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doctorgerth · 3 years

Note

Love, feel free to ignore this if this was not correct or came out a bit detailed! For a suggestion I am thinking of something like how would non-touchy people, the top three I can think of being, Law, Killer, and Zoro (of course you can switch characters if you can think of any more "aloof" characters who would fit this suggestion better!) deal with a partner whose love language is physical touch?

a/n: this really hit home as someone whose love language is physical touch, and I am so obsessed with this idea, hence why it ended up so long (I'm sorryyyy) 🤧 It’s just cute to think about “no touchy” people actually loving sweet touches from their s/o <3 might have ended up a lil ooc? hope you enjoy it anyway!

featuring: Zoro, Law, Killer + gn!reader

warnings: soft soft soft with only a teensy bit of angst

WITH A PARTNER WHOSE LOVE LANGUAGE IS PHYSICAL TOUCH

ZORO —

of the three, I think Zoro would be the most readily accepting of an s/o whose love language is physical touch simply because he’s actually used to physical affection. of course it’s more platonic from his crewmates, but still, he’s no stranger to hugs, cuddles, hand-holding, and other forms of touching. plus he’s pretty handsy himself when in a relationship!

that’s not to say he isn’t a little bewildered the first time you express physical affection. after all, he didn’t realize even the simplest of touches could feel like that. he might be apprehensive towards your advances at first, but it’s only because he doesn’t know how to process the way the feeling of your hand squeezing his so adoringly makes his heart thump wildly in his chest. his hands are really sweaty and he’s so awkward about it but it’s endearing!!

he becomes much more comfortable quicker than you’d think. receiving and eventually offering physical affection becomes second nature to him as the relationship progresses. now remember he’s still a little dense, so you might have to spell it out for him if you’re needing a bit more than what he’s been offering. do so and he might grumble about it, but when it comes down to it, his arms are always open for holding you tightly. though he’s far less nervous-sweaty, the effects of your body against his remains the same and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to shake the warm fuzzies he feels when you touch him so fondly. not that he’d want to.

likes pda in small doses. can handle hand-holding and a small kiss here and there, but he’s not going to drape himself over you, or make out with you in front of others (unless he needs to prove a point). but he is known to have a protective arm wrapped around you when you sit together! some of his favorite forms of affection include sleep cuddles, back scratches, and when you lay your legs across his lap. also the way you shiver when the pads of his fingers trace random patterns along your bare skin never fails to make him smile. it’s simply heartwarming to know he has the same effects on you.

he’ll tease you for being clingy, but you soon learn that he has a clingy side himself! after a rough day or when he’s feeling drained, he’s known for seeking you out to receive some mood-boosting cuddles. also plz he’s domestic as hell and loves to give you a quick peck to your cheek/forehead/top of your head as a greeting or departure, or even just randomly because you’re too cute. he can also be a pretty clingy sleeper. claims he can’t sleep when you’re not tucked into his side for “safety reasons” but it’s only because he gets the best sleep when he feels you right next to him (sorry not sorry if you get sweaty easy). overall, being with a partner whose love language is physical touch works well for him because I think physical touch is high up there on his own love language list!

LAW —

much like Zoro, he’s kinda used to physical affection from his loving crewmates, yet he tries his damndest to prove he “doesn’t like to be touched”. all arguments are fruitless once he meets you and discovers your love language - because let’s face it, this man is touch-starved.

though he’s quick to realize this, he’s still unable to accept your advances without being stiff and awkward. he can’t help it when your touch reminds him of long-forgotten moments; repressed memories of loved ones expressing some of the same affections. it’s a bittersweet feeling, so it takes Law a little bit of time to get comfortable. even though it doesn’t involve touching, Law expresses affection with you physically through his eye contact. longing stares from across the way, focused eye contact when you are speaking, or a secret language spoken through flickering golden irises is much easier and tends to have the same effect!

Law isn’t too big on pda as he has a “reputation to uphold”, but also like Zoro, he will use whatever means necessary to prove a point with zero shame. will groan and complain, but he secretly loves it when you grab his arm and cling to him. or when you run your fingers through his disheveled hat hair and massage his scalp. or when you whine and beg to cuddle him in his lap while he works at his desk. or when you grab his face gently between your soft hands and kiss him, miraculously making it feel like the first time every time. he rolls his eyes and teases you, but inside his heart is doing back flips in his chest!

some of his favorite forms of physical affection include discreet hand-holding (oh the hand-brushing tension!), impromptu massages, and small touches that notify you of each other’s presence. for Law, he much prefers the subtlety rather than grand gestures of physical intimacy. not that he doesn’t entertain the desire for cuddle sessions or passionate kisses from time to time, he just finds comfort in the small exchanges. anything more than that can be a little overwhelming if he’s not in the right mood, so you two have to find a balance. if he ever does recoil from your advances, you just have to remember to not take it personally! he really does love you, but poor guy can only handle so much.

overall, he’s quite accepting of your love language as it brings him a sense of love he hasn’t felt in a long time. though he might not want to give or receive physical affection nearly as often as you do, he's good about making up for lost opportunities in privacy - refueling your touch meter with loving embraces and the softest kisses, because some days, he needs those moments just as much as you. and thanks to you, he becomes more open to receiving affection (still within limits) which his crew is eternally grateful for and will take advantage of fully! <3

KILLER —

of the three, Killer is probably the least prepared for an s/o who is physically affectionate. he’s had a hard life, and he’s not one to easily trust those outside of his pirate family, so it’s unlikely he’s really received any forms of physical love throughout his life.

is honestly a bit jumpy at first, just out of instinct, the first few times you make any physical advances. it takes him some time to ease up, let the trust build. he’s not used to being so vulnerable and doesn’t know how to properly express himself when being embraced so lovingly. he loves it, he really does, he’s just a little insecure!

when he gets more comfortable with receiving, and you give him lots of reassurances, he starts to realize that something feels almost natural when he gives it back to you. like holding you in his arms somehow feels like home, no matter where the two of you are. then soon enough, it becomes habitual to make physical advances towards you throughout the day. whether it’s a good morning kiss, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, or smacking your butt in passing - he eventually finds confidence in expressing his love for you through physical acts! and he is more than happy to show off with a little bit of mild pda.

some of his favorite forms of affection include holding you in his lap, the types of hugs that last a little too long, and when you play with his hair; most especially when you brush and style it! he’s a nuzzler - loves to nuzzle his unmasked face into the warmth of your neck and sneak in a few kisses. also (& yes I know I’ve talked about this before) he fully believes that play wrestling and rough-housing go hand in hand with physical affection. he’s a violent guy surrounded by violent friends, so he’s going to want to put you in a chokehold for fun. throws you over his shoulder and body slams you onto the bed because he loves you and it always leads to silly, playful kisses. <3 lovessss it when you “fight” back or sneak a move on him!

he’s never given much thought to what his “love language” is, but he now knows that physical touch is high up on the list thanks to you! he’s never been the best with romantic words, so you helping him become fluent in the art of physical affection has been truly beneficial for the both of you. he adores that he doesn’t have to say a word, just a simple touch from either of you can speak volumes - especially things he’s still a little too embarrassed to say out loud!

If you enjoyed this, let me know by leaving a like, comment, and/or reblog! Any form of support is always appreciated. 🌸

#doctorgerth #doc writes #headcanons #hcs #fluff #romantic #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #law x reader #killer x reader #gn!reader #dreamingrouge

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leah-bobeea · 3 years

Text

Magazine Girl; Steve Rogers

You ever start writing a fic about a journalist reader at two am who’s eventually gonna end up doing steeb, over his desk, biting down on his expensive leather belt?

❀ ❀ ❀

Warnings: CEO!Steve x Journalist!Reader, Angst, Steve’s a little mean, Bossy Steve, Shy/Anxious reader, Dom!steve, mentions spanking, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, coercion (a little teensy bit), Bad writing lol

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Terrible writing w/ a terribly rushed ending. Written on my phone, in my notes app, not beta read, and barely proofread.

❀ ❀ ❀

Yes, your hands were busy. Not busy typing out a rough draft of this stupid article on Steve Rogers, not busy calling his secretary to set up a meeting with the man, or the closest to him you could get, not busy doing their job at all. They were busy tapping your pen against the glass tabletop of your desk, successfully annoying Wanda, who sent you an aggravated look from across the room.

“Seriously, Y/n?” Wanda moved from where she was at her desk, clearly not making a breakthrough on her article for this month's issue either. You could only shake your head in reply. Throwing your head back to stare at the ceiling, you starting explaining. “Maria gave me this huge article, Wanda. Cover! And, trust me, I know she’s testing me and doesn’t think I’ll actually be able to do it so she can fire me, or belittle me, or- or something! I don’t know what to do, help me, bestie.” As you finished rambling you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, hoping for some of that amazing advice she gives.

Wanda laughed and pulled a chair over from an empty desk, sitting down and haphazardly throwing her feet on top of your cluttered tabletop. “She wouldn’t give you an article you couldn’t handle, she loves you, Y/n. If it’s truly as difficult as you’re making it out as that means that she knows you’re ready for it, and you’ll do amazing. Who’s it on anyway?”

She was doing such a good job at easing your nerves until she brought up the topic. You whined high in your throat and threw your head to the side before uttering, “Steven Rogers,” you turned your body back to Wanda, “What more do I need to say?” Her eyes widened just a little. “Sheesh...I’d start making phone calls, and praying, maybe?”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Hello, Miss. Carter, um- this is Y/n L/n with Shield Mag-“ “Please hold, dear.”

You pulled the phone away from your head and let it rest on your naked thigh, quickly pressing the speaker button. It was times like this when you were grateful that you let your grandma convince you to buy a house phone. Peggy Carter was the fifth person you’d contacted trying to get an interview with this man and she was the second lady that humored you enough to at least pretend like she’d get back to you.

She’s his main assistant so you might have better luck this time...

Thirty minutes later you had your head inches off the ground and your toes wiggling in the air. Humming the annoying hold music to yourself, you braided, unbraided, and re-braided a single strand of your hair. At thirty-nine minutes you were ready to give up until you heard a click on the other line.

You scrambled to turn off the speaker and press the phone back to your ear.

“Miss. Carter I was hoping to set up an interview with Mr. Rogers, over the phone, in person, or through email, if that’s possible?” You asked, hopeful that she wouldn’t shoot you down immediately like everyone else.

“Well, Magazine Girl, I only do in person. But I am a very busy man, so I need to know right away, what’s in it for me?” Your breath hitched and you almost fell and cracked your head open from how startled hearing his voice made you. Then, you nearly gave yourself a head rush from how fast you sat up.

“Well, um, Sir, you would get a headlining article, and uh, a cover on the June issue of Shield Magazine. That’s um, that’s if you want a cover- you don’t have to be on the cover if you don’t want to, just the interview would be mentioned on the cover, but-“ His chuckle was gritty and vivid, effective in stopping your babble. “I’ll see you Friday around noon. Goodbye Magazine Girl.” He hung up on you before you could even comprehend anything but that captivating laugh.

You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed your planner and pen. “Friday at noon...”

❀ ❀ ❀

The next day you were back in the office, sitting in Wanda’s stiff chair with twin caramel lattes sitting in front of you. That was the thing about you, you’d come to work early bearing gifts just to tell your closest friend your good news. You’re sweet like that.

When Wanda arrived it was fifteen minutes later and your latte was halfway gone. Hearing her black stilettos click on the glossy linoleum made you perk up immediately. As she approached, you stood, handing her the latte and wrapping your arms around her lithe body.

“I got an interview!” You squealed, rocking your bodies side to side. She stilled you and smiled. “Gosh, that’s great, Y/n. How’d you get it?”

“Well, I called, like everyone, and he picked up, Wanda! he picked up! I’m scheduled for Friday, and my Lord, Wanda, his laugh, it's like honey...” You trailed off, sighing at the thought of him. Your head was rested on her shoulder, a faint smile on your face. “You’ve got a crush on him!” Wanda exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and holding you an arm's length away to get a good look at your bashful face.

You gasped, “No I do not! That would be totally unprofessional!” The cackle that erupted from her made her sound like the wicked witch of the west. And honestly, under her stare, you felt like Dorothy stuck under that house.

When Wanda was finally done laughing maliciously she let you go, plopping down in her desk chair and sipping her latte. She pointed over and your desk and gave you a look. “Better start drafting those questions... we wouldn’t want you to blank on your crush.” “Wanda!”

❀ ❀ ❀

The days leading up to Friday were excruciatingly long, yet the hours until twelve flew past all too quickly.

It seemed as if your wardrobe was never ending, full of clothes that you deemed inappropriate for a meeting with the CEO of American Enterprises. You threw yourself back onto the bed, hair and makeup done but body still wrapped in a fluffy white towel. “Oh Milky, what am I gonna wear?” The soft white kitty glared at you from the pillow she was perched on, meowing at you aggressively.

Ten thirty blinked on the clock and you sat up, glancing at all of the clothes that were scattered on the floor. “I guess this will do.” You picked up the same emerald blazer you had chosen originally and layered it over some basic Levi’s, and gray low cut blouse flowing over your form. A belt was necessary, so you grazed over your options. Brown wouldn’t go, even though it was your only fancy belt. The only black one you had was old, the leather cracked and worn, but it had to do. You slipped on some pretty black heels, lucky that you painted your toes a similar color to your blouse. After accessorizing you sprayed your signature perfume, the one that got you your first college-aged boyfriend, and the same one that you were wearing when you got your first real job.

By the time you were on the Metro, it was eleven o’ six, and you were worried. If you were late you’d lose this chance, and probably your job. The car stopped around eleven fifteen, giving you fifteen minutes to make your way to the building, check-in, and try to not seem so nervous.

Finding the building wasn’t difficult at all, after all, it is the second biggest building in New York City, competing with Stark Tower. The “A” at the top wasn’t illuminated, but it still stood out against the other buildings, cowering over them.

You found that the doors were heavy and if you denied Wanda of going to those burn boot camps you would have extreme difficulty prying them open. The inside was classy, just as you expected. The lamps had blue shades and the front desk lit up with a design that resembled the American Flag, but with less curved stripes and only one large star.

The receptionist was one of the women who shot you down immediately when you called and was a little surprised when you checked in. “Hello, I’m here for Mr. Rogers, twelve o’clock?” She searched for something on her computer, clearly trying to see if the appointment was legitimate. When you were proven correct, she handed you a temporary security badge and a sharpie to write your name on it. “Have a seat over there when you’re finished. I’ll call for you when Mr. Rogers is ready for you.” She smiled, it was fake, but it helped you feel more comfortable.

The red couch was stiff and small, clearly not meant for long periods of sitting. The badge was clipped onto your blouse, not your blazer, and the weight of it was pulling at the already low cut neckline. You thought about moving it, but your attention was quickly turned to the coffee table, where your magazine sat, opened to an article you wrote. Your hands were a little shaky as you went to close the magazine, but you were interrupted before you could grasp the bent pages.

“Miss. Y/n? Mr. Rogers is ready for your interview. Head up to floor thirty six, the door on the right.” Miss receptionist sounded bored, her eyes never left the monitor in front of her. “Thanks.”

Some of the others in the waiting area looked up to you after hearing where you were going, causing you to blush.

You felt lucky to get the elevator to yourself. Thirty-six floors is a long way to go, yet you got there in under three. In the elevator you adjusted your outfit and flattened your hair, hoping it wasn’t frizzy.

The door on the right was clearly not just a meeting room but an office, which you thought was odd. You also found it odd that no one was in the room, you expected to at least be met with his assistant or secretary, if not Steve himself.

Your eyes scanned the room to make sure it was completely empty before taking a seat on the leather chair on the opposite side of the big desk. You opened your notebook and got out your lucky rooster pen before going over your questions once again, hoping he didn’t think they were stupid.

You waited fifteen minutes for him, growing increasingly irked as the minutes built up. When he walked through the door you felt like your heart stopped.

Six-four build covered in a black suit and tie, white undershirt pristine. Blonde hair disheveled and a perfectly manicured beard. The door slammed shut and you heard the clinking sound of a glass being set down. Steve lifted his head and you snapped yours to the front, hoping he didn’t catch you checking him out.

The room was silent besides a rustling coming from behind you. You busied yourself with your notebook, highlighting the questions you wanted to ask most.

“You’re a very patient girl.” He observed. Steve made you wait on purpose. He knew from the first person you called that you wanted an interview, he was friends with Maria Hill after all. But he wanted some entertainment, and after looking into you, he knew you were the right girl. So far he’s made you wait an hour and fourteen minutes for just a smidge of his attention.

“Yes, Sir.” You mumbled, accidentally stopping the highlighter too soon, pressing it down, and letting the pink ink bleed to the next page. He hummed in approval as he rounded the corner, drink in his hand, coat jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, first couple buttons loose. Finally, Steve sat in the big chair, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mahogany table.

“Give me that.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement, “What?” You asked, putting your pen down on your lap. Steve motioned for your notebook, and you opened your mouth, starting to stumble over your words. “Oh? um- Okay?” You handed it over to him and he relaxed back into his chair. A question bubbled in your throat, but you didn’t let it escape. Instead, you watched as his eyes scanned the papers, blue cursive, and pink highlighter, little stars and flowers drawn in the corners. “Mr. Rogers, are you ready to start the interview?” You tapped your watch, twelve twenty four.

He nodded, “Yes, I’m ready.” You cleared your throat and went to ask for your notebook, but he beat you to it. “Miss. L/n, is there an achievement or something that you’ve contributed to me that you are most proud of?” Why was he asking you your own questions? “Sir, I-“ He cut you off once again. “Answer the question, doll.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I- um, no. I haven’t contributed anything to you that I should be proud of, Sir.”

“Is there a particular moment or memory of building this relationship that stands out to you?” He continued with the questions, tilting his head to the side. Why was he twisting the questions onto you? When you didn’t come up with an answer he chuckled, sounding sickly sweet like molasses dripping straight from the sugarcane. “Patience finally wearing thin, honey?” You nodded eyes staring at his chest, you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look him in the eye.

He snapped your notebook closed and slid it towards your side of the grand desk. “You couldn’t answer my questions correctly, Y/n.” You nodded, eyes now downcast, admiring the pattern on the blue carpet. You felt like you were going to cry. This big scary man was mean and just wouldn’t let you conduct your interview and you didn’t know why. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I know you are, doll. But, if you can’t answer my questions how can I answer yours? You have nothing to offer me.” This was it, you were losing your chance. “Business wise, that is.” Your head shook, and your hands were clasped together, your left thumb rubbing your right nail back and forth. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

“I’m friends with Maria, Y/n. If you’re able to get this article done and get me on the cover you’re gonna get a promotion, you want that, right doll?” Your eyes went wide, “Yes, Sir.” Now, he stood, coming around to the front where you are and leaning against the desk. “She said to make it difficult, but I don’t care enough to do all that. So, doll, I’ll answer your questions. They’re quite good actually. And I’ll do a little photoshoot for the cover, but you’ll need to pay me back.” You gulped, hands suddenly sweaty, you felt like a little chihuahua, trembling under his gaze.

“How? Um, how do I pay you?” Gosh, even your voice was shaky. “Stand up. Lose the blazer.” Steve commanded, slowly unbuckling his belt. You could faintly tell from the buckle that it was Hermès. You stood and took off your blazer in a rush, folding it poorly and setting it on the arm of the chair. “Atta girl.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and then ran them down to your hands, giving them a little squeeze before he hooked his index fingers into your belt loops, pulling you closer. So close that the tips of your shoes were touching. He leaned down to kiss your neck and you stiffened, but when he grazed his teeth over the bruised spot he just created you melted into him, your hands grasping at the pristine white button up, letting out a little whimper.

Steve pushed you back a little and took in your form, then he pulled the little security badge off, tossing it to the side. Like a little kid, he pulled at the neckline of your shirt. “Off.” You would’ve giggled at him if he didn’t look so scary right now. His blue eyes were piercing into yours, left hand so tight on your hip you thought he might leave bruises.

By the time your shirt hit the floor, he was pushing at your shoulders, hinting at you to go to your knees. “Sir, I don’t know-“

You started, knees hitting the carpet underneath you. He shushed you and guided your head to look up at him. “It's okay, baby, you don’t have to know how. I’ll do all the work, doll. Now, undo your bra.” As expected you did as he asked immediately, fumbling with the clasp until it fell down your arms. It ended up next to your thigh as you watched him pull his belt through the loops.

Steve walked around you and kneeled down, belt in his hands. “Put your hands behind your back.” You nodded immediately, so submissive, completely at his mercy. “Yes, Sir.” Steve loved how polite you were. He made quick work of restraining you, tying your hands to rest against your jean clad ass. The metal felt harsh against your skin and the soft, expensive leather snaked up your arms.

When he was back in front of you he sighed and shook his head. “I should’ve had you unzip me first.” Hearing Steve say that finally brought you to the reality of what was about to happen. You watched with big eyes as he undid the button and then the zipper, the sound making you tremble. His dress pants puddled on the floor and you were in awe as he massaged his bulge through his boxers. Slowly, he pulled them down to the middle of his thighs. His cock bounced up to hit his abdomen and he hissed as he stroked it a few times. “Open as wide as you can, honey.”

As always, you did as asked. Your tongue stuck out a little, wetting your bottom lip. He grasped the back of your head and leaned you forward a little, then you felt his blunt tip on your tongue. You gagged and spluttered when Steve was about halfway seated, he pulled out and leaned down, kissing you sloppily. “Breathe through your nose, baby. Don’t forget.” Then he was back at slowly entering your throat. “Fuck...” he grunted, finally fully seated in your throat, your nose pressed against his nicely groomed pubic hair. He caressed your throat then, rubbing the bulge in your throat, resisting the urge to press down and have you choke on his cock even more. “So good, Y/n.”

Steve started rocking into your throat, slowly fucking it as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth. After minutes of abusing your throat, he finally pulled out, adoring the way tears ran down your cheeks and how you hiccupped, wanting to desperately rub at your raw throat to soothe it. Your hands pulled at the belt and your eyes begged Steve to undo it. “Up, doll.”

He hoisted you up from your armpits and bent you over the desk. Steve pressed kisses down your back and reached in front of you, unbuckling your belt and throwing it somewhere to the left of you, then he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, tugging them down with fervor.

Steve undid your restraints and left more kisses down your back until he reached your ass, spreading your cheeks to reveal your tight hole and glistening cunt. “I’d love to see this ass all bruised and red, but I’ll have to save that for another day.” His index and middle finger ran circles on your clit, your back arching to press into him more. “Sir, please!” You gasped, your hand flying out to the edge of the table and nearly knocking over the glass of whiskey he left on a coaster when Steve finally pushed two fingers into your aching hole.

“Gotta open you up first, doll, get you all sloppy and ready for my cock.” You cried out as he hooked his fingers, rubbing the magic spot inside of you. “Please, Steve, please.” He cooed at you, pulling his fingers out, and instead traced his name over your clit. “You gonna come, baby? Huh? You gonna drench my fingers, little girl?” You were moaning in wanton, hips humping his hand desperately. He brought his other hand down and started fingerfucking you again, giving you just enough to push you over the edge.

Your moans were breathy, your legs twitching, and you were panting by the time your orgasm faded. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet, doll, I still haven’t come inside you.” That made you whine high in your throat and you tried, to no avail, to slam your legs shut around his hand.

Steve’s right hand fisted his cock a few times, making sure he’s rock hard and dripping with pre-cum, while his left kept your lips spread, showing him your gorgeous pussy. The blunt head at your entrance shocked you, and you yelped at the intrusion. “Sir!”

He leaned his head down and spit where you were joined, trying to make the glide even easier. “Shut up, doll.” He snapped after you cried out. Once he was as deep as possible inside of you he reached for his belt, looping it over as if he was going to spank you, and stuffed it into your mouth. “Bite down,” Steve demanded, a hand snaked around to the front of your neck where he was applying light pressure.

When you tried to push back against him he held your hips down against the wood steadily and started snapping his hips at a fast speed. Each thrust pushed you down onto the table, letting your clit rub against the mahogany wood.

Your vision felt spacey like you could black out any moment as he choked you. Your orgasm washed over you and you had to use all the strength you had in you to keep biting down on the belt. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed his and let it go. Steve’s hips harshly snapped against your ass a few more times before he stilled inside of you, filling you with his spunk.

Before Steve cleaned you up and let you leave his office he had to finger his cum back inside of you, making sure none of it went to waste. Then, he made sure you had a way home, and a way to contact him, because, “Now you’re no longer Magazine Girl, but My Girl.”

@lo-bells

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve smut #steve rogers smut #dark!steve #dark!steve x reader #marvel #avengers fanfic #captain america #ceo!au #chris evans #leah-bobeea

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starilicious · 3 years

Text

ishq wala love (echo x gn!reader)

》 summary: reader comforts an insecure echo after the end of tbb episode 4 "cornered" about having mechanical parts as part of his body.

》 word count: ~2.2k

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: slight sensory overload, mild panic attack (i think it could be classified as relatively vague in regards to the description), insecure echo about his body, a teensy bit of in universe swearing, lots of flufffff and a dash of angst here and there, no use of y/n [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: extremely mild ones from tbb episode 4 "cornered"

》 a/n: hello! this is my first tbb fic, so i really hope i do the show, the characters, and the fandom justice hehe ^_^ over the past few days, i've become obsessed with tbb fics, particularly the echo x reader ones bc my GOODNESS this man is such a soft bean who deserves all the love in the galaxy. as a result, please enjoy this sleep-deprived frenzy of a fic that i wrote at 1 am and let me know your thoughts! :)

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "ishq wala love" from the film student of the year. i've linked the song (in blue) with some pretty good english translations in case you would like to take a listen, but it isn't necessary for the fic–i just thought it fit well!

• i kind of got way too invested in building up the environment at the beginning, so apologies if it seems like a slow start! i just had to indulge in having the other characters there too <3

• please ignore the inaccuracies of the havoc marauder. i don't really know what the ship looks like, especially the living quarters, so i unintentionally ended up using the ghost from swr to guide my writing for that part.

• what the reader says at the end about the word in love in her native language is true. the language i'm referring to here is hindi, and we have several different words for love. in my very humble opinion, i think it’s one of the many characteristics of the language that makes hindi so sweet-sounding and poetic :)

• THANK YOU FOR 100 NOTES OMG AHHH YOU ALL ARE TRULY AMAZING 😭<333 (7/1/2021)

After Tech piloted the Bad Batch away from Pantora and safely entered hyperspace, you all decided to turn in to get some rest–or at least attempt to. With the bounty hunter scare, you and the boys figured it would be best to discuss what to do tomorrow morning, for Omega’s sake.

You tucked Omega in with her doll and offered her a comforting smile. “Don’t worry ‘Meg,” you said softly, running a gentle hand through her cropped blonde hair. “You’ll be safe, I promise. You’re stuck with us for life.”

Omega smiled sleepily at your teasing and held her arms out for a hug, one which you gladly indulge. “Sweet dreams, love,” you murmur as you let go. You shut off the lamp in her makeshift room and closed the curtains as you climbed down the ladder.

You turned around to find Hunter looking at you from his seat in front of the blinking controls. You raised an eyebrow as you plopped down in front of him unceremoniously, the exhaustion of the action-packed day catching up to you.

"You're good with her," he murmured as you both glanced at the light beige divider and you shrugged in response.

"Just looking out for her. Besides, you're not so bad yourself. She mimics your every move," you grinned. Hunter chuckled fondly as he recalled the memory where they were all stuck in the Kaminoan prison cell and Omega copied his every gesture.

The two of you lapsed in a comfortable silence as you mulled over the day's events, the hum of the ship thrumming beneath your feet.

"We'll be okay. It's tiring and difficult and none of us know how to raise a child, but we'll be okay," you said, breaking the quiet with optimism. You placed a hand on Hunter's shoulder and smiled. "Crosshair will be okay too. Have faith."

Hunter sighed but nodded in agreement as he put his hand over yours. "Goodnight," he said as he stood up, stretching his muscles.

"Sleep well."

You sat at the small table for a few more minutes to think before standing up yourself. You quickly checked in on Tech in the cockpit since he was on watch, and he immediately shooed you away, insisting you get some sleep. You had a feeling he only did so to optimize the ship in peace without distractions.

Nevertheless, you obliged and left him alone. Walking to the back of the ship, you completed your rounds. Wrecker was snoring loudly and you stifled a laugh. At least he was sleeping well–it was all you could ask for really. But frankly, you had no idea how Crosshair was ever able to sleep through it. Thinking about him and seeing his empty bunk made your heart pang in loss, but you were as determined as the rest of them to somehow bring him back. You had to.

You opened the door to Hunter and Tech’s shared room to find Hunter already sleeping soundly and you quickly left. With his enhanced senses, he was already a light sleeper, and compounded with his responsibilities as a leader, he rarely got any rest. You worried for him.

Last stop was your and Echo's room. You stepped in to find the light still on. Echo was sitting on the floor in front of your bunk, staring at the ground.

"Hey there handsome," you joked lightly in an attempt to get his attention and mask your unease. Echo usually only came near your bunk when something was wrong and after everything that happened today, it was safe to say you were concerned.

Echo didn't respond. Did he hear me? You make your way over to your lover and sit down in front of him. You place your hands on top of his.

"Echo, honey?" You said softly and finally finally he looked up at you. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

"Oh, darling," you breathed and you moved to his side to envelop him into a hug, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You didn’t say anything more–you saw the deep pain swirling in his eyes, the grief, the loss. The anger. You let Echo take the lead; you knew how difficult it was to wrangle raging thoughts and muster them into words.

You didn’t know how much time passed of you two sitting on the floor, breathing each other in before Echo spoke.

“Today… when we went on the supply run, I was dressed as a droid.”

You bit your lip, knowing exactly where this was going. But you didn’t interrupt, letting him continue. Your thumb rubbed absentmindedly on his arm as you listened.

“That vendor we were talking to wouldn't take what we had. And then he saw me,” Echo took a deep breath. You stayed quiet, holding his hand in a manner that you hoped soothed his anxieties at least a little bit.

“Hunter sold me as a droid to him. I-I know he doesn’t see me as a droid. I know that. But–” Echo’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat of the emotion building up. Echo didn’t know how to express what he wanted to say. He didn’t even want to speak it aloud–that would make it feel too real. And Echo severely doubted he could handle the heartbreak. Can I do this?

“Cyar’ika,” he murmured and you hummed in response. Echo pulled away from you, his hand still in yours. Now or never. “I need you to be completely, absolutely, 100% honest with me,” he whispered. Echo steeled his expression, doing his best to hide how terrified he truly was.

You nodded because of course you would be. When were you not?

But the way Echo gazed at you threw you off. Something was wrong, very wrong. You were almost scared of what he would say next, but you made a gesture for him to say what was on his mind. Clearly, this was important.

“Do you really want to be with me when I’m just–” Echo struggled with the last few words and you strained to pick them up with how they caught in his throat. “–a pathetic, disgusting, hybrid machine?” It’s out, I said it. I said it. Echo felt like he couldn’t breathe, the pressure on his chest too much, too much. He stared down at the floor, face flooded with shame.

You stared at him in blatant disbelief, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open from a shocked laugh. No no no Echo. You’re nothing of the sort. You didn’t move. Echo’s breath hitched as he looked back up at you, broken and open and raw.

“Don’t lie, please don’t lie to me. I know there's no way you could ever love me when I… when I look like this,” Echo whispered, but he may as well have shouted with the way the blood was rushing through your ears.

And then something in you snapped.

You removed your hands from his and placed them on his cheeks, pulling him in until your foreheads were touching. “Echo, you need to listen to me,” you instructed and heaved a breath as you tried to sort your own rushing thoughts into articulated words. But the effort was futile as your careful speech turned into a haphazard and passionate stream of consciousness.

His eyes glistened with unshed tears and your heart broke into pieces. Echo gave you all of his attention. What are you going to say? He didn’t want you to agree, but he would understand if you did. Echo felt disgusted with himself. The walls were closing in on him. Breathing was getting harder.

“You are the best damn thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t give one flying banthashit about any of your mechanical parts. If anyone ever says anything about them, they’re di’kuts and you can send them my way because I will not hesitate to punch some sense into them,” you spat with pure determination, not even noticing the Mando’a slip. After being surrounded by clones for so long, you absorbed bits and pieces of the language. You didn’t even register how Echo picked up on the word, much too focused on getting your point across. You were a person on a mission and nothing would stand in your way.

The knot in Echo’s stomach was loosening a bit, the storm in his mind beginning to break. The walls were a bit farther from him. He wasn’t drowning in his own presence anymore.

“Because you know what? You’re still my Echo. You’re a man, my dear. Not a machine. You never were, and never will be. These parts?” you gestured to his scomp link, his legs, the cybernetic implant in his head. “They mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don’t focus on them.”

You smiled sadly as you rubbed your thumbs gently on his cheeks. “I fell in love with you, Echo, not your body. I love the way you make me laugh, the way you comfort me, the way you cry with me. As much as I kriffing hate that you have been through so much pain because of those damned Separatists, I’m grateful for the fact that I’m in love with a man who would do anything for his family, for his brothers.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you remembered Fives coming back home from the Citadel but no Echo in sight. You would never admit it to anyone, but you swore a piece of you had died that day.

Echo felt like he was going to cry. The pressure that had been building up in his chest was releasing. He could breathe again, slowly, slowly. His only focus was you, was your words. The artificial lights didn’t seem to be as glaring now. They were softer, calmer.

“Echo, my love, even through it all, you not only survived, but you came out on top, victorious,” you paused, briefly overcome with how much love and gratitude you had for this wonderful man. “You came back to me, Echo, and you’re as handsome as ever. I have never stopped loving you, and never will. Don’t you ever forget that darling.”

Echo drew in a shaky breath. The harsh cold of the floor grates was biting into his skin, but he didn’t care. It grounded him as much as your warm touch on his face. He could breathe again. My cyar’ika.

Your fiery and passionate emotional speech came to an end as you stared into your lover’s eyes. There was so much more you could say, but you feared words would not be able to convey it all. You hoped your eyes would be enough to soothe his pained and tired soul.

Silent tears trailed down Echo’s face and you gently brushed them away as you pulled him into a tight hug. It was all you could do to not cry yourself. Echo was always so strong–you admired him for it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with appreciation and love. You didn’t say anything. There was no need to. The charged air between you both was enough. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence on the floor of the Havoc Marauder, deep in your own thoughts.

“Ishq wala love,” you muttered fondly after some time, still caught up in your own mind.

“Hm?” Echo questioned, curious as to what you said. The soft sound gently pulled you out of the clouds and back to the man in your arms as you attempted to explain.

“There’s a phrase in my native language, ishq wala love. You see, in Basic, there’s just one word for love, which is love. But back home, we have several different words for love, each with their own subtle, but distinct meaning,” you blew out a breath as you tried to figure out what to say. Echo was hanging on to your every word.

“There’s… there isn’t really a direct translation, but the best I can come up with is that the love that we have, ishq, is much deeper than just romantic love. It’s deep and strong and pure and unyielding. It–it reminded me of us,” you admitted, a bit sheepish. Your fingers dance along Echo’s scomp link, nervous.

Echo took a moment to process your explanation before smiling. You felt your heart stitch itself back together again after seeing that beautiful smile. You would do anything to keep it on his lovely face.

“Ishq wala love,” he echoed, his pronunciation a bit off. You giggled in response. “Close enough,” you teased and Echo simply beamed. You leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his soft lips, rubbing his metal arm gently.

Echo stood up then, offering a hand to you to help you up. You took it and he led you over to the bunk you shared together. You both quickly climbed in, relaxing in the warmth of the well worn blankets and the other’s presence.

Your head was near his chest and you could hear the soothing dull sound of his steady heartbeat. Your arm curled over his waist protectively and your head rested comfortably on his flesh arm. Echo shut off the light and you were ensconced in black velvety darkness.

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

“Sweet dreams, Echo. I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

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awkwardspontaneity · 3 years

Text

Battle for the Sky

Link x GN!Sheikah!Reader

Part 4 of Memories of You

Prev | Next

Summary: Link and Y/n are called to Rito Village when a dark beast has taken over Vah Medoh and Y/n’s biggest fear finally comes to light.

AN: I finally finished this part. May have gone a touch overboard with this one it’s like 2500 words. I just had a lot of fun writing the battle and the characters. Its got a lot of fighting and mayybe a teensy bit of angst. I rlly like Revali so I had to feature him. bit of gore so just a warning

regular= present italic= memory

Link stood atop Revali’s Landing, eyes closed as he enjoyed the cool breeze. There was so much to do before he could save Zelda, but after having to sneak through the Yiga hideout and his fight to free Vah Nabooris he relished this quiet moment. Even if it was only a few minutes under the light of the moon, he would take the time to think.

So many memories were coming back in a jumbled mess. Like pouring the pieces of a puzzle out of the box. But he hadn’t been given the full picture yet. So much of who he was was in those few precious moments he had with his friends, all he wanted was to have that back. At the very least he wished to remember those he had lost 100 years ago when calamity struck.

And yet, a part of him almost didn’t want to remember. The more he recalled his friends, the more he was reminded that because of his failures they had been lost. Trapped within their Divine Beasts with no escape for 100 years. Forced to watch as the very things they were supposed to use for protection wreaked havoc across their beloved homes. Maybe Revali had been right about him not being up to the task.

Revali.

The last time he had come to the Rito Village had been for a monster attack on Vah Medoh too hadn’t it.

“Impressive, I know.”

Revali hovered softly before landing on the railing. A smirk stretched across his beak as he looked down at Link. Although this level of bravado was normal for the Rito warrior, Link suspected he was playing up his capabilities in response to their presence.

“Very few can achieve mastery of the sky.” So this was how the trip would be then. “Yet I have made an art of creating an updraft that allows me to soar. It’s considered to be quite the masterpiece of aerial techniques, even among the Rito”

At this point Link was discreetly looking for Y/n. They had said something about asking the village chief for the key to Medoh before running off and leaving him alone. He was sure that they had done this to avoid Revali’s complaints. Still, Link wished they would hurry and save him. Revali responded better when they were present. Or at least, he was more capable of tolerating Link with Y/n around to deflect conflicts.

“Now then,” Revali hopped down from his perch, drawing Link’s attention back to him, “my ability to explore the firmament is certainly of note, but let’s not- pardon me for being so blunt- let’s not forget that I am the most skilled archer of all the Rito. Yet despite these truths, it seems that I have been tapped to merely assist you. All because you happen to have that little darkness- sealing sword on your back.”

Link looked down with a clenched jaw. Hylia he wished Y/n would come save him.

“There you are!” He felt a breath escape him at Y/n’s call. There was only so much of the Rito warrior’s ego one could put up with.

Y/n skipped over to stand beside Link and gave the two Champions a grin, “I got Medoh’s key from the chief so if the two of you are ready, we should head up.”

Recali scoffed at the smaller Sheikah, waving his wing in a dismissive manner, “There’s no such need for the two of you to board Medoh. As a matter of fact your presence here is quite redundant, so why don’t you run along back to the princess like the good little hero’s you are.”

Link stepped forward to stop Revali from taking off but was stopped by Y/n placing a hand on his arm. “If you’re flying off to the archery range to get in more practice you can meet us back here. We’re fully prepared to wait until you feel ready.”

“Excuse me?”

“The chief told me you haven’t been able to enter Medoh for nearly a week due to this monster.”

“I assure you I can kill it on my own.”

Y/n sighed, reaching out to carefully lay a hand on Revali’s wing. “We only want to help. There’s no shame in working alongside your comrades. Besides, consider it a favour from us for your future help in defeating Ganon.”

“I suppose, I have no choice.” The Rito warrior hardly looked pleased with them forcing his hand, er, wing. The feathers on his neck were ruffled up as the trio looked tensely at the flying beast above. “I’m sure that even if I were to fly off at this moment, the two of you would still go on up to Vah Medoh and end up getting thrown over the sides.”

Y/n let out a nervous laugh at his snide remark and Link found himself wondering if the tightness in their voice was due to Revali being correct in his assumptions… or maybe something else.

------

Link and Y/n appeared on top of Vah Medoh in a swirl of blue light. They were swiftly met by Revali pushing them to stay hidden. He was quick to explain the winged beast, how it crawled across Medoh with sprawling legs. Y/n had mused about winged octopi only to be flicked on the head by Revali.

As the trio emerged from their hiding spot the two Hylians found Revali had not given nearly enough detail on the horrific creature. It was as large as he had described, with muscled legs sprawling across the wings of the Divine Beast. Its body resembled a Lynel, thick arms ending in sharp claws. Possibly the most terrifying thing were the wings sprouting from its back. They were dark and feathered, each one dripping with malice that ran down its body before piling across the ground like muddy footprints.

Link heard Y/n draw in a sharp breath as they crept along the edge in their approach. He reached out to place a hand between their shoulder blades, a simple motion they had developed in their journeys to signal they were with the other. Whether in physical danger or an uncomfortable situation, they would handle things together. He wasn’t sure how much comfort he could offer at this moment, but he’d make due with the promise to be by their side. Even if he was worried about the feeling of their shallow breaths against his hand.

After carefully making their way to the center terminal of the Divine Beast, Revali gave a quick signal before crouching to take off. As the wind picked up around the Rito, Y/n took in a breath before squeezing Link’s wrist and darting out from their hiding spot.

“HEY SLIMEBALL!!”

Apparently that was extremely offensive to the beast because as soon as it located the small Sheikah it tore off after them. Y/n sprinted away sending a wink as they passed the terminal and Link. Y/n reached the first pillar and slid to a stop behind it right in time to take cover from the bomb arrows exploding against the creature's torso. Mangled wings came up to protect the beast from further blasts giving Link the opportunity to lunge forward and strike down its legs. He managed to slash through two of the muscular appendages before the creature let out a screech and spread its wings, and with them, an attack of razor sharp feathers.

Y/n had come out from their spot behind the pillar, luckily just in time to slash a feather in half before it could hit Link. The duo exchanged grins before taking off to continue their plan. Y/n would lead the beast away with their faster speeds while Revali would circle above, waiting for the moment when the Sheikah would twist the monster around pillars where he could strike it with a volley of bomb arrows. Then while it wrapped itself in its wings for protection, Link would unleash a flurry rush, slashing away at its legs until they disappeared in a haze of dark smoke.

They pulled off their barrage of attacks until the final leg dissipated giving it one option.

To fly.

Fortunately, they had planned for this, and Revali struck the creature before it could get far. It crashed to the ground with such a force, it shook the entire Divine Beast in the sky. Y/n let out a scream as they lost their balance, reaching out to grab the pillar they stood beside. He knew he had a goal to complete but, as he slashed away at the fallen creature, all Link could think about was how he wanted to rush to his friend's side.

The creature seemed to sense Link’s hesitation because it began to spasm, forcing Link to jump back. It seized the moment and took off into the skies screeching as Revali circled too close.

“We must finish this quickly!” Revali dove closer to the two champions, being mindful of the writhing beast in the skies. “That thing is getting desperate, and I only have so many arrows left.”

Link gave him a terse nod as he rushed over to Y/n who was still pressed against the pillar.

“Y/n.” Only a small hum escaped them, although there was a comfort in the way they leaned into his touch. “Y/n, I don't know what’s going on in your head right now, but we need you. Revali’s almost out of arrows and I don’t think I can take it down alone.”

Their hand curled around his, shaky but tight. “I’m okay.” He was sure neither of them believed the grin that pulled at their lips. “Its wings are the only thing it has left to attack with, right? Keep its attention and I’ll take them out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have to be.”

He nodded, although his expression betrayed his concern, something Y/n took note of. They smiled softly, albeit weakly, and out their forehead against his. “Relax Hero, we can do this.”

Link sighed softly, pressing his head against theirs with a little more force. They pulled away sharing nervous grins before Link took off.

Fortunately, the beast had been distracted by launching feathers at Revali, who had been swooping around it with practised expertise. Link gave a shout to signal he was ready for Revali to shoot down the monster and, with an audible scoff, the Rito notched his arrows.

With a thunderous crash the beast landed on Medoh once again and, fighting the urge to look back at Y/n, Link rushed forward with his sword drawn. Link slashed and chopped away at the creature's muscular arms, trying to force it to spread its wings. It took longer than he had hoped for with far too many close calls before wings spread, throwing sludge along with it. If it weren’t for the glint off Y/n’s twin blades, Link almost wouldn’t have seen the young Sheikah sprint past. Before the monster could register their presence, Y/n had hopped from its arm, up to the shoulder, and flipped over to land on its back.

What came next was a flurry of silver blades and the tearing of malice dripping flesh. The monster attempted to rear back and reach Y/n with its arms but it was stopped by Revali and Link each attacking an arm, preventing it from being able to knock off their partner.

With a final flourish, Y/n thrust both blades between the beast's wings. A harrowing shriek escaped the beast as it trembled from the blow. The malice surrounding it began to bubble and swell up. With a grunt, Y/n placed a foot against its back and tore their blades free. They looked up at Link with a grin but, just as they opened their mouth to shout, the monster exploded.

The moment Link uncovered his face, he was met with the sight of Y/n sliding off the edge of Vah Medoh. Link took off as fast as he could, watching as they scrambled for a grip along the edges but came up with nothing. Link hit the ground, sliding towards them with an outstretched hand. The two made eye contact and Link’s heart twisted at the terror within their ruby eyes. He felt their fingertips touch before Y/n was gone, their desperate cry as they slid over the edge carrying across the wind.

Link stared at his empty hand. He would have thrown himself over the edge after Y/n had he not seen the flash of blue following Revali as he shot after the Sheikah like an arrow from his bow.

The moments Link lay there waiting for Revali to return were spent forcing himself to breath while his lungs were crushed under the weight of guilt. He could still feel his fingertips brushing against Y/n’s. See the expression of fear that had torn the grin from their face as they cried out.

Wind swirled around Link, forcing him to sit up as Revali soared past him. The Rito landed on Medoh and, in a surprisingly tender moment, laid a wing upon the Sheikah warrior clinging to him like a koala.

Link was quick to approach the two, getting a glimpse of the way Y/n’s brow furrowed as they hid their face in Revali’s feathered chest. Noticing the way Link watched the two, Revali scoffed before grabbing at Y/n’s arms. “You’re not falling anymore, you can stop tugging at my feathers.”

Y/n mumbled an apology as they shakily detached themselves and stepped to the ground. They managed a wobbly grin that was interrupted by Link crashing into them. Y/n let out the faintest sob as they buried themselves deeper into his arms. Link tightened his grip, carefully pressing his nose into their hair. The two heroes held each other tightly, hoping to ground themselves in the other. To remind themselves that they were together still.

“Ahem.” The bubble popped around the two heroes as Revali looked on in barely hidden irritation. He tapped his talons against Medoh, sighing as the two looked at him with wide eyes. “As wonderful as it is that we are all, in fact, alive. I would appreciate it if you could use whatever it is you brought to seal away that creature.”

“Right.” Y/n stepped towards the terminal, Link’s hand still held tightly in their own. They pulled a seal from one of their pouches before mumbling a few phrases. Deep violet tendrils of malice swirled around, collecting in front of Y/n. The seal they held began to glow blue, spreading its own tendrils of light outwards. The lights seemed to dance through the air around them. Gathering together until they spiraled into the paper seal in Y/n’s hands.

“That should be it. Now can we please get off this bird?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

#breath of the wild x reader #breath of the wild link x reader #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #loz x reader #reader has sheikah features like hair and eyes #awkwardspontaneity #memories of you series #botw x reader #botw link x reader

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

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Ooh, okay, "defensive bills" please, and "self indulgent B w/ braces"? (Oh, and if it's not too many, "Billy’s H&M hair" and "broken necklace oops" and "role swap au" please??")

defensive bills- this one is like a sibling bonding thing. Max is autistic bc that’s my favorite ever, and Mike calls her a slur (not maliciously kids are just like that, especially in the 80s), and her heart is broken. She initially doesn’t tell anyone about it because she feels like she’s overreacting, but she lets it slip what’s bothering her after the next time it happens. She makes Billy promise her however that he’s not going to be nasty to the kids to make them stop, so instead he goes above the kids’ heads to Karen, since he’s already got some pull there, and gets Mike in trouble.

Max trusts Billy a teensy bit more, and he benefits from this too because he’s learning like, rational solutions to life’s problems instead of just freaking out and attacking people. After a long time of this apprehensive trust thing they’ve got going on, Billy admits to Max that he had a little sister that his momma took with her when she left, and that’s why it was so hard for him to get along with her, and why he still was so aggressively protective of her even though they didn’t get along.

self indulgent B w/ braces- I had this thought about like, what if Neil had knocked a couple of Billy’s teeth out when he hit him as a kid. They were baby teeth so they came back, but maybe too many come in at once, so there wasn’t enough room and there’s one up in his gums causing trouble.

Years and years down the line, he’s living with Joyce now after being removed from Neil’s custody, and she makes Billy go to all his doctors and dentists appointments because she’s actually a responsible mother. But at the dentist they’re like holy hell kid your mouth is messed up, so he has to very begrudgingly get braces to get everything back in order before his wisdom teeth come in and knock every thing crooked, which would be a worse problem so he agrees to let it happen.

Basically the entire fic is Billy being nasty to everyone around him because he’s A) constantly irritated by the constant pain in his mouth B) afraid that if he lets them, people are going to make fun of him C) not allowed to smoke anymore because of yellow spots and D) already struggling to adapt to the new environment that is living with the Byers’. Also features Max poking lots of lighthearted fun at him for being a metal mouth, and an exploration of the root of his self confidence issues/why he holds so much value in his appearance!

Billy’s H&M hair- so I got to thinking about how his hair looks mostly unstyled in that shoot, and I took inspiration from that to write a fic. There was almost a fluffy reason for it, but you know me, I love angst, so instead, Billy’s hair is a mess, all frizzy and loose and greasy, because Max ran away again and he was told not to come back home without her. He’s been at it forever, so he’s exhausted and just too busy looking for her to take any care of himself.

He ends up at Scoops looking for her because he knows that’s where the kids flock sometimes, and when he asks Steve if he knows where they are, he forget about the black eye and the scab in his eye brow put there by Neil, and pushes his sun glasses up. Steve is like dude, what happened to your face, and Billy just doesn’t even have it in him to lie anymore, so he tells Steve all about Neil and everything that’s happening with Max right now.

Max is found, but before Billy can take her home, Steve slips him his number, thinking he’s being nice and offering him help if anything like this were to happen again, but Billy takes it in that way, so even though he looks like a total disaster right now, and he definitely cried when Max came back, he winks at Steve and makes a little I’ll call you later gesture. Steve is more than a little flustered by the mix-up but definitely not opposed to it!

broken necklace oops- Billy fidgets a lot with his necklace, which was his momma’s, just running the pendant across the chain over and over again, but then it snaps one day. Him and Steve were hanging out when it broke, and Steve offers to help fix it, but Billy is so upset that he takes it the wrong way, thinking that Steve wants to fix him, and they get in a big fight over it.

Billy storms off and ends up getting flayed, so when Steve doesn’t hear anything from him in the next few days he thinks it’s just because they’re done, broken up after the things that were said when they fought. Except he still has the necklace, Billy had thrown it at him and he kept it for a few days hoping he’d come back, but he gives up and he goes to return it at the pool, but he walks in on the sauna test. Cue a little bit of panic, a lot of arguing, and Steve helping to save Billy before it’s too late.

role swap au- This is a super long fic, it’s basically a rewrite of all three seasons with Billy and Steve switching places!

So Steve is the rich kid from California in big trouble with his parents for being rebellious and a pinch of homosexual galavanting, so he gets sent to the small town his father grew up in as punishment. Billy’s already the King of Hawkins High, but his status at the top of the high school hierarchy is slipping because he’s too busy for parties now that his kid sister got him caught up in this monster hunting nonsense.

Bratty Steve arrives in town, and Billy is somewhat interested in this new kid and what he has to offer until he starts to steal his attention away. They have their little pissing contest with Steve coming out on top because Billy refuses to fight him, but Billy can’t be bothered with picking up the pieces of his social life because Max says the monsters are back and she’s making him take her and her friends out to some junkyard and shit.

The summer of ‘85 rolls around, Billy’s been officially kicked out by Neil for being a mooch and his friends have all abandoned ship for the new Cali boy who stole his thunder, but honestly, he doesn’t really care because he’s got a super cool new best friend working at Scoops anyways, and he’s pretty sure they’re done with the monsters.

But then Steve, who is working as a lifeguard and who Billy bumps into after a party, gets flayed, and Billy is the one that’s concerned, because Steve’s friends aren’t really loyal nor do the kids know or care about him. The stuff with the Russians goes mostly (emphasis on mostly) ignored because Billy’s making the kids help him with Steve, but they aren’t able to get the mind flayer out of Steve because a distraction with Dustin trying to handle the transmission himself comes up.

In the end at the battle of Starcourt, Billy decides to try to step in because he was supposed to be taking responsibility for Steve, and he’s screwed everything else up and he realizes in another world, they could’ve been friends, so he tries to push Steve out of the way. They both catch a couple of the little stabs and they definitely still need medical attention but nobody get impaled so they all live!

#answered #ihni #ej writer #ejs wips #thank you! I’m so excited that people are interested in my wips!

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thats-not-very-roger-roger · 4 years

Text

To The Ends of The Galaxy // Obi Wan x Reader

Summary: You have been secretly married to Obi Wan Kenobi for years, everything was going perfectly until someone reported your rather ‘affectionate’ behavior to the council.

Gif not mine

Requested by @solo-wankenobi

Warnings: There are a few she/her pronouns in here, but nothing specific to gender otherwise. I hope that’s okay! A teensy but of angst, but there’s a happy ending.

________

“Obi Wan!”

You step into Dex’s diner behind Obi Wan, pinkies entertwined as a way to stay close without anyone growing suspicious. Obi Wan and Dex have known each other since before the clone wars. Dex often refers to him as his “favorite customer” although, he could hardly be considered a customer when Dex almost always gives him a meal on the house. Every time Obi Wan took you here you could see how relaxed he would become, how he could use this as a place to escape always being ‘General Kenobi’, here he was just Obi Wan.

“Hello, Dex,” Obi Wan smiles, letting go of your finger and instead placing his hand on the small of your back. “Is our table open?”

“I knew you’d be here, so I made sure to save it for you. Go ahead and sit down, I’ll get you two the regular.”

“Thank you,” Obi Wan nods, guiding you to your normal booth and taking a seat across from you. “You know he won’t bite, (y/n).”

“I know that, I just...” you trail off, chewing on your bottom lip as you try to think of what to say.

Obi Wan grins, reaching his hand over the table to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m only teasing, I know you can get shy.”

Within minutes Dex walks over and sits two trays of food on the table. “You know, (y/n), I still remember when this idiot,” he pauses to ruffle your husbands hair, “wouldn’t stop talking about you every time he came in—“

“Dex,” Obi whines, pushing Dex’s hand away, “hush!” You can’t help but chuckle at Obi Wan’s flustered state. No matter how long the two of you have been together, he still acts like you’re his teenage crush.

“Aww, how sweet,” you gush, exaggerating your voice in a teasing manor. “I didn’t know you thought of me that much.”

Dex laughs heartily at Obi Wan’s embarrassment before giving the two of you some space, going back into the kitchen. You take a sip of your drink before reaching over to take your husbands hand, fingers intertwining as you rest your arms on the table top.

“You know, I talked a lot about you too. Back when we were padawans Master Qui Gon would tell me that if I were to break the Jedi code, I needn’t make it so obvious.”

The two of you eat holding hands, talking about anything and everything you could think of. You feel so at home with him that you almost forget about the Jedi code, and how your entire relationship is a secret. You can’t help but stare into Obi Wan’s eyes as he tells you about one of his most recent missions, his whole expression lighting up as he talks about how well it went. For a bit you forget that you’re in public, that is until you hear the quick steps of a hooded figure wearing Jedi robes leaving the diner. You don’t think much of it, only taking your hand back and continuing your conversation.

Once the sun begins to set you and Obi Wan make your way back to the temple, planning to go your separate ways then have him sneak into your quarters once everyone is asleep. However, as soon as the two of you step foot in the temple you’re greeted by an unhappy Mace Windu.

“Master Kenobi, Master (L/N), the council requests your presence at once.”

You glance at Obi Wan confused, only nodding before the two of you follow Windu into the council room. Obi Wan’s chair is empty as you walk in, obviously. You stand next to him in the center of the room waiting to see why the council had called for you.

“It has come to our attention that your interactions might hint at something more than friendly. An anonymous member of this temple spotted the pair of you acting quite fond of each other over dinner. One could say it even seemed like a date.” Windu says as he takes a seat. “Care to explain?”

You shift uncomfortably as the eyes of the council members bore into you and your husband. Obi Wan clears his throat before answering. “I assure you, Master Windu, our relationship is strictly professional.”

“Say this you do, but heard rumors we have.”

You look at Yoda in confusion. “What rumors?”

“Master (L/N), you were spotted in a diner nearby hand in hand, talking for hours. The owner of the establishment was heard saying that Master Kenobi here would speak of you all the time in the past. I trust you can see why this concerns us.”

You glance around the room, your eyes passing over Shaak Ti and Plo Koon, two of the council members you had grown close two over your years as a Jedi master. The way that they look at you, so accusingly, makes your heartbeat speed up. “With all due respect, Master Windu, we have been working side by side since we were younglings. It comes as a great comfort for me to have physical touch from those that I trust. This is why I was holding his hand. As you know, I can become shy around too many people, so the touch of a friend helps to keep me calm, though I do I see how this would look to an outsider.”

From the corner of your eye you can see Obi Wan start to play with his fingers, and you presume that he’s only nervous you will be found out. “Yes, and I did speak quite highly of Master (L/N) before we began working side by side more often. I still would, she is a wonderful Jedi. I would say I was amazed to be working beside someone so talented in the force.”

A few looks are shared between the council before Windu looks back at you both. “If not something stronger, what do you feel for each other? The two of you know attachments are strictly forbidden.”

“I see Master Kenobi as a friend. I would risk my own life to save him, yes, but I know when the outcome is worth the struggle. I am very lucky to work with a man of such talent, and I look to him for guidance and reassurance. We began going to dinner as a way to forget about the stress that goes on with news of Sith Lords returning, and great losses of clones. I care for him, but what I feel is not love. Speak to the owner or the diner, he will tell you the same.” Your answer seems to satisfy the council, as they almost seem to physically relax.

“Very well. The council accepts your statement, and we hope that this will not become an issue again. Now, get some rest. Master Kenobi, we will be having a meeting to discuss precautions that are needed in case of droid attacks.”

You both bow your heads in respect before exiting the room, your demeanor changing completely once you’re out of sight from the council. “Well, that was close. I guess we’ll have to be more careful.”

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’m afraid so. Well, goodnight (y/n), I wouldn’t want to sleep past my meeting.” Obi Wan gives you a bow before turning away and going towards his quarters. His shoulders are tense, and when he looked at you his eyes were... different. They didn’t have that little sparkle when they looked at you. You watch him walk away, confused. ‘He’s probably just stressed out by almost getting caught,’ you think, ‘I guess I can’t blame him.’ With that, you turn and make your way to your own room.

You struggle to stay awake in your quarters waiting for Obi Wan to arrive. He didn’t show up at the normal time, so you had decided to give him an extra thirty minutes, assuming he had been stopped on his way over or maybe he even fell asleep. Your datapad chirps as your timer ends, and you can’t help but get nervous. ‘He’s never late, this isn’t like him. I... I need to make sure he’s okay.’

You put your cloak on top of the nightgown you had changed into, wrapping it tight so that the pajamas wouldn’t be visible to anyone who might be awake. As you make your way down the hall, you desperately try to chase out any thoughts of what might be wrong. Usually you aren’t one to worry, but when it comes to your husband all sorts of terrible ideas make their way into your head, terrifying you of what he could be going through. ‘He’s a strong Jedi, if he can face a Sith Lord and come out in one piece, nothing that could have gotten into this temple could kill him. He’s okay.’ You reassure yourself as his door comes into view.

Quickly, you make your way to it. You don’t even bother with knocking, instead softly pushing it open, as to not wake him if he had fallen asleep. Of everything you imagined you’d see when you opened that door, this was definitely not one of them. He looks to be perfectly fine, sitting on his couch staring at his feet with such intensity you know he’s completely spaced out.

“My love, what’s kept you?” You close the door behind you, walking over and taking a seat next to the man. “I waited for you, but you didn’t show.”

Obi Wan finally looks up at you, his face more red than usual. Your heart pangs as you realize he had been crying. “Oh, Obi Wan!” You gently press your hand to his cheek, concerned eyes meeting his glossy ones. “What’s wrong?”

He bites the inside of his lip as he looks away from you, taking a deep breath before he trusts himself to speak. “I... I didn’t know if you’d want me to come.”

The sadness in his tone is not missed by you, and you let out an involuntary whine, struggling to handle the sight of your strong husband so weak in front of you. You run your free hand through his hair, fingers grazing his scalp in comfort. His eyes flutter closed as he leans into the hand on his cheek, taking a shaky breath as he does. “Obi, why wouldn’t I want you to come?”

He doesn’t respond right away, chewing the inside of his cheek as he keeps his eyes closed to avoid your worried gaze. “Obi Wan, please. Let me in. I want to help you.”

“What you— what you said earlier, it sounded so real. You didn’t even struggle to say that you don’t love me. I just... I can’t help but feel you’ve gotten bored of me.” He finally opens his eyes, looking at you as a tear makes its way down his cheek.

“Oh, darling,” you pull his head to your chest, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as you move your hands to rub his back. “You know I love you. It was all just an act. I love you with my whole being. I’m so sorry I made you worry like this.”

His arms slowly come to wrap around your waist as he moves to lean on you comfortably. “We’ve been together for so long, I had myself convinced that you were done with me. That you would move on to someone else.”

You hug him tighter as he speaks, then once he’s done you make him sit up to look you in the eyes. “I want you to look at me. Can you do that for me?” He nods and you continue, “Obi Wan, I could never get bored of you. I have stayed with you this long because you mean everything to me. Without you, I would be broken. The truth is, I am hopelessly attached to you. I would do anything just to stay by your side, even if it meant leaving the Jedi Order. If it convinces you, I’ll walk right up to Master Windu and tell him just how much I love you. You say the word, and I will follow you out of this temple all the way to the ends of the galaxy.”

As you stare into his eyes you can see the usual spark start returning to them, his body relaxing as he realizes that you could never be done with him. He smiles softly and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he sighs happily. “You mean it?”

“More than anything.”

Without hesitation, Obi Wan brings his hands to hold the sides of your face, closing the distance between the two of you as he pulls you into a very emotional kiss. You kiss him back with everything you’ve got, putting every ounce of passion you can muster into it. After a few moments, he pulls away, standing up and offering you his hand.

“Stay with me tonight?”

You grin as you take his hand, stumbling into him a bit as he pulls you up. “Of course. Let’s get some sleep, you need to be up early.”

With that the two of you make your way over to his bed, him changing into pajamas as you simply remove your cloak and shoes. You lay down and wait for him to be done, opening your arms in invitation to him as he finally crawls onto the bed. He shuffles his way over to you and lets you wrap your arms around him, holding him like he would hold you most nights. But tonight, you just want to show him that you will always be there for him. Whether it means risking your life for his, or simply holding him while he lulls off to sleep.

And as he lays in your embrace he knows, you’ll be with him, even to the ends of the galaxy.

#obi wan x reader #obi wan oneshot #obi wan imagine #star wars imagine #star wars one shot #star wars x reader #request

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comphersjost · 5 years

Text

Secrets ➸ Nolan Patrick (Part 2)

its finally here!!!!! thank you all for your patience, i might make a part 3, possibly smut? im really not sure yet

words: 2k+

summary: TK finds out about you and Nolan.

warnings: none really, angst, a teensy bit of smut, mostly just touching n groping skfksjdkfs, tk is really angry

find part 1 here

and find my masterlist here

(also the gif below?? two brooos chillin in a locker room 0 feet apart cause theyre in love)

Nolan and you hadn't really talked since the night on TK’s couch, about a week and a half ago. Your lips were pressed against each other in a slow, lethargic kiss until you'd fallen asleep together, your head on his chest. Nolan had woken up as the sun rose and picked you up to take you to the guest room, falling back asleep on the couch until TK woke up and they left for practice.

So no, you hadn't talked. But what you had done plenty of, was kissing. A lot of kissing. Anytime TK retired to his room late at night, or when he was taking a pregame nap. Any hesitation Nolan had had that night was gone now, and so was any semblance of caution. He would tug you into any empty closet at the rink for a heavy makeout session before he was lightly tapping your ass and heading back to practice. Or TK’s couch. Or his car.

There was also a lot of hickies. Nothing above the collar, marks and bruises littered your torso, your collarbones, and your breasts. The same went for Nolan, hickies sucked all over his abs and his chest, some down lower on his hips. But you haven't quite gotten there yet. You haven't touched each other like that yet.

It's about a week after the night at TK’s when you're at the rink again, here to drop something off for your brother, when Nolan walks quickly towards you down the hall and pulls you into a closet.

“Nola-” you don't get to finish before he's kissing you, hands wrapping around your waist and pushing you back against the door. You moan softly into his mouth, reaching up to wind your fingers in his hair. It’s still wet from his shower, and you're suddenly overrun with panic. You pull away.

“Nol, I have to- oh,” you start to say something when Nolan’s lips move to your neck. He hums softly as you tug at his curls. “Nolan, I have to meet Travis, I- we can't-”

“Hmmm,” Nolan pulls back to bump his nose with yours, foreheads resting together. “It’s okay, pretty girl, TK’s doing an interview right now, we have at least 20 minutes.” He reconnects your lips when you don't argue with him again, his hands slipping underneath the oversized Flyers t-shirt you were wearing. He hums again. “This mine?” he mumbles against your lips.

“Maybe?” you respond questioningly, “Took it from TK’s room.”

You can feel him grin against you, “I like thinking ‘bout you wearing my clothes.” You whimper at his words, and it grows to a moan when he grinds his hips against you. On hand stays on your skin, heat radiating through you, and the other hand slides down to play with the button of your jeans. “Is this okay?” Nolan pulls back to look you in the face.

“Yes,” you breathe, “Nolan, yes.” His smile is blinding when he leans back in, popping open the button of your jeans and pulling down the zipper. He wastes no time sliding his hand into your pants. He's about to touch you when your phone starts to buzz.

“I gotta get that, Nol,” you say breathlessly, “Could be TK.”

“Answer it,” he murmurs against your neck, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin. So you do.

“Hello?”

“Hey dumbass!” Travis’s cheery voice comes through the phone. “Media’s done early and I’m finishing up getting my shit together, want me to head out to meet you?”

You almost choke, Nolan’s fingers sliding into you not at all helping your reaction to TK. “Uh, I-, no, no, I’m already on my way, just stay where you are,” you manage. Nolan curls his fingers inside you when Travis agrees, telling you he’ll be in the dressing room.

“You sure you're okay?” The concern in his voice almost makes you feel guilty. But the notion is lost when Nolan delivers a sharp thrust inside you. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “You okay?”

“Yes!” you snap, “Yes, I’m okay, just stay in the dressing room, I’ll be there soon.” You hang up the phone after that, letting your head fall against Nolan’s chest.

“Gotta go?” Nolan mumbles against your hair, nuzzling the top of your head.

“Mmmm,” is the only thing you’re able to let out while your walls clench around his fingers. You let out a low whine when he drags them out of you. “No, no.”

Nolan leans in to kiss you again, pulling the zipper of your jeans back up and fastening the button. He sucks your arousal off his fingers and it’s the hottest thing you've ever seen.“We have to go baby, gotta meet Teeks.” You nuzzle his neck, placing a soft kiss against his pulse. “We’ll continue this, honey, I promise. Gotta figure out what to do about TK too, hm?”

This time, his words do make you feel guilty. “We should tell him,” you start, slowly, carefully, to see Nolan’s reaction. “We should talk first, I don't - I - I like this, I do, but I don't even know what this is, and I need to know before I talk to Travis, and-”

“Y/N,” he interrupts, “I-” Before he can begin your phone rings again.

“Travis,” you mumble, declining the call but not meeting his eyes, “I have to go.”

“Hey,” Nolan catches your arm when you reach for the door. He leans in for another kiss. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll figure us out, what we are and what we’re doing and then we can talk to TK, okay?”

You smile up at him, he looks at you all soft and emotional and it’s almost too much for you to handle. “Yeah, okay.” You kiss him again, and part of you wants to say Fuck TK and stay here with Nolan for hours. But you can't.

You yank open the door of the utility closet and freeze. Your eyes lock with Carter fucking Hart’s, and you see a surprised look on his face. His expression turns to understanding when he looks over your shoulder to see Nolan standing behind you, a hand resting on your back.

“Carter-” you start.

“I won't say anything,” he says quickly. “But you better tell him soon, he’ll figure out where all those marks are from eventually, Nol.” You turn to look up at Nolan and see his cheeks reddening. Fuck. How could you forget that the boys would see the hickies in the dressing room? Even if they chirped him about it, TK wasn't stupid, if he even saw one mark on you he'd put it together.

“I-”

“I’ll take care of him,” Nolan murmurs in your ear, “Go to TK, he's waiting.” He presses a kiss to your temple before nudging you down the hall. It didn't hurt to kiss you in front of Carter anymore did it? After all, he knows now. It takes everything in you not to look back, avoiding Carter’s gaze as you hurry away towards the dressing room.

You avoid Travis’s prodding questions and concern and tell him that you're just tired, and maybe you're getting sick. He apologizes at that, saying he shouldn't have made you come.

“Trav, I said I'm fine!” you snap, “I’m tired, and have a headache, and there's a lot on my plate now, and you’re not helping! I'm going home.”

It was 3 weeks later and you and Nolan still hadn't gotten around to figuring out how you were going to tell TK. You had decided that you did like each other, a lot, and you'd rather spend time sneaking off to spend time together than figure out how to tell Travis that his sister and his best friend caught feelings for each other. Nolan had also finally gotten you in his bed. And it was so good. He was so good. So naturally, it happened again and again and again.

It’s after the boys have a day off that everything goes to shit. The boys were in the dressing room getting ready for practice when Nolan slips his shirt over his head, forgetting the marks and bruises that littered his skin. There's hickies along his neck and chest and scratches down his back and biceps. The chirping starts immediately, catcalls and whistles. It isn't until TK lifts his head to look, eyes tired and confused, that he says, “When did you even get those?” Nolan freezes when Travis continues. “You spent the whole day yesterday at home with me and-” his eyes widen “me and Y/N…..”

“TK…I can explain,” Nolan pleads, but Travis only puts a hand up in Nolan’s face to stop him. The whole dressing room is silent now, the team holding their breath to see what TK would do.

“You-” Travis stops, takes a deep breath, and “You're fucking my sister.”

“What, no, no,” Nolan begs him to listen. “It's more than that I swear.”

“Shut the fuck up Nolan,” TK snaps. “You fucked my sister. You've been fucking my sister. In my house. For weeks.”

“Woah, hey, TK,” Carter steps in before Travis inevitably launches himself at Nolan. “He cares about her, for real, Teeks.”

“Oh of course you knew, huh?” TK turns and gestures angrily to the rest of the men, yelling now. “Did you all know?! HUH?! All of you knew that he was sleeping with my sister and no one told me?!”

“We didn't know,” Claude says softly, “We could see how in love with your sister Nolan is but we didn't know that they...that they were-”

“That they were fucking. Right.” Everyone in the room can see when a certain calmness come over TK. He’s shut down, numb, so that he doesn't feel angry. So he doesn't feel betrayed and hurt, so he shut down.

He’s cold that day, doesn't speak to Nolan or Carter or anyone else on the team, retreating into himself and ignoring anyone that tried to talk to him about anything.

You're sitting on your bed later that day when TK comes home. Technically it's the guest bed, but it's yours for the time being. You've been making sure to wear long sleeves and turtle necks and hoodies around your brother, but this time you’re wearing a tanktop, so caught up in the assignment due the next day that you don't hear Travis enter the apartment until he's at your door and speaking.

“Hey.”

“TK!” you scramble for your hoodie, “Hi, hey, I didn't realize you were home I-”

“I know, Y/N,” his voice is slow and soft and so calm that it makes you pause. “I know about…” he squeezes his eyes shut, voice sound strained “I know about you and Nolan.”

“Oh, fuck, Teeks I swear, I wanted to tell you we both did, we didn't know how and I-”

“I know.” Your brother seems defeated, and your heart breaks. “I think I've known for years, to be honest. You're the inevitable couple, huh? I need to apologize to Nolan, I flipped out at him for fucking my sister in front of everyone and I-”

“It was me,” it was your turn to interrupt, and you looked down at your hands, almost ashamed. “I kissed him first, the first night that I- the first night I stayed here neither of us could sleep and I kissed him on the couch. And then after that everything just kind of...happened, I guess. I kissed him, I chose not to talk about it, I chose to not tell anyone, I initiated everything first time we slep-”

“I don't wanna know!” Travis exclaimed, fake-gagging, but there was amusement in his eyes. “Just please tell me you didn't have sex on my couch.”

“Of course not, Trav, were not that disrespectful,” you giggled. He sighed, smiled slipping away.

“I should call him,” he muttered, about to leave before the buzz of your phone caused him to pause.

“No need,” you grin, “Nol is on his way.”

“I love you, Y/N,” Travis says seriously, “I do, really, and I’m happy that you and Nolan finally figured everything out with each other. I just didn't think it would be so soon, and I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“Oh, Trav, it’s okay, I love you too,” you grin wickedly at him before sending a pillow straight into his face. “Now go get the door, dickbag.”

#nolan patrick #patty #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick smut #flyers #flyers imagine #flyers smut #philadelphia flyers imagine #philadelphia flyers smut #hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #travis konecny #carter hart #claude giroux

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iamsonyeondone · 6 years

Text

heir!svt // kim mingyu

♥ fluffy and just a teensy bit angst if you squint

♥ 2.1k words

♥ summary: your inability to cook managed to get yourself a chef as a boyfriend

mingyu was a natural model - photogenic even with whatever he was doing

eating a bowl of ramen?? gorgeous

even he sneezes so charmingly

except the fact that he covers his mouth with his hands and continues touching up wonwoo's hair

and jun just looks at him with this disgusted look on his face

and somehow no one has the guts to say it to his face that he's sometimes really unhygienic

anywAYS

everyone in the school would agree that kim mingyu would still be able to make it into the fashion industry even if he wasn't the heir to his mother's modelling agency

although his mother's agency was ranked one of the best, mingyu has never spoken a word about his background

he didn't have to either because everyone already knew

who wouldnt know him if his mother was one of the most famous models in south korea during her time??

but even with all the attention he received, he was stil a humble bubby who loves his friends and cares for them

even if the 12 of them had maids and chefs to cook their meals, they all agreed that mingyu's cooking was one of the best

it just had the warm homey feeling yknow

and that warm homey feeling is like a tight comfy embrace whenever he sees his friends enjoy his food

and after some time, cooking for them and feeling like he was on cloud nine whenever they made those surprised and happy noises with mouth full of food

it clicks that maybe mingyu didn't want to continue the legacy of being the next top model of south korea

maybe he just wants to own a restaurant where he can cook food that makes people happy

but whenever he tries to bring up the subject, he just sucks it back in and never mentions it

because he knows how much his mother cherishes her career and his possible one if he wants to continue her legacy

and making his parents upset is the last thing he wants to happen

so for all his years up to high school, he never mentions his actual dream and keeps it to himself

that's until he meets you

in the kitchen room alone with a very messy apron and a very bad attempt at cooking spaghetti bologne

and mingyu was just passing by to get his home econs book because he needed to study for an upcoming test

but seeing the frustrated look on your face

and the way your fingers gripped the edge of the table

pushes him to greet you softly and offer help

and your just stunned because kim mingyu is talking to you

even if you guys share at least 3 classes, the both of you never really exchanged words because you guys have completely different friend circles

you preferred to blend in with the crowd than unintentionally stand out which the 13 boys became accustomed to

but mingyu pulls you away from your thoughts as he throws the burnt pasta into a bin and start everything afresh

even if you wanted to feel hurt from seeing your hard work in the trash, you couldnt help but accept the fact that it was literally inedible

"you dont mind if i see the recipe you're trying out?" mingyu questions you with a smile while you show him the page you had been staring holes through

with one look, mingyu nods and begins fetching out some ingredients and placing away others you had used

and youre just like?? but the recipe asked for butter??

and you dont realize you had asked aloud when mingyu chuckles and points to the next page, which was a completely different recipe of spaghetti carbonara

and you turn bright red from embarrassment but mingyu rushes to say that its okay to make mistakes!!

and slowly but surely, as the both of you are cutting ingredients, stirring the sauce while mingyu occasionally gives you tips which you write down

it doesn't feel as awkward

especially when he almost flips the pan onto the floor from accidentally hitting the handle

which nearly burned the both of you

but you brushed it off and burst out laughing, mingyu following suit

because kim mingyu, the model student and an actual model, is actually just a really clumsy yet talented puppy

and after 30 minutes, you place the sauce onto the pile of spaghetti on the plate and mingyu finishes it off with a parsley leaf and some cheese sprinkled over

"we did it!!" you exclaimed, heaving a sigh of relief as you stared at it in amazement

"no you did it, i just helped you prep the ingredients," he chuckled washing his hands and just flicking his wrists into the sink

and not even putting on some soap

wth mingyu you giant full of germs

"nononono put that fork down and use some soap. otherwise the whole plate is for me,"

"but im hungry :(("

"being nasty and using your hunger as an excuse wont work on me- doNT even thINK about giving me puppy eyes"

and after the whole argument, mingyu has his hands squeaky clean and dried and the both of you are just feasting on that one plate of spaghetti

because you made it?? and its edible?? and tastes so good??

"i just need to copy whatever we did today for tomorrow's practical and I'll actually be able to pass," you giggled, washing up and cleaning your counter

while mingyu stashed the ingredients back into their respective places

"i guess you're lucky that i left my home econs book or you would've been doomed,"

"UHMMM speaking of doom,,, do you think you could help me with dessert next?? i was trying to make soufflé but it,,somehow exploded in the oven,"

at this point, mingyu isnt even surprised and simply offers his help once again

but because he had tuition to attend to in the next half an hour

the both of you decided to meet up on thursday at the same room and at the same time

as the both of you walked out of the school grounds side by side, the school's vicinity nearly empty since students were either already left or busy studying,

it was time to split ways by the gate as you thanked him once more

"thank you so much for the help again! I'll promise to treat you to a better meal," you joked, waving goodbye while he mimicked your actions

"you better hold on to that, y/n" he smiled as he chuckled, before turning his heel

but that smile never fades away, even if he wasn't facing you

and somehow thursday seemed so far away

while there you were, patting your rosy cheeks to settle down as you rushed to catch your next bus

thursday comes and mingyu arrives before you, his own apron over his broad shoulders and everything is prepared

from the ingredients to the appliances and,,, does his hair look a lot more neater than usual???

"You're earlier than i expected," you joked, slinging your bag off your shoulders while he showed you that irresistibly adorable smile

damn it why is your heart reacting so much

you only started talking to him a few days ago

"soufflé is a pretty sophisticated dessert yknow. and well,,, its also because i just ended home econs class," he rubbed the nap of his neck shyly

you flipped your recipe book to the soufflé page and picked out a pen to take your notes

"shall we start, chef?" you inquired, tying your apron until a pair of hands surround yours

"not until we secure this in place," he mumbled, gently tugging the ropes from your grasps and tying it tightly around you "lets get started then!"

and youre just standing there, all red in the face and unsure of what you're supposed to do next while mingyu preheats the oven

but you snap out of it when he nearly hits the ceramic bowl off the counter

and you're lucky enough that it falls into your palms just as you reached out for it

"maybe i should've asked someone else to teach me..."

"stOp huRting my feeLingS :(("

"I'll stop when you stop trying to break anything around you,"

and he just hmphs and gives you the side eye but eventually burst out laughing when you're veryyy confused on what you're supposed to do next

and you look so adorable with your brows furrowrd from concentration and the way your lips naturally pout

and his heart unknowingly swells

"I'll prepare the next few ingredients while you continue stirring, and make sure not to overdo it either,"

and you follow his instructions closely and once he was done, mingyu has this proud smile on his face and he's,,, radiating sunlight

how can someone look so endearingly towards you??

"you'll be as good of a chef as i am once we're done with this soufflé!!"

"oh! you wanna be a chef?"

and when the subject suddenly takes a turn towards ambitions, his smile falters and it feels like the weight of his visible sadness is falling on you

and your chest tightens at the sight of him, no longer smiling as wide as he did seconds before

"I'm sorry mingyu, i shouldn't have brought it up i-"

"n-no dont apologize, it isnt your fault at all. i shouldnt have gotten so emotional in the first place"

and as much as he's trying to replicate that shining smile, it just,,, doesnt seem as sparkling as it did

“i know we’re not that close but i was told that im a pretty good listener. if you want to tell me that is,”

mingyu looks at you and the sincerity in your eyes urges him to spill every word out of him

“I’ve liked cooking ever since i was allowed in the kitchen, cooking with the maids and helping them with whatever step i could do. but the thing is,,, i’m not sure if my mom would allow me to pursue such a thing,”

“why not?”

and the questions throws him aback a bit because he’s never really asked his mother about his dreams

and it didn’t seem like she was very persistent on getting him into the modelling industry

so why didn’t he tell her?

“i guess,, i was just a coward.” he chuckled nervously

you placed your hand above his, hoping in some way that you’re presence comforts him

“maybe you should try and discuss about it with your mom soon. we are going to graduate soon afterall,”

and mingyu’s heart is about to leap right out of his chest

because he’s never met such a person who’s so caring towards him and genuinely worries about him even though you guys just barely met

and his toothy grin crawls back onto his lips and it feels like everything is back to the way it is

“let’s finish this up before we break another bowl,” you joked as mingyu guiltily agreed

the end product of the souffle melted in your mouth like fluffy clouds

and your hopes of actually getting a good grade for home econs is stronger than ever

and that meant that you owed mingyu a whole lot, especially with the numerous tips he had given you

“you don’t have tuition after this right?”

“mm no? why did you ask?”

“let’s go then!!”

and you grab him by the hand and miraculously drag his tol bod to your favourite restaurant

as the both of you stood in front of an average food stall, unlike the one that mingyu frequented with his mother

you shone a bright smile towards him and grab two seats for the both of you

“this place has one of the best dishes and at such an affordable price?? it’s crazy how it’s not packed with customers!” you shook your head as a waitress hands you their menu

but it doesn’t even take you a minute to start ordering

and you order a bunch of dishes

and when i mean a bunch, i meant like 2 whole tables covered in food

“y/n, i dont think the both of us can finish this up on our own...”

“dont underestimate me you giant >:[”

and the both of you magically finished the whole thing

but like you guys are about to sleep for a whole week because of the food coma and now the two of you are at your seats, dazed and sleepy

“next time we come here, we’re NEVER getting more than we can chew,”

“there’s a next time?”

“yeah you owe me two times-”

“it’s a date then, giant,”

maybe if it werent for that food coma, you would have been a little more careful with your words

but at least now you got a super good looking, talented boyfriend ;))

#kpop #writing #imagine #scenario #fanfic #fanfiction #svt #seventeen #hip hop unit #mingyu #kim mingyu #x reader #reader insert #reader #au #heir au

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welovekpopscenarios · 7 years

Text

The Stars Above the Chaos (Space/Halo!AU Mingyu x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Earth is under attack, and Mingyu is being shipped out to war tomorrow. You don’t know if this will be his last one. Better make the night count. Space/Halo!AU

Fandom: Seventeen

Genre: Smut, teensy bit of angst

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader

Warnings: Language, slight mentions of death

Word Count: 3555

A/N: Don’t let all the terminology or Halo scare you off, it’s basically a smut with a bit of backstory. This was honestly just to feed my need to write for Mingyu seeing as he is my bias and Halo bc it was the game of my childhood and it will always be one of my top games (I even have a big book about it that my ex got me for Christmas haw haw). But yeah, this is essentially just a smut and can be taken as a basic Space!AU, so I hope you still read and enjoy regardless of the space/halo stuff in it! Happy reading! (Low key happy about this one LOL)

I made a little index with info and visuals, if you’re interested in the help!

The sound of mindless chatter and clinking metal sounded in your ears as you entered the canteen to collect your dinner for the day after training, nodding your head in hello at chefs and soldiers alike, the ships A.I Sasha even throwing a sweet wave as you passed the holographic screen. Your eyes searched the large space, table upon table filled with soldiers of every ranking; cadet to captain, private to sergeant, but you were only looking for one table in particular. Tucked away in the corner of the room, you found some of your friends sitting together and chatting amiably amongst one another, as usual around this time in the evening.

Seungkwan spotted you first, his head raising from the conversation to wave you over with his usual sweet smile. You headed towards the spot with hurried steps, ignoring the talks of the ongoing battle ensuing on Earth, the countless number of deaths and casualties occurring while you’re stuck here on this ship, waiting for the day when you get called to join the gruesome fight. Jeonghan greeted you with a smile and moved over on the bench, making room for you to sit, placing you directly in front of Mingyu who fixed you with a small smile and a subtle wink. The others – Seungkwan, Minghao and Wonwoo, to be exact – all gave you their own greetings before returning to their previous conversation.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fixed so much equipment before – seems like there’s something coming in nearly every hour to be worked on lately,” Wonwoo complained, playing idly with the food on the tray in front of him. “So many weapons and vehicles coming in, needing repairs. Some of them are so badly damaged, I don’t even know where to start with them.”

Jeonghan made a noise in agreement, shaking his head. “Tell me about it, the med wards are flooded here. It’s too hectic to keep up with, and we’re nearly running out of supplies.”

“We’re overloaded here,” Seungkwan piped up from beside Jeonghan. “I can’t even imagine what the situation on Earth looks like right now.”

The table grew quiet, the horrible elephant in the room ever present as you thought about the struggle on Earth. Just recently, as small fleet of Covenant ships exited slipspace and began to attack the African city of New Mombasa. During the ensuing battle, a Covenant Assault Carrier breached the orbital fortifications on the city and made its way to the surface. The ship, which carried the Covenant Hierarch known as the High Prophet of Regret, took position over New Mombasa, deploying troops and vehicles which occupied the city, and the city's civilians either evacuated, took shelter, or were killed.

Nobody could talk for too long on those who were lost to the hordes of aliens destroying the city, be it soldier or civilian. You felt useless, stuck on the UNSC Say My Name while others risked their lives to stop the invaders from controlling the city. But another part of you, hidden deep underneath your skin and making you sick with guilt, was slightly relieved your unit wasn’t shipped out to deal with the situation yet. The tales you heard from the returning soldiers; the frightening pincers of the Elites, the raw terrifying strength of the Brutes, even the swarms of Grunts and Jackals becoming too much to handle in the heat of the moment. Nobody knew exactly the intent of the invasion – just that if the Covenant managed to take control of New Mombasa with the fleet they have, more will come, and Earth will soon be in the hands of the enemy.

Minghao made a loud tutting and jabbed irritably at his food, scowl present on his otherwise pixie-like face.

“I wish they’d just send us out already. They clearly need us, and I’m sick of all this waiting. We should be going now instead of tomorrow” he grumbled, shovelling tasteless slop into his mouth hurriedly. Jeonghan gave a derisive snort, fixing Minghao with a level stare.

“You should wish they won’t have to send you out,” he retorted, to which Minghao gave another tut and a slight roll of his eyes. “To send the ODST’s out would mean that the situation really has gone to shit. And that’s when panic sets in,” he explained, picking up his cup to take a sip and raising a brow at the infamous ODST over the rim.

“ODST’s: Orbital Drop Shock Troopers,” you mused quietly, and looked forward to find Mingyu’s eyes already on you. “Things must be getting really bad down in New Mombasa if they’re gonna send out the ODST’s soon,” you said, and all heads at the table turned at your voice. “You’re practically a last resort when these things happen.”

Mingyu nodded seriously, shoulders heaving in a sigh the exited through his nose. “Yeah,” he agreed. “They say the fight’s getting pretty grizzly and they’re losing hope. The Covenant are pushing strong. Coups said we could be shipped out some time tomorrow,” he elaborated, and made eye contact with you to give you a heavy stare that put a dead weight in the pit of your stomach. It was a stare that said ‘I’m going away tomorrow, I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know if I’ll be back.’

You always knew what would happen when one of you gave a stare like that, a sort of tradition between the pair of you after you began seeing each other in secret years ago. But it would have to wait until after dinner. You brushed your leg against Mingyu’s underneath the table.

Minghao gave a humourless smirk. “’Last resort’,” he repeated, shaking his head. “We’re the best of the best. They just don’t want to use us so early in the fight. They wanna see if they can pick them off without using all their resources first,” he said arrogantly, but you saw right through him as if he were glass. He might be an ODST like Mingyu, a soldier who went through tougher training than most, than yourself, but he was afraid. Just like everyone else was. One wrong move, and life as you knew it was gone.

“Actually, The8,” Wonwoo mocked Minghao’s notorious nickname as if it were an insult, and Minghao turned his head to his left to glare at the taller boy. “I wouldn’t consider ODST’s the best of the best. You’re good, yes, but you’re just that bit stronger than the average soldier, like Y/N,” he nodded his head in your direction, and you ducked yours when Minghao’s dark eyes flitted to your form. Mingyu stifled a giggle at Minghao’s enraged face, and instead paid attention to the rest of Wonwoo’s speech. “If you were to call on the best of the best, then the Spartan’s would have been sent. Those were the real super soldiers.”

Seungkwan cut off Minghao’s retort in an effort to keep the peace once he saw the ODST clenching his fists and flaring his nostrils. Minghao always got too fired up when danger was imminent, snapping at everyone without warning. “Spartans aren’t in use any more. Well, except for the Master Chief. He’s the last Spartan alive, apparently,” he said, checking his surroundings before leaning into the centre of the table, the rest of you following suit as he lowered his voice.

“I heard he was on the UNSC Pillar of Autumn when it exploded. He was supposed to be destroying a new alien threat that was released, something even worse than the Covenant. But that’s all I heard. There were a few units that came into contact with this new threat but…not many people made it back alive,” he gossiped, a grim look upon the nurse’s soft visage. Mingyu groaned, eyes darting to the ceiling, cracking his knuckles loudly that had you cringing at the sound.

“As if we need even more shit to deal with,” he whined, boots tapping yours in silent conversation. ‘I’m worried.’ You tapped back and gave a slight smile, one that felt weaker than intended. ‘I know. Me too.’

“Regardless,” Minghao clipped loudly, sitting upright once more as he spooned the last of his grub into his mouth, “we’re the next best thing. There are more of us than there are Spartan soldiers, isn’t that right, Gyu?” Mingyu nodded wordlessly, eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline as he sipped his water. “We’re the ones who are going to be doing most of the fighting. Master Chief can join whenever he wants, but he better not steal our glory.” And with that, he stood up from the bench, gathered his tray, and stormed away from the table. Wonwoo rubbed his eyes tiredly while Jeonghan shook his head disappointedly.

“Please, ignore him,” Mingyu apologised, resting his forearms on the table. “His feathers get a bit rustled when a fight is just around the corner. He doesn’t mean to snap.” The group just nodded in understanding. Truthfully, tensions were high with everyone now, stress piling on every time a new problem came up, which seemed to be nearly every second now.

The intercom above interrupted the chatter in the room, calling upon all available technicians to return to their work stations immediately, and Wonwoo placed his forehead on the table and gave a pitiful, exhausted groan. Mingyu laughed warmly and reached an arm around his friend’s shoulders, squeezing in sympathy. The leaner male simply sighed, and drug his body out of his seat on the bench. Lifting a weak arm in goodbye, he picked up his tray and headed in the direction of the technician’s labs.

“We should get going too, Y/N,” Mingyu announced, your attention aimed at him once more as he looked at you with a hard stare. “We need our rest as soldiers, don’t we?” he asked, and you nodded in agreement mutely, picking up the remainder of your food and standing up from the bench. Jeonghan gave you a knowing look, one that had you fighting the heat rising to your cheeks and scowling when he gave a light scoff. You curse the day you called him your friend and trusted him with the information about your secret relationship.

Before you could grab him by the throat and choke him out for being so obvious, Mingyu tilted his head in the direction and led you both out while you ignored the teasing “have fun” from Jeonghan’s sugared mouth. Mingyu guided you down the hallways of the ship while you saluted every passer-by, reminded of just how vast and lively this single airship can be. It was essentially a world of its own – each person a cog in the well-oiled machine that was the UNSC Say My Name, another fighter in the galactic war. Turning a corner in the metallic hallways, you came upon a rare occurrence of the hall being completely devoid of life. And just when you thought that Mingyu was leading you nowhere, you were suddenly dragged into what seemed to be a supply closet and promptly pressed up against the newly locked door.

You gasped as Mingyu’s sturdy body was flush against your own, his calloused hands trailing a rapid path across your skin as he attempted to feel as much of you as he possibly could, his hidden fear and his duty as a soldier causing him to panic and rush his actions. You grabbed a hold of his wrists to stop him and stared deep into his wide eyes, so beautifully dark and so tragically frightened. Your thumbs rubbed soothing circles over the veins, and you watched as he gradually relaxed and sighed out of his stiff posture, deflating like a balloon until he looked unbearably small in the cramped space of the closet, the light casting even darker shadows over his weary face. Bringing his wrists to your face, your lips skimmed the smooth surface, his pulse dancing beneath your mouth as he closed his eyes in peace.

Edging closer to you, he moved his arms to wrap around your form as you wrapped yours around his waist, holding him close to you as he rested his forehead atop the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair and keeping you hidden in his longs arms for as long as he could. He’s not stupid. The situation on Earth is way worse than ONI or the UNSC are letting on. But for the sake of keeping their soldiers up for the fight, they’re staying quiet about how bad the devastation in New Mombasa is. And while he knows he’s one of the best ODST’s in the army right now, he isn’t sure if he’ll live to see another battle after he gets deployed and sent feet first into hell tomorrow. He knows when he sits in that pod and gets dropped into the heat of battle, there’s no going back for him. And the only thing that has been racing through his mind since the Covenant invaded the planet was you. Thoughts of you heading into the fight soon, thoughts of you being safe on the ship while he was doing heavy duty, thoughts of if he’ll get to see you again once everything’s been dealt with.

If everything’s dealt with.

And it’s with this in mind that he plans to go through with the unspoken tradition for when either one of you are set to leave. A moment of bittersweet release, one last night in paradise, as he bitterly jokes, a time for you both to feel alive and in love before it’s drained out of him in the coming hours.

He moves first, his lips pressing butterfly kisses to your forehead and moving them downwards; kissing your cheeks, your lids delicately, and even your nose before they finally reach your lips, where they seal over yours in a searing kiss, one that left your mind spinning and perfectly distracted you from the worries plaguing it. Your fingers trail through his hair, tugging at the soft strands and wrenching a delicious moan from deep within Mingyu’s chest.

You felt the ends of your standard tank top being tugged out of the confines of your cargo pants, but couldn’t think on it too long, not when Mingyu’s tongue was sweeping across the seam of your lips so wonderfully. You opened up for him and he dove in like a man starved of everything that was you, your tongues swirling and pushing in ways that had your knees turning to jelly. You think you would have fallen if not for Mingyu’s strong arms keeping you upright, hands working frantically to open the buttons on your pants.

You did the same, hands reaching beneath his shirt and brushing over his toned muscles, honed after years and years of training, your fingertips caressing the little bumps of scars, hard work and even harder memories painted across his skin. He tore his shirt off impatiently, the fabric pooling somewhere on the ground, and he did the same with yours, your arms raised high above your head as he near ripped the piece of clothing off your body, leaving you in your sports bra and pressing you to the door once more.

The cold sting of the metal against your flushed body wasn’t near enough to distract you from Mingyu’s ministrations of trailing kisses down your neck, his thick fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your bra behind your back. You made a light squeak when his lips touched the more sensitive parts of your neck, lust seeping over your mind like a cloud on a stormy day, and you could do nothing more than pull on Mingyu’s hair whenever he did something particularly pleasing. He was placing your pleasure above his own, like usual. He pulled your bra off until you were completely bare from the waist up, and Mingyu took the opportunity to place hidden nips and bites along your chest for only his eyes to see, sucking on your pert nipple and rolling the neglected one with his fingers.

You bit your lip to contain the moan threatening to leave your chest, feeling your arousement seeping through your underwear and your core throbbing annoyingly, desperate to be touched.

Mouth still lavishing your chest, Mingyu worked on getting your pants down and off your legs, pulling until the fabric piling around your ankles until you kicked them off along with your boots. You gasped aloud when his hand flew into your underwear and straight for your slit, fingers rubbing up and down the flesh before moving to your swollen bud, circling around the nub harshly that had stars as bright as the ones you’ve seen out of the docking bays windows flashing behind your closed lids.

But Mingyu knew there was no time, and so he tugged your underwear off and left you as naked as the day you were born, his hands shoving his own pants and boxers down his thighs. Without even taking them off, he lifted you up with ease, your legs wrapping automatically around his waist as his forearms kept you balanced beneath your rear. You reached between your bodies to grasp his member and gave it a few pumps, leaving Mingyu to grit his teeth at the sensation.

Once he reasoned he was fully hard, Mingyu moved his dick to your soaked folds, rubbing the tip up and down your core, drenching his member in your slick before he pushed in, moving you down his length slowly until he was fully sheathed in your heat. He allowed you a moment to breathe, peppering kisses on the underside of your jaw before you gave the go ahead, and next he was lifting you up and down his cock while you clung to his shoulders for dear life.

You could feel the rumble of his chest against yours with every grunt and pant he made, driving you even crazier as you watched him become more ruined the closer his orgasm came. Each thrust caused his abdomen to grind against your throbbing clit, and you were too weak to even keep your eyes open at the feeling, that knot in your stomach growing larger and more intense with each hard plunge of his shaft into your sensitive cunt. The lewd sounds of skin smacking against skin slapped around the metallic supply room, your moans lost to the wind in airy little whispers as Mingyu readjusted his position and hit that oh-so-special spot deep inside of you.

Your orgasm was approaching fast, too fast, but you were powerless to stop it when Mingyu sped up his thrusts and kissed you so hard you lost your breath. Your back arched as white heat washed over you, your nails biting into the bronzed skin of his shoulder blades while Mingyu hissed with pleasure, that knot finally unravelling and dragging you down into a plane of pure ecstasy. Your body twitched in satisfaction, feeling truly spent, and you coaxed Mingyu to his own end with whispers of praise in his ear, and when your walls clenched around him, he gave a whine and pulled out, hand rapidly pumping at his hand.

With furrowed brows and sweat lining his forehead he came, white strings of his seed spilling over his stomach and his hand, and with all the energy you could muster you bent down to grab your underwear for him to clean himself with. It was better than nothing.

You pulled back on your clothes groggily as Mingyu wiped down his hand, chest heaving from exertion, and soon he too was getting dressed in the dark space of the closet. Fully clothed, you stared at him for a moment before he dragged you in for a kiss, one so passionate and desperate, you swore you felt your heart break just a little bit. Pulling back to gasp for air, he leaned his forehead on yours and held you close to his body, rocking you back and forth in a way that seemed more soothing for him than you.

You wished you had more time, had an opportunity to have a proper night together, to lie peacefully in each other’s arms rather than a quick fuck in a dirty closet. You wanted to spend your life with him, a life of serenity, a home, with a child and a pet and-

Fuck, you just wanted a better life for him.

Your hands held either side of his face and forced him to gaze into your eyes, eyes that looked so heartbreakingly dismal that you wanted to cry right then and there. You steeled yourself - for his sake - and took a deep breath. You can do this.

“I want you to win this fight, Mingyu,” you said simply, and he stood still, emotionless, before resolve flooded his face, and with newfound determination and strength he nodded resolutely, pressing one more sweet kiss to your lips. And he’d make sure it wouldn’t be the last.

And when you both exited the supply closet, ignoring the curious looks of other soldiers and workers and watching as you headed in the other direction towards your sleeping quarters, Mingyu was certain of his decision to finally propose to you if he comes back from battle.

When he comes back from battle.

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sian22redux · 7 years

Text

He followed me home, chap. 4

Title: Hew followed me home,,

Rating: T

Summary : The whole world gets involved when you and your new boyfriend, Chris Evans, adopt a friend for Dodger but then can’t settle on a name. .

This chapter: Chris and reader navigate some unexpected twists. Fluff and some angst, a teensy bit of social anxiety and a little making out.

Happy Birthday @theycallmebecca!! We’re finally at the end! Thanks so much to @arizonapoppy for her awesome and timely help. Oenethera5 is the one who came up with the winning name. Hope you all like it. Because I rushed to get this up for Becca’s big day it is not beta’d. If y’all spot anything too heinous let me know :)

You can find Chapter 1 etc. here: He Followed Me Home, .tags for folks below the cut

----------------------------------------------- .

Two weeks after puppy comes home Chris goes back to work.

There’s a whirlwind of press to do for Red Sea Diving and Avengers 3, and with the rave reviews for both (and his Broadway debut) your giant, bouncing labrador of a boyfriend is on a high.

This night his assignment is Jimmy Kimmel Live.

The Town car pulls up in front of the old masonic lodge that hosts Kimmel’s studio and you’re thinking ‘Wow”. Already the crush of tourists and fans outside the doors snakes past El Capitan’s classic art deco theatre to Ghirardelli’s chocolate shop, held back by a line of security and police. The walk of fame with its stars outfront has a red carpet laid on top. The facade looks elegant; all stone columns and ionic capitals, banners and bright lights.

Flashbulbs are already popping before Chris finishes his call with Susan, his long time publicist.

“Fine. Yeah. I know. I know. I’m good. Breathe. Yup, I’m breathing. See you at 10 for dinner.” He swipes his phone shut and smiles weakly across at you, leg going a million miles an hour. The nerves never get any easier. They do this before almost every show—Susan, the pro, talking him down, getting the noisy brain in gear, but this time with the Avengers hype off the dial, they decide it might help if you came along.

(Officially you are representing Getaway and reporting back on audience response. Unofficially you are there to stand in the wings and wish calming vibes his way.)

The evening mercifully starts out light and easy.

Jimmy loves Chris as an interview: they always have fun and joke around, but he knows his subject well enough to go a little slow while his guest gets in the groove.

“What is new with you?” he asks, smiling broadly, clapping Chris on the shoulder as he sits on the soft grey wool of the couch, bobbing his head at the wild applause and nervously smoothing his tie in place.

“Not much. Filming. Hanging out.” Chris huffs a breath and smiles, trying to act nonchalant, adjusting his cuffs and surreptitiously wiping his sweaty palms on his dark suit pants. “A ten city press tour.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows head for the ceiling. “Not much? Other than being everywhere on screen and nearly breaking the internet tweeting about your dog?”

Chris laughs and Jimmy explains whole missing Dodger thing to the audience. “For the few folks who spent this year underneath a rock—this is Dodger. And this is where we all thought he died!”

Pictures of Dodger show up on the big screen backdrop; the pining tweets that were misinterpreted; the amazing video shot by Carly of their reunion. The audience is oohing and awwing and clapping loudly.

“I know, I know. What can I say?” Chris shrugs. “Dodger’s a pure soul. It was hard. It was hard. I was in South Africa and I missed him. For months. He took it hard but I wasn’t gonna put him in quarantine.”

Jimmy smiles. “Nah. I get it. It’s rough. But next just time warn us ok?” He turns to the camera, all mock serious. “And Twitter? Jack you listening? Give this guy 280 characters right now—cuz jeez I don’t think our hearts can handle too short Evans tweets.”

Chris throws back his head and laughs, grabs his pec for a sec, shaking his head, full on going for it as the whole studio cracks up. “Suuure that’ll work. I get to word vomit more.” He mimes grabbing for a barf bag and waves the idea away. You’re smiling, watching him relax. Thank heaven. So far it’s going great. “No Twitter.. please. Do not.” He shakes his head and settles back into his seat, beaming a sunshine smile. “But seriously—it’s all good. When I have to be away, we’ve got a solution for it now.”

Kimmel raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“We adopted a puppy.”

The whole audience in unison goes ‘Awww” and suddenly Chris is pulling out his phone, flipping through his pictures to show Jimmy one of the two amigos on the lawn, Dodger sitting tall and puppy flopped at his feet.

He holds the screen facing out toward the seats. The camera zooms in and out, trying to focus and Jimmy turns to ask the stage manager: “Can we get that up? The little fluffball is pretty cute.”

Magically, the picture is caught and appears on the backdrop: puppy and Dodger beyond life size and so adorable the audience is cooing. Jimmy nods at the screen. Chris nods, smiling like the proudest papa at the two of them but then suddenly, laser like, Jimmy turns back to Chris and picks up on what was said.

“We?”

Chris blushes bright red as a tomato then pales to an unhealthy shade of white.

Standing in the wings, you think “oh shit.” He’s probably in panic mode; brain berating him for slipping up, worrying all at once what Susan’ll say, and how to talk his way out, and if he’ll fuck up more.

You heart goes out to him. This is exactly the type of nightmare scenario guaranteed to bring out his anxiety. You watch him awkwardly cross and recross his legs, stroking his tie down again and stalling for more time.

“A friend” That’s all he has to say, he doesn’t need to give any more but for some reason he’s biting his lip, fingers tapping on his slacks, agonizing. This is his least favourite part of the biz but surely Jimmy won’t give him too hard a time?

The silence is getting a little long. Come on Chris. You’re an actor. Just fudge an answer. You’re pleading in your head and then it comes.

And you almost drop your notes in shock.

“My girlfriend and I.”

An instant giant collective groan emanates from the audience. Cieto, Jimmy’s band leader, right on cue leads the house band in a mournful dirge. You’re frozen, thinking that at least no one there knows it’s you, as your phone buzzes in your hand.

It’s Susan. Of course it is. She watches all his events and you just know she’s madly texting “wtf???”

Jimmy can barely speak for chuckling.

“Folks. Folks,” he pleads, palms up, getting the hooting of the audience to calm down. “Oh my god, you heard it here first. The scoop of the year. Chris Evans is no longer single and the internet is about to break again.”

You’re dying. Just dying, trying to keep your face straight, head whirling at the implications. What??!! Fuck, Chris. How long before someone finds out it’s you? Days if you’re lucky and that thought makes your stomach knot. What will Anthony and Joe say? How will you handle all the crazies? You’re picturing shit-tons of hate mail, a posse of paparazzi at the gate when you get home and wonder if you can scale the cliff at the bottom of the lawn to drop into Christina Applegate’s backyard next time you have to leave.

Maybe you should leave right now? Maybe you should get a taxi to your apartment? Not be seen going back to Laurel Canyon but then what would puppy and Dodger do?

You’re just picturing never dining out again, never jogging on Mulholland, when you notice that Chris, the shit, is grinning like a loon.

What?!

The noise finally subsides. Jimmy leans over and asks: “How long has it been?”

Chris takes a breath, licks his lips, slouches a little lower and weirdly almost looks relaxed. Some colour has come back into his cheeks. “Four months.”

“Four months? So new!”

“Yeah. Yeah. New but feels so right. It’s like she’s always been there, you know?”

Jimmy’s nodding, says something about that was how it was for him and a shy smile creases Chris’s face. You’re melting; a little dizzy at the heartfelt words.

It is? What did he just say?

Your brain has gone from panicked to short circuited: replaying that sentence over and over. You ignore your phone’s frantic buzzing, miss most of Jimmy’s saying until he asks, curious as a cat. “How did you keep this secret?”

Chris grins. “She’s Anthony Russo’s right hand. Goes almost everywhere that I do with the Avengers movies being made.”

Ok that’s good. Good. He’s brought it back to the reason that he’s there—press for Infinity War—you think that Jimmy will move on to the debut but then Chris does the unthinkable.

Perhaps he’s still a little flustered or maybe his brain invaded for a moment by the God of Mischief.

He waves his big strong hand toward the right stage wings. “She’s here.”

Oh my fucking god.

A studio camera whips right ‘round but you’re in shock. You can’t believe it. Your carefully protected secret. Held for months. Friends and family have sworn a pact. Every little move carefully choreographed and this impetuous goofball has just outed you to the world!

There’s a producer in headset tapping you on the shoulder but you’re shaking your head; turning away and bending over. Hiding your face in your hands and clutching your clipboard hard, thanking every god you know that you’ve worn a business suit.

(Out of the corner of your eye you can see the feed. Oh great. Your ass is on national television. Hastily you straighten up.)

Over on set Jimmy’s hand is waving lazily at you to come out. The audience is clapping, louder and louder but still you mutely shake your head.

No. Way. This is Chris’s thing. You are not stepping into his limelight. Marvel’s limelight. Fuck, Kevin Feige is gonna have an aneurysm.

Jimmy, the heartless bastard, is still laughing. “She’s kinda shy.

“Not really…but,” Chris stutters. He’s wide-eyed and worrying. Trying to apologize. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

He didn’t mean to what? Implode your world? Live? The buzzing in your pocket has gone nuclear. Your hear Anthony’s dedicated tone and Joe’s. A few others with no alert and you wonder if it’s his agent Josh and manager Brad, on top of Susan. Oh god. You’re almost hyperventilating. Will you get fired? Will you still have a job on Monday morning? Will your friend Lena who you haven’t told ever speak to you again??

Jimmy looks over anxiously at you and, bless his sensitive soul, gets that this might be a little much. They cut the feed away and like a pro, he starts to dial it back

“Ok… What’s her name?”

“Y/N.”

“And where did you meet?”

“On the set of Avengers 4.” Suddenly you’re thinking of Frank Grillo. Another excitable Marvel guy with Italian parents. Talks with his hands as if he’s conducting an orchestra but that moment he had nothing on Chris. The hands you love are almost dancing as he relays Bautista’s accident, excitedly talks about your mutual love of baseball. It’s adorable and overwhelming.

But still not what Chris is being paid to do.

You think you are about to be in the clear when Jimmy launches his next question.

“And what’s the puppy’s name?”

Chris chuckles and shakes his head. “About that….”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two events happen in the immediate aftermath.

Puppy’s nameless state becomes a thing. And your previously 250 follower-Twitter feed explodes.

By the time you make it back into his dressing room your name is trending. Chris holds you anxiously in his arms, apologizing over and over until you have to put your hands across his mouth.

“It’s ok.”

“It’s not. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I don’t.” He frowns, runs his hands up and down your arms. He smells of aftershave and the heavy sweet lilies stuffed into a giant crystal vase. You normally hate their smell but weirdly not in that moment.

“Well I do, but shit. Y/N, I love you. I just couldn’t hold it in.”

A giant bloom of hope and happiness races through your chest. “And I love you.” You’re crying and laughing all at once. “Chris Evans, you are such a fucking meatball.”

“Yeah. Well I’m your meatball.”

The searing kiss lasts until a panicked Susan, come down in person, knocks upon the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turns out Chris Evans trending for any reason short of murder is good for Marvel too.

The next day you a get bazillion texts from friends, get grilled by Susan and Chris’s agent Josh about your past until Chris is forced to growl, and learn all about block chains out of necessity. While you and Chris were lying in (naked, oblivious and very occupied) that morning some enterprising hack went to work with Getaway’s employee list and guessed your twitter handle.

Shit. Lesson learned.

The afternoon is spent fielding calls and messages. The most precious text you get is from Tara, Chris’s best best friend. You’ve only met her once, overwhelmed in the giant Evans-Capuano New Years party where you first met his family. She was lovely but you haven’t really talked.

Wow. Deep breath. Guess this means it’s real.

And kind of overwhelming. Chris is off again in days for the long-planned European opening of Infinity War and you’re at home, doing your job (the long lead in for Avengers 4 post production) and holding down the fort. This includes taking Dodger and puppy out, and at first you’re nervous, knowing you will be followed, Josh arranges for guards to enforce a breathable perimeter away from the vile, scum-sucking paps. It works. Folks get the hint mostly and eventually leave off.

But the fuss over puppy’s nameless state? That keeps on going….

Chris tweets about the new member family: a hundred thousand responses in the first two minutes. He mentions that puppy has learned to sit and stay and it goes viral. Your twitter and his are literally inundated with puppy names—yours from friends and his from fans. Even random peeps on the street get in on the act.

Instead of Miles’ ‘I don’t wike it” being called out to him, people now shout puppy names.

He laughs, and like Steve Rogers, pulls out a small notebook and writes them down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This state of ridiculousness lasts for the whole time that he is gone.

Thank heaven you can telework. Chris’s normally immaculate office is a riot of your stuff but it sure helps. Puppy is growing so fast, he needs constant supervision. First he jumps up and gets the car keys off the island; chews them until the car alarm goes off. Then he slides across the kitchen floor and accidentally knocks the cupboard kick plate out. A priceless Himalayan poppy is shredded into tiny, forlorn blue bits. A rather more mundane knitted sock winds up, unraveled, strung between lounging chairs.

You amuse Chris by texting pictures of the contraband.

Puppy’s personality grows just like his paws. He’s smart and biddable, if anything almost more of a sap than Dodger. You work on leash training, and sit and stay, endure the inevitable hilarious tabloid pictures of puppy looking confused at the walking park. He loves to snuggle at your feet but also is more skittish, less confident than Dodger-- easily spooked-- and you suppose this is because the wide world is so big and new. Dodger was a rescue but grew up in a home. Puppy has spent all his days inside a cage.

It comes out, sometimes, in hilarious and unexpected ways.

One day he shies away from, but then furiously demolishes, an ‘indestructable’ Ovis frisbee. Another he barks manically at barbeque sauce. Once he cowers at the sigh of just one trash can. (the other is ok??). The escape artist comes out when one morning he bolts through the closing electric gate. A startled photog thinks quick grabs him by the collar (That is a puppy? What is he? Cerebus?)

All this fills your time but still you miss Chris something fierce. He’s in Rome and Bucharest and Berlin. Running from event to event. Tired, stressed, and you wish you could be there.

All throughout the puppy name ideas keep coming in. After Renner instagrams ”Evans can’t name a dog” the suggestions come flying thick and fast and then the sneaky snarky shit goes to town—Jeremy puts it in a poll on his private app. The one he does for fans to interact with him. Of course you need to follow just to see what’s trending, to tease Chris with the top rated latest idea, and that is how you wind up in your pj’s, enveloped by twenty pounds of puppy and more of Dodger in the middle of the day when IW has its London premiere. Chris looks amazing in a silvered, deep indigo and mauve silk suit by Ferragamo. It’s edgy and fun—Mackie’s teases him about it but clothes horse Sebastian approves.

After the red carpet and introductions to the Prince and Princess (only you know how many times he’d practised that perfect bow) they take their seats and you shoot him a text with the latest names.

“Bruno?>

<Blah>

<He’s not a St Bernard>

There’s a pause. You wait patiently until the little dots start up again.

<Sry. Chris put popcorn down my shirt>

They are such kids. Pratt or Hemsworth. Either could be the culprit.

<Those Renner’s top rated stars?> This is followed by a barfing face.

You laugh. <Least it’s not doggymcdogface>

You’re pretty sure his answer counts as sexting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Chris gets back he and Susan hatch what they think is a brilliant plan for your proper coming out.

You hate it.

You are terrified.

Ten of days of complicated, exhausting back and forth between the CGI guys and studio pass in a whirl and before you know it the day arrives. May 3rd.

Infinity War’s New York Premiere.

You both fly out, leave Scott to sit at the house and start down the incredible set that lines the huge red carpet. Photographers, literally a hundred of them, have come from all over the world for this night. You are shaking like a leaf, beyond nervous as you’ve never been before. Chris’s stylist had picked out a gorgeous gown; ruched and slim, ice lavender, it’s right on with the latest trend and shows off your height. (The funky diamond and fluorite necklet Chris surprised you with is worth more than your monthly salary but he insisted.)

“You look beautiful.” Chris whispers in your ear, surreptitiously brushing his fingers across your ass. It makes you flush right as you both walk slowly past the waiting phalanx.

“Chris! Y/N! Here. Look here.”

“Chris! Chris! Here!”

“How’s puppy?” someone shouts and he answers right away.

“Great! He’s with my little brother.”

“Got a name yet?”

“Nope.”

There’s a ripple of laughter at that. You stand a little dazed. Chris holds your hand and strokes a warm palm across your lower-back and you aren’t sure which of you it calms the most. You keep expecting Susan’s assistant Joan to touch your elbow, the pre-approved signal to break away, but Chris keeps you there, shakes his head at her and holds you hard.

When Elizabeth and Scarlet sweep up and join him you step quickly back; let them flirt and laugh and answer questions; have a great time joking about how weird it was to work with bearded Cap. They seem lovely; you know them just a little from the set but you don’t ‘know them’ know them. Maybe at the after party you’ll get that chance.

Just when you begin frown and wonder if it’s weird you’re just standing there, a hand pulls at your elbow, drags you back to the centre of the throng.

It’s Robert. Beaming as he wraps you in a hug and plants the biggest kiss on your cheek. Tucks you at his side while you blush furiously. You know him a little more because you’d worked the Siberia unit set.

“Hey,” he smiles. “You good?”

“Trying,” you admit and he hugs you hard just as an overly made up woman in thigh high slit gown and sky high heels stalks forward and sticks a microphone in his face.

“Robert! Robert Downey Junior! Brooke from E! here. What do you think about the rave reviews Infinity War is getting?”

He smiles a little wanly, waits for her to acknowledge you and when she doesn’t ignores her question blithely. “Brooke, great to see you. Have you met Y/N? One of the best damn producers in the biz. She’s one of the reasons for those reviews.”

Oh lord, but RDj is like this. Positive, Lovely. And occasionally full of shit.

You are not a producer, you are a second assistant producer. You want to die but settle for digging an elbow in his ribs (He giggles, but of course Robert has the chutzpah to pull it off).

Miss-self-centred-celebrity-interviewer frowns, plucked brows furrowed into a fairly accurate image of permanent confused surprise. “Great,” she bullshits and gamely ploughs right on. “Robert any predictions you want to make?”

She means about fan response. Folks expect the movie has been hyped but you know, frame by frame, how great it is.

You smile a little proudly, and glance up at Robert, wondering what he’ll say. His eyes are hidden by the trademark coloured glasses but something about the stiff set of his jaw says he’s pissed. By how rude she is.

His answer makes your jaw almost hit the floor.

“Predictions? Sure.” He looks fondly down at you and then over to the big muscled guy to his right. “Y/N here will be the best damn thing that ever happened to Chris Evans.”

Wha..? …?”

Before you can even frame a coherent thought Robert quips “See, look at this. He can’t be away from her for more than a heartbeat.”

It’s true. Chris has hoped back to grab your hand again and now you are sandwiched between your gorgeous boyfriend and one of Hollywood’s true legendary stars. You sneak a peek at them both. They’re happy and grinning and bantering back and forth.

The part of you that isn’t terrified wants to pinch yourself at where you are.

Later, in the theatre’s dark with an epic battle raging overhead, you reflect on how freaky your life has become. Before it was secrecy and haphazard dates; knees touching under table cloths and walking late in the evening with no one about. Now it’s sitting next to this amazing man, in public in the middle of the afternoon, while he squeezes your knee and kisses your palm every chance he gets. Like a pair of giddy teenagers you whisper to each other, touch and flirt, get shushed by a grinning Scarlet.

It’s amazing and crazy and just like a dream but it gets even crazier the next day when E! magazine runs the byline “Is this the one?”. Next to a picture of you, one hand on Chris’s chest, looking up adoringly into his eyes. He has the softest smile and looks so happy he could burst.

Tara texts <I sure hope so>

All you can think is when did they take that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You fly back to Los Angeles and Chris does Chicago and D.C. but, finally, mid-May he is back home. Dodger and puppy are overjoyed. You settle into something of a routine. Work, workouts, hanging with friends, keeping up on puppy training. Walking puppy three times a day to keep him happy and just a little less rambunctious. The world has got used to the idea that you’re a thing so a few less paps haunt the gate.

Puppy by default gets called puppy all the time.

One Saturday morning you are both huddled on the couch indulging a second cappuccino when Chris’s phone rings. It’s Susan’s tone. Reluctantly he puts it on speaker phone so he doesn’t have to hold it to his ear.

His lips are kinda occupied, buzzing along your collarbone.

“Hmmm, Suz? What’s up?”

“A new invitation came in for an event I think that you should do.”

Chris frowns, wondering why this has to be handled now. “When?”

“End of June.”

“Kinda busy with Red Sea opening near then.”

“I know. But I think you’ll really want to see this one.” Susan sounds like she is smiling. Intriguing. Normally she’s so straight-faced, looks more like a poker player with a shitty hand.

“Ok.” Chris is shrugging as you mime a question.

“I’ll send the car over with the invite.”

Now? Wow. It obviously is a major deal.

Thirty minutes later the doorbell rings, Dodger and puppy race for the door, stand there with tails wagging while Chris accepts the envelope from Susan’s driver.

He flops back beside you on the couch. You scoop puppy up, give him a scratch behind both silky ears while Chris runs a fingernail under the flap.

“Holy shit!”

You lean over and peer across his muscled shoulder. “What is it?”

“An invitation from the Bosox’s owner John Henry himself.”

“To what?” you ask, thinking of his beer-drenched, football weekends with the guys. This would be a perfect opportunity but you’re the Red Sox’s biggest fan. Maybe Scott could sit again and you both have a weekend to yourselves?

“Their ‘dog day at Fenway’”

“What?!” You squeal. “Yes!” You shake puppy’s paw and his kiss his snout. “Oh my god little guy you get to see the Green Monster for yourself.”

Chris laughs. The Green Monster is Fenway Park’s fabled left field wall. The highest in the MLB. “So long as he doesn’t piddle on it. We’re going to do it then? Says here they need an answer by Monday.”

You shake your head incredulously at Chris. “Are you kidding? Our favourite team? The most famous field in all of baseball! Of course we’re doing it! And besides, our first date was there. It’s awesome.”

It is. Dodger, catching some of your excitement, gets all keyed up. He jumps up and puts his paw on Chris’s knee. His master gives it a grave shake, purses his lips thoughtfully. “Hmmm. Maybe we can take a couple days off. Hang with mom and everyone. Charter a jet to make it easy to fly both these dudes.”

You like that idea. The only thing dampening your enthusiasm was the thought of putting puppy in an airplane hold. Chris reaches down and gives Dodger’s head a pat before looking across at you, a slow smile spreading along his lips. Your soulful boyfriend has saved the best bit for last.

“They want me to throw out the first pitch. With Dodger and puppy there.”

“Woohoo!!” That’s it. Pandemonium breaks out. You’re up and dancing with an excited, yipping ball of fluff in your arms, while Chris grabs Dodger and gets his face washed excitedly.

“We need red ribbons for their collars,” you exclaim, “and to get them groomed and…”

“Whoa. First things first. I need to work on my pitch.”

“Oh I can help with that. I’ve got good hands.”

With a glove you mean, but Chris chuckles mischievously and leans in to catch your lips in his. “I know. Maybe we should go work on ‘signs’.”

Oh god. You laugh through the feather softness of his kiss along your jaw, shiver as it presses harder and finds the hollow of your throat. So good. Your eyes are starting to glaze over while a perfect liquid heat pools low in your core. Several blissful moments are then lost to making out before the ‘kids’ begin to wriggle.

Puppy’s whining in that way that says he needs to pull up a tree

Reluctantly you break apart and make a face. “Parent time.” Chris sets Dodger down and goes over to the French doors, slides them open and lets both dogs out into the yard. It’s warm and a little hazy. You grab your half empty mug and the invitation, sit at the outdoor dining table to read it through.

God this is incredible. They want Chris to throw out the first pitch and join Mr. Henry in his suite. Lead the seventh inning stretch and bring you too. You’re named. Wow. It’s unbelievable. You look up at Chris and smile, shielding your eyes from the climbing sun.

He’s stretching out his shoulders, flexing to get out the kinks. It makes you want to run your hands up underneath his shirt.

Focus Y/N, focus.

You tap your fingernails thoughtfully on the mug. ‘Fenway. I still can’t believe it. Puppy and Dodger going to Fenw… Wait. That’s it!” You sit straight up. It’s perfect. How had you never thought of it before?

“What?” Chris swipes your mug to take a swig, cocks one eyebrow, keeping half an eye on the dogs as they go about their routine.

“Puppyu needs a name. Before we get to the park. Look.” You shake the heavy vellum under Chris’s nose. The Red Sox’s address is in big green lettering at the top.

“Fenway. It’s the perfect name.”

Chris looks over at the little guy, chasing after Dodger with his tongue lolling out and ears flapping in the wind. It’s been two whole months since you brought him home. Two months that feel more like two days and have been an amazing ride.

“Fenway. Dodger and Fenway. I love it. It so works.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue.

From Boston’s NESN-TV feed. June 27, 2018. Jerry Remy and Steve Lyons announcing.

“Well folks look at that. It’s a high looping curve ball, right over the plate and Vasquez nabs it easily. He jogs out to the mound. Hands it straight to tonight’s special first pitch guest: Chris Evans. Captain America himself has just thrown out the ball on tonight’s Sox-Tribe game. A long anticipated matchup that is sure to be a slug fest.”

“You’re right about that Jerry. The fans, and their pooches, are keyed up for this game on ‘dog day at Fenway’, brought to you by Nutrisource and the Sox’s great management. 37,000 here tonight. Almost capacity.”

“How many dogs?”

“No official stat on that…but the two cutest gotta be out on there right now. Dodger and Fenway. Chris Evans’ and his girlfriend Y/N’s pups.”

“No doubt about it Steve. They’re both being very good dogs there, standing with Miss Y/N. Now Mr. Henry and tonight’s managers, Alex Cora and Tito Francona, and the plate umpire come forward to shake Mr Evans’ and Miss Y/N’s hands. Starting pitcher Drew Pomeranz tips his cap. We’re just waiting for Mr. Henry to say a few words.”

“Hmm. There seems to be a bit of a delay. Can you tell what’s going on? The big wigs have all stepped back.”

“Not sure. Wait. Oh lordy. Mr. Evans has gone down on one knee.”

“Yup. No doubt about it. Folks we are witnessing history here. Mr. Evans is holding Miss Y/N’s hand and pulling something out of his pocket. It’s looks sparkly and suspiciously like a ring. Miss Y/N is nodding her head and those are definitely tears upon her face.”

“What an amazing moment. The crowd is on its feet. The whole stadium is pounding from the cheering. Mr. Evans has now stood up and wow that kiss might just bust our rating.”

“Dang it, Jer, there’s something in my eye.”

“Mine too. What a phenomenal way to start this series. The organist has struck up ‘It’s a Wonderful World’ and there’s one heck of powerful hug going on down there.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

“And gal.”

“Absolutely. They’re slowly starting to walk off, hand in hand, waving to the crowd and the dogs are trotting along. A storybook start to a new life. We wish them every happiness.”

“We sure do. Look at that. Both dugouts have emptied to salute them. Nice touch. Class acts both teams.”

“For sure. And while the happy couple take a few last waves the infield has filed back to their spots. Pomeranz is scuffing his cleats on the spike cleaner, getting ready for his set up.”

“It’s a beautiful and special night Boston. Let’s play ball.”

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

@sweet-empowerment @miss-cap21 @brooklyn-to-battlefields @inkwellsandmagicspells @maggieskeleton @imagine-cats96 @mewsiex @yourtropegirl @its-forevermore @dirajunara @s0eul @our-sharona @avaalons @lumelgy @mycapt-ohcapt @mypatronusismrpricklepants @3dsaunt @mrchristopherrobert @our-jasmine-universe @rayleyanns @s8sense @tinaferaldo @callamint @emilyevanston @interstateofmind @lilnerdy @666themarkofthebitch @thestarlighthotel @doloreschanel @pegasusdragontiger @zkkn

#He followed me home #finally #sian22redux #writes #@theycallmebecca #chris evans #dodger #reader #puppy

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theofficialcunt · 7 years

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Simplicité - Chapter 6

Simplicité Saturday ahhh! I can’t believe it’s already been another week. Is it just me or is this year coming to an end really fast? Anyway, this chapter is surprisingly fluffy, other then a few minor details! Thanks to @veronicasanders for always being a quick efficient beta! This story would probably be going nowhere without her ✨TW: Smoking, drinking. Teensy bit of angst. PS: The Biadore is coming 😉 “So you’re probably wondering why I’ve called you in here.” Bianca started, watching Courtney seated across from her. She was nervous, mostly because she felt like a terrible person and Courtney probably wasn’t going to forgive her for what happened between them. Bianca felt so bad that she had toyed with Courtney’s emotions that way, it felt like she was being crushed by it. “I am.” Courtney nodded stiffly. “Am I here to be reprimanded by my boss?” She didn’t know what was about to happen, but whatever Bianca decided she felt would be for the best. “I want to apologize to you, Courtney.” Bianca began, voice barely above a whisper. “I-I’ve been thinking all morning about what you and Bob said to me and it’s really sunk in.” Out of all of the things Courtney was thinking would happen, this was not one of them. She sat up straighter, feigning alertness and trying to hide the fact that she was severely hungover and wearing the backup outfit out of the trunk of her car. “I’m just really sorry I put you through that Court.” Bianca sniffed uncharacteristically. Courtney raised an eyebrow, slightly unsure of how to react to her best friend crumbling right in front of her. Bianca was usually rock solid emotionally, other than these last few months of her grieving. “Bianca-” “If you don’t want to work for me anymore then I understand.” Bianca sighed, shoving a stack of paperwork towards Courtney. “No pressure.” “Bianca, can you just relax? I’m over it,” Courtney said nonchalantly, pushing the paperwork to the side. “W-what?” Bianca stammered, thrown off by her cool response. She was over it? “Just last night you were going on about it-” “Honestly Bianca, I’ve done some thinking too and yes it happened and it sucked, but I just want to move on. You’re my best friend, and it seems like you’ve had some sort of epiphany or something. That’s all the closure I wanted really,” Courtney blurted out. “I just wanted an apology.” Bianca leaned back in her chair and studied Courtney. She seemed to be 100% serious about being over what happened, and she knew better than anyone when she was being honest. Her heart felt lighter now that they seemed to be on the same page, and for the first time in months Bianca almost felt normal again. “That’s it? It’s never that easy,” Bianca muttered in disbelief, still not sure. “Seriously Bianca. I don’t care.” Courtney shrugged. She coughed into her shoulder, holding back the urge to gag. She hadn’t been able to keep anything down today, which had made work very difficult. She gulped, clearing her throat trying to push whatever was about to come up back down. Bianca raised an eyebrow at Courtney, narrowing her eyes in disbelief when she noticed that she didn’t look 100%. Her hair was different and she swore she had seen that outfit somewhere…. “You’re hungover.” Bianca realized incredulously. “You’re wearing your backup outfit and you brushed out your curls from last night!” “I am not!” Courtney shrieked, trying to keep the smile from creeping onto her face. “Oh my god did you get laid?” Bianca teased, letting a long cackle ring out. “I don’t need to discuss my sexual encounters with the likes of you!” Courtney laughed as her cheeks burned red. “Since you aren’t firing me, I’m leaving!” “No, no, no! I’m curious, who had the honor?” Bianca smirked, amused. “It doesn’t matter, she lives in Indianapolis and it was just a one night stand-” “You went to fucking Indie last night?” Bianca roared. “God, no wonder you’re so tired looking. You must’ve driven all night.” “I did,” Courtney admitted. “Her name was odd, I can’t remember it exactly but she went by Will for short. She was pretty hot.” “Oh god.” Bianca chuckled, shaking her head. “Tell you what, go home. You don’t have anything scheduled for the rest of the day, right?” “No, I don’t. Are you sure you want to send me home though? You don’t want help with Adore?” Courtney questioned, standing up from her chair. “Adore is a grown woman, Courtney. I think I can handle it from here. Go home and get some sleep.” Bianca ordered. Courtney nodded as she walked around the desk, tackling Bianca in a tight embrace. Bianca laughed and squeezed her tight, thankful that Courtney forgave her. She was lucky to still have her in her life after everything that they went through. As Courtney squeezed Bianca, she didn’t feel like the usual tortured soul pining that she usually did when she hugged her. Things were different now, she was glad that they could stay friends and not be weird. “Courtney?” “Yes, pussyface?” “I’m glad to see that you’re back out there trying to date.” “Awe, I’m so glad you approve,” Courtney smirked. “Now I can continue my day in peace, knowing that I’ve finally gotten the approval I’ve been waiting for!” “I can’t stand you,” Bianca laughed. ——— Courtney and Bianca chatted for what seemed like forever before they came back upstairs from their meeting. Bianca clapped her hands loudly together as she entered the salon room, startling everyone out of looking down at their phones. Adore looked up at the both of them with wide eyes, wondering what exactly was about to happen to Courtney. “So before you guys start talking shit, I’d like to say that Courtney isn’t being fired. I am however letting her go home early, so Courtney, go home.” Bianca announced, waving her hands towards the front door. “Bye guys.” Courtney waved, scurrying out of the salon like a bat out of hell. Her face seemed calm, which was odd to Adore but hell, maybe things ended up working out between the two of them. She turned her attention back to Bianca, who also seemed at peace after what had happened. “As for the rest of you, shouldn’t you be working? Go practice on the mannequins or something. Or better yet, Valentina go stand out front and hand out brochures.” Bianca ordered. “Yes cousin.” Valentina mumbled, grabbing a pile of brochures before walking out. “Who’s going to answer the phone then?” Farrah asked confused. “Adore needs the phone because she’s about to make some phone calls for me.” Bianca smiled wickedly, brown eyes burning into hers. “I-I am?” Adore stuttered, suddenly feeling nerves infiltrate her stomach. “Yes, so come sit down and I’ll tell you who you need to call.” Adore walked meekly behind the desk, planting her ass on the chic looking chair as Bianca leaned over her. “Okay, so Modern Salon called and wants to set up an interview with me. The only days that work for me are Thursday morning and Friday evening, so see if that works.” Bianca ordered, giving Adore the phone number. Adore stared down at the piece of paper and nodded. “Why aren’t you writing anything down?” Bianca barked. Adore jumped, grabbing a nearby piece of paper and writing down the times swiftly. Bianca rolled her eyes annoyed. “Where the fuck is your notepad?” Bianca asked. “I forgot it! Sorry!” Adore exclaimed flinching slightly. “What else?” “I need you to book the Chicago Spring Fashion Week slot. We’re going to be doing hair and makeup there in about 4 weeks. I need you to book 6 slots: one for you, Courtney, Me, Bob, and Farrah. Oh, I guess that makes 5-” “Bianca, I can’t do makeup.” Adore reminded her. “You’ll be ready by then. Tomorrow you’re spending the day painting everyone’s face. Including mine. Hope you’ve been paying attention to your reading.” Bianca patted her on the back, smiling before turning to Farrah. “Can you go order food from Eureka? I’d like a cuban sandwich and a blood orange scone, Also, a skinny latte from Starbucks would be fabulous.” “Bianca I have no money-” “Take my card.” Bianca reached into her pocket handing her the business card. “Adore, do you want anything?” “Can Eureka make me a grilled cheese?” Adore asked. Bianca rolled her eyes, and Farrah nodded smiling. “Really queen, a fucking grilled cheese?” Bianca asked, shaking her head. “Add on a scone for her too.” “I’ll be back.” Farrah winked before walking out behind Valentina. “You better get going on those calls.” Bianca called as she walked downstairs. Great. ———- “Farrah! What am I getting for you today?” Eureka exclaimed, face lighting up as she walked through the door. “Hey,” Farrah said stiffly. “The usual for Bianca and I, and add on a Grilled Cheese and a scone.” Eureka’s smile faltered at the girl’s unusual mood, and she nodded inputting the total into the cash register. “14.50 please.” Farrah handed over the card, pacing awkwardly in the front of the cash register. It was a cute place, modeled partly after the café’s in France, and partly after the tea rooms in England. It was a weird mix but somehow, it worked. There were a dozen small round white tables, a couple spilled out in front of the quaint shop. It was decorated minimally, doilies littered the table tops and various pastries were on display in the front. “Do you have time today?” Eureka murmured, eyes shifting from side to side making sure no one was around. Eureka was too good to her, which was going to make this even more awkward. She visibly trembled as she realized the dreaded moment was here. “Eureka, there’s something I need to tell you.” Farrah started, voice cracking. Eureka looked up, eyes wide before she continued, “I uh, I don’t know how to say this but I met someone else. And I think we could have something. I know you aren’t ready to come out of the closet yet, and I totally respect that. I just want to kind of play the field a bit-” “It’s fine Farrah.” Eureka said, abruptly cutting her off as her eyes became glassy. “I get it. Let me go fix your food.” She quickly left the cashier area, pressing her lips together tightly to prevent herself from letting out a wail in front of the girl. “Eureka-” Farrah started but it was too late. Eureka was already in the kitchen. Eureka couldn’t really blame her, if she were in Farrah’s position she would probably do the same thing. She just couldn’t come out of the closet, due to her very religious parisian mother. She would probably disown her, and Eureka couldn’t bear to lose her mom. She was in Paris most of the time but her dad was here with her in Chicago, he helped her in the kitchen a couple of days a week. As she got the breads ready for the sandwiches, she sniffled, letting the tears fall onto the smooth quartz countertop. Today the food wouldn’t be made with love, today the food would be made with sorrow. ——– “Okay great, Bianca and I will be there Thursday morning!” Adore exclaimed. “It was nice talking to you too, buh bye.” “You and me?” Bianca asked confused, making Adore jump. “Don’t do that!” Adore laughed, jabbing Bianca playfully in the arm. “Yeah dude, the Modern Salon chick liked my energy so she wants to meet me too.” Bianca was pleased, she didn’t expect Adore to charm the editors just like that but she was learning everyday not to underestimate her. “And the fashion week booking?” Bianca asked. “4 weeks out, all 5 of us are set. We’ll be set up in between MAC and Redken.” Adore beamed. “What?” Bianca asked surprised. “How in the hell did you get us a slot in between those two huge names?!” “Oh, I just really stressed that we needed as many outlets as possible and that you wouldn’t do the show if we weren’t near at least Redken.” Adore shrugged. “On one hand, I’m pissed that you would risk our slot like that.” Bianca started. “But on the other hand, I’m extremely impressed. Nice work.” Adore felt her heart soar at the positive feedback from Bianca. Finally, it was starting to feel like she was getting the hang of things around here. “So I wanted to talk to you about my salary…” Adore trailed off. Bianca nodded in agreement. “Let’s go downstairs and talk about it.” ———– “Here’s your food.” Eureka handed the food to Farrah quickly before going back into the kitchen. “See you around, Farrah.” “Eureka, wait!” Farrah called, panic tainting her voice. She stood there for a few minutes, waiting for her to come back, hoping that a customer would come in so that she would have to come back out. But of course a customer never came, and soon after a defeated Farrah left. ——- “$17 an hour?” Adore asked, shocked, as she stared down at the piece of paper stating her salary. In LA that wasn’t much but here, that stretched a lot further than before. “Your job is very demanding. You haven’t really gotten into the full part of it yet, but once you do you’ll see why you deserve the salary.” Bianca nodded. “I’m open to negotiations if necessary-” “There’s nothing to negotiate.” Adore cut her off. At 40 hours a week, possibly with overtime pay, she’d be bringing anywhere from $2700 to well over $3000 a month. She’d have enough to buy whatever fancy clothes Bianca wanted her to wear. “Okay, sign here then.” Bianca pointed to the line underneath her own signature which was regal and elegant looking. Adore signed her name messily before handing the piece of paper back. “Okay, well I’ll let you study for the rest of the day and then after that we’ll go home and-” “Actually, I’m hanging out with Farrah after work. I’ll probably be back late. Is that cool?” Adore interrupted, tilting her head. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Bianca said through gritted teeth. She didn’t know why their friendship was bugging her so much but alas, she sucked it up. “We’ll talk when you get home.” “Great! Thanks Bianca.” Adore exclaimed happily, walking around the desk to engulf her in a big hug. ——— The rest of the day went pretty quickly, albeit Farrah acting a bit weird after coming back from Eureka’s. Adore waved goodbye to Bianca, who was flat ironing a clients hair as she clung onto Farrah’s arm. Bianca smiled faintly, watching the two girls run out of the salon and onto the street where Farrah’s mini cooper was parked. Bob stared at Bianca, shaking his head at her as he watched her pine for Adore. “Fucking lesbians.” Bob muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he refocused on mixing his color. From a few doors down, Eureka stared at the same scene grimly. The girl Farrah was with was beautiful, with long sleek black hair and on point makeup skills. Of course she would want to drop everything to be with her, she was literally everything that she wasn’t. Tall, skinny, and dark hair. She sighed, running a hand through her long bright blonde hair, hoping that somehow some way, Farrah would make her way back to her one day. Even more importantly, she was hoping one day she would muster up the courage to come out of the closet. Maybe that day would be soon, she thought as she watched Farrah throw her head back in laughter at whatever the raven haired girl had just said. —– Farrah had brought her to a vacant spot in Millennium park, where they were cloaked on a bench under a few trees. Rabbits hopped nearby, and Farrah handed Adore a joint before lighting her own. It took a few tries before it lit, due to all of the crazy wind. “It’s probably not as good as what you’re used to, but hopefully it satisfies.” Farrah winked. Adore took a hit and nodded, tasting the foreign weed for the first time. “I guess what they say is true. California really does have the best weed.” Adore laughed lightheartedly, tasting the sourness on her tongue. “Awe no! It’s not that bad is it?” Farrah whined. Well it wasn’t terrible, Adore thought. It did the job well enough - she thought, as she took another hit. “It’s not bad. Thanks for smoking me out.” Adore smiled, nuzzling her face into her shoulder. Farrah froze, feeling the urge to shrug her off but fighting it. What was wrong with her? Farrah and Eureka were just fuck buddies for a few months and nothing more. Why did she feel so guilty about the way she left things? Furthermore, why couldn’t she enjoy the time she had with Adore, who was fucking smoking hot? Eventually, Farrah relaxed, slumping into the bench, and let herself enjoy the moment as much as she possibly could. They sat there for awhile like that, Adore’s head on Farrah’s shoulder as they smoked their joints together quietly. Adore’s tolerance had already gone down a little, but she knew she still needed something to kick it up a notch. The silence felt awkward, she thought. Farrah also seemed a little bit off, she noticed as she had stiffened originally when she rested her head on her shoulder. The mixed signals. Lifting her head up, she sat up and dug through her purse, finding her bedazzled flask. “Oh my god where did you get that?” Farrah squealed, grabbing the flask. It was encrusted with a ton of swarovski crystals, shimmering in the low light. “Amazon girl. Have some!” Adore gestured. Farrah unscrewed the flask gratefully and tilted her head back, letting a generous amount of vodka swirl down her throat. She chased it with a splash of water, handing it back to Adore. Adore made a mental note that Farrah had basically chugged the better part of the liquid in the flask. She decided that maybe it was just the nerves, and thought nothing of it. They sat in the park, passing the flask back and forth and before they knew it they were off stumbling drunk and around the bean. “Adore,” Farrah slurred. “Look how fucking cute we are.” She grabbed her hand and pointed at their reflections in the giant mirrored bean. Adore smiled, stumbling into Farrah as she watched their reflections. Adore towered over Farrah, but the combination of dark hair and platinum blonde complemented each other. “Let’s take a picture!” Adore exclaimed, pulling out her phone. She pointed the camera at the bean, getting their reflection in it before snapping the photo. She then turned towards Farrah, who was already looking up at her expectantly, pink lips slightly parted. Adore closed the distance between the two of them, cupping Farrah’s chin up into her hand as she kissed her gently. She tasted of cheap vodka and weed, but smelled like a vanilla cupcake. It was confusing to her senses, but it just worked with her. Farrah stood on her tip toes, throwing both arms around Adore’s neck as the kiss deepened. Soon it was becoming violent, and Farrah ended up pushing Adore against the metal bean. Adore groaned, grabbing a fist of Farrah’s hair in her hands. She pulled away gently, before smiling and pushing her away. “That’s gonna be a hot picture.” Farrah finally said. Adore roared with laughter and grabbed Farrah’s hand, moving on as they spent the rest of the day exploring downtown Chicago together.

#simplicité

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teachingoutsidethebinary · 7 years

Text

Ref

Summary: There are very few things anymore that surprise James Buchanan Barnes. That all changes however, when a mysterious cat appears in his fridge.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Refrigerator Cat, Reader

Warnings: teensy bit of angst after a nightmare

Word count: 2991

A/N: Thinking about maybe doing more parts for this story...let me know what you think! As always, thanks for reading!

Masterlist

There were very few things in life that surprised James Buchanan Barnes anymore. Flying battleships? No problem. The existence of aliens? Bucky didn’t even blink an eye. Mutated humans that committed acts of pure evil? Just another Monday.

But today, Bucky got the shock of his life.

Bucky wasn’t a huge fan of roommates, so he preferred to live by himself in the city instead of with everyone else in the Avengers Tower. He had come back to his apartment after training with Steve and Nat, and as soon as he unlocked the deadbolt on his door, something felt off. He could almost feel an intruding presence in the atmosphere.

Leaving the door slightly open to avoid making more noise, he tensed up, prepared to fight. Bucky whirled his head around as a small rustling noise drew his attention over to the kitchen. Someone was definitely here.

He crept over to the source of the noise and pressed his back against the wall between the kitchen and living room. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he raised his fists. His metal arm whirred softly as the plates contracted.

Bucky spun around the corner and went to lunge at the intruder. Surprisingly, there was no one there. The kitchen was completely empty. He took a few deep breaths to calm his pounding heart, and sighed. Maybe he was just overreacting.

Suddenly, he heard the rustling noise again, but louder this time. He head turned around and his gaze landed on the fridge. Walking up to the door, he felt a cool stream of air tickle his skin. The door was just barely open.

He yanked the handle so hard he nearly pulled the door off in the process. His gaze flickered from shelf to shelf until it settled on something so unexpected, so unusual, so bizarre, that Bucky had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

There, sitting on the middle shelf of his fridge, was a cat.

“What the-” he stuttered.

“Meow,” the cat replied.

Its fur was black with patches of different shades of orange, and it stared up at Bucky with big, green eyes. It was sitting next to the leftover takeout Bucky had gotten the night before. The corner of the container was ripped open, and he saw some of the lo mein noodles spilling out onto the shelf.

Before Bucky could react, the mystery cat hopped out of the refrigerator and sauntered to the front door. It slinked out the small opening, and by the time Bucky had enough sense to follow it out to the hallway, it disappeared.

After determining the cat was truly gone, Bucky shut the door and made sure it was locked. He checked every single window to see any of them were open, but they were all latched shut. There was no possible way the cat could have gotten into the apartment, much less his freaking fridge (which, it should be noted, had also been closed).

Scratching his head, he chalked it up to a crazy coincidence and went to clean up the mess in his fridge.

Several days went by without any sightings of Refrigerator Cat. Every time Bucky left his apartment, he made sure the windows were shut and his door was securely locked. Whenever he came home, he examined each room carefully to see if it had returned. He also stalked up and down the hallways of the apartment building with no success. After the fifth consecutive day with no sighting, Bucky concluded that there was no need to worry anymore.

That night, he sat up in bed with the spine-tingling sensation that someone was watching him. He went to get out of his bed when he felt a lump on the left end of his blanket.

He cautiously reached his hand over to the lamp resting on his nightstand. Flicking on the switch, he quickly kicked his legs out in the direction of the lump as the light illuminated the room.

For the second time in one week, Bucky was surprised at what he saw in front of him.

Refrigerator Cat mewled as Bucky’s legs shoved it off the bed. Instead of fleeing in terror, it simply hopped back up on the bed and curled itself in a little ball. Bucky could have sworn its gaze was judging him for kicking it off the bed.

They stared at each other for a few moments, neither one willing to be the first to break their gaze.

“This is ridiculous,” Bucky muttered, finally breaking the silence. “I’m staring down a damn cat.”

He sighed and looked at the clock beside his lamp. The green digital numbers read 12:36am. Bucky really needed to get some sleep, and he was too tired to deal with his current predicament.

“Fine, you can stay,” he grumbled. “But stay over there!” He laid back down, pulled the blanket up to his chin, and went back to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, the cat was gone. He checked all the windows and doors again, but he could find no rational explanation for how it had gotten in or out of his apartment. Maybe he was hallucinating the whole thing thanks to all the years of HYDRA torture. He shook his head and left to get to the Tower for training.

The following week, Bucky came home from a mission thoroughly exhausted. A simple retrieval assignment had turned into a full out battle against a HYDRA sleeper cell. Steve, Bucky, and Nat had won, but they certainly hadn’t come out unscathed.

Bucky dropped his tactical bag on the floor and limped over to the bathroom. Removing his shirt, he began to properly assess the damage. Huge bruises covered his ribs, and they were tender to the touch. Small scratches littered his face, and dried blood tightened his skin. He kneeled down to get his first aid kit from under the sink.

When Bucky opened the door, he found Refrigerator Cat laying on top of the extra rolls of toilet paper he kept in the cabinet. Bucky yelped and stumbled backwards, cursing as his sensitive torso banged against the tub.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” he yelled. He stood back up and glared at the cat. “That’s it,” he growled, reaching towards it so he could throw it outside. The cat seemed to smile as it ran just out of Bucky’s reach and back towards his bedroom.

Bucky went to follow it but winced as the pain in his chest radiated throughout his entire body. He lowered himself onto the edge of the tub in defeat and put his head in his hands.

“Why me?” he called to the ceiling. “Haven’t I dealt with enough crap in my life?” Of course, no one answered.

“I’ve got a cat that seems to materialize out of nowhere, and I’m talking to my bathroom ceiling. Yup, Barnes, you are the picture of mental health.”

Carefully kneeling back down, he grabbed the first aid kit and patched up his wounds. He took three or four heavy-duty pain pills for good measure and wobbled back to his room. Of course, Refrigerator Cat was already curled up on the corner of his blanket. Bucky ignored it as he fell face-first into his bed.

A few hours later, Bucky woke up drenched in sweat. His heart pounded so hard in his chest that he felt like it was climbing up his throat. Shallow breaths escaped his lungs as he sat up and tried to contain his panic. The meds might help with pain management, but there was always the risk of vivid dreams as a side effect. Or in Bucky’s case, nightmares.

“My...name is James...Buchanan Barnes,” he wheezed, clutching his aching chest. “My best friend...is Steve Rogers. I live in...Brooklyn.” He repeated his mantra over and over again until he could say it without a hitch.

Bucky looked around the room and tried to find something he could focus on to center himself as he calmed down. His gaze turned to the corner of his bed where Refrigerator Cat had fallen asleep earlier. He had expected it to be gone by now, but surprisingly, it was still there.

The cat stared at him, and Bucky found himself focusing on its green eyes. The color was soothing, and it helped him gain control over his breathing. Eventually, he laid back down against his pillows.

“Meow,” the cat chirped.

“Yeah,” Bucky scoffed. “It’s real pleasant for me too, let me tell ya.”

Its small, pink tongue flicked up at its nose as it began to walk over to Bucky. He watched it carefully as it got closer and closer. It put a tentative paw on Bucky’s sweatpant-covered knee and looked to him as if waiting for approval. When Bucky didn’t move, the cat padded forward and settled between his legs. It stretched out so its back legs rested down by Bucky’s knees, and its head lay just above the waistband of his pants. Its front paws resting on an unbruised section of his torso. It closed its eyes and settled into its new position.

Bucky looked down at the cat in disbelief and wasn’t quite sure what to do. He carefully reached out a shaky right hand and lightly patted its head. He felt a vibrating sensation against his legs, and when he pulled his hand away, it stopped. Refrigerator Cat’s eyes opened and small slits of green stared up at him. Bucky put his hand back down on its head and continued to pet it. The vibrations started up again, and Bucky realized the cat was purring. The sensations felt comforting against his skin, and Bucky felt the tension in his shoulders release as he was overcome by sleep.

“I’m telling ya, Buck, if I have to go to one more of these DC luncheons…” Steve’s voice trailed off as he flopped down on Bucky’s couch. He loosened the tie on his neck and sighed miserably. Steve might be Captain America, but he really hated the politics that came along with his job.

“You’re the one that wears the stars and stripes on his uniform,” Bucky reminded him. “Just deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say! You sit in this crappy apartment whenever we’re not busy!”

Bucky pushed down the urge to throw a pillow at his best friend for insulting his home. Instead, he went to his bedroom to change out of his gym clothes. While Steve had been stuck dealing with politicians, Bucky and Nat had practiced some sparring techniques.

“You got any food?” Steve called from the living room.

“We’re ordering pizza soon, punk!” Bucky yelled as he put on a clean shirt and shorts.

“So? Is the pizza here yet?”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “There’s some chips in the cabinet above the oven if you really can’t wait.”

He heard Steve beeline it from the couch to the kitchen. Bucky had just pulled on a sweatshirt when he heard a loud crash.

“Holy crap!” Steve yelled. “Bucky!”

Fearing the worst, Bucky rushed over only to find Steve staring at the open cabinet. He held a bag of potato chips in his hand and a green bowl lay in three pieces on the floor. Steve used the unoccupied hand to point to whatever was in the cabinet.

Bucky walked over and wasn’t surprised to see Refrigerator Cat sitting patiently inside, its tail swishing from side to side.

“What? How?” Steve stuttered. He looked between the cat and Bucky, expecting to see Bucky freaking out as much as he was. Surprisingly, Bucky’s face remained neutral, if not slightly amused.

“Why are you not freaking out?” Steve yelled.

“It’s just Ref,” Bucky replied. Ref hopped down from the cabinet and meandered over to the living room.

“Ref?”

“Yeah, Refrigerator Cat got too long, so I call it Ref.”

Steve stared at Bucky as if he had grown an extra head.

“I think you’re going to need to start from the beginning,” he said, slowly.

So Bucky did. He described how he first found Ref hiding in his fridge and how it’s been “visiting” ever since. Ever since the nightmare incident, Ref had been coming over at random times every few days or so. There was no rhyme or reason to its visitation patterns, and sometimes Bucky would go a whole week without seeing it. By now, Bucky was so used to Ref’s presence, that he was no longer fazed by its crazy antics.

“I have no idea how the damn thing gets in though,” Bucky concluded. “I’ve checked the windows and doors at least half a dozen times.”

“So you found a cat in your refrigerator...and didn’t think to tell anyone?” Bucky just shrugged. “How did it even get in?”

Bucky sighed impatiently. “I just said I have no idea. It just shows up.”

“Do you know if it has an owner?”

“No.”

“Have you tried looking?”

“No.”

“Why not?!” Steve asked exasperatedly. “What if someone is really missing it?”

Bucky hated to admit it, but Ref had kind of grown on him. He didn’t completely mind opening random doors in his apartment and finding it waiting for him. He also didn’t mind the way Ref would sleep on him, especially after a nightmare. Ref’s syncopated purring would always lull Bucky back to sleep. He actually thought about buying it some cat food, but considering the little bugger seemed to wind up in his kitchen cabinets most of the time, he was pretty sure it was well-fed. At least, that’s what Bucky assumed by the amount of crumbs and torn packages he found afterward.

“Buck, you gotta check around for the owner,” Steve persisted.

Bucky knew his friend was right, but it didn’t make him happy. “Fine,” he conceded. He whistled and Ref came over right away. He knelt down and Ref allowed itself to be scooped up in Bucky’s arms.

“Exactly how long has it been coming here?” Steve asked, marvelling at Bucky’s apparent talent with animals.

“Ummm about six months?” he admitted sheepishly.

“Six months! And I’m just finding out now?!” he yelled.

Bucky bolted for the door with Ref to avoid more of Steve’s outrage. “You coming or not, punk?” he called over his shoulder.

“Meow,” Ref chimed in.

Steve could only shake his head and follow them both out the door.

They knocked on every unit on Bucky’s floor with no success. No one owned Ref or even knew who might own him. When they went downstairs to the second and first floors, it was the same story. Secretly, Bucky hoped no one would be able to help. Bucky and Steve stood outside the last door on the fourth floor and knocked three times. If this person didn’t know the cat, Steve was ready to admit defeat.

They heard the door unlatch and a woman answered it. She had sparkling blue eyes, and her curly hair bounced as she squealed in recognition at the cat in Bucky’s arms.

“Luna!” she cried. “There you are!” ‘Luna’ hopped out of Bucky’s arms and trotted into the girl’s apartment.

“So it’s yours?” Bucky asked, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah, she is! Was she bothering you?” she asked. Her smile disappeared as concern took over.

Bucky smiled and shook his head. “Nah, Ref’s fine.”

“Ref?” the woman asked, cocking her head to the side.

Bucky blushed. “Um, yeah, I found her in my refrigerator one day, so I started calling her Refrigerator Cat. Ref for short.” He expected the girl to slam the door in his face, but instead, she busted out laughing.

“Refrigerator Cat, that’s hysterical! I’ll have to tell my mom that one!” She smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Bucky and Steve shook her hand and introduced themselves as well.

“I have no idea how she gets out, but Luna’s always been an escape artist,” Y/N explained. “She always comes back after a few hours, so I’ve stopped worrying about her to be honest.”

She blushed shyly and looked down at her feet. “It’s nice to know someone as nice as you has been taking care of her.”

Steve tried his best to contain his cheeky grin as Bucky’s face turned scarlet and he fumbled with his words.

“I mean, I know I should have looked for you sooner,” Bucky spluttered, “but she’s cute, you know? And she keeps me company and eats my food. Well, I mean, she probably shouldn’t be eating my food because I’m sure you feed her actual cat food, but…”

“What my friend is trying to say,” Steve interrupted smoothly, “is that we’re glad we know Ref has an actual home.”

Y/N giggled. “It’s no problem. Don’t worry, I would have been banging on doors if I thought she was really lost.”

They all stood in the hallway for a few moments, unsure of how to proceed. Bucky finally cleared his throat.

“Um, would it be okay if Ref, I mean Luna, kept coming to my place?” Bucky asked nervously.

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely!” She paused and looked at him, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “You know, I should probably get your number. Just in case I really don’t know where she is. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“Uh, yeah, sure!” Bucky replied. He added her number in his phone and sent her a text so she would have his. They exchanged goodbyes and Bucky and Steve walked back down the hall towards the stairwell.

“Hey Bucky?” Y/N called. He turned around and Y/N smiled. “I want to take you out to dinner to pay for all the food I’m sure Luna’s been eating. You interested?”

Completely forgetting his plans to watch baseball with Steve, Bucky beamed and replied,

“How about tonight?”

TAGS: @buckyappreciationsociety

#bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #steve rogers #fluff #fluffy bucky #funny cat #refrigerator cat #ref #avengers fic

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