#arms practically hanging off the railing while he stares at buck like that’s his whole world
i literally forgot to post this on monday but:
back to the open/closed body language point with eddie and buck!
on the balcony scene we see eddie resting against the railing with his arms completely open and uncrossed showing how comfortable he is with buck
this is the exact opposite of the way we saw him with ana last
44 notes · View notes
The Floor is LAVA!
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Word Count: 1,115
Summary: You’re a big fan of fun you tube challenges and getting Bucky involved makes it that much more fun...
Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club 24 hour surprise challenge and the theme viral challenges! I love this stuff and “the floor is lava” challenge cracks me up. It was hard to pick but I hope you enjoy :) Thank you all for reading! Much love always ❤❤❤ ps if you want to watch a funny compilation you can see it here To be fair, I would LIVE to torture him with shit like this 😁
Warnings: Fluffy fun, lots of laughs, sassy and sexy Bucky, implied sexy times :)
Bucky walks out of the bathroom, the towel loose around his waist and water dripping down his chest. “What are you up to doll? I can hear you laughing from in the bathroom!” Your head pops up from behind the computer screen and your eyes roam over his body from head to toe. “Hi Buck,” you croon. Standing up and walking slowly toward him. “Oh, nothing really. Just watching some videos.”
His eyes narrow as he watches you and suspicion washes over his features. “What kind of videos?” You can’t stop the smirk from spreading just before you scream, “THE FLOOR IS LAVA!” Without a thought Bucky launches himself off the floor and onto the bed, his whole body bouncing off from the force.
You land on top of him in a fit of giggles, looking down to see that his towel has fallen off. “It worked!” you cheer, crawling up his body. “I cannot believe you! You pull that shit just to get me naked! You could have just yanked the towel off yourself.” Straddling his hips, you bend down to his face, “but wasn’t that much more fun?” He easily flips you over and pins you to the bed. “It was. And now I get to have mine.”
Later that week…
Your eyes land on Bucky seated next to you at the conference table, Tony standing at the head motioning wildly with his hands about Pepper’s upcoming surprise birthday party. The rest of the team is mulling around while half paying attention. With an exasperated look your hand lands on Bucky’s thigh and you lean over to whisper in his ear, “I’m so bored.” Bucky’s lips brush your ear when he replies, “it’ll be over soon then I’ve got something much better for you to do.”
The clearing of a throat draws you out of your lustful thoughts and you look up to see Tony and the whole team staring at the both of you. “Something you want to share with us Barnes?” You’re the only one who catches the glint in his eye right before he yells, “THE FLOOR IS LAVA!”
Everyone scrambles around and searches for a surface, Sam jumping into Steve’s arms and Steve yelling about sabotage. “3,2,1…” Bucky finishes off, scanning the room. Steve managed to hop onto the desk while holding Sam and Tony is now standing on his chair. Clint is somehow wedged between two walls in a corner just smiling while Nat is sitting pretty atop the counter with her legs crossed. You’re standing in the middle of the conference room table with a wide grin and Vision is floating next to Wanda who is also on the table.
“Damn it,” Bucky grumbles before everyone bursts into laughter. “You guys better watch out!” Tony groans but you know he secretly loves it. “All right kids, meetings over. We’ll go over the rest of the details at the end of the week.” Walking back to your shared room, Bucky throws his arm around your shoulder, “I’m gonna get you, just one time. You better be ready.” You squeal and take off down the hallway, already planning your next move.
“Did you remember the list this time baby?” You look over to Bucky who is feeling around in his pockets for your post it note. “You know. You could make lists on your phone like every other person in the 21st century.” You blow a raspberry in his direction, flapping your hand and saying, “you’re just mad because you forgot the list again, right?” His hand closes over the small piece of paper and he pulls it out triumphantly, waving it in front of you, “nope, got it right here!”
You snatch it away and try to hide your grin, walking toward the produce section to start. Once you’ve got your cart filled almost to the top you make your last stop at the frozen food section. While Bucky rifles through the ice cream you check your surrounding and get close to him. “THE FLOOR IS LAVA,” you whisper shout, making him jump.
He desperately searches the aisle, looking for any spot for safety. You’re about to finishing counting down when he looks back at the ice cream and makes a feeble attempt to squeeze into the freezer. His feet are hanging off the edge and his wide shoulders barely fit between the doors. You can see his dirty look even through the fogged-up window and it’s impossible to contain your laughter. “Oh my god, you should see yourself right now,” you point and laugh.
Pepper’s surprise party…
The whole surprise goes off without a hitch and no one is happier than Tony, not even Pepper. The party is in full swing as Bucky dances you around the floor, the music and drinks free flowing. “I love when Tony throws a party and it’s just us. It’s so much less stuffy than the business ones.” Bucky enthusiastically agrees, dipping you down before planting a sweet kiss to your lips. “Refill?” he asks, holding up his glass.
“Sure, thank you baby. Meet me on the balcony after.” Bucky watches as you sashay toward the large doors, your fitted floor length gown showing off all your curves. Feeling his stare, you throw him a wink over your shoulder before heading outside and waiting by the railing.
He appears only moments later, carrying two filled champagne flutes. “Have I told you how stunning you look? I can’t wait to peel that dress off of you.” With a giggle you take a sip, eyeing him over the rim of the glass. “Thank you. And me neither.” Wrapping his arm around your waist he brings your body flush to his, brushing his lips along yours. “The floor is lava,” he practically hums out, smiling wide when you look panicked.
You barely have time to yell at him while desperately looking for any place to put yourself. Your dress makes moving fast difficult and you’re about to run out of time when you make a last-minute crazy decision and try to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. The sound of ripping material makes you cringe as you watch the tattered pieces of your dress fall around Bucky’s legs.
“Well, that’s one way to get me out of my dress,” you mumble before throwing your head back with laughter. “You’re such an asshole. You knew I wouldn’t be able to get around in this. But guess what. I still win!” Bucky walks backward, the bare skin of your back meeting the cool stone. “Actually, from the looks of it. I win,” he says haughtily before he crashes his lips to yours.
@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @book-dragon-13 @buckys-broody-muffin @bucky-on-my-mind @bugsbucky @breezy1415 @addikted-2-dopamine @lorilane33 @kaosera @yansi1923 @emilylyoness @imgaril-lindru @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @nerdypinupcrystal @randomfandompenguin @crushedbyhyperbole @mycupoffanfiction @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @the-wayward-robot @when-the-hell-is-bucky @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @survivor-reborn
I tagged a couple of extra people just in the hopes of making you smile and laugh, hope that’s ok :)
212 notes · View notes
out of my dreams | Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader | Part One
A/N: Hey ladies and gents if you ever get married definitely make sure your wedding night is worth 2.5k words alright
Warning: Smut 18+. Naughty words. Age gap relationship bc they’re adults and love is love is love is love.
Word count: 2,537, apparently!!
Summary: It’s the night of your and Poe’s wedding, and you agreed not to have sex for the week leading up to it.
GIF credit: realoscarisaac
You’d been staring at yourself in the mirror for quite a bit despite having told Poe you only needed a minute to ‘slip into something way less comfortable’.
Was the underwire and sparkling lace poking and scratching at you? Sure, but you had specifically picked this white, glittering number out at a fairly expensive store and you were glad that you did.
You looked damn good.
It wasn’t the first time you’d bought lingerie to wear in the bedroom, but usually it was a little nightgown you picked up for fifteen bucks while buying other things or a pair of skimpy panties you knew would be appreciated for the millisecond they stayed on you.
But this...you decided on the color white as if the traditional color was meant to extend into the wedding night, a bra and underwear set with little lace details stitched onto the shimmering fabric.
You didn’t know if it was conceited of you to think that you looked quite ethereal; you ultimately concluded that women were allowed to think they were hot when they did.
Your breasts had never looked perkier and you looked pretty bangable if you did say so yourself in the lace panties and stockings with the garters that had taken you several minutes to figure out.
And with the price, and the work to put it on, and how attractive you found yourself, you really hoped Poe would like it.
You knew he would, yet you were almost nervous for some reason.
It wasn’t the first time you bought lingerie and it definitely wasn’t the first time you were going to have sex with Poe, and a lot of people who already had sex with each other usually didn’t care about their wedding night and would instead drink until the wee hours of the morning with all their wedding guests.
You and Poe, however, hadn’t had sex in about a week.
And you craved it.
Your first deal you made was to wait a month with no sex to make your wedding night all the more special.
Then you rode Poe as he laid back against the pillows looking at you with admiration that night.
Then you agreed to three weeks and Poe returned home from work saying how he’d been thinking about eating you out which you simply couldn’t decline.
Then you agreed to two week which might’ve worked if you didn’t beg your fiance to — and you could quote this word for word — ‘rail me against the counter until I’m screaming for you’.
Then you agreed to one week and you managed to keep your hands off each other with a lot of self-control.
People were usually surprised when they found out you two had been together for a couple years already with how much you were still into each other.
Some people who’d known you since you got together still disapproved of you being together.
You’d been fresh out of college and working at a coffee shop while you looked for a job when you met Poe, a test pilot who was almost ten years out of college.
How were you supposed to turn the guy down when he looked like that and he was genuinely good and he revealed to you on your first date that he came into your coffee shop every morning even though it was out of the way of his work?
You loved each other and that was the only thing that mattered, and anyone who disagreed could go be bitter somewhere outside of your lives.
“Mrs. Dameron,” Poe sang from outside the door.
“Sorry, babe.” You looked yourself over one more time then opened the door, stepping into your bedroom.
“You like it?”
Poe’s answer was to caress your hips and pull you against him, kissing you deeply.
Your hands slid up his chest to find that his suit jacket was off and his collar was hanging open since he’d taken his tie off and undone the first button of his shirt. You gripped his shoulders, nuzzling his jaw as he broke the kiss. “Are you a virgin?” You whispered.
He huffed a laugh, reaching up to snap the stark white strap of your bra against your shoulder.
“I thought you were the virgin.”
“White doesn’t mean you’re a virgin anymore.”
“That reminds me, I don’t think I told you how beautiful you looked today in your dress.”
“Yes, you did.”
When you stood in front of him as tears fell down his cheeks, during the reading of your vows, once you kissed for the first time as husband and wife, taking pictures in between the ceremony and the reception, sitting by you at your reserved table, cutting the cake together, in the car on the way back to your apartment that night, and he told you again as you were going to change out of your dress into your lingerie.
Poe wasn’t ashamed of how many times he told you how gorgeous he found you, changing the subject by sweeping you into his arms and making you yelp as you were gently flung onto the bed.
You were quickly giggling when Poe snapped off the garters and kissed over each thigh as he dragged your stockings down your legs. “These are sexy, but they’re another thing I have to take off you and I’m gonna have to request no more stockings.”
Once they were off, he moved over you and began peppering kisses from your jaw to the tops of your breasts that were spilling out of your bra.
“What would you have preferred I—oh—preferred I wore?” You happily laid there to let Poe move you around, unclipping your bra and pulling it down your arms.
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. You picked something perfect.” His kisses continued down your body.
“I think you’d say that if I’d walked in here wearing only a lacy thong.”
Poe’s fingers were hooked into your underwear and he paused his pursuit of dragging them down your thighs to look at you with a dark gaze. “Promise me I might come home to you in nothing but a lacy thong.”
You hummed, gently scratching his head with the fancy fake nails you’d been convinced to get for your wedding. He leaned into your touch until your panties and garters reached your knees, and he had to move away to pull them down off your ankles.
He parted your thighs to look appreciatively between your legs. “I’ve missed you, baby.”
Now you shoved his head playfully and shook your head at his antics.
“I did! I’ve been thinking about this tight, warm home of mine all week.” He pulled away with exaggerated sadness in his eyes that made you giggle, unbuttoning his shirt fully.
“You’re stupid.” Your horny tone did not match your words as you watched him remove his shirt then undo his pants.
“Am I? Because I know you like I know the back of my hand, sweetheart. And I know what your eyes do when…” He eased his pants and underwear down to let his hardening cock spring free, and your eyes practically glazed over with arousal as he knew they would.
“Not my fault you have the prettiest dick in the whole world,” you whined, sitting up and beckoning him over.
He obliged you without a single complaint, sitting on the bed and tugging you by your hips to pull you into his lap. Your hands went to his hair as you kissed him deeply, pushing your tongue into his mouth much to his delight.
But he pulled away to start pressing slow, marking kisses down your neck, taking one of your nipples into his mouth when his lips reached your breasts and sucking on it.
Poe loved your tits.
And your ass...and your pussy.
Come to think of it now, there wasn’t a part of you that he didn’t practically adore; he loved you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet.
You loved every bit of him the same.
...but his ass was really the cutest and probably one of your favorite parts of him — if not the favorite.
Your nails raked through the hair at the nape of his neck then your wrists fell loosely to his shoulders, something to hold onto as you arched your breasts closer to the attention that was going straight to your needy clit.
He moved to your other breast and very gently bit down on your nipple, smirking against you when your hips rolled against his in pleasure.
You sat there for a few moments with his mouth working on your breasts as you grinded on top of him, both of you working each other up and moaning with each jolt, then his lips made their way back up to yours.
Alternating between your lips and your jaw, he mumbled against the latter softly.
“Everyone says missionary is really boring, but I love it when you’re on top. Please?”
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to beg me for anything. Aside from occasional orgasms. Not on our wedding night, though.”
“I want to be close to you. If that makes sense.”
He laid you back against the pillows, moving over you to lay between your legs. “Perfect sense.”
Your arms went around his shoulders and your legs around his waist where you let your heels push against his ass to squeeze him closer, bucking your hips slightly.
“I’m guessing you’re ready,” he laughed, lining himself up and raising an eyebrow when the tip of his cock pressed to your soaked entrance.
“We haven’t touched each other in a week and you sucked on my tits while I humped you like crazy...I’m ready.” You pushed on his ass again, gasping softly as his tip pushed into you.
He kissed you as he slowly slid his cock into your entrance, stretching you like he always did and almost seating himself all the way inside you; he knew every bit of you, though, and stopped with most of himself in the warmth he loved.
His lips pressed sloppily to yours and then he let his head slide down to your shoulder, relishing in the sensation of you around him.
The time you’d both agreed not to have sex to make your wedding night a little more special might have made him appreciate this more.
But he was like this pretty much any time you took it slow; savoring every moment when he was inside you.
“I’m inside my wife,” he said all dreamily, lifting his head to look at you with the goofiest, most beautiful grin you were sure you’d seen.
“My husband is inside of me.” You thought it was silly at first, but something about thinking of how you were now husband and wife made your cunt squeeze around him.
Maybe it was the new bond, or the promise of having each other forever, or something else.
You had no idea.
None of it really mattered when your husband was moaning on top of you at the squeeze of your cunt and starting a gentle pace against you.
You loved having Poe’s cock inside of you and it was always almost enough to get you off, the rhythm of his thrusts as he pumped into you making you whine in pleasure.
His dick was one of the most incredible things you’d ever had the privilege of feeling every ridge of it drag out of you then push back in.
There were times he would angle himself perfectly to make you gush all over him, but tonight was intimate; one of his hands disappeared between you, rubbing circles on your already swollen clit.
Your hands buried themselves in his hair, tugging him down to kiss him hard, again and again, gasping between each one. “I love you, baby.”
He pressed his head to yours, eyes closed and brow furrowed as his hips sped up a little.
“I love you too, sweet girl...fuck...I knew I was gonna spend the rest of my life with you, but today was a nice reminder about how happy that makes me.”
“Oh, no, I am not crying during sex.”
“You mind if I do a little?”
“I mean, if you’re gonna cry…”
“Maybe we are virgins.”
You let out a loud laugh despite the tears falling from the corners of your eyes, kissing his nose and his lips.
His finger stroked the perfect part on your clit, tingling moved over your cunt like electricity and seemed to fizzle into your thighs, almost numbing you yet making your sensations even stronger at the same time.
The two of you could be giggling through sex, but then your pleasure would build too much and Poe would press his face into your neck in this position, and everything would be forgotten as you both sought to reach your orgasm.
Poe knew you were close when you would get all wiggly; your eyes would close, and your mouth would fall open slightly, and you would start bucking your hips in search of the friction that was getting you off.
You would flutter around him a little then you’d arch your back and—
Your pussy would clench around him tight as your muscles released their built up tension and you would either moan or cry out depending on how good it was, then you’d hold onto him tight while your cunt continued to clench around him.
If he was the least bit close, your orgasm would send him over the edge.
You knew he was about to come — even in the haze of your own orgasm — when he’d whimper into your neck and whisper a bunch of sweet nothings, his hips snapping into yours almost desperately without their previous rhythm.
Both of you had known each other long enough to know each other’s tells, but you didn’t care.
It only encouraged you when you knew the other was being pleasured.
And how could you care when now you were coming down from your high all satisfied? And how could Poe care when he was spilling his warm cum into you, thrusting sloppily a couple more times and then enjoying the privilege of laying on top of the woman he loved?
Knowing each other like this pretty much guaranteed good orgasms from a loving partner.
Poe moved to roll off you once he was able to think straight again, but you held onto him to keep him at least halfway on you, cuddling into his arms.
He huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to your head. “That was fucking incredible.”
You smiled at him.
“It’s always incredible. I honestly can’t think of a time when even the most basic sex with you wasn’t the best thing ever.”
“Must’ve been good if you’re stroking my ego willingly.”
You nudged him playfully, watching him roll over to turn off the light and holding onto his arm when he turned back to hold you again.
His fingers traced along your side as you absentmindedly strokes over his forearm, both of you starting to doze.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
296 notes · View notes
No rest for the weary (911, Buck, part 3)
When Buck arrived at the station to start his shift, he was feeling even worse than in the morning. Although the headache had lessened to a persistent dull throbbing, he still felt nauseous and on top of that, the drive to the firehouse made him aware of entirely new places on his body that were in pain.
He must have landed harder on his ass than he had first thought during the rope rescue because a soreness in his backside had made him squirm from one side to the other, trying to find a comfortable position while sitting in the car.
Buck sighed, this was not going to be a fun work day. But, however much it bothered him, he had plenty of practice ignoring minor injuries that he had acquired during the shift the day before. The trick was to let the adrenaline push the pain back on calls and to occupy himself with chores during downtime at the firehouse – and indulging in video game battles against the others of course.
When he entered the locker room, he was greeted by Hen, who was sitting on the bench, smiling at her phone.
“Good morning, Buck!”
“Hi, Hen. You seem to be in an excellent mood! How was your date with Karen yesterday?”
“Good! It was very low key, quiet, romantic. We went to this restaurant...” She trailed off as she got a good look at the man standing in front of her. “Wow, what happened to you? You look like death warmed over.”
Buck smiled sheepishly at her, ducking his head. “I guess I overdid it a little with the celebration? I went to Sullivan’s for a couple of beers and there was a bachelorette party who had the bright idea of doing flaming shots without straws and-”
Hen groaned in anticipation, knowing full well how that could have ended. Setting drinks on fire had been one of the stupider bar trends in recent years, and the 118 had been called a few times to bars where they had to tend to severely burned guests who had set themselves and, if they were really skillful, their friends on fire after trying to down a flaming shot and promptly lit up immediately.
“So, I stepped in, identifying myself as a firefighter, so they wouldn’t get the wrong idea, and showed them how to drink the shots safely. As a thank-you, they then roped me in for a drinking game with the bride-to-be, and it went down-hill from there, and now I have a massive hangover.” He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes in a show of how truly bad he felt. But sadly, Hen had no pity on him.
“Oh no, Buckaroo, I thought you knew better than to engage in a drinking game with a bunch of women on the loose! I hope they didn’t make you do a stripper routine, being a certified firefighter and all?” Hen asked, wiggling her eyebrows in mock suggestiveness.
Before Buck could answer, Chim leaned into the locker room with a curious expression. “Buck’s stripping now? When did that start?”
Buck shot his two grinning friends an unimpressed look. “Very funny, I don’t just take my clothes off in public. Isn’t it enough that our locker room here is basically a glass box in the open?” As if to prove his point, he started undressing to get into his work uniform.
“Yeah, you’re actually right. I still don’t understand what the interior designers were thinking when they decided on this particular set-up,” Hen muttered, still baffled after all this time of working at the 118. Chim hummed in agreement, and the three of them got ready for work.
“So, Eddie, did you know that our Buckley here is moonlighting as a firefighter stripper?” Chim told Eddie, who had just arrived, in a conversational tone. That got him an incredulous look from his best friend. “You’re doing what now?”
Buck shook his head in fond exasperation. He knew there was no stopping his crew mates now that they were on a roll. This could go on the whole day, and would do so in all probability. “As I told you before, there was already a stripper-”
“Oh, so a double-booking happened and your services were not needed then. Did that make you sad?”
“No, Eddie, that wasn’t what I was saying! I just helped with the drinking-”
A stern voice called from above. “I hope you are not using the official uniforms for your stripper side job. That’s against regulations and I would be forced to write you up.”
“Bobby, you too?” The young firefighter shot a mock wounded look at the chief, who was leaning over the railing and smiling widely at his crew coming up the stairs. Buck might still feel worse for wear and walking up the stairs was a literal pain in the butt, but at least he had the best company in his misery.
In the evening, the crew was hanging around in the gallery, Chim and Hen engrossed in their phones while Buck and Eddie were simply lounging around, each of them still recuperating from wrangling a group of over-excited people the evening before.
Eddie was just regaling Buck how Chris had tried to mediate between two of his friends, who had gotten in a huge disagreement over the movie choice for the evening, when Chimney suddenly whistled loudly, his gaze locked onto the screen.
“Hey Buck, I didn’t know you were trying for a new spot on the LAFD calendar! Do you want to lose against me a second year in a row?”
At Buck’s confused look, Chim explained that after his win last year he had subscribed to the LAFD calendar Instagram account, where people could upload pictures of firefighters all year and apparently Buck was featured in the newest update.
Even with this explanation, Buck still had no idea what was going on. With a frown he got up and walked over to Chim “Uh, I haven’t submitted anything since last year and certainly not on Instagram.”
Ever since the therapist friending him before their appointment on Facebook and the whole catfishing debacle, Buck had pretty much abstained from social media. In his mind, things in real life were complicated enough without adding that level of social stress.
Standing behind his friend, Buck looked over Chim’s shoulder. The picture showed a man lying on his stomach in a bed. The covers were pulled down so that his naked back and just the top of his ass were exposed. The man’s face was partially hidden by an arm thrown over his face and the eye that was visible was closed. Nevertheless, there was no mistaking the sleeping man’s identity: The large birthmark above and below the brow clearly belonged to Buck. His mind froze, unable to process what he was seeing. What the fuck? When was this taken? And by whom?
Chim didn’t seem to notice his distressed state, swiping through the next few pictures and reading the user comments. They ranged from users salivating over the increasingly revealing photos to outraged users saying that naked pictures of real firefighters were an insult to the LAFD as an institution.
Buck couldn’t tear his eyes away from the intimate pictures of him sleeping naked in his bed, the covers draped in various positions in a way that left very little to imagination of what was below them. The nausea from the hangover crept up again. He felt horribly exposed in front of his family. This could not be happening. His mouth opened but no words came out. It was if his voice had been taken away altogether.
While Chim rambled on, sounding more and more uncomfortable with each sentence. “Maybe a friend uploaded it? A close friend most likely because this is certainly a, a different angle than last year.”
Hen and Eddie finally noticed that something was off with the situation and, curiosity piqued, came over as well to take a look at the phone. Only when the last picture loaded, Chim mercifully shut up. The silence was deafening.
Whereas the previous images could be labeled as sexy, this one crossed the line into pornographic – the covers had been taken away completely and as Buck was now lying on his side, his junk was on full display. Buck couldn’t breath anymore. Why had this not been taken down yet? Chim looked up at him, eyes wide, and stammered nervously, “Don’t you think these photos are a bit too… adult for the calendar?”
Seeing Bobby coming over from the kitchen, Buck felt trapped between the revealing pictures and the shocked stares of his friends. A hot wave of shame surged up in him, and he desperately wished he could wake up from this nightmare. This can’t be happening, no, no, no… His mind started to spiral. He had to get away. “I … uh … I need to go.” He bolted downstairs, leaving the rest of the 118 in utter shock behind.
15 notes · View notes
WhatsApp? Part 15. (Steve Rogers x reader)
Description: You’ve never been lucky with guys. You just wanted to catch someone’s eye, to be loved. One day, that’s about to turn completely - with one fake, completely imagined number a guy gave you.
A/N: “Let’s talk about s*x baby, let’s talk about you and me.”, going off the rails, as I always tend to. Enjoy, babes.
Warnings: Oh, first kiss like hello bitch? Some smut happening/implied at the end of the chapter. Also, I think it's time to properly hit it off and just slowly start to slide towards the end.
Word Count: 3.7 K
Tagging: @missdictatorme, @songforhema, @mikariell95, @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory
Read the rest here: Part One Part Two Part three Part four Part five Part Six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten Part eleven Part twelve Part thirteen Part fourteen
If you like to have your readings in order :): H E R E
You couldn't actually believe that it happened - for some unknown reason, you found a fucking gem hidden amongst the other guys, with such a silly coincidence. Yeah, having Steve close could be described as a drug, simply.
The evenings after your work were the absolute best. It was nice to have fancy dinners, to go into some crazy places; but as the weather got crazier and crazier, you started to have him over. Sometimes, he even slept at your place. On the sofa, but you tried your best to stay cool about that.
It wasn't about you not being attractive or whatever - it was just about Steve being Steve. That was just a thing you discovered throughout the time. Steve being Steve consisted of holding your hand on the street occasionally, but just really innocently, sitting far away from you on the sofa, really gentlemen manners, never ever being mature or whatever.
Bucky told you that those things were completely normal around that man out of time - and that it was bullshit to wait for him changing the things around. Not gonna happen, girl.
“How about yesterday’s hangout?” - Bucky asked from somewhere between Deena’s neck as he kissed her tenderly. You, Buck, Deena, and Sam were hanging out for that day’s lunch pause and so far so good.
“You already know the answer, Buck.” - You mumbled and rearranged the glasses on your nose. Yesterday, Steve was having a sleepover at your place and you watched Harry Potter together. That man never saw those movies and Sam hadn't the time to show him.
It was all fun, kind of romantic, cheesy enough, it was fun with a lot of popcorn and some really sweet drinks. As usually, Steve fell asleep on your couch, this time during the three trials of the Goblet of fire. Then you turned the movie off, covered him in a spare blanket and called it a day as well.
“Lemme guess.” - Deena looked at you from under Bucky’s armpit and you almost didn't see her eyes because of the cap she was wearing. That piece of clothing was definitely her boyfriend’s. Sam Wilson, another of their friends, was walking on your second side, sipping some green-ish smoothie which looked disgusting to you. - “Steve was acting like Steve, wasn't he?”
“I’m tellin’ ya, girl. Ma boy is just all over the place from you, even after all the time ya just simply hang out with him...” - Sam threw a hand over your shoulder and shook you a bit, offering you a sip from that disgusting smoothie.
The more you got to know Sam, the more touchy and feely person he was around you. But it wasn't too much at all or something like that; it was just in a friendly way and you could feel that. So his huge fucking arm over your tiny shoulder? That was a normal thing for you at that time - after hanging out with Steve for three to four months.
The first date was something that almost made you explode with happiness - Steve really put some effort into that. It wasn't effortless after that one night, not at all; but Steve was still nervous around you. Sweet and caring, but fucking nervous. And you could feel that.
But you wanted to cuddle, you would beg to be kissed, you would bring him the whole world if he only indicated that he loves you. You just needed that - your patience was wearing. It would take only a slow push to throw you off the fucking cliff.
And you pushed his fucking smoothie away because it just smelled so terribly.
“You would bet your fucking birdy brain, asshole.” - You looked at Sam with a shocked face.
“Then fucking do it, girl, and stop yellin’ at me. It ain't my fault at all. Jesus, those hormones are just fuckin’ you up.” - Sam said and watched you like you were a fucking psycho. Yeah. The period was always the toughest time in women's life - and you were letting Sam and Steve letting to know your feelings. From the men, you were always only nice to Bucky, because he was always nice to you.
You didn't have your period, it ended up like three days ago, but you told Sam that it continued so you could behave like a dick to him without finding excuses, which you did anyways.
“So, it is pretty obvious to me. Because your little Stevie is fucking oblivious, we need to make a plan.” - Deena peeped from under Bucky and opened the door to the bistro you were visiting that day. As usual, there were a few ladies and some young boys who desperately wanted to take a photo with the less known Avengers.
You knew how to handle those situations with smiles - Steve had taught you, how not to freak out when someone wanted to take a photo with him. It usually happened when you and Steve went to the supermarket or to take some takeaway food. The people were just so happy to meet those superheroes in person, to have a small talk and to leave.
That was pretty ok and some fans of Steve, Buck or Sam even appreciated you, asked about your day and so on. Sometimes they even insisted on having you and Deena on the photo, usually adding something like “Even a supersoldier needs a shoulder to lay and cry on” or “Behind every successful superhero, there is a woman” and you personal favourite was “Superheroes find super girlfriends who can bare their whole history and personality and love them for who they are” (you saw that on one young lady’s Instagram story - there was a photo of you watching Steve with a dead stare when he was choosing his ice cream’s flavor for a half an hour; Peter had shown it to you while you were at work.)
“What kind of plan, Deena?” - You raised her eyebrows at her and she and Buck shared a stare like it was completely obvious.
“I would name it the ’Seducing Steve’ plan for work purposes.” - She said in a laid back tone and sat down into the furthest box.
And so, wizardry and witchcraft were starting when those three started to discuss how to seduce Steve Fucking Rogers.
“Oh, she's in a good mood.” - Bucky answered Steve’s question when he and Sam came back home from their work out. - “It is a pity that youve missed that lunch. We had such a good time.”
“Oh, yea?!” - Sam shouted from the bathroom so loudly, that the glasses started to shake. - “Yo girl almost killed me four thousand times, she was grumpy and a pain in my fuckin’s ass!”
“That is what you get from messing with the ladies. Oh wow, how sad I am that she didn't hit your forearm with that fork.” - Bucky yelled back and Steve was really confused - he was about to buy her some chocolate nonetheless and some other snacks, but he needed to know how he should act.
“WHAT?!” - Sam’s head peeked from behind the door at that exact moment. - “She started all those kinds of beef and now your taking her side? Traitor!” - The chocolate skinned diva closed the door again.
“I will leave you to that.” - Steve slowly put his jacket on, but Buck and Sam got into their beef so much that they didn't even notice that Steve is leaving. - “Today is the day od Lord of the Rings. I'm curious about that and I hope I won't fall asleep.” - He smiled and left the flat, writing you a super-short text.
Steve: See you at your place in ten.
You checked yourself in the mirror for the last time - you had a lumberjack shirt put on because according to Sam and Buck, Steve was secretly living for women in shirts; especially with some nice top under it. Fuckingly tight jeans were just something that needed to be and some high-heeled boots were it.
Sam said that you didn't need anything more than that.
But Bucky laughed devilishly, kissing Deena on her temple. You needed one last thing before you could call your plan a success. Other man’s attention. And Bucky was fucking sure you could achieve that, you little hidden she-devil.
And he knew that other man’s attention is something that can make Steve all worked up. Bucky chuckled; he was sure that it will be more than enough to work Steve up for not only just a kiss. But he shut his bitch ass up - if you will take a day off tomorrow, he will know that the plan worked.
When Steve showed at your door, you let him in - but only to put the paper bag near your fridge. Then you put your old, but the still sexy, jacket on. This one especially Deena’s favorite; she used to say that this jacket was making your boobs bigger and that it practically screams fuck-me-here-and-now. The only problem with it was that it wasn't really warm.
“You're going somewhere?” - Steve asked with a small smile, frowning a bit.
“Yeah. I want to leave for the night, have some fun in the downtown. Sorry that I didn't text you that I'm changing the schedule, I just thought that I can surprise you.” - You locked the door to your apartment and took his elbow to your hand, leading that poor and scared man behind you.
From nowhere, Deena took some tickets out of her purse - it was tickets to some local stage where a DJ would be performing. She wanted to go, but in the last while, she decided that she wanted to do something different - which implied that she wanted to fuck the night away.
But it was your chance after all - a chance that shouldn't be left alone. And if Steve would not hit on you after that? Well, at least you could drink your fucking ass off before showing him what courage looks like.
The night was pretty cold, today at least, but it wasn't that much of a long road. The sky was all iron cold and almost white, illuminated with the yellow shining of the city lamps. Something about that felt nice when you and he walked next to each other on the crowded streets, laughing and simply talking without the smallness of your room, without watching every move he made, if he wasn't closer or too far away.
He felt less nervous. Bucky got an idea why, but again, that fucker just smiled and sipped his diet cola without giving you a proper fucking answer.
"So, we're in front of the club. Come on, I wanna have some fun!" - You smiled and basically dragged that poor man inside. Oh yeah. Modern-day disco - Steve Rogers's personal nightmare. His greatest enemy which he couldn't beat even if he tried to.
There was a lot of young people - including people from the age of eighteen, maybe even younger, and up. Steve wasn't feeling his best, that was for sure. But he was doing it for you, that kept him going.
The show itself was good - you screamed most of the lyrics because you knew them from when you and Pete turned on the radio and sang along. That man was a fucking bomb of that summer, which made you wonder why would Deena give up on that tickets so easily and why he was performing for such a small crowd when he could sell out stadiums full of people.
"I'm going for another beer!" - You screamed to Steve, he needed to lean down, and you shook the empty plastic cup. - "You want some?"
Steve would gladly not accept your offer, just because you were getting drunk as hell, and he didn't even know that you had two shots of some really good Russian vodka stuff in each of your cups of the beer. He was drinking as well, but he knew that nothing, except Thor's centuries-old ale, could bring him on his knees.
But he gently refused with a smile, biting those comments down into his lower lip. You shook your shoulders and left to get some other shit.
A guy trailed you down at the bar; he had his eyes on you since the very beginning. Your enthusiasm for the music, your dancing moves and knowing almost every lyric made him watching you all the time. You seemed to have company - but since the man wasn't holding your lips from behind while you danced, since he didn't even kiss you, the bar guy assumed that it isn't your date.
Just a friend. That's what Steve was in his eyes.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself!" - That guy shouted at you so you could at least barely hear him through the EDM and basses. - "I live for that, sweetie! Name's Rick, by the way!" - He offered you a hand. You accepted it without further thinking; it was warm, dry and he had a firm handshake.
He was pretty handsome, you needed to say that, but it was fading away in comparison to Steve's eyes. Girl, you needed to hit a home run that night so bad. You just needed to, not thinking about the rest which might follow right behind.
"Name's Y/N. Awesome to meet you!" - You smiled, getting the cash out of your back pocket.
"Leave it there, Jesus. It's my treat!" - Rick bumped your palm away and quickly paid the beer and two shots. He was watching as you poured them down to the beer with an open mouth. - "Wow. That's something. I like your style!" - He smiled widely and you chuckled.
"So what are you searching for in here?" - He asked when you poured half of the bear down your throat. You frowned cluelessly at him. - "Everyone in there is searching for something. Some of them are feeling tough since they used their fake IDs, some people are looking for a good fuck in here, someone's mingling out there. Might be my case!"
"Oh, really?" - You opened your mouth. Girl, you were so wasted at that moment, I tell you. - "How so?"
"A bad breakup. I'm trying to find someone who would like to mingle!" - He shouted over the start of a new song. - "You?"
"Hitting my best shot with a totally clueless guy! You see him? He's Captain America himself!" - You shouted and Rick suddenly stopped. Shit. Captain was eyeing him down with a dead stare and you were his fucking girl. He needed to back off as soon as he fucking could to save his own damn ass. - "He's the sweetest and most caring guy ever! You know? But when we're alone, he's all nervous. I need to make him make a move with me finally."
"Yeah. I don't wonder why he's nervous. You're so gorgeous!" - Rick complimented you light-heartedly. It made you smile and you tenderly pat his shoulder.
That was all Steve needed to see. A guy whispering you things, you touching his shoulder and laughing out loud. You had the most beautiful face when you were laughing. And he wasn't the reason for that laughter. Steve just stopped from anything he was doing and frowned, watching your every move.
He knew he was taking things too slowly. He was acting like a fifth-grader around you, but it had a specific and good reason. Steve was sure as hell that he would lose control as soon as his lips would touch yours. You smelled so good, you were funny, beautiful and for that matter, he was sleeping on ice for the last seventy years. And he was a man.
It would be a disgrace for Steve to say that he's horny. Or to say it out loud. But the truth is that is was almost painfully obvious for Bucky and Sam, and basically for every single person who knew Steve. Like Natasha specifically.
But sometimes, when you watched the movie like nothing mattered, Steve looked at your partially opened lips and eyes slowly winking, on that messy hair and a right t-shirt - and suddenly, all he could think about was sex. Or literally tearing the top off you, so he could see more of that body. Or just standing behind you while you leaned down to search through your cupboards, just to gently circle his hands around your waist and to brush his weakest spot on that peachy ass.
That was when Steve sat straight and moved even further away from your body. He didn't want to look like a horny rabbit in your eyes. Even if you wanted to fuck soul out of his body when the nearest chance comes by.
You were both such dummies in that matter. Even Peter could tell Steve's not relaxed bevause of something when he met him for the first time. Peter had similar feelings for Liz Allen, but he was just itching to kiss her. Peter could instantly tell what the fuck is going on.
But you couldn't. That's why you were standing at the bar with Rick's face practically laid on your shoulder. And Steve didn't know what to do first - if he should beat the soul out of his fucking body or if he should you home.
The other option said way better.
You could see Steve's body coming through the crowd directly to you and you bit your lip. Fucking Bucky Barnes. He was right; of course, he was, he knew Steve way better than anybody. You looked at Rick and raised your eyebrows, pouring that drink down.
"Wish me luck, Rick." - You kissed his cheek just to work Steve up even more. - "Hoping for the best lady for you to mingle with!" - You held your fingers crossed tightly when Steve approached you in his typical not-so-sure-about-anything behavior. He leaned down to your ear, touching your jaw with shaking fingers.
"Do you want to leave this place?" - He asked in a sultry tone and you smiled at him. You were drunk, your eyes were shining, your smile was big as ever and even though the beer was smelling from you, you were one of the sexiest ladies Steve has ever seen. So when you nodded, he exhaled.
Oh man, did he finally worked up the courage to do you things you will never forget? He was all heated up when you stood in front of the club as you watched the first snowflakes of that year fall down onto the ground.
He covered you in his jacket because your fuck-me jacket was lost somewhere inside.
"Your place or mine?" - He whispered, playing with his thumbs on your jawline.
"What?" - You asked drunkenly and giggled.
"Don't you try to play that innocent card on me now." - He stood up laughing, watching the people looking at you. No stupid photos now; he would most likely kill them if they would ask. Right now, he had some bigger problems which you needed to solve. - "I know what you're after. And I'm after that as well, kitten. So... I'm asking, you if it's your place or mine."
Sam was at home at that time - not much of a problem for Rogers. He would just swing you on his shoulder, look at his friend and he knew that Sam would immediately know that he should leave the place hella fast. Buck was over at Deena's and Steve knew that they're probably occupied by each other as well.
"Mine. Definitely mine." - You sighed and let him lead you home through the crowds of people. They were staring at you two - Cap and his drunk girlfriend. Oh, did Steve know that his reputation will be torn apart in tomorrow's news and he couldn't care less?
Steve was sure that Tony will be making fun of him or teasing him alongside Clint, Bucky and Sam will be eager to hear every single detail, Natasha will have that sultry face and curious eyes - but Steve decided that every one of them could go fuck themselves if they want.
All he wanted at that moment was you, finally naked, in the shortest time possible.
You almost crashed the door to your flat. The first kiss sure wasn't as romantic or slow or pure as would've wished, but you didn't think about that much. Why? Your back was pressed to the wall next to your door as you were slowly turning into a moaning mess.
There was a little thing that nobody knew about Captain America himself, maybe even Bucky didn't - he was extremely eager. Thanks to his self-control, he was somehow able to hide that element of his personality in front of the others. But he knew how he acts when he has nothing that would make him stop.
The warmth of someone's body leads to touching. Touch leads to a kiss. The kiss leads to foreplay. Foreplay leads to showing you the heaven's gate. That was just how he saw things.
You stripped the jacked off your body in a short five seconds, along with the shirt. You could hear your furniture moving, falling down and crashing onto the ground. You didn't fucking care at all.
Steve was hot under your touch, firm and smooth, his kisses were sweeter than Bucky's plums and the palms on your ass were making you nuts.
Boy, you didn't know what pleasure the man out of time will bring you that night; but you couldn't wait.
29 notes · View notes
ice and honey - secret songbird 2019
happy holidays !! for my secret songbird i got the wonderful, amazing @dwarnian !! i love hanging out with you on the hadestown discord. you are always infinitely sweet and you always comment on my writing which makes my heart soar. to quote oli, “nothing but respect for my grandpa piss.” love you lots you wonderful human and enjoy a lil modern fluff thing of the kiddos (feat. an oc i hope you don’t mind adhjfhdbfjka)
gods he was so warm. how in hell was that even possible? it was practically thirty degrees out there. yet, here was her poet, warm as the sunlight of spring.
she pressed her face to his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his. the life of the city park was evident in all that was around them. a bike sped by them, undoubtedly almost running over a poor squirrel; a child laughed in the arms of her mother; and her orpheus was smiling at his visible breath in the cold. eurydice reveled in the presence of her lover and the modern magic of the place she called home. how did she ever manage to get so lucky?
“oh my gods, look, love!” orpheus said in a childlike tone, and pointed towards something.
she turned her head to spot a few lamp posts, decked with garlands and red bows for the holidays, all surrounding an ice rink with a few dozen people skating on it. some were unsteady on their feet, slipping and falling to the ground, but most were gliding carefully, chatting while they skated.
“i didn’t know they were setting up earlier this year.” the young man grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the rink. “c’mon we have to go.”
the girl was left baffled for a moment. orpheus had almost tripped over his own feet trying to say hello to her, could he really skate without collapsing? and if he could, she couldn’t. after years of moving from place to place, when would she have found the time— or money— to learn to skate? gods, trying that would be so embarrassing. eurydice watched a small child of about three with a helmet stumble and fall to the ice. great, she had the skating capacity of a three year old. that was a wonderful boost to her confidence.
she stumbled out an excuse, “honey, there’s no way we can afford that right now. skates are like ten dollars, and it’s eight bucks for every hour.”
please, please, please get me out of this.
orpheus turned around and smiled. how could she ever say no to him when he was like that? “i have a solution for that love.”
his grin widened, and he squeezed her hand tighter. then, he ran towards the counter dragging his girlfriend along with him. a small giggle escaped eurydice’s lips. she couldn’t possibly believe what she was about to do for him.
when the reached the counter, a girl roughly eurydice’s age with dyed white hair and a bored expression on her face went on with a speech she had probably been saying all morning, “welcome to boreas’s ice rink, the best place for skating in all the city. do you need skates?”
“well it’s nice to see you too, khione,” the singer said.
seemingly snapped out of her uninterested daze at the sound of her name, the white-haired girl, khione, eurydice assumed, stared at orpheus for a second and let out a small laugh. “look who’s back for his yearly trip?” she laid her gaze on eurydice. “and you’ve brought yourself a girl. about damn time, music man.”
his face reddened, and he scratched the back of his neck. a bubbling of envy found its way into eurydice’s gut. she knew that she didn’t have to feel threatened by what was probably an old friend of orpheus, but that didn’t stop eurydice from reacting her tiptoes and planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
“man, a mighty good one too. mind introducing me, lover boy?”
he let out a nervous laugh and gestured towards his lover. “khione, this is eurydice, my girlfriend. eurydice, this is khione, a childhood friend of mine.”
they reached out to shake each other’s hands and exchanged small greetings.
“hermes used to take him here once a week when we opened for the winter. where is the old geezer anyway?”
“he insisted on keeping the bar open today while we went out.”
“pfft, sounds like him.”
“HEY CAN YOU TWO HURRY UP WE’RE WAITIN’ OVER HERE!”
khione simply rolled her eyes and yelled out at someone else to take over for a bit. she then gestured for the two to come around the little booth and follow her. “dad is teaching a class right now until noon, but i’m sure he will be thrilled to see you when he’s finished.” she handed asked them both for their sizes and handed them the according skates. “you two are on the house. family-friend discount for this idiot.”
“thank you so much, khione. it was awesome to see you again. we should really catch up some other time!” orpheus said, his gleaming white smile an apparent contrast against his frozen red face.
more jealousy at their friendliness infected eurydice. that was her poet, damnit. but she quickly distracted herself by examining the skates in her hand. they were a bright white with a shining silver blade on the bottom. the grayish laces crept up it until they came together in a neat, tidy knot. c’mon she could do this. it’s just walking on ice. it couldn’t be too hard...right?
“speaking of lunch, eurydice,” the sound of her name threw her out of her daze. khione continued to address her, “you are so pretty. i don’t even know how this bumbling idiot-” orpheus’s eyes met the floor “-managed to score someone like you. anyway, this is all to say...do you possibly have a friend of yours you could set me up with...like...a girl friend?”
oh. well, that made things a lot easier.
“oh, uh, yeah! probably. i can give you her number after we finish up. you are absolutely gorgeous also. if it weren’t for my favorite bumbling idiot-” orpheus eyes grew even wider as he continued his staring contest with the floor. “-i would probably end up sweeping you off your feet.”
orpheus piped up, “she-she could definitely do that. she’s done that to me before.”
eurydice let out a small laugh and continued talking, “we will definitely take you up on that lunch thing.”
the white-haired girl smiled at both of them, said a quick goodbye and went back to the ticket booth.
orpheus gripped her hand and started running towards the little seating area where people were putting on their skates. despite the existential dread, seeing her lover so excited for something he used to do in his youth put a smile on eurydice’s face.
“come on ‘rydice. we gotta get on the ice before it’s too crowded.”
they shoved on their skates and wobbled their way to the entrance of the rink. the young girl made sure to never let go of her lover’s hand the entire way there. she wasn’t even on the ice, and she already hated this.
without a trace of thought, orpheus jumped on the ice, letting go of eurydice’s hand in the process, and seemed to glide around like he was flying. for a man who could barely walk without tripping, he was really good at skating. orpheus spun around to look at eurydice, who had the first half of her foot on the ice and her hand gripping the railing so hard, it was turning white. she couldn’t possibly believe she did this with minimal objection.
“isn’t it just a perfect day to skate? the sun- oh, uh, i-i probably should’ve asked if you knew how to skate first, huh?” the young man said with a hand scratching the back of his neck.
“you think?” she retorted, sarcasm blazing. she attempted to put her whole foot on the ice before quickly retracting it again.
nope nope nope nope nope nope nope
“here-” he outstretched his hands “-you can hold onto me until you get the hang of it.”
the young girl ignored his hands and went straight to his upper arms and held on like her life depended on it. which, in fairness, it felt like it did.
after a generous amount of coaxing from orpheus, eurydice managed to put both of her feet on the ice. she stood there, unmoving. orpheus started to skate backwards and, in turn, dragged eurydice along with him. this seemed simple, if he could do it, so could she. it was just walking on ice. she lifted her right foot and started to place it down again. however, the front of the blade got wedged into the ice, and she stumbled, her grip of orpheus getting tighter as she attempted to steady herself again.
orpheus simply smiled apologetically and continued to skate backwards as she kept her feet firmly planted on the floor.
they continued like that for another ten minutes or so, eurydice occasionally trying to lift her foot and stumbling again, until the young man’s face seemed to light up. the girl knew that look. she had seen it multiple times whenever he was scribbling songs into his notebook: he had some sort of ingenious idea.
“so, poet, you going to tell me why you got that look on your face or am i gonna have to give you a penny for your thoughts?”
“you know how we dance in the living room sometimes when i sing?” he asked, continuing to round the corner backwards.
“it’s just like that. i’m gonna sing and you just move your feet to the beat.”
she let out a soundless laugh. leave it to her lover to figure out a problem with music and a loving smile. “okay.”
a melody the young girl knew very well escaped orpheus’s lips. his voice was like honey: sweet, smooth, and leaving you wanting more. it ebbed and flowed and overcame her. despite the bitter temperature, eurydice felt a warmth move through her body. the feeling alone was intoxicating, but being there, with orpheus, she felt spring in the ice. la la la la la la la.
picked up her feet and placed them down again to the rhythm of his song in dance-like movements. one foot in front of the other gliding across the floor. what magic her lover could create. it all seemed easy with orpheus. so natural. like all she had been doing throughout her life was this. la la la la la la la.
they continued like this for a while, her grip becoming lax and their movements like children dancing under the glittering of the sun. he continued to sing. slowly, orpheus turned around to face forward, and eurydice’s hand moved from his forearm to a careful grasp of his hand. la la la la la la la.
“see, that wasn’t too hard was it.”
the sudden switch from singing to speaking caught her off-guard, and she quickly felt herself stumbling and reaching for orpheus. this time, however, he was not in front of her, but beside her. the young man, seemingly refusing to let go of their intertwined hands, faltered as well. and together, they fell towards the floor, orpheus the first to make contact with the ice. eurydice followed soon after, although, she had her lover to break some of the fall. carefully pushing herself onto her hands, she examined his tomato of a face. she had him pinned.
“i don’t know, might need a bit more practice,” she said, the breath from her voice visible in the cold.
eurydice reached down and met his mouth with a fiery kiss. his singing wasn’t the only thing about orpheus’s lips that was sickeningly sweet.
11 notes · View notes
Fanfic misfires feat. Murdoc
1. Murdoc/Mac (really short, but I wanted to experiment with a texting convo format)
2. Murdoc/Bozer (Bozer paints Murdoc’s nails.)
3. Murdoc/Bozer, but kinda ended up leaning toward Bozer/Murdoc/Mac (Bozer and Murdoc feeding off each other’s chaotic energy to out-drama each other.)
My heart was overjoyed when I saw that notification
Knowing that you missed me so much that you had to text me...
I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away
How can I not think about you? We're inseparable now
But do we have to be doomed to fight until separated by 💀 ?
Is it terrifying to know that it'll be yours?
By my hand?
I don't believe that you want me dead
Whether or not you want to believe it, even though it physically hurts me to say it
I'll be the death of you
You say that to hide what you really want
😏 😏 😏 😏 😏 😏
You're lonely, I'm lonely... 💔
Talking with you only makes me miss you more, sets my heart 🔥
Maybe I'll come visit you, I'm not far...
Only if you promise to be gentle
Through pain comes pleasure, and you've teased for far too long
Surely you know that the longer you deny yourself, the more pleasure you gain
🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥 🔥
What're you gonna do? Sneak into my room and stab me??? 😏 😏 😏 😏 🍆
"Oh fuck." Mac flattened himself against the edge of the kitchen counter, wide eyes staring down at his phone.
"What?" Bozer grabbed his phone after receiving no answer. And struggled to contain his laughter once he saw what Mac had been texting to Murdoc. "Mac, what the Hell!"
"I--The phone did that!"
"Twenty bucks says he'll be here in ten minutes."
"M-Maybe he didn't notice it. Y'know what? It's fine. I don't think he's actually nearby. ...Fuck."
"I mean, yeah, what'd you expect? Flirting with Murdoc like that."
"It wasn't flirting! It was banter!"
"What's the difference?"
The doorbell rang, sending Mac into a panic, while Bozer sweetly called out, "Who is it??"
"Boz, stop!" Mac harshly whispered, grabbing Bozer's arm to prevent him from opening the door.
"Mac, let go! Someone's at the door!"
"Doesn't mean you have to answer it!"
The doorbell rang again. "Coming!"
"What're you doing?" Bozer felt like he was babysitting, the quiet clinking of glass tipping him off that Murdoc was probably getting into something he shouldn't.
The clinking abruptly stopped. "Nothing!"
"Are you going through my stuff again?" He recapped his marker, and turned around to find Murdoc rummaging through one of his drawers of art supplies along the garage wall. "Hey!" He walked over to shoo Murdoc away, but his annoyance turned to surprise once he saw what Murdoc was holding. "You're going to paint your nails?"
"Once I decide what color." He showed Bozer the violet nail polish he was holding. "I like this one, but do you have anything sparkly?"
"I think." Bozer searched and handed him the sparkly colors. He'd only found four, but he hoped one of them would be acceptable. All he wanted now was to see Murdoc with painted nails.
"Oh, I like this one!" Murdoc held the bottle up to get more light. It looked like plain black with sparkle flecks, but the light revealed the rainbow holographic effect. "It's like a space rainbow trapped in a bottle." He put the others back in the drawer, and sat in Bozer's chair at the table.
"Hang on a sec!" Bozer grabbed the bottles out of Murdoc's hand on his way to sit across the table. "I'll paint your nails."
Murdoc leaned forward, and attempted to steal them back, but Bozer held them out of reach. "Why? You're already busy." Bozer slid his project to the other end of the table before Murdoc's hand could make contact.
Definitely not because he'd love to use Murdoc as a live canvas for future projects...
And definitely not because he simply enjoyed touching Murdoc.
"Because. It's mine and I said so."
"But then I won't be able to present my hand to you so you can compliment it," Murdoc whined.
"Do that to Mac when he gets here."
Murdoc laid his hands on the table. "I guess that's a fair trade. Can't really say no to being pampered."
Bozer adjusted Murdoc's hands on the table until he found a placement where he could be comfortable and hopefully have the best angle for lighting. He shook the bottle of violet nail polish, deciding that the lighter color would show fewer mistakes than the black, and he needed all the help he could get until he got back into practice.
"Does it matter which hand?"
"OK, just...hold still and let me do this."
He concentrated on making three brush strokes per nail, vaguely remembering that he'd heard that somewhere. The first stripe he made down the center of Murdoc's nail was mostly straight. But the two side strokes bled onto the skin.
"My hand just has to remember how to do this," he quickly reassured Murdoc (and himself).
Less polish on the brush for the next nail.
And now he'd left see-through spots that'd need another coat. While still getting nail polish onto the surrounding skin.
By the time he'd completely finished Murdoc's first hand, Bozer was frustrated with himself and his messy paint job. He inwardly sighed, preparing himself for Murdoc's snarky comments.
"One hand done. Do you like it?"
"I do! You did such a good job, I feel so spoiled."
A small smile spread on Bozer's face, Murdoc's compliment easing his frustration. He absently ran his finger down a couple of Murdoc's. "It's not perfect, but I think I can get some of the extra off. I'll look it up later."
"It doesn't have to be perfect. I just like having the color on my nails."
Why Murdoc was being so nice, he didn't know, but he'd take it.
At least the black hid the brush strokes, and easily covered in one coat. Though, it was more obvious when the polish ended up on Murdoc's skin, but he was too distracted by the holographic effect.
"It’s definitely eyecatching. Too bad you wear gloves all the time, huh?"
"Only when I'm working. But I'll still enjoy knowing it's there." Murdoc fluttered his fingers, smirking as Bozer watched the rainbow. "Jealous?"
"...Do you want me to paint your nails?"
"Touch the baby again, and I'm pressing charges!" Bozer slapped Murdoc's hand away as he spun around to prevent him from getting his new prop.
"Who decided that you get full custody of our child?"
"I did! I'm judge, jury, and executioner all in one!"
"I can't visit even once?"
"Well... Yeah, it's OK, I guess." He turned back around, and held the baby up so Murdoc could get a good look.
Bozer had bought it when the Halloween stores were running clearance, and they'd since dubbed it the Zombie Vampire baby. It looked like a zombie, with its greenish-gray skin, and evil, cloudy red eyes, but that didn't explain the fangs hanging off each side of its mouth, and the long, pointy nails.
Mac stifled his laughter at Murdoc's surprise. He admired Bozer for being able to keep a straight face.
"Do you like it? It definitely takes after you."
Murdoc quickly recovered, a grin spreading across his face. "Mmhm. Wow, yeah, I see."
Mac immediately recognized the syrup-sweet voice that Murdoc reserved exclusively for shit-starting. They were in for it now; Bozer had effectively challenged Murdoc for the title of Most Dramatic, and Murdoc is not one to be easily out-drama-ed.
Murdoc clapped his hands together, and stared at Bozer with wide, eager eyes. "So when's the exorcism?"
Bozer pulled the baby back and glared. "How dare you talk about our child like that!" He hugged it tightly, whispering, "Did you hear that? Daddy Murdoc doesn't love you."
Mac groaned as he started down the stairs to go inside. "'Daddy Murdoc'?! I'm out."
"Your bad attitude made Mac leave!"
"Me? I just wanted to know if you plan on waking up tomorrow morning."
"Are you threatening me?"
Mac hurried to the fridge and grabbed a few sodas. Bozer and Murdoc feeding off each other's chaotic energy was a special form of entertainment. They could rapidly get out of hand, and he hated to miss a second of it.
When he stepped back out onto the deck, he could feel the dramatic mood change. And he'd hadn't even been gone for a whole minute. Bozer stood at the railing, glaring daggers into Murdoc's back. Murdoc stared at the ground like it was most interesting thing in the world.
Dammit. He'd missed something good.
"How's the happy couple?" He dumped the sodas on the nearby table, eager to hear what ridiculous stunt Murdoc had pulled in his absence.
"Fine." Murdoc glanced at him and smiled, looking guilty as Hell.
"I want a divorce!"
"We're getting divorced. Irreconcilable differences."
"Irreconcilable differences?! You threw our baby off the balcony!"
"It's not my fault that thing decided to propel itself over the railing, and into the distance, never to be seen again!"
Murdoc gasped as Mac burst out laughing. "Angus! How dare you laugh at our broken marriage!" He flopped into the nearest chair, and sniffled, "Rude."
Bozer smirked before walking over, and putting his hand on the chair's arm, over Murdoc's. "What if I want to save our marriage? You'll help me, right?"
"Anything for you, darling."
"I was hoping you'd say that. See, I was thinking that there's two options that could save us."
"The first choice is giving me snacks."
Murdoc rolled his eyes. "So you're too lazy to go into the kitchen. Fine."
"It has to be something you brought."
"You know I don't carry around food."
"But everything tastes better when you bring it."
"I'm a guest in your house. You should be giving me food, not the other way around."
"Alright, alright. Want to hear your other option? I really think you'll like it."
"We make this a party." Bozer pushed Murdoc's coat off his shoulders. "We all know what's coming later." He ran his hands down Murdoc's sides, and rested them on his hips. "Why don't you save us the trouble, and just take it all off now?"
"Yesssss!" Mac leaned over the back of Murdoc's chair.
Murdoc snorted. "I feel like these choices are just a little...unbalanced."
"But this one's your only choice, isn't it? Since you just admitted that you don't have any food."
"So that's it then? Bring snacks or strip?"
"Are you getting shy all of the sudden? Or do you just need some help?" Mac pulled the bottom of Murdoc's shirt up so Bozer could run his hand over Murdoc's bare skin.
"OK. OK! I'll give you what you want." He pulled his coat off, and into his lap so he could bury a hand into one of the deep pockets. He pulled out a large ziploc bag of candy, and presented it to Bozer.
Bozer's eyes lit up as he grabbed the bag. "Divorce is off!" He pulled a couple pieces out of the bag before handing it to Mac, happy to share the bounty. "But your clothes will be coming off later."
"Hey, a lot of these have Halloween wrappers... Did you take Cassian trick-or-treating, then steal his candy?"
Murdoc shot him an offended glare. "Of course not! I traded him out of my secret candy stash for the candy he didn't like. And since I don't like any of those either, I thought maybe you two would like them. See how my kindness was rudely taken advantage of?"
"I've never seen your candy stash any of the times I've been in your house."
"That's why it's a secret."
"You don't have a secret candy stash. You bought candy specifically to trade with Cassian!"
"I did not."
"You totally did!"
"No. It's just--It sucks when you hate some of the most popular candies, and--"
"That's adorable!!" Bozer threw himself into Murdoc's lap and wrapped his arms around him, while Mac hugged Murdoc around his shoulders and rubbed his face against Murdoc's cheek.
3 notes · View notes
Hey guys, this is my entry for @whothehellisbella ‘s Cool Times Summer Jamz Mix writing challenge, and also my first fic! Thanks to Bella for hosting the challenge. You’re beautiful and awesome. I used the song “I Wanna Get Better” by Bleachers. Story under the cut! - Sydney
Word Count: 1893
Bucky wakes up in a cold sweat, another nightmare. Chest heaving, surrounded by darkness, he rolls over and throws his feet off the edge of his bed, gently resting them on the floor. Slowly, he clenches and unclenches his fingers on his right hand, then on his left, to make sure he still has control over his entire body. The moon outside his window tells him it’s somewhere between 2:30 and 4 am, which means Tony is the only person who might still be up, and even if he is, he’d be in the lab. Slowly, he stands up. If he were still a normal human, his body would be protesting the movement after all the training he did earlier. However, his three or so hours of sleep, no matter how restless, have left his body feeling fine.
Once he comes to his senses, Bucky notices a soft noise playing from the living room. It’s a man’s voice, but not a familiar one, which sets him on edge. Making full use of his assassin skills, he sneaks out of his room and into the living room, where he finds the flat screen TV blaring some good-fortune gospel preacher. As he moves around to get the remote off of the coffee table, he notices you, fast asleep on the couch. One of your legs hangs off the edge, and one of your arms reaches over your head onto the arm of the couch. After he turns off the TV, he drapes your blanket that had fallen to the floor back over your body, then heads out onto the deck.
This floor of the tower has a deck with an outdoor entertaining space, plants, warm lights, and a few lounge chairs for catching sun. The early April night is still a bit chilly as he walks over to the railing and looks out at the skyline, trying to keep his mind away from his violent past. He doesn’t want to think about the people he killed, or the time he spent frozen in between. He thinks instead about the Irish pub he found last month that servers champ the way Steve’s ma used to in the 20s when they had a little more to go around. He also found this little studio in the Upper West Side that has swing dancing every once in awhile. They hire a live band, play music he knows, and some of the girls dress up like it’s the 40s again. He hasn’t danced yet, but he’s thinking of taking you with him next time. He marvels about modern science for a while, how far it’s come outside of weaponry, about all the things Bruce and Tony have shown him on good days. There’s a tightening in his chest when he thinks about Tony, and how he’s so much like Howard, yet so different. He remembers the 40s, and all of the times he and his other friends would chase girls and booze while Steve had to stay home. He thinks about little Steve, and how they might’ve ended up together if things went a little differently.
After he woke up in Wakanda, he knew he couldn’t be with Steve unless he sorted himself out first. Going back into cryofreeze had seemed like the only option at the time, but when they let him out on his hundredth birthday so he could have cake, he realized that he was just hiding. Sure it was safe, but it also meant that he wouldn’t be able to live until they found a way to fix his brain, and that meant he might not wake up again until after Steve died. When they had brought him his cake, he decided that he would apologize to Tony, and after a while, he ended up living in the tower with everyone else. It was around then he decided that he wanted going to get better, even if it meant doing it all by himself. Suddenly, he hears the door open behind him and it pulls him out of his head. It’s you, rubbing your eyes, hair tousled from sleep.
“Hey,” you say, “thanks for turning off the TV. I really gotta stop doing that.”
“No problem,” Bucky says. “What are you doing up?”
“Same thing as you, I presume: trying to clear my head.” You walk closer to him and put your hand on the point where his metal shoulder meets his flesh. He flinches a little. “Nightmares?”
“Yeah, same as usual.” He stares at your hand, enjoying the feeling of being grounded that comes with it, while also marveling at the fact that you put your hand on his bare chest where all his scars are exposed. The single point on his body that he despises most is where you chose to place your hand, and he knows you did it on purpose. When you make no indication of moving it, he relaxes a little and asks you if it was your dreams that woke you up too.
“No. I was actually having a really good dream, for a change. The crick in my neck is what forced me to open my eyes and get off that couch.” You roll your head side to side in an attempt to loosen your muscles. “What’s on your mind now that you’re awake?”
“I was just thinking about back when I was younger, before I knew what loss was, before everything I thought was permanent got thrown away. Now that everything’s changed, I want to get better.”
“Oh, Bucky,” you sigh, moving your hand from his shoulder to wrap him in a hug. “You have gotten better, at least since you’ve been in the tower.”
“I know, doll. I know,” he hugs you back after a couple seconds. “I just feel like I have so far to go before I get to where I want to be. And it’s not like I’ll ever be normal. I’m pretty sure this metal arm stops me from doing that.”
“Hey, the new arm seems better than the old one. That’s a bonus. And if there’s anywhere you’d have a chance of feeling normal, it’s definitely New York. These people are so used to seeing ridiculous and fantastic things, a metal arm probably won’t even be noticed.”
“If you say so,” he shrugs.
“How about this, Sarge: you work on your goal over the summer, and I’ll work on mine. We’ll track our progress together.”
“Sounds fair,” he calls after as you start heading back inside. “Hey, what is your goal anyway? You didn’t mention it.”
“I’m gonna learn Russian. I want to know what you and Tasha are saying behind my back,” you wink as you open the door. “Night, Buck.”
Bucky slowly wakes up to early morning light streaming through his bedroom window. It’s not common for him to sleep through the night, but it happens now more often than it used to. His super senses pick up the strong smell of espresso, letting him know he’s not the first one up. Either that, or Tony pulled another all-nighter and ran out of coffee in the lab. He rolls out of bed, pulls on some basketball shorts, and makes his way out to the kitchen. While he doesn’t see anyone, there is a fresh pot of coffee and the espresso machine gleams like it’s just been cleaned. He pours a cup and walks out onto the deck, only to find you.
“Mornin’, doll,” he greets you with a voice a bit deep from sleep.
“Morning,” you smile at him as he takes his spot beside your side. “You know, it’s near the end of the summer. How are you progressing with your goals?”
He knows you know very well how he was doing, you kept the whole goals thing going, but he also knows that you’re being light about it because that’s the only reason he kept going. You know he’s naturally competitive, so you turned everything you could into a competition or a game. When the therapist suggested writing things down, both good and bad, to help him remember and process his grief, you bought him a unicorn notebook with a rainbow pen to make him laugh, even about his nightmares. He thinks about all that he accomplished this summer with his therapist, with Steve, with Tony, and especially with you. You showed him how to move his life from the darkness of his past. You were with him every step of the way; you helped him get better. He’s still got a long ways to go, sure, but he’s made monumental progress this summer because of you.
“I’d say things are going pretty good,” he throws an arm around you shoulder and stares at the magnificent view in front of him. “What about you? Как идет Россия?”
//How’s the Russian going?//
“Все идет неплохо. I even managed to learn another language, too.”
//It’s going pretty good.//
“Oh yeah? Which one?” he teases.
“Farsi. And a little Welsh, but that one’s less practical.” You smile back.
“Pwy sy'n gofalu am ymarferol?” He laughs, and you laugh with him. “Honestly, Y/N, I couldn’t have done this without you. I mean, I was okay on my own in Bucharest, but I didn’t realize how lonely I was there until I met you here. We’ve come so far together, and I hope you’ll stick with me.”
//Who cares about practical?//
“Of course, Sarge. But first, I have something planned. Be ready at five thirty. Traffic’s gonna be terrible.”
“What’re we doing?”
You smirk. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
At five thirty, Bucky is standing in the lobby of the tower, waiting for you. When you step out of the elevator, he thinks you look gorgeous in a loose dress and victory rolls. He notices you’re carrying something besides your purse and asks, “What’s in the box?”
“I’ll tell you when we get closer, now let’s get in the car.”
The tower valet pulls your car around, and while you’d usually let someone else drive you in their car, you want it to be just you and Bucky with the top down in your convertible M6. You tie a scarf around your hair and slide on some round sunglasses, really playing the 40s look.
When you’re about five minutes away from your destination, you tell Bucky to open the box.
“Y/N, are these… dancing shoes?”
“You bet, Buck,” you say, loving the look of surprise and excitement on his face.
“But wait, how did you know my shoe size?”
“I asked Steve. Who else?”
“And he didn’t tell me what you were up to? That little punk.” He grins.
“Well,” you announce, cutting the engine, “We’re here.”
Bucky looks up to see the club he found earlier this year but never got around to bringing you to. “How do you know about this place?” he asks while you two walk inside and up to the bar.
“Oh, I found it a while ago, and after you showed up and we started hanging out, I wondered how long it would take you to ask me to come with you. I just got impatient and decided to bring you instead.”
“You’re amazing, Y/N.”
“Trust me, I know. Now let’s have a toast. To getting better.”
“To getting better.”
6 notes · View notes