moving your wrist in the light.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful,” you said quietly looking at it. You had a little grin on your face. Jason smiled. That’s the look he wanted. That little bit of happiness that you showed when you were really pleased. He intertwined his fingers in yours.

“Princess, you’re so cold,” Jason said with a frown. He could feel it colder outside but now that he was getting used to the temperature, it wasn’t warm as it should be.

“The heater was acting up again so I turned it down. The blankets are plenty warm,” you said and his heart all but broke. There was no way he was going to let you be cold all winter because the landlord wouldn’t fix things. He might pay this guy a visit. You sensed his anger.

“It’s okay, Jay. Come lay with me and get warm,” you said taking his hands. He let you pull him into bed. He kicked off his pants and shoes and laid on his side. You curled into him as a little spoon. His long big frame all but engulfed you. It always felt to protective. If he was holding you, he knew you were safe. Jason ran his fingers along your bracelet soft as his rough fingers could.

“You’re so good to me,” you said softly and his heart clenched again. Fuck, if you knew all the bad he did. His messed up past. He thought you would have run away when you first learned he was Red Hood but no, you had been kind.

“Naw, Princess you deserve more then this shitty place,” he said, and for the first time, he felt a little bad about giving all of his trust fund to the soup kitchen he would visit as a kid. A little would have been nice to get a better place for you. But he had been making a ton crushing the drug trade at the time and didn’t have a girl back home when he did it. He couldn’t be as reckless now.

You turned in his arms to look in his blue eyes. He has such an intense look on his face that you frowned. “Jaybird, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said pulling his face back to normal. “Just thinking. I wanna move you to a better place, a safer place than this,” he said running his thumb across your cheeks. You grasped his wrist and leaned into his touch. Jason would sometimes get like that. Thinking you deserved better. And you humored him even though you wouldn’t even know what to do with wealth.

“We’re moving. Soon. I’m promising now,” he said thinking about the painful conversation he was going to have with Bruce. His adoptive father he hadn’t even told you about. Bruce would do just about anything Jason asked. Probably the guilt of letting him die.

“But Jay, we’d miss the water that went from boiling to freezing at random. And I’m not sure if I can sleep without Mr and Mrs Jancowski having sex every Tuesday at 2 AM,” you said with a smile. He kissed you to shut you up. You were joking but each one felt like a little knife in his guilt. You pulled him over you and the thought of money troubles faded from your mind.

———————————————

Jason woke before you and watched you sleep. You laid on his chest with your hand in his hair and your soft breath on his throat. The bracelet was still on your wrist. You looked so peaceful, trusted him while you slept. Jason carefully grabbed his phone and texted Alfred. He’d also have to tell you about his adoptive family. His very famous adoptive family.

He threaded his fingers in your hand that was flung across his waist. You began to stir. Jason moved hair from your face and you blinked to see his pale blue eyes watching you.

“Morning, Princess,” he said with a rough morning voice. You smiled.

“Morning, Jaybird.”

“I’ve got something to tell you,” he started. “I want you to meet my family tonight.”

“Tonight? Your family? I thought your parents...” you trailed off.

“I was adopted. I never told you because I don’t have the best relationship with them. But I think it’s time for you to meet them. I’ve got to tell you something else,” he said and you could hear his heart beat quicker as you laid on him.

“My adoptive father is Bruce Wayne.”

Silence.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. And tonight I’m taking you to meet him. And my adoptive siblings.”

“You aren’t joking,” you said sitting up. Jason sat up too.

“I’m not. I’m kinda the... black sheep of the family. He adopted me when I was 12. I was trying to boost the wheels from the b- Bentley he was driving,” Jason corrected. It was one thing to tell you he was Red Hood. He couldn’t say Bruce Wayne was Batman.

“Wow. I- wow. Okay. That’s a lot to take in. Also on brand to be honest,” you said and he smiled and shrugged.

“Wait. What the fuck do you wear to the freaking Wayne manor for Christmas Eve?” You said a little panicky.

“Whatever you want. It’s just family,” he said with a sideways smile.

“Oh no. I can’t go to freaking Wayne Manor in a Kmart sweater,” you said quickly.

“You can wear,” he said hopping out of bed. He dug way in the back of his closet for a pretty red sweater that was slightly oversized. “This. Should fit fine. Pretty expensive too.”

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“I’ve had it for year and it definitely doesn’t fit now,” Jason said with a laugh. “Try it on.”

—————————————

The weather sucked. Freaking sleet that threatened everything it touched. You were grateful it wasn’t a night of Jason patrolling. This meant taking your car instead of Jason’s motorcycle. Your car was at least 15 years old and you called it Frankenstein because of all the repairs done over the years.

The radio skipped as Jason drove over a speed bump by Wayne Manor and you burst out laughing. Jason looked at you from the side.

“It’s not that funny,” he said. “What’s up?”

“My car is trash, I’m wearing your old sweater, and we’re late. If you weren’t the black sheep before, bringing me home, you will be now,” you said. He grabbed your hand and parked in front of a random house.

“I’ve been the black sheep since I was a kid and you aren’t going to change any thing for the worse. Trust me. In fact they’ll probably think you’re too good for me,” Jason said with a dry chuckle. “So don’t worry about anything. Except making room for pudding. I know it sounds weird,” he said starting to drive again. “But it’s the best part of Christmas.”

Wayne Manor was huge. You knew that. You’d even seen it on tv. But to see it in front of you was honestly terrifying, especially in the nasty weather. You almost hoped Jason was playing some weird elaborate joke and was going to drive on by but he knew the passcode to the gate. He drove in the covered drop off spot by the front door and parked. You both quickly ran in the building.

The front entry was breathtaking. A gigantic Christmas tree and a full staircase decked out in garland like a Hallmark movie. It was like a magazine. In fact, it was in the Christmas episode of Gotham Life the year before.

You gripped Jason’s hand tightly as you walked down the hall. Your shoes sounded unnaturally loud and you had the urge to quiet them like it was a library. Jason pulled you to the doorway of a dinning room full of people settling to eat. Jadon cleared his throat.

“Master Jason! You made it,” Alfred said excitedly. “I recieved your message but it’s been many years. Sit. Sit.”

“Glad you could come,” Jason’s brother Dick said with a grin. He looked at you in curious excitement. You looked down at some kind of mushroom soup placed in front of you. Everyone else was dressed so nicely and ate so perfectly. It was intimidating.

“Yeah, it’s Christmas,” Jason said shrugging. He gave Dick a look that said don’t ask. It didn’t take much for Dick to drop it because he seemed incredibly distracted. You spent most of the meal trying to keep up on conversations you clearly didn’t understand while trying food you’ve never seen before. You could barely remember everyone you were introduced to. One of Jason’s sister(s?) gave you a big hug along with everyone else when she arrived. You couldn’t tell anyone what was even said after the meal. Or so you thought.

Until right across from you, Dick proposes to his girlfriend. He stuttered around before finally asking. “Will you marry me? Oh god, I have a ring,” he said producing one. Everyone watched as she stared in the box.

“Will I marry you?” She asked faintly and you worried she’d say no. How terrible would it be??

“Please say something,” he pleaded and you could tell the man was practically in pain before she said yes. They kissed, the family applauded, and champagne was served.

Jason watched you from the corner of his eyes. How did you react to this? What did you think? You didn’t look jealous or anything. It made Jason think of marriage. He hadn’t before. He’d thought about moving into something more permanent but marriage. He’d never thought about marriage as his future, ever. Of course when you die at 16 and come back with a vengeance, love is low on the priority list.

“Jaybird, you there,” you asked slightly tapping his shoulder. He blinked and looked at you.

“Yeah, I’m here. Just in my head,” he said and you nodded. He’d do that sometimes.

“The party is moving to the parlor,” you said quietly in a proper rich Gothamite voice and Jason huffed before covering his smiling mouth with a nose rub. The rest of the group was moving ahead of you. Dick and his new fiancé were retiring for the night.

“I’m never going to hear the end of it, am I?”

“I’m so sorry, dearest. I can’t understand you with a silver spoon in your mouth,” you laughed. Jason rolled his eyes before guiding your shoulders towards the door. You heard a soft laugh behind you and you turned to see Tim’s girlfriend smiling.

“Sorry to interrupt but I’ve got to use that on Tim,” she said grabbing her coat and walking out.

After making sure you were cool with hanging with Tim’s girlfriend and their adoptive sister Cass, Jason and Tim started a very competitive game of pool. You couldn’t help but look at things that cost more than you’ve ever even seen. The chess set Damian and his girlfriend were playing with probably cost more than your car.

But it was Christmas and you tried to push your insecurities aside. It was a fun evening. A glass of wine you kept sipping on helped as well.

After a while Bruce announced that the roads were too bad and that no one was leaving. Jason clenched his jaw for a second before looking at you and relaxing. He didn’t want to stay but he wasn’t risking your health in any way. Instead he focused on the game.

“So if I win,” Jason said a full hour later. By this time, Damian’s girlfriend had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Your eyes felt a little heavy as well. “I get the penthouse.”

“Sure Jay. That’s Bruce’s. But I’m willing to gamble it,” Tim said throwing his hands up at the ridiculousness.

“I accept terms,” Bruce said. Both boys looked at him surprised. “Whoever wins gets the penthouse.”

You turned quickly to watch the game. Okay, is that a normal thing for them? To bet property. The look on everyone’s face said that no it wasn’t normal.

Jason was excellent at pool. It was a common for you both to go down to the pool hall and play some games. Jason would occasionally make some money playing and he did often as a kid. It was also a way to waste time when your mom was throwing beers back like a fish, like Jason’s mother did. Tim didn’t stand a chance. He wasn’t as good and looked almost like he was in pain occasionally. But maybe it wasn’t a real competition? Maybe Bruce was trying to give Jason something he’d always want to but didn’t know how. Jason easily won the game.

“So the penthouse is mine?” Jason asked. Bruce nodded and shrugged. Tim softly coughed in his hand. Your heart raced. They couldn’t be serious.

“If you’ll live in it,” Bruce said. Damian was carefully carrying his girlfriend upstairs.

“Deal,” Jason says quickly.

“Deal,” Bruce said looking quiet pleased. Was this his plan all along?

“I guess, deal?” Tim said confused. “Though you should owe me. You’re the one that got me shot.”

Your brain broke. He was shot? And it was Jason’s fault?

“What?! You got him shot?” Tim’s girlfriend asked loudly. Tim blanched.

“Not my fault.”

“Literally your fault,” Tim countered.

“What did you do?” You asked looking at him suspiciously. He offered you a sheepish smile.

“I might have said ‘what are you gonna do, shoot us?’ I meant me. Not Tim! He also has a bulletproof suit,” Jason said. Tim must be a vigilante too. You glared at Jason.

“That’s not in the report,” Bruce said with his eyes narrowing.

“Good night everybody. Merry Christmas,” Jason said pulling you from the room and up to his childhood room.

“You’re in so much trouble,” you said and he grinned.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow. How do you feel about a penthouse? Better than our current place hu?” Jason said pulling you close. You felt dizzy at the idea.

“Seriously? We can’t afford it,” you said trying to stay grounded. It was too good to be true. Things like that didn’t happen to people like you.

“I think I know a guy who can keep the lights on,” he joked and you gave him a serious look. “Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy the idea of constant hot water. Lights never going off,” Jason said pushing you towards the bed. “No one can hear me make you scream.”

“Tempting. Very tempting,” you said and of fucking course it was. A safe beautiful clean penthouse over your trashy scary apartment wasn’t even a contest. Jason pushed you on the bed and hovered over you.

“What are you doing,” you asked flushed but still encouraging him. It was still his dad’s house and he was getting handsy.

“Trying to have sex with my girlfriend on my old bed like every guy ever has dreamed of,” Jason said. He nipped at your throat. You gasped.

“Got to be quiet, Princess,” he whispered and you pulled him down to kiss more.

————————————

The next morning you woke to an empty bed. You fixed your hair as best you could and threw on Jason’s sweatshirt before going downstairs. You caught a glimpse of the kitchen as Bruce slowly slid a set of keys Jason’s way before taking a long drink from his coffee. “I’m glad you made home for Christmas this year, Jason.” The penthouse.

“Morning,” Bruce said to you nodding before leaving the room. Jason was alone in the kitchen but you could hear others in the breakfast nook a door over.

“Keys,” Jason said showing you. “And no lecture.”

You gave him a hug and looked at the shiny metal keys. It would be a while before you could handle the idea of a freaking penthouse being yours. “But you should get something for Tim. You did get him shot.”

“Let him shoot me?”

“Jason, no.”

#fns #Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd #red hood #red hood x reader #Jason todd fluff #christmas series

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