#well ten years ago. were you not listening or something. hello. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelybarnes · 1 year

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Flirting and Football- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: past assault of reader, as slow burn as i can, au so bucky is different although i tried to not make him so ooc, sort of enemies to lovers?, genuinely can’t remember anymore, crappy writing in the beginning because i started writing this a year ago but i swear it gets better i promise About: request!! Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically

The end of your pen rests between your lips, unused as you scan the textbook page in front of you, your eyes thinning occasionally as you read. Your study partner’s book lays open in front of her, ten pages behind, and notebook adorned with two sole words.

She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes. Your careful attention had dwindled down to nods as you subtly tapped at your notebook, then not-so-subtly and finally disappeared altogether as you made miscellaneous noises.

You hum along now, eyes flickering from your notes to the material as you annotate pages with bright sticky notes.

She doesn’t seem to notice your disinterest, gushing about arms and hair, and the kiss that changed her life. The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.

“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”

You glance at your open computer, frowning at the slimming battery life, and purse your lips at the time. Sighing softly, you meet Quinn’s glazed eyes, offering her a tight smile you hope is somewhat believable.

“Is he in psychology too?” you ask, tapping on the notes the both of you were supposed to start when she began talking.

“Bucky? Oh no,” she laughs, the finger twirling her red hair pulling away to wave her hand dismissively. “He’s in sports or something. He's on the soccer team, you know.”

You nod. “Wow.”

“I know, oh my god.” She fans herself. “Did I tell you he basically won the last game?”

Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, but he scored the winning goal.”

“Okay then,” you agree, deciding that you can finish your notes at your dorm. “I didn’t go to the last game, so what do I know?”

Quinn’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t go?” she exclaims, and you shush her, confirming. “Why?”

You shrug. “I had to do something.”

“You have to go to the next one tomorrow and see him in action. But don’t fall in love,” she warns with a giggle. “He’s mine.”

“Promise,” you reply hollowly, shutting your laptop. “Well, I have to go. This was helpful, though,” you lie.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I have to go too, rest up for the big game tomorrow. Gotta be there early to support Bucky,” Quinn informs. You stack your books to carry them back to your dorm.

“Right,” you respond, standing. “I hope everything goes well with him,” you say as you walk out.

She shoots you a big grin and a nod, her face bright as she agrees.

It’s cold when you step through the doors, bouncing on your feet and hugging your things closer to your chest as you begin to walk toward your dorm. You move to pull out your phone from your back pocket, quickly unlocking it to get to your contacts list. You press on Bruce’s contact and listen to the two beeps until he picks up.

“I hate you so much right now,” you greet, cutting his cheery hello off.

“What? What did I do?”

“‘I’ll be there!’ ‘How could I miss studying physics?’” you mock, imitating his voice. “You left me there, and I was stuck listening to Quinn's monologue about how the quarterback or whatever is the love of her life!”

“What quarterback?” Bruce asks.

“Does it matter? Honestly?” you rebut, taking care to watch your surroundings as you bully your friend. “Your quarterback wouldn’t cheat on you so I’m assuming it’s one that’s not Thor.”

“Okay, okay, I know. I’m sorry about ditching you. Thor and I just finished, we can come by and pick you up at the library. And Thor is a defender. Different sport entirely.”

“Whatever and ew,” you complain. “And I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“What? I told you to not walk home alone. Just wait for me.”

“Don’t worry. The dorm isn’t that far and you’re not exactly the most threatening anyway,” you remind. “I’ll be fine. ”

“Fine. Keep me on the line and be careful,” Bruce tells you.

“Of course,” you quip. A pause drapes over the two of you, the silence only interrupted by the steady sound of your footsteps on the concrete. You turn, leaves crunching underneath your shoes and you can practically hear Bruce relax somewhat, knowing that you’re nearby. You put him on speaker to hear better. “How’d it go with Thor today?”

“Really good.” The golden thread of happiness threaded through Bruce’s words comes through clear and clean. You can imagine him as he talks into the phone, glancing at Thor to make sure he can’t hear as he plays with his fingers. “I’m really sorry for leaving you there.”

“You’re not,” you amend. “But it’s fine. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I am,” Bruce confirms.

“I don’t know how you find the time to juggle everything. It’s kind of terrifying,” you laugh, expecting him to tease you back, but his answer comes back honest.

“I know you think of boyfriends and whatever as distractions, but it’s the opposite. It’s not juggling if I have help carrying everything.”

You push your tongue against your cheek, listening to the rustling of the trees. You grab your keys as you arrive at your dorm door. “I’m here.”

“Finally.” You roll your eyes, opening the door to see your roommate and her brother inside.

“Hey Wanda, Piet.”

Wanda smiles at you and Pietro winks before greeting Bruce through your phone.

“Okay, Bruce, are we studying tomorrow?” you ask him, balancing your things in your arms. When Pietro notices, he stands, taking your books from you and setting them down on your table. You thank him and pat his arm.

“Before the game? Sure,” he replies. You take him off speaker, pulling your phone to your ear, not noticing that the mention of the game has caught Pietro and Wanda's attention.

“You’re going?” you question. “I thought Thor was benched.”

“He’s off!” There’s a whoop you recognize as Thor’s that makes you smile. “Which is why it’s an important game we need to go to.”

“We?” you echo.

“We as in you and I,” Bruce verifies.

“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.

Pietro cuts in, “You have to go! How will we win without our lucky charm?”

You purse your lips and squint at him. “Didn’t you guys win last game?”

“Still! Come on, please,” he insists. Wanda joins in, offering to bake you cookies.

You search your brain for excuses. “I have things to do.”

“If it’s not ‘stay home and binge a series,’ I'll let you skip,” Bruce chimes.

You frown as the siblings grin.

“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically. “But I want it noted that it’s only because I really like cookies.” You focus on Wanda, who nods enthusiastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bruce repeats your words before you hang up, and at the click, you let yourself fall on your couch.

Wanda kisses your head and pats your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Standing in the middle of students I don’t know as they yell at a ball does not sound fun to me,” you disagree, but she ignores you.

“Even Vis is going,” she argues. “And you know how excited Thor gets when you braid his hair.”

You mutter incoherently.

“We’ll leave at three,” she instructs with a smile.

“I could be doing so many useful things right now,” you hiss at Bruce, remembering the half-written essay you have saved on your laptop, a string of frustratedly typed letters highlighted and waiting to be replaced with something coherent typed just beneath it.

Bruce had made you leave just as you began to taste the word you were looking for, assuring you that going out to see a game would somehow give your fried mind the jolt it needed. With little argument and the promise you’d committed to with a hook of your pinkie, you’d sighed and shut your laptop, leaving your apartment early to see the team before the game.

You could recognize some faces thanks to Pietro forcing you out to a few team celebrations and the occasional game you never paid much attention to. Although he’d laid off a while ago when Bruce and Thor started dating, your best friend had dragged you to every soccer-related event he didn’t want to go to alone. Pietro never minded your absence as much as Bruce did, always satisfied as long as you celebrated or consoled him afterward.

The word you’d been wracking your brain for suddenly comes to mind when you sit next to Bruce on a bench, pulling your phone out of your pocket to note it down, not noticing when the entire soccer team begins to leave the locker room, spilling into the hall where you’re slumped with your best friend.

Thor bellows your name excitedly when he spots you both, heading over. You glance up to give him a smile, quickly continuing to type the stray thoughts you’d been trying to catch when he turns, an extravagant arm extending as if to present you to the few guys with him. “This is the lovely lady I told you all about. She is very smart.”

You laugh at his introduction, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Of course! And you all know Bruce, of course.”

There are chimes of agreement and greetings for your friend, a few of the players coming up to you. Pietro arrives first, as always, and pecks your forehead. “I, for one, am very glad you came to cheer us on.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” another says, huge and blonde, but his features are softened by an open grin. “I’m Steve.” He juts a finger at the brunet next to him, his hair tied up into a neat little bun at the nape of his neck, blue eyes shining as they observe you. “That’s Bucky.”

You smile at them, nodding. “Nice to meet you. I’ve actually heard a lot.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

You stare at him blankly, opening and closing your mouth like a fish. “I meant Steve.” Steve looks startled. “I saw his work when I was volunteering at the art show last month. It was great, I actually bought the piece with the lilies!”

“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”

You stare silently at him for a second, relieved when Steve’s surprise takes a second to process.

“Wait, me?” Steve points stupidly at himself. “My art?”

“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”

“I told you,” Bucky tells him, elbowing his arm. He, unlike the other players, wears a dark sleeve over the entirety of his left arm, all the way up to his fingers. His fingertips, jagged pink, peek out. “I wish you woulda let me go. I could’ve seen the art and met her sooner.”

His friend sends him a furtive glance. “Is this your first time coming to a game?” Steve wonders as he turns back to you.

You shake your head. “Pietro is my roommate’s brother and Thor’s my best friend’s boyfriend. They drag me here when they feel like it, but it’s my first time being back here.” You gesture to the hall. “I’m usually a little late because Bruce drives like a grandmother.”

Bruce sighs, sending you a short glance that you respond to with a gentle nudge of his shoulder.

Blue eyes nods, careful to give you his full attention. “Well, I think you should come around more often.”

You scan him for a second. “Why?” you ask genuinely.

He pauses as he begins to explain, eyes pinched in confusion before Thor’s booming voice cuts him off, reminding you that you need to braid his hair. You give them a final smile before standing. “Duty calls, I guess.”

“So you’ll come around?” He calls after you, frowning when you respond with a transparent smile and ingenuine thumbs up. “Huh,” he says.

“What?” Steve responds, a little slowly, knowingly. He knows well what is making Bucky’s features crease in that way, but he’d prefer hearing it from his friend’s mouth.

“Just… wondering why I’d never seen her before. Pretty.”

“Uh huh.” Steve nods disbelievingly. Knowing he isn’t going to be able to push it out of his friend, he begins to walk toward the field, not waiting up for Bucky, the man caught up in his thoughts. “‘Thought it was because the line didn’t work,” he finally tells him, catching Bucky’s attention.

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?”

Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”

The next time Bucky sees you is across the courtyard, arms wrapped around books, your fingers curved protectively around the edges of your laptop. You struggle as you talk to someone he recognizes, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet as you reach to brush strands of hair away from your eyes.

Why you don’t have a backpack like every other person is beyond him, but it’s the last thing on his mind when your eyes meet his and you smile and wave. Yeah, he knows how to handle this—the attention, the blushing, the flattery.

The hand he raises to wave back freezes awkwardly when he realizes your attention isn’t on him, but rather following something behind his shoulder. His hand lowers as he feels Pietro brush past him and over to you, Wanda following close by. She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.

You accept the kiss Pietro drops on your forehead and greet Wanda excitedly, too busy chatting with her to notice the two pens that slip from your pile.

Bucky sniffs, tugging his varsity jacket tighter and deciding to embrace his mistake, walks over to you.

“Hey,” he greets, your name coming out like silk, shooting you a smile. He bends down to pick up your pens, handing them to you with a cajoling rise of his lips.

You return it a pause later. “Hey, um—thanks…” you struggle for a second before you’re cut off.

“Bucky!” the classmate that you were talking to exclaims, and Bucky realizes it’s Quinn, the girl he’d gone out on a date with a while ago. “I saw you on the field yesterday,” she tells him, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. “You were amazing.”

“I appreciate it,” he thanks her, his eyes flickering back to you for a second, spotting you beginning to step away with a short wave and an elbow to Wanda's side. “I should go, I needed to talk to her,” he starts, acting quickly. “But it was nice to see you again. You look great, I like your necklace.”

Quinn’s fingers reach to pinch at the pendant on her chain, tilting her head at Bucky as she beams. “Thank you!”

Bucky nods, turning to find you gone. He looks around, surprised, but finally catches sight of you turning a corner with your friends. Before he can head toward you, Quinn catches his arm.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out again?” She smiles at him, eyes wide and shiny.

He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Quinn says quietly, not returning the apologetic smile he sends her. He twists his lips and apologizes again before jogging over to you, slowing to match your pace when he finally catches up.

“Hey again,” he quips, offering you a smile. You return it kindly, twirling your pens between your fingers.

“Hey, Bucky.” Probably accidentally, you enunciate his name in a way that makes him realize you didn’t remember it when he came up to you earlier, and he bites back an embarrassed blush. “It was a good game yesterday.”

“Thank you,” he replies easily. “How was I?”

You cock your head at him. “Fine? You… were a soccer player.”

Pietro laughs, pulling you closer. “He’s asking if he lived up to the stories,” he clarifies, shooting Bucky a look. “‘Does another pretty girl think I’m great too?’” he mocks, the imitation edged in his accent.

You hum in understanding, turning back to Bucky. “Stories?” you echo. Your features bear no likeness to the pull Bucky is used to with girls, nothing implying the agreement or validation he’s usually welcomed with.

“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’ variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”

Your eyebrows raise. “‘Winter Soldier?’” you repeat, words bolded in an unconscious drama.

“’S my nickname,” Bucky explains sheepishly. You continue to stare at him for a second before cracking a smile.

“Bucky Barnes, right?” you ask him. He pushes his tongue against his cheek at the blow to his ego and nods. “Which one were you again? All the uniforms are the same, I can only recognize Thor and Piet.”

Pietro hoots. “Fifteen, baby!”

Bucky eyes you, his cheeks pulling with an amused lilt. “You wound me, doll.”

“I wound you?” you giggle, unable to help it. “This is our first conversation and I have the power to wound you. I don’t know how I feel about having this power over a stranger.”

Bucky gasps, reaching out to grab your hand with his ungloved hand and wrap it around an invisible knife to plunge it into his chest. He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”

“Oh, come on, you expect me to have learned your number after knowing you for five minutes?” you exclaim with mild indignance, a whisper of amusement betraying it. You click your tongue. “You were fine, I’m sure,” you respond finally. Wanda jabs an elbow into your arm and whispers something to you. Your eyes light up. “Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?”

Pietro claps, nodding approvingly at you. “And me, little flower?”

You roll your eyes. “You were fast. Like always.”

“That’s code for ‘the best out there,’” Pietro tells Bucky.

“I think the code for that is Bucky Barnes,” Bucky retorts, turning back to you. “‘Got a favorite player yet?” He asks you.

You tilt a brow at him. “On the soccer team?”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms.

“Based off of what?” You counter.

“Anything.”

“Oh.” You think. “Then no.”

Pietro clears his throat loudly.

“What if I get you the best seat possible next game?” Bucky offers.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m good where I am.”

“She barely pays attention anyway,” Wanda informs. “All she does is complain.”

You nod. “And I can do that in any seat.”

“Alright… what if you wear my jersey at the next game?” Bucky continues.

You raise an eyebrow. “And you’re convincing me, right?”

“You should be swooning right now,” Bucky argues accusingly, but his words are tinged with a grin.

“Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”

“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”

“Right,” you reply with an attentive nod, laughing quietly. Your attention is drawn by another building and you turn. “I gotta go, but please keep the jersey far away from me.” You point at Bucky and then wave at Wanda and Pietro. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Me too!” Bucky shouts after you. You only reply with a thumbs up Bucky can tell is sarcastic even if he can’t see your face, slipping past a closing door. Bucky purses his lips, looking after you. “Huh.”

A hand slaps down on his shoulder, and Pietro's laughter bubbles from behind him. “Nice work,” he lies.

Entirely suddenly, your mind feels vignetted with inky stress. You suppose it was predictable, having ignored the weight your responsibilities had lain on your shoulders for as long as you had, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. You blink slowly at your document in a lousy attempt to soothe yourself, feeling as though you were staring at it through a tunnel.

You yawn as you splay yourself out on your bed, stretching your legs out as far as you can. Your fingertips brush your pillows as you let your eyelids fall closed for just a second, thoughts and reminders of the rest of the things you need to do lining your entrance to sleep, but the door is so inviting, the red tape of your to-do list blurring.

Your ringtone cuts in when you begin to reason with yourself, back straightening fast enough to give you whiplash when you open your eyes again. Your hand slams around your phone, blinking fast as you read Bruce’s contact name.

“The thing,” you mumble, remembering Bruce’s insistence that you went to something. You answer his call and fight to not let yourself fall back on your bed, free fingers moving to rub at your temple.

“Hey, are you ready?” Bruce asks, the sounds of conversation in the background.

“Sure,” you answer tiredly, looking down at yourself. Whoever it is you’re going out with can’t be too picky. “Ready for what again?”

“The team’s win? We’re going out to eat at an actual restaurant and everything.”

You purse your lips. “Are we going to a bar?”

There’s a moment of silence on his end, only highlighted by the muffled voices that converse. “...No.”

Nodding earnestly, you stand, stretching and shaking your limbs out in an attempt to wake yourself up, but the attempt is mocked when you yawn once again. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and wince, tilting your chin up to get another angle. “Then, yes, I’m ready. I guess.”

“That's great!” Bruce praises. “Because we are outside.”

You frown, grabbing a hair tie from your dresser before walking out of your room, surprised to see your apartment empty. “We?” you repeat as you look around, confused. “Are Wan and Pietro with you?”

“They’re probably already there. And ‘we’ as in I picked up Thor, Steve, and Bucky.”

You grunt in response, shutting off the lights and plucking your keys from the counter before locking up.

“You know Bucky. He’s not that bad.”

There are sounds of protest and you catch an offended ‘that bad?’ before you hang up, waving to Bruce’s car. The door to the back opens before you can touch the handle, a grinning face and shiny blue eyes welcoming you. “Hey, doll, you look great.”

“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.

“I don’t mind that one.” Bucky winks.

You shake your head, crawling inside and saying hi to Steve, nose wrinkling when you realize you’ll be sandwiched between the two guys, and turning when you notice Bucky getting in again. You tug on your seatbelt with a polite smile to Steve, bumping into hard muscle when you aim for the buckle.

“You tryna cop a feel? Could’ve just asked,” Bucky tells you, bumping you gently.

“Oh please,” you scoff, poking him with the metal thing. “Excuse me, seatbelt. Bruce isn’t that great of a driver. He’s in his twenties and gets night blindness.”

Bucky pats your hand gently and takes the belt from you, clicking it into place for you.

“Nice and safe, don’t worry, doll.”

You set your lips into a thin line and look straight ahead, pushing your phone into the space between your thighs so you don’t lose it. “How’d you do on your Norse mythology exam, Thor?” you ask, recalling the nerves with which he’d told you about it a couple of days ago.

“Wonderful! I really enjoy the subject. Thank you for helping me study,” Thor replies cheerily.

“You didn’t even need to,” you assure, stifling a yawn. Bucky frowns.

“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light.

“Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.

“Not the same thing. Not even close.”

You laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you promise. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m always worried,” Bruce grumbles.

“Hey, how was art today?” you ask Steve, nudging his arm gently. Bucky’s brows furrow, urging Steve to look at him and read his mind with an intense stare. Steve does not.

“You were right. I was being too judgemental,” Steve sighs. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Listened to who?” Bucky buts in. “How did you know Stevie had art today?” he continues, trying to keep his tone light.

“We talk.” You shrug.

“Oh,” Bucky starts, glaring at Steve. “Do you?”

“Yes.” You nod before actually yawning that time. “I’m sorry.”

“You should sleep more,” Bucky comments, watching you shake your head wearily.

“I have things to do,” you defend. “I sleep enough, it’s the stupid car ride, I always fall asleep in cars,” you defend. “But if it pleases you, I’ll sleep the entirety of tomorrow.” Your voice lacks the thick sleeve of satire you tend to use with him, more vulnerable in your exhaustion. Although your request is still sarcastic, Bucky can tell you know you need it.

“It will,” Bucky says.

For the most part, the conversation ends there, the group splitting into their own things during the car ride. After a few minutes, Bucky feels your head fall softly on his shoulder.

He stops paying attention to what Thor is saying, instead focusing on the way you edge toward him in your sleep, nudging your nose into his shoulder. He can see the way your lashes lay on your cheeks when you’re so close and the pretty bridge of your nose.

You’re more open than he’s ever seen you, eyes shut and lips parted with gentle breaths, and he can’t stop staring at you.

Then the car goes over a harsh bump, and Bucky wants to do everything he can to hold you still, but your eyes flutter open and you sit up, meeting his eyes for a second. “Sorry.”

“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.

The surprise Bucky feels when he spots you at the celebration party is no match for the sweet excitement at the bottom of his stomach, immediately pulling his sleeve further down over his arm and brushing away loose strands of his hair. It would be embarrassing how much he cares about what you think of him if it weren’t so ridiculously important to him.

He busies himself with getting a drink for you, finding himself wondering if you’d come before, only to go unnoticed by him. There’s a startling burst of anger at himself with the thought, and Bucky blinks, eyes continuing to drift to you. Resolute, he moves toward you but pauses as he observes you.

The look on your face is one Bucky has never seen before—though he hasn’t seen many looks on your face before—but it settles so naturally on your features that it is difficult to argue that it’s unfamiliar. You look intense, but the way your eyes scan Wanda's boyfriend—who’s been dubbed Vision—is dangerous. Cocky.

You say something and your entire face relaxes resolutely, but your eyes remain expectant and arrogant, unamused with your companion’s reply.

Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.

“How’re my favorite geniuses?” Wanda pipes up suddenly, forcing Bucky’s daze away, appearing from an unknown place to sling an arm around you. You snap out of the look, your face softening, but the pleasure of being right dances across your features. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip from his beer, stepping toward you.

“Oh, you know, out-geniusing the other,” you reply, glancing at Bucky as he walks up behind Vision.

“Hey Dolly,” he smiles. “I thought you had too many books to read to go out.”

“I finished them all,” you respond. “And ‘Dolly’? How old are you?”

Bucky clicks his tongue. “What would you prefer, sweetheart?”

“My name,” you state, then squint at him, cocking your head. “Do you remember it? I imagine it’s hard to keep track.”

“Of course I remember.” Bucky scoffs. “I don’t think I could forget.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Right, I’d imagine asking her out to swing dance without it would be pretty hard.”

“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.

You snort. “Yeah, sure.”

Bucky holds out his hand expectantly, covered arm at his side.

Your eyes thin resolutely at him, scrutinizing the details of his face before you shake your head. “You’re ridiculous,” you criticise.

His hand drops and he pouts. “C’mon, pretty please.”

“Do you know what music you swing dance to?” you ask him, wagging a finger to refer to the booming music drowning most sounds inside the house. “Because this isn’t it.”

“I need to take advantage of the fact that you’re here, doll. You said so yourself you don’t go out much,” he complains.

“Yeah, this is why!” you reply, your last words getting louder as the music impossibly gains volume.

“What?!” Bucky shouts, moving closer to hear you better, but you laugh and shake your head, telling him something he can’t make out. When you realize he can’t hear you, you give him a pout.

“And I was just about to say yes,” you say sadly.

“Wha—” Bucky’s cut off by the sharp shattering of glass. With a cringe, your eyes widen as you look behind him, eyes flickering back to him expectantly. He turns and groans. “I have to check that out. I’ll be right back!” he pledges, walking away to see a deadly amount of broken alcohol bottles on the floor, the stench of their contents burning his nose.

When he comes back, you’re gone.

The disappointment that blankets over his shoulders at the fact is just as surprising to him.

You’re in your bubble at the library, a little clueless to everything going on around you as you thumb the corner of a page, your pinky hovering below your book’s cover. You’re a few pages away from something exciting, teeth digging in with anticipation for it, when someone enters your field of vision, a large figure plopping down on a seat in front of you.

You spare them a glance and are surprised to find Bucky, sporting a large grin and his varsity jacket. You observe him suspiciously for a few moments, having never seen him even near the library, before returning your attention to what you’re reading.

“So, you’re actually here, huh?” he asks, and you shush him, shooting him a look to lower his voice. “Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” you question lowly instead, still not putting down your book.

“Anyone can come to the library.” Bucky points out, your name playfully scornful. You level a look at him.

“Yes. Why are you here? With me? You didn’t know my name until, like, two days ago.” You’re careful to keep your voice down.

“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”

“Did we?” you drone, attempting to concentrate on the lines of your book once more.

“And, how do you know we don’t just have alternating study days?” Bucky points out.

“I am here every day,” you inform. “And if that were the case, why would you be here right now?” you rebut. “What would you be studying for? Coaching?”

“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”

You meet his eyes at the revelation, unable to keep the surprise off your face. You fold down the edge of the last page you read offhandedly and let your book flutter closed. “What? Quinn said you were in… sports.”

“Well,” Bucky sucks in a breath as if what he’s about to tell you is a revelation. “Soccer is a sport.”

“I know,” you affirm blandly. “But are you actually in biomedical?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “What, do you not believe me?” he asks, raising a gloved hand to his chest. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you perpetuating harmful stereotypes.”

“I’m just surprised. You’ve never talked about it before.”

“We’ve talked four times,” Bucky points out. “Although I want it clear that I have tried to make it more.”

“Yeah, what’s that about, by the wayt?” you wonder, setting your elbows on the table and dropping your face into your hands, cocking your head at him. “From what I’ve seen, you have your fair pick of girls and guys.”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

You laugh quietly. “Sure.”

“But I like you,” Bucky explains, shrugging. “You’re smart and pretty and you interest me.”

You scan his face, squinting. Astonishment tints your chuckle. “You are so much better at this than I thought you were.”

“Sorry?”

“At first, I was like ‘this guy? This is the Becky people won’t shut up about?’”

“Bucky,” he corrects swiftly.

“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.

Bucky frowns in front of you, reaching over to insert an abrupt hand in between the pages. “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you peel his fingers off the pages and meet his eyes, startled to see their intensity, crinkles at their edges, his lips pinched in a pout. You gasp. “Oh my god, you’re doing it now.”

“Sweetheart, it’s something that just happens naturally, I’m not doing anything.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head, turning back to your book. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.”

“Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet.

You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.”

“I’ll make it worth it. Promise.”

“I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.

“Alright, so if I talk to you more, you’ll go out with me?”

You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t… I’m not liking where this is going.”

“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.

“Oh, I was right,” you groan. “I just mean you don’t know me. My favorite color, my favorite book, my order at my favorite restaurant, things like that.”

“I will know all of that,” he pledges.

You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay, Borky.”

A cocky little smirk plays on his lips as he winks. “Bucky,” he says archly.

You learn his name. Completely. Totally. Unmistakably.

It’s hard not to, not when he becomes a constant in your life and not with a name like that.

James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.

He talks to you every day. Just like he said he would, even if it’s a two-minute conversation over text where he makes sure you get home safe and asks about your day. It would be overwhelming if it didn’t make you smile so much.

He doesn’t get upset when you answer two hours later because you were distracted with work, asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.

You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention. Then maybe, because you’re finished with your work for the day, you shove aside your notebook and bite back a small smile when he tells you how pretty he thought you looked in the glimpses he had of you today.

Organizing your books into a neat little pile, you message him and Bruce that you’re heading home. And you intend to, you really do, but then Bucky insists you call him the next time so he can walk you home, and you’ve suddenly been sitting at your table, uselessly leaning against your things for ten minutes.

You shoot up when you realize, lightly bewildered with yourself, gathering everything into your arms as quickly as possible, and shoving your phone into your back pocket. You hope Bruce isn’t getting too worried as you push open the library doors, hurrying down the steps and onto the path you usually take. You’re alert as always, careful to listen past the crunching of leaves beneath your feet and watch for shadows that edge past yours, digging your keys out of your pocket to hold them in the spaces between your fingers.

It’s three minutes in when you begin to feel unsettled. Your phone has vibrated three times in your back pocket in the past two minutes, but the darker section of your path is coming up, and chills rush up your neck as you imagine what the distraction could cost.

A shadow follows nearby, inching closer and closer until your hands are shaking and you’re on the verge of running.

Fingers wrap around your arm and you shriek, books slipping from your arms when they wane. Stumbling back, you tug yourself away from the intrusion, breaths coming out in big, wet gasps when you turn. Bucky’s wide blue eyes meet your glossy ones, hands up in surrender when he catches the tremble of your bottom lip.

A tear streaks down your cheek in profusing relief that it’s only him, the anger indistinguishable beneath it as you stumble into Bucky on wobbly knees, his name braided in a whimper. His arms settle around you hesitantly, guiltily.

“You scared me,” you whisper. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?”

“I'm sorry,” he replies sincerely. “I didn’t think—”

“I'm just relieved it’s you,” you interrupt, fingers fisting his shirt. You’re far away, stuck in a memory very far away, and yet it feels enough like you’re standing in it. Your grip is a vice, forcing him closer still until the pads of your fingers can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt.

Bucky murmurs your name, a large palm stroking up and down your back in comfort. His voice is mournful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You snap out of it at the nickname, pulling away from his embrace as if you’d awoken. He doesn’t startle, only stares at the furrow of your brow and the light that reflects off of your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you blink away the rest of your daze, eyes falling on your things scattered on the ground.

“My computer,” you remember, frantically dropping to your knees to search for it.

Bucky doesn’t pry, kneeling next to you to help pick up your books, taking the ones you’d stacked up sloppily into his arms. You carry your laptop with a careful grip, relatively unharmed.

“I should get going,” you tell him, motioning to take your things from him but he refuses, ushering you into his car.

It’s silent for a while after you halfheartedly agree, obviously still embarrassed. Bucky’s hesitant to probe, but the guilt at what he could’ve reminded you of gnaws at his gut.

You can feel his stare each time he glances at you curiously; cautiously, as if you’ll burst into tears spontaneously.

“I was attacked once.” Your voice is quiet, soft for the obvious teeth the words pierce you with. “Walking home from the library,” you explain. “It’s why Bruce doesn’t like me walking home alone.”

“You… someone…” Bucky pinches his lips into a tense line, fingers tightening around the wheel. “Why?” It’s painfully incredulous.

You look down at your lap, the left edge of your lips pulling into your cheek. “I was alone. It was easy.” What’s left to say seems painful for you to push out. “He didn’t like me very much.”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky offers after a tense second, unsure of what else to say and how angry he can be for you.

“For what? You didn’t have anything to do with it,” you retort, offering him a weak smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“For scaring you,” Bucky insists sincerely. “For the fact that it happened in the first place.” You don’t respond, watching as trees and lights flash past the window.

“It really wasn’t as bad as you think. The label makes it seem worse,” you palliate. “He hit me once and pushed me against a wall. A bruise was the worst of it. Both physically and to my bank account.”

Bucky’s frown stays, quiet blanketing the both of you.

“So, why’d you come get me? How’d you know I was only on my way?” you chime suddenly.

“I wanted to check up on you. You weren’t answering your phone.”

You pause, meeting his eyes with an inquisitive pinch to your features. “So you drove to find me?”

“Technically, I just wanted to drop by your apartment to make sure you got home safe, but that sounds better, so let’s go with it.” Bucky shoots you a grin. An olive branch.

You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”

He lets a light chuckle slip past his lips, sparing you a delicate glance. You’re already looking at him, softer in your gaze than he’s ever seen you.

He hums inquisitively. “You think I'm charming and funny and sweet?”

You laugh openly, shaking your head but not negating his words. You hug your laptop closer to your chest, constellations reflected in your shadowed eyes as you look through the window. “I think—” you inhale in relief. “We’re here.”

Bucky slows to a stop when he reaches your dorm, shutting off the car and stepping out as you pack up. You only notice his actions when your fingers slip past the handle once you move to open your own door, huffing air out of your nose when he smirks wantonly at you.

“Thank you,” you grunt, climbing out and clutching your things.

You walk ahead, listening to the door slam and the subsequent sound of shoes quick against the pavement until he walks steadily beside you. “So, you wanna do that again soon?”

You laugh, motioning to grab your keys. “Do what again?”

He steals the jingling set from your fingers, moving hurriedly to the door when you make a noise hald surprise half indignation. He jams a silver one in, cringing when it doesn’t fit. You glower as you reach him, eyeing his hands as they continue to shove the wrong key in the lock. “It's the bronze one—no, the other one. How do you not—”

The door swings open, a satisfied smile parting Bucky’s face.

“Thanks,” you sigh, taking back your keys as you step inside. He stands outside awkwardly, kicking a pebble around with his foot. You squint doubtfully at him after you’ve set your things down and he’s not following behind you like you thought he would be. “What’re you doing?”

“You have to invite me in,” he explains.

“What, like a vampire?”

He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.”

You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.

“It's cold out here,” he reminds.

“Maybe you should go home then,” you suggest.

His face drops for a second and you find yourself feeling a tug of something sickening at your stomach. Like a reflex, the offer leaves your throat before you can help it.

“Or. Come inside.” At his hesitant posture, you suck in a bubble of air. “Do you want to come in? You’re welcome to.” I want you to.

He stares at you long enough for you to squirm before a smile breaks through his face. “Really?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, flimsy regret already churning in your gut. “Yeah. Just come on in already. It’s cold outside, dummy.”

It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.

You’d rather not admit it, but it’s hard not to—not when he finds you between classes to carry your books, teasing you about your lack of a backpack but always leaving you with only your laptop and a pen in hand. You can’t help the smiles when he “coincidentally” bumps into you at your favorite coffee shop enough times to have your order ready when you arrive on your tea day.

His goofy jokes while you study at the library get less annoying and, annoyingly, more endearing. You suddenly know a whole lot about biomedical engineering and Bucky. You know his sister’s favorite color and can spout stories about Steve before he grew five times his size like you were there yourself.

It's infuriating, you think, but you don’t mind as much when Bucky's making you laugh with lovely crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

“I like the ocean,” you say sometime at the library, books spread on the table, ignored. He looks up from his notebook in surprise, putting down the pen you’d lent him two weeks ago. “It’s the reason why my favorite color is blue.”

His own blue glitters as he nods, listening. “‘Thought it was because of my eyes.”

You reward him a laugh and a roll of your eyes. “I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,” you tell him. “And mermaids. Even if they were the ugly ones that murder you,” You confess in a rare moment of transparency, meeting his eyes before you clear your throat, bringing your attention back to your laptop.

“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”

You nod in acceptance, clearing your throat as if to rid yourself of what you’ve given him.

“You collect those squished pennies, right?” Bucky asks.

You’re startled that he remembers, and it takes a second for your brain to catch up. “Uh—yeah. Why?”

Bucky turns to dig around in his bag, pulling out something small and bronze and shiny with a brilliant smile. ”I went to this little souvenir shop the other day and found one of those machines.” He extends it to you and flips it slowly between his index and middle. “It has a little fuzzy monster thing on it. I don’t get it, to be honest.”

It never crossed your mind that he would do that for you. A startling line of electricity runs up your arm when your fingers meet his, quick to take the penny from him. “Thank you,” you mutter, observing the coin in the light. The large eyes of the embossed little monster stare back at you. “This is really nice of you.”

“It’s not big deal,” Bucky shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Honey fills your throat. Gulping, you glance at the clock, nearly relieved to see it’s time for you to leave. “I gotta go,” you tell him, gathering your things. The smooth edges of the penny dig into your palm. He stands in tandem, rolling his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” you begin.

“I want to. Besides, it would kind of feel weird not to after so long.”

You nod along. “Right.”

He ducks his chin in affirmation, picking up his stuff too. Furtively, he lightens your own load.

You notice but know better than point it out and argue, remembering how you ended up bedrudgingly carrying only a pen last time.

“Does Sam still have your car?” you ask as you leave the library.

“Yup. One more week, he says.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Well, he’s been saying that for two, so…”

You laugh, staring up at a big tree vignetted orange.

Bucky nudges you lightly as you begin to drift away, preventing you from walking into the street. He guides you past a fissure in the sidewalk as you gasp at something in a boutique’s window. “There’s a sale at the bookstore!”

“Wanna go tomorrow?” Bucky asks.

You nod. “Can we?”

“Sure, we’ll just leave the library a little earlier,” Bucky suggests, balancing the books in his arms.

“Someone’s sure of themselves,” you tease. “You’re walking me home tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.

Your jests die on your tongue as you realize he’s right, the discovery shocking when the memories of your solitary walks are further away than you had thought; suddenly, you remember that the dog you’d pointed out two weeks ago was more for his benefit than yours.

“Weeks,” you argue weakly, throat suddenly dry.

“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons.

You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?”

A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”

“Why have you been walking me home every day for months?”

“‘Thought it was weeks?”

“Bucky,” you say, a little urgent.

He shrugs boyishly, near flippant but your things in his arms don’t let you believe that. “I don't want you to walk alone.” Then, “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Shocked pupils dart around wildly and it’s difficult to swallow before you steady yourself, clearing your throat. Your features are pinched in a sort of raw determination—open, honest. “Thank you.”

He smiles and it’s soft as he shrugs lightly, nearly nonchalant.

Before you let yourself get too caught up in the curve of his lips and realize you’ve imitated it unconsciously, you look away, clearing your throat in relief when you spot your door.

“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.

“Wait—” he stammers out, confused and too late when you give him a wave and a quick goodbye before slamming the door shut.

You swallow hard on the other side of the door, wide eyes staring aimlessly into the darkness. In the dreaded stillness, you can feel the heat that creeps up your neck and floods stickily into your face, the prickling static that needles into your palms. Shakily and illicitly, a hand drifts up to your chest, pressing to feel the thundering beating of your heart.

You curse to the silence, letting your eyes flutter shut in candied disappointment.

Bucky thinks you’re acting weird.

No—he’s sure you’re acting weird.

He knows you now, can recognize the sarcastic lines of your cheeks when you wrinkle your nose and poke fun at him. He’s memorized the genuine curve of your lips when he’s said something so cheesy it circles around to sweet. He knows you at your angry and at your happy, but he doesn’t know this.

You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.

He tries teasing first, poking a pencil into the flesh of your arm and asking if you’d fallen in love or something. You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.

He’s aware he’s a fool to think so large of a lack of something, but he can’t pretend like it doesn’t inspire something in him, something like hope, like nectar, sticky in his throat.

He wonders if it clogs words up in yours—if it’s the reason you’re so quiet.

You stare through your computer, steam from your tea disappearing into the air as you blink. There’s a sweet indent in between your eyebrows, similar to the one you get when you study something you don’t completely understand, usually accompanied by the nail of your thumb between your teeth. But this one is lighter, more unintentional. You’re struggling with something but he can’t figure out what.

Your eyes flicker up to his, glinting in the light when you catch them on you.

“What?” you blurt. It’s louder than you intend, and you purse your lips in that embarrassed way that you do, shrinking down into your seat. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You’re pretty,” he says honestly.

He waits for your usual flustered reaction and you give it to him, but it’s vignetted with something, different in the quick blinks of your eyes and the thumb you brush over your nose.

“I'm hungry,” you complain, ignoring his compliment.

“I'll buy you something,” Bucky responds immediately, already pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to,” you remind. “I wasn’t asking, I was just—”

“I know, it’s fine,” Bucky insists.

“I can pay. It’s my food.”

“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

You heat up beneath his touch, shaking him off with a scowl. “You make me sound awful. Fine. Buy me my food then.”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender, wallet between his index and middle finger rising with his shoulders. “I will.” He squeezes your shoulder before he walks away, dipping down to your ear to whisper, “And you’re not awful.”

You huff, pinching your lips together as you watch him get in line, nudging his fingers into his wallet to take out money.

Arbitrarily, you’re annoyed. Bucky Barnes is infuriating, with his long charcoal lashes and lilting chuckle and nonchalance in giving things you want without your asking.

Your laptop screen darkens with your lack of attention, and you’re left staring at yourself, scrutinizing the thin lines around your eyes as you squint. You’re being ridiculous; you can’t be angry over Bucky being a sweet guy.

“They musta’ known you were coming,” Bucky whistles, balancing a bowl and a small bag already darkened with grease spots in his arms. You take the bowl from him, warmth seeping into your fingertips.

You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.

“Yeah?”

Distressed, you snatch the bag from him, shoving your fingers inside to pull out two large chocolate chip cookies. “And chocolate chip cookies.” Your voice rises and falls with a slightly unhinged twinge, features pulling as you examine what Bucky got for you. Your comfort food; the token you’d never explained to him.

“Yeah. It’s what you always get. And I know you always want two cookies but only get one because you’re afraid you won’t finish it, but we can split it or you can save it, or—what are you doing?”

You sweep everything into your arms, holding the food tightly behind your books.

“I have to go.”

“What? We just got here.”

“I have an appointment.”

“For what?”

“For—things—it’s—” you huff. “I have to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride? I have my car back, you know,” Bucky offers, already beginning to get up, but you shake your head, his actions hitting something in your chest.

“I'll be fine, thanks for the…” you exhale sharply. “I'll see you later.”

You run off, ignoring his confused call of your name as you slam the door behind you.

Hot soup dribbles down your fingers as you speed walk back home, but you barely notice, struggling to remember why you’d rejected him before.

“I hate him,” you mumble, fully dishonest as you struggle with your keys. “I hate him so much.”

“Hate who?” Bruce asks from the table, sparing you a glance from his computer. His eyebrows join as he takes you in, every panting and crazed inch of you, mouth parting and head tilting. “Uh.”

“Bucky,” you reply, setting the a la carte box down hastily. You drop the cookies next to it.

Bruce stares at you.

You make a big gesture with your hands toward it, pursing your lips. “He bought me that. Just—insisted. He's so—” you sigh frustratedly. “I didn't even—he bought me cookies.”

“Okay.” It's long and hesitant. “And that’s bad because…” he begins to shake his head. “You don’t like cookies?”

Your shoulders drop.

“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.

“No! I love soup and cavatappi and—he’s ruining everything! He's such an idiot!” you rub your face, nuzzling your nose into the crevice between your joined hands.

Bruce examines you for another second before: “Oh.”

“What?” you snap, meeting amused brown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bruce muses, but his lips are set in a careful smile, amusement poorly hidden. “Just that you finally learned his name.”

His thoughts are pathetically obvious in his tone, lips in a thin line and eyes crinkled.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Bruce Banner—”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Do not think what you’re thinking,” you demand. “He’s a player and a distraction and—”

“Okay.” Bruce has never been one to argue, but his one word answer makes you more frustrated than anything else he could’ve said.

You puff and gather your food, striding to your room with a glare at your best friend.

For the first time since you met Bucky, you follow through on an excuse to miss the game. It’s not a majorly important one—although Bucky pouts when you tell him either way, insisting that he needs you there for good luck—but you still feel a strange ache at the bottom of your stomach when the game begins and you’re too far away to cheer for him.

The edges of your lips are downturned, brows pinched as you stare at your phone before you realize what you’re doing and snap your attention away.

Scoffing, you shake away thoughts about soccer and the memory of Bucky's sweet blue eyes when he’d teased you, a strange tone of real sadness beneath his playful jests.

You pause, lifting your hands from your computer to eye the time once again. Furtively scanning the work you’re nearly done with, you allow yourself the distraction and grab your phone, fingers dancing in anticipation when your lock screen is littered with icons of messaging apps.

You click Bucky’s name first, smiling softly as you read a quickly typed summary of the game he probably sent after the first half was over. He sounds hopeful and excited, like he always does when he talks abouts soccer, but he signs off with a mispelled reminder that he misses you and a red heart. You check Wanda and Bruce's messages next, your face falling when you learn the second half hadn’t gone as well.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance at your work again and then at the clock, taking a quick breath before you force yourself to write a quick conclusion you promise yourself you’ll revise when you get home.

The game is over by the time you arrive, easily finding a parking spot in the midst of everyone’s departure. You hear disappointed grumbling as you make your way inside the stadium and cringe, striding toward the locker room.

Your name in Bruce’s voice makes you pause, turning to meet his pulled, bushy eyebrows and pinched lips. “What’re you doing here?”

“I finished early,” you explain. “And you said the game wasn’t going great so I thought I'd come and make sure the team’s okay.”

Bruce's features morph into something like realization and then into his poor poker face, lips pursed so tightly they’re edged white. “Right. The team.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, since it’s the whole team, I should let you know most of them are in the locker room moping, but Bucky wanted to leave early.” Bruce looks pointedly to the right.

“What? Why?”

Bruce shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe he said something about seeing you, but since you’re here for the team—”

“Shut up, Bruce.” You squint meanly at him, making him swallow a laugh as you spin around and continue on your path.

You bump into Bucky when you turn a corner, familiar hands coming to rest on your arms distractedly before his eyes brighten in recognition. He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real. His hair is damp from the quick shower he’d just taken, dark spots from water droplets around the collar of his gray shirt. He smells like soap and Bucky and it makes you a little dizzy.

“Hey, I heard about the game,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. I was just coming to see you. I told you that you were our lucky charm.” Bucky laughs but it’s not completely honest, his disappointment about the loss shining through.

You frown, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, you shove your hands into your coat pockets, pulling out a crinkled baggie in each one. “I brought you something.”

Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”

Nervous now, you let your arms drop. “Yeah. I, uh—figured they’d maybe give you a boost and—” You cut yourself off, laughing awkwardly. “It was dumb.”

“My mom used to bring me orange slices after soccer practice,�� Bucky mumbles.

You perk up. “Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.” The end of your sentence lilts like a question, answered by the quick movements of Bucky's fingers when he takes a baggie from you and pulls it open, taking a slice out to grin happily at it.

He dips his fingers in again and hands another to you, bumping his own small slice against yours. “Cheers.”

As soon as he bites into it, the juice from the fruit runs down his fingers, eyelids falling closed in a delighted hum. You barely realize the sap has streaked sticky orange down your arm, too.

He breathes out your name as he opens his eyes, a dazzling blue in the fluorescent lights of the locker room hall. “I forgot how…” He shakes his head, drifting off, and takes the other bag from you, pulling you to him. He sighs big and warm, rumbling through his chest.

You rub your nose against his sweatshirt, breathing in deeply. There's the fresh scent of citrus and then the lavender body wash you’d bought for him faint beneath his own distinct smell. He thanks you blithely, a lot lighter.

You shrug it off and force yourself to pull away, shivering at the loss even if you initiated it. “Do you want to get something to eat and watch that new episode of The Great British Bake-Off we missed last week?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.

You feel sick when you step outside; a sticky, prickly rush that coats your throat in sap. It’s cold enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, dark enough for the stars to drown in ink. Any appetite you had disappears, replaced with something clammier and painful, a twisting anxiety as a result of a bad day and a completely avoidable situation.

The bags with your food bump warmly against your knee, plastic handles pulling against the skin of your wrist. If you stay as you are, there will be indents of them once you finally put the bag down.

Something like dumb, chest-puffed stubbornness tugs incessantly at you when you contemplate calling Bruce to come pick you up, a biting voice snapping pathetic for even thinking about it convincing you to shut the door behind you, locking away the choice of warmth and safety and shame.

It’s very silent when you begin to walk, the crinkling of your bag loud and in tandem with your steps. You let it slide down and hook on your fingers, carefully aware of shadows that might peek out behind yours and off-space footsteps.

Lonely fingers curl in on themselves, missing the comforting frigidity of the keys you’d forgotten at home. Your dying phone vibrates in the tight grip of your hand, spurring your steps faster. A dark lump appears on your shadow’s shoulder, and you freeze, spinning around violently to face the street, empty behind you.

You turn back around hesitantly, breath trembling. You could’ve sworn you felt someone else behind you.

Eyes rounded and wet, you begin to walk again, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the space where your ribs meet. Your required cognizance turns frantic, making your fingers shake and oxygen difficult to get into your lungs. There’s an echo to your footsteps. When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.

Your eyes promise that there’s no threat lurking behind darkness, but your mind blares with an assurance that there is. Ducking behind a wall, you scramble for your phone, cheeks cold with air-slapped tears as you press the call button for the first contact your fingers find.

Bucky’s voice is confused and comforting when he answers.

“I think—I think someone is following me,” you whimper, pulling your legs to your chest. Your food warms the side of your thigh.

“What? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “I’m sorry, I should, it’s just—I was walking home from the restaurant and I heard something and I can’t concentrate, I can’t breathe—”

“Okay, it’s okay. Try to breathe, okay? Can you tell me what restaurant it was?”

You can picture the glowing sign, the faded wallpaper, the flowered curtains, but you can’t think, barrelling you deeper into panic. “I can’t remember—I—”

You can hear Bucky open his door. “Hey, it’s okay. Were you eating there or picking up to go?”

“To-go,” you answer tearfully, concentrating on the box pressing into your flesh.

“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”

“B-both of us.”

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Try to take deep breaths, I think I—”

There’s a hollow click before it’s silent, the calm you’d been grasping at completely gone. “Bucky?” you plead. “Bucky?”

You pull your phone away from your ear, vision going blurry when you tap desperately at the screen and it doesn’t respond. Dead.

There’s a tremendous weight on your chest, your elbow knocking against the wall behind you with your attempts to draw in a breath. You shove your head in between your knees and try to remember Bucky’s voice, forget the cold fear that another clammy hand will reach for your hair and tug you up.

You need to get home. You can’t move.

You stifle your sobs with your leg, clawing at your shins and trying to think of anything else. You shove your hand in between your stomach and your legs, letting your phone fall to your thighs as the tips of your fingers reach the round hills of your collarbone. Your palm digs into your flesh until the beating of your heart pulses against your thumb, aching when you force it to stay put.

Thump, thump. “O-one,” you force, restraining your fingers from curling. Thump, thump. “Two.” A deep, shuddering breath that makes your mouth snap closed and your eyes flutter into darkness. Thump, thump. “Three…”

It’s how Bucky finds you, your nose deep between your knees, counting watery and muffled. He’s frantic when he sees you, panic like needles against his chest prickling to a pounding ache. He should be more cautious, stand still a few feet away for a few seconds, step slowly. If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.

He calls out your name and rushes forward, lowering himself down to his knees before he touches your arm. You flinch, shoving a strong hand against him, a horrible mix of anger and fear contorting your voice.

“It’s me. It’s Bucky.”

You still push yourself back against the wall, but your eyes finally meet his. “Bucky,” you test. “Bucky.”

It’s a silent, cold beat before you blink clearly, irises looking back a little less hazy. You murmur his name once more and promptly burst into tears, launching yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you in tandem, pleasing the closeness your fisted fingers crave. He takes in your tears, steadily smoothing a hand over your back, desperation in the way he hooks his chin over the crown of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks too soon.

You make a noise of which answer he can’t be sure of, so he gathers you up in his arms to push you away, only a little, only for a second to stare at you.

You grip at his shirt, cheeks shiny. And then, “I thought I was really gonna die this time.” Hearing your admittance causes a shift on your face, still crumpled and unready to deal with this. “Just for a second and—” Your lips twist to keep words back.

Bucky pulls you back in.

“Will you take me home?”

His compliance is wordless and patient, hooking a finger through your takeout and grasping your hand with his free one, guiding you to his car. He helps you inside, setting the bag at your feet before he buckles your seatbelt and pushes strands of hair away from your sticky face.

Your breathing steadies while he drives, concentrating on the cool puffs of air hitting your collarbone, the lingering warmth from the food you’re suddenly starving for. But the wash of panic has left a shameful residue and a subsequent otiose apology on your tongue, making the once comforting silence expectant.

Your chest weighs when you finally spot your door, fighting to pull words from your mouth at the dimmed lights, but Bucky beats you to it, clearing his throat without unlocking the door. His left hand lays clothed on his lap, face stormed with uncertainty, but there’s a resolute edge that makes him look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you start, misunderstanding.

“Why?”

You aren’t sure, only certain of how guilty you feel. “For… bothering you. For making you comfort me. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that."

“Don’t apologize.” He clenches his jaw. “I don’t want you to…”

He shoves his sleeve up, taking a deep breath as he pinches the fingertips of the glove. “I know that wasn’t something you were ready to share with me. I understand, I…”

His gaze is heavy, flickering between your face and the fingers peeling away his glove. He swallows hard when it’s pulled off completely, looking away from the sight of his skin.

You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve.

“I was in a fire once,” he says. “‘Got some scars too.”

“Is that why you wear—” You trail off at his nod. “Why are you… why are you telling me?” you ask, wincing at how the question sounds, but Bucky seems to understand what you mean.

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies.

You blink at him, slipping a sure hand into his and squeezing. “Thank you.”

His eyes stay startled on your interlocked fingers, stubborn even beneath his gaze. He laughs hollowly then, squeezing back before he finally meets your eyes. “You, too.”

Your fingers are wound tightly around Wanda’s arm, the nails digging into her sweater giving away what your face is trying to hide. You’re zeroed in on Bucky's figure as he runs across green after blurry white.

The energy from the others who cheer in the stands makes you buzz, a rush of confidence urging you to jump to your feet when Bucky passes the ball to Pietro and then has it once again, close enough to the other team’s goal to make you clench a hand in anticipation.

With the flesh of your thumb between your teeth, you can’t help but lose your breath when it looks like Bucky's going to try to make it, only for it to be knocked out from your lungs when he crashes to the ground from the impact of another player.

Your mouth parts in a surprised o, tongue playing his name before you can stop it.

It's eerily silent in the stadium for a second as Bucky lies on the field, before it disappears into a fold of angry screams.

You’re not worried.

Bucky has never gotten hurt on the field before—”I’m too good,” he had promised you with an uneven grin, annoying in the way that he’s right—and the only times it’s seemed otherwise have been lies, a mere play he put on for the free kick. He had shaken his head disappointedly at you when you’d gotten worried, condemning you for not trusting him. He’s playful when he’s flustered.

So you’re not worried, because you know Bucky is fine.

Except he hasn’t moved in a little while too long and you don’t think it’s ever taken him this long to fake it. Although, maybe it feels longer because you can’t take your eyes off his figure.

You’re not worried.

Your fingers say otherwise, thumb tapping against your alternating fingers so frantically they get jumbled together, clumsily bumping into the crevices between them.

“Is he hurt?” Wanda asks.

“No,” you say automatically, stretching your fingers out like a starfish as if to rid evidence of your anxiety. “No, he’s fine.”

It's another moment that seems too long and the lines of Wanda’s worried face deepen, breaths a little faster. “He's not… he’s not getting up.”

“He’s fine,” you insist. “He has to milk it.” Glancing up at the timer, you nod definitively. “Yes, he has to milk it to get the penalty kick.”

“What?” Wanda asks, meeting your eyes in confusion.

“The hit didn’t seem that bad,” you lie unsteadily. “He has to milk it. He’s fine.”

Your panic escapes in the highs of your voice, something translucent hiding it when you clear your throat. He's still not getting up and it makes your breath comes out quickly. “He has to be,” you admit.

Wanda’s brows furrow, eyes searching your face once Bucky finally limps weakly to his feet, giving the ref a short nod. A sigh large enough to make you bend slips past your lips, caught in a relieved laugh as you gesture to him.

“I told you,” you tell her.

“He’s limping,” she points out.

“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.

He gets his penalty kick, makes it, of course, and it’s another few, a lot slower minutes before the game is over, but you’re making your way down thirty seconds before, too much attention on the game rather than your footing on the stairs.

You stumble over your feet, barely caring when the whistle blows to indicate the game is over, and turn in the direction of the hall to the locker room. Your anxiety nearly seems silly now, not as oppressive now that the soaked towel you’d been waterboarded with was dry. Yet, it still prickles at your fingertips, faint but enough to ache.

It's only a couple minutes before you can hear the pattering of feet, the stress that the outliers are Bucky, limping like he did on that field, nudging at your mind. The players wave at you, surprised, and your heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing team shirt that does not have “BARNES” on the back.

Then he’s there, completely fine and near the end of the line. He's grinning at the apparent win, letting Steve shove him proudly. His eyes widen in surprise when they catch sight of your own, saying something to his teammates without looking at them as he steps toward you.

“Hey, what’re you—”

Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.

“Hey,” he coos, hugging you back.

You allow him a moment before you pull back abruptly and smack his arm.

“Ow!” he complains, grabbing your hand.

“You asshole! What’s up with the drama?”

“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?”

“You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure.

He softens then, chin pulling closer to his neck so his eyes can give you a reassuring smile. “Hey,” he says softly, tapping your wrist with his index, “‘m fine.”

“I know,” you contend, but it comes out a little relieved at hearing it in his voice. “I told Wanda that.”

His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”

You scoff at the term of endearment, nervous energy dissolving. “I'm not your girl.”

“Not yet!” he proclaims.

You wrinkle your nose, stepping away from him. “You stink. Go shower.” You pat his shoulder as a goodbye, beginning to head back out.

“Sure know how to charm a guy,” he mumbles, watching you walk away with a dopey smile.

You’re in your room, laying on your stomach with your computer in front of you and a drink Bucky had bought for you sitting on your bedside table.

He's sitting against your bed, scanning over a document. You should be doing something like it, but you can’t help but be distracted. He's quiet for once, features set in something not playful and not serious, a small knot between his brows indicating his concentration.

He looks pretty. You can’t be blamed.

If he notices your gaze, he’s kind enough to not point it out, although it’s unlikely. It’s undoubtedly heavy.

He’s staring down at his hand when he speaks up for what seems like the first time since hes arrived. His fingers dance nervously before he shoves them away from his view, edges of thick tissue peeking out as a bracelet on his wrist. “Do I make you uncomfortable when I flirt?”

You blink owlishly at him, unsure how to answer. He sounds so serious, guilty. “No.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop.”

“I know you would. But it doesn’t. Is something wrong?”

Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t! I just… don’t really flirt. I don’t really think there’s a point if I’m not dating.”

“You don’t date?” He’s known this. To a point, which he thinks is not completely accurate now that he hears the way you say it.

“No.”

“Not even guys you like?”

“Especially guys I like, ” you clarify, cringing with the difficulty of putting so many feelings into so insignificant words. “Things get messy. It’s just… distractions and it’s never worth it.”

“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”

You shoot him a look, huffing a little disappointedly, as if you’d expected him to understand something and he didn’t. “Why do people always twist my words into something so cynical?

I didn’t say that. Not love. I never said love, I just—it never ends well. It’s always something you pour so much into and get so little back.”

Bukcy shifts. “That’s not true. A relationship is fair, or at least, it’s supposed to be.”

“Ah, but see, ‘supposed to be’ and ‘is’ are two different things. I’d rather just skip the entire thing.”

Bucky frowns. “I don’t think you should.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“I don’t… I’m not telling you what to do, but I really think you should try. Love can be really great. And you deserve that.”

Your nails pinch at your fingers. “But what if it isn’t?”

“Then it isn’t.” You move to rebut, but Bucky continues. “But what if it is?”

You refuse to answer, chewing on your bottom lip.

Bucky gazes at you, waiting for a response before he realizes he won’t get one. He doesn’t push, turning back to his work.

“Why do you care so much?” you ask.

He sucks in a breath before admitting, “Mainly because I think you would really enjoy being loved. And very partially because I’m selfish.”

You hum. “You’re a really good guy, Bucky.”

“I try.”

You scowl lightly. “Incorrigible. Annoying. But really good.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t forget—what was it you said about me? Charming? Sweet? Hand-to-heart hilarious?”

You launch a pillow at his head. “Nuisance is what I should’ve said.”

“Mm, a little contradictory but what’s life without some juxtaposition? Maybe I’m a man of many talents.”

The tip of your index finger shoves into his arm.

You fall into a peaceful silence once again when the laughter dissolves, your fingers busy away at your keyboard. There's a moment where you’re thinking, staring intently just past your computer and Bucky is staring at you, a thoughtful expression on his face, stony and all.

“Will you?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. “Will I what?”

“Give it a chance.”

You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.

You look to your side, unfocused eyes lazy on an ugly painting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You want to tell him it depends who it is, that you have very strict rules mentioning annoying brunets with blue eyes who walk you home from the library and never shut up, but you don’t, eyes travelling back to him slowly. His silence when they finally meet his own tell you he knows anyway.

Quickly looking back down, you avoid his gaze and continue to work.

You melt into his side, delightfully prickling when you lean in a little closer to take a sip of your drink. Eyes shimmering in the lame lights of the bar, you’ve never looked so openly bright, hardly containing your delight and everything you can spilling past anyway.

There are enough people in the place for it to feel rightfully uncomfortable, sweat-sticky skin bumping into the arm he has around your chair and making the heat rise, but Bucky can’t seem to notice.

It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.

It’s not enough to just have your fingers tug at him during conversations with strangers, he feels he should imprint the feeling of your touch like a branding.

You say his name in conversation, cruelly dragging your hand down to bracelet around his wrist and squeezing. You make a little shimmy with your shoulders that can’t help but make him laugh. He zeroes in on your lips, trying to make sense of what you’re saying.

You’re cute. You’re too sweet to be in this stuffy bar with him.

You turn to him brightly in the midst of another exclamation and he feels himself transported.

He can feel the end buzzer vibrating up to his fingertips, the breeze on the heat of his skin when he’d looked up, eyes searching for you like a habit.

Your features are shrunken into the memory, suddenly far away but still pulled into the biggest beam you could muster, hands clapping ecstatically.

“Bucky,” memory-you says liltingly, too clearly.

When he blinks, he’s back in the present, the tip of your index dimpling his bicep, your face close enough for him to count each individual eyelash. He grins without really thinking about it. “Bucky,” you repeat, a little harsher but still teasing.

“Yeah?” he responds finally.

“We’re complimenting you and you aren’t paying attention? Are you feeling okay?” you frown, lips downturned but the edges of your eyes still crinkled with happy lines. The back of your hand meets his forehead.

“Fantastic,” he says, his left hand vining up to hook around your fingers and lay them on his lap. “Just won a game, didn’t you hear? All by myself, too.”

You shake your head at him, turning back to who Bucky realizes is one of your friends. Carol, you’d said.

“See?” You say accusatorily.

Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”

That catches Bucky’s fluttering attention, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly in your direction. Your lips part in betrayal at Carol, and you begin to take your hand back from Bucky, but he hooks your wrist before you can.

“I think Maria is calling you,” you tell her. “You should go see what that’s about.”

“Now, now,” Bucky starts. “Actually, I think I want to know how thoroughly you talk about me, sweeheart.”

“That's my cue,” Carol laughs, dipping a beer at you both. “I'll see you guys later. Congrats on the game.”

She bounces to her feet and takes off, leaving the two of you alone. Bucky nudges a finger in between your ribs, making you jump and swat at him. “Hey!”

“You talk about me to your friends?”

You stare at him, bottom lip pushing out defensively in your tipsiness. “Well, the star football player is one of my best friends, shouldn’t I be allowed to brag?”

“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”

You wave him off, making a small, stubborn sound. “He ought to get over it with how much he ditches me.”

“See, I would never.” Bucky presses his free hand to his heart in oath. “Star football players are very reliable. Scoring goals, keeping plans, etcetera.”

You grin at the reminder, something sparkling beneath your skin like static, jolting your fingers when it begins to brim. You splay an excited palm on his shoulder out of pure excitement, seeming to relive the night.

“I am so proud of you,” you say. Saccharine, words stout with a smile and pride. “You did so well today.”

You’re startlingly genuine, entirely proud. Bucky can’t bring himself to tease or flirt.

“Thank you.”

You smile prettily, the light in your irises shifting at his authenticity. “I am,” you insist.

You just want to tell him, for him to hear you and understand how much you mean it. Your pupils flicker to a spot above his shoulder, distant for a second as your face brightens more. You laugh disbelievingly.

“I don't know all that much about football but from what I do, you’re certifiably extraordinary.” You sound out the word, unwilling to mess it up when you mean it so much. You try again. “You made a really great play.”

“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.

You observe him for a second. “I think you’re amazing,” you say thoughtfully, not in an effort to compliment but in a sort of realization. “What… type of person…” you start but don’t continue, tongue unable to keep up with everything running through your mind. The walks home, the paid lunches, the attention, the ability.

You inhale sharply, as if realizing you’re drifting off and trying to pull yourself back in.

Bucky knows what you expect—what he expects of himself—but he can’t bring himself to tease you, reiterate your words with an artful curve of his lips. He can’t concentrate enough to ignore the prickly warmth at the bottom of his stomach. He glances down at his watch.

“Should we go?” he says instead, casual but urgent. “It's late.”

He stands before you can process his offer, still a little drunk from stolen sips but only enough to make contrasts lighter. You blink up at him from your seat for a second before nodding, two short, stressed lines between your brows. He shouldn’t have been so abrupt.

Kinder, he helps you from your seat and guides you toward the door, keeping you away from stray elbows with benevolent redirection.

Your breath curls visibly in the air when you step outside, white and dissolving until it is replaced by another, longer exhale. You wrap your arms around your torso.

“C'mon,” he urges, guiding you to his car. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Should you be driving?” you ask as he searches his pockets for the keys, standing at the car door, watching him. “And what about the others?”

“Didn’t drink,” he answers, patting his coat pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.

You frown, slowly running through the night and realizing he’s right, recalling the sparkling water dripping moisture next to his jacket sleeve. The cold and the ennui knock a lot into focus.

He clicks open the car. “And this’ll force ‘em to call an uber. Worst comes to worst, I’ll drop by later to force them home. I just want to get you home first. No drunk footballers to puke on your feet.”

He rounds around to meet you, opening the door, and waiting patiently.

“Why didn’t you drink?” you ask. You’ve seen him drink before, tipsy in that breezy way where he’s a little flirtier with a little less filter. “You won a game. If you ever deserved it, it’s now.”

“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door. “Speak of the devil,” he starts pointedly, reminding you of your frigidity.

Still contemplating, you climb inside with furrowed brows, following Bucky's figure as he shuts your door, jogs back to his side, and settles into the driver’s seat. Rubbing his hands together, he turns to look at you.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Look at that. I think you’re a little drunker than I thought.”

“I am not,” you argue, looking down at yourself and seeing nothing wrong until Bucky reaches over to pull your seatbelt over you. “Oh.”

Bucky breathes out a little laugh, amused.

“I'm just…” You contemplate for a second, sinking into the rumbling of the engine when Bucky turns the car on. Immediately, heat slaps your nose. The glass meets your temple bitingly, jolting your sentence back on track. You turn to see Bucky's attention already on you. “Happy.”

“You’re happy?” Bucky repeats pleasantly, shifting the gear into drive.

“Yes. It was a good day today.”

You feel clearer now, the edges of reality crisper as you look out the window. “I know I already said it, but I'm really proud, Bucky. You win games and ace tests and don’t celebrate with a drink to drive me home. You’re kind of great.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, glancing at you.

You hum an affirmation, inhaling deeply. At some point, Your few-sip buzz dissipated into something different.

Sober, but influenced on the darkness of the sky and the roundness of the moon. It feels safe suddenly, a rush of energy jolting you straight. You stare at Bucky's profile. “Yeah,” you confirm clearly. “It's kind of disappointing, you know.”

Bucky is caught off guard, sparing you a look when he stops at a stoplight. “What?”

“I just thought you’d be different.”

“How?” His brows are furrowed.

You take a moment to ponder. “Not so… you. More of the unforgivably arrogant and ignorant jock variety.”

“So you were expecting me to be one of those cartoon stereotypes?” he teases, looking back at the road with an easier smile.

“Kind of,” you laugh. “But you’re not and that’s really great.”

The red light from outside drapes over his features, pulled as he searches the crevices of your face. In response, it slackens slowly, from thoughtful to a little dazed as you stare back. Without meaning to, you’re leaning in at the same time he is.

His skin flips green.

You fall away from him with a surprised exhale, blinking in confusion.

It takes a second for Bucky to look away after you have, and you consider yourself lucky there’s no one else on the road during the long moment it takes for his attention to switch back to driving.

He doesn’t want to just forget what happened. He doesn’t want to move on from this yet. “What does that mean?” he asks, your compliment playing on repeat in his mind.

You stay silent, trying to figure it out yourself. “I don't… I don’t know.”

He tries to remain unbothered, glancing at you once more to catch your focus unmovingly on him. He pulls into your driveway and turns off the car.

“What about going on a date with me?” he requests, a little more serious that usual but glazed in his usual tone. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he continues. “I'll dress up in that shade of blue you think I look so good in and we’ll go out to eat at that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I'm still impressed you found. You’ll order that same thing you always do, and we can talk about that novel you’re reading—”

He doesn’t wait for the answer you’ve given before, stepping out of the car and striding over to your side.

You gaze up at him when he opens your door, your buckle unclasped in your hand. He's kind as he always is as he helps you out, hands settling on your shoulders to steady you when you nearly trip over a ridge in the sidewalk.

“Or… or we could go take a walk around the park. Or go to the movies, or the amusement park, or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”

And maybe it’s the easy smile, with the glitter of gold pride still sewn into his lips, or the genuine kindness he’s never failed to show you under the mask of the moon. Maybe it’s the proximity. Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.

He’s frozen for a solid moment, thick enough for you to start doubting yourself, beginning to pull away when he finally reacts, practically melting into you as his hands frantically pull you closer.

He pulls away hesitantly, torturously, a second later, eyes scrutinizing. “Wait, wait, wait, are you drunk?”

You shake your head, laughing gently at the thumb that pulls gently at the skin beneath your eye to make sure, urgently tugging you back into the kiss when he’s satisfied.

“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”

“It’s me,” you promise, pulling back. Before you can delve into your mind too deeply, you nod suddenly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay what?” he repeats, chasing after you to kiss you a few more times.

“I'll go out with you.”

His smile drops, fingers tightening around your hips. “Wait, really?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You grasp his arms tightly. “I should at least try, right?”ey

3K notes · View notes

s-4pphics · 4 months

Text

click!: in frame. 2 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, ANGST!!, daddy issues, SA/victim blaming :(, homophobia LOL, anger issues\violence, bad parenting, anxiety, joel standing on bidness, FLUFF!! :3, SMUT… MDNI, ellie bottoms YAAAS, virginity mentions, jealousy😂, dubcon (they’re high), more fingering, brief mentions of cunning lunning, squirting, mult. big Os, err dassit

A/N: YYYYAASSSSSSSS hi… bye

APRIL, 2014

Happy birthday, babe, you whisper in your girlfriend’s ear, arms wrapped around her neck from behind. Ceniyah’s giggly thank yous fill your ears and heart as you press smacking kisses on her cheek.

I made you something… You reach behind and grab the rolled-up poster paper sticking out of your backpack, making sure Ceniyah doesn’t turn around. She seems giddy and your heart soars. You hope that all-nighter was worth it. Please, you pray to yourself, please love it.

Close your eyes and gimme your hand, you say and she listens, palm open in front of your face. You place the scroll in her hand and she gasps. She whips around to face you, shock written all over her, and you giggle. She unrolls the painting and her head instantly falls back, tears jerking behind her glasses.

Are you seriously crying right now! You pull her tight to your chest and she sobs into your neck, C’mon, baby, stop cryin’! S’okay. You coo and her arms tighten around your waist.

D-D’you like it? Your face burns when you whisper.

Are you fucking serious! She squeaks into your neck, It’s beautiful, baby, I love it. T-Thank you—

I love you so much, you mumble, and she says it back.

You haven’t slept at all. Your body’s going to collapse soon. You hope it’s not during this phone call.

You ogle at the small card in your hand, pressing the digits into your device before hitting the call button. It rings twice before a bright voice answers.

“Hello, this is Lisa Meyers speaking. How can I be of service?”

… Interesting intro. “Good morning, um, Professor Meyers?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“I… we spoke at the coffee shop yesterday. About the… assisting art professors alumni thing.”

“Oh, of course! How are you, dear?”

“I’m good. Um… I was wondering if you’d have some time to speak with me about it... If that’s cool.”

You can hear her wide smile through the line, “More than cool! Would you be able to come into the office tomorrow?”

An extra day in the city wouldn’t hurt (it would), “No problem. What time were you thinkin’?”

“My mornings are always open! How does ten sound?”

“Sounds like a plan. Uh, thank you,” you say with twitchy fingers.

“Course, hun! I’ll put you in and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You never expected to end up back here.

The campus art studio looks exactly the same, only now the old portraits, sculptures, ceramics that were lined up on shelves of the display case are all replaced with new, nameless ones. You’re not used to seeing projects that you couldn’t attach a name to in the classroom. Your university years never feel that long ago, but the randomly placed structures are proof of your long-term absence.

Time is an illusion… Or you’re getting old as fuck and about to be lowered into the ground. Freshmen make you sick(affectionately).

Professor Meyers explained the position well enough for you to manage on your own. The work you’re doing isn’t difficult: oversee, assist in grading, oversee some more, oversee, and guide. You’re practically getting a check for being the already observant individual that you are. It’s a steal!

The position only lasts around a month, but Professor Meyers was convinced that it would only take someone as talented as you (her words… although you agree) a week to get on her toes. You vowed to bring your sketchbook every day from here on out, both to yourself and to her, in case you get the inkling of inspiration that you desperately need.

The job’s a small win. That’s all you could ask for right now.

Fuck all that shit you said at the start of the week. TAing fucking sucks. And you still haven’t had any inspiration despite all the efforts from the students! Whenever you pick up a utensil, you stab through your paper. You’ve officially lost your touch. You’re a regular bitch with no talent! What the fuck is going on!

You’ve had numerous breakdowns in bathroom stalls since Monday, and you’re bound to have another one in the next fifteen seconds. Why the fuck did so many students leave their filled water cups on the fucking tables. Guess who has to clean all that shit up! You! Fuck freshman(unaffectionately).

You’re so happy the halls are empty in between rotations. No one needs to watch you sobbingly wipe down tables splattered with paint.

After Professor Ronson’s room is tidy, you start prepping the board for the next rotation of students. They’re learning about anatomy today; There’s bound to be at least three students that scribble tiny dicks in the corner of their starter pages. You hate it here.

You open the drawer to retrieve all the sharpeners, only to find the container completely empty. You’re sick of the animators not putting shit back. You begrudgingly make your way back down the hall and into Professor Lacey’s room… You should’ve never left.

Your lungs constrict with your gasp and you almost drop your keys.

A just as shocked Ellie gawks back at you, laminated name tag with YEARBOOK dangling from the camera strap around her neck.

What the fuck.

Ellie’s either hallucinating or dead. Yeah… She has to be dead. The haunting of your email was too much and she died and now she’s seeing shit—

An angel disguised as you is staring back at her, fist clenched under the sleeves of your sweater, brown eyes just as stunned as hers. Ellie barely has time to gather words before the chains hooked onto the pockets of your jeans jingle as you step out of the room and scurry down the hallway. Ellie’s feet are flying before she can even register their movements, hot on your trail as her camera bounces on her chest.

She manages to get close enough to grab your bicep, ignoring the stuttering in her heart when she sees the former light in your eyes replaced with something darker. The flourishing storm in your pupils is uncontrollable.

Ellie drops your arm when she realizes you won’t run, “W-What are you doing here?”

Your gaze is locked onto the tile squares on the ground. “I-I’m, uh… just enjoyin’ the weather— “

Ellie’s brows pull downward, eyes flicking towards the badge wrapped around your neck. Do you work here? “We’re indoors.” She mumbles dryly.

“Nothin’ like… the spring rain hittin’ the windows, am I right?“ You huff with a nervous smile, eyes flitting around the hallway as you search for an escape. Ellie’s not having that.

“We needa talk.”

You sigh, “I can’t. I’m working.”

“So am I. Take your break,” Ellie grabs your wrist and drags you back down the hallway, leading you to the bathroom and pushing you into a stall, locking the door behind her.

Her voice is quiet when she presses, “The fuck are you doing here?”

Ellie expects you to snap, to push the same questioning back onto her, but you don’t. Your mouth gapes like a fish as you stumble over words. Ellie’s eyes soften when she sees a shaky hand come up to pin a loc behind your ear. You’re shaken up and she instantly notices something off. Your demeanor has shifted immensely since she last seen you and it’s making Ellie’s stomach twist with discomfort. She's never seen you this stunted.

“What.” Ellie asks when you mumble to the floor.

“I’m sorry about the email,” You sound winded, “I thought… I dunno. I’m sorry about everythin’.” Your lip starts to quiver as you ramble, “I would’ve never come if I knew, I’m sorry— “

… What the hell are you talking about? And why are you crying?

You sniffle and wipe your tears with your sleeves and Ellie’s fingers itch to comfort, to dry your face herself, but she doesn’t. She watches you weep into your palms for what feels like hours, the air of the restroom suffocatingly tight.

“I didn’t mean to ruin anything you h — had going on, okay? I’m sorry… I’ll leave right now! You’ll never have to see me again— “

Your sobs are stressing her, “G-Gimme your phone.” Ellie blurts.

You're already digging in your pocket for your device to unlock it, “W-Why— “

Ellie snatched it from your hand, heart pulling when she sees a photo of younger you being carried by a woman shoved in your case. The same face that was littered all over your apartment, “You wanted to talk so bad, right?” Ellie presses her new number into the pad and calls herself, “You have my number. My…”

When she looks up, her words get swallowed up; Your eyes still manage to glow under the… horrific bathroom lighting, glittering like stars in the late night. She clears her throat to catch herself, “My shift ends at four. Call me any time after that.”

Ellie hurries to unlock the stall before leaving you in the bathroom, heart in her throat as she heaves all the way down the hallway to the lounge, shaking her hands to get the jitters out.

She knew she should’ve never accepted a call from the alumnus association. Fuck the yearbook.

You clock out with a heavy, anxious heart.

Three students came up to you and asked for advice on their starter shapes. They were a bit upset when their circles didn’t come out perfect, and you almost cried. It was too sweet. Your bag bounces off your back as you descend the staircase to exit the building. The droplets hit your hood with fever as you skip to your car. You jump into the driver’s seat to turn the heat on, teeth chattering from the evening breeze.

You check the time on your dash and… it’s way past four. You hope Ellie’s willing to meet. You dial the most recent number and tremble as the phone rings. She answers after the second tone.

“Hello?”

She sounds so relaxed, and your shoulders unlock, “… Hi. It’s… me?”

A lengthy pause, “… Me who?”

You hide a snort, “Um… ex-roomie?” She chuckles lightly. “Hi.”

“… Hi.” You whisper, “Did you, um… still wanna talk to me?” You think you hear the click of a lighter.

“Mhm. I’ll send you where I stay at.”

“Okay… I’ll see you soon?”

“Yup.” And with that, the line goes dead. Ellie’s location delivers not even a minute later. Her hotel isn’t far from here. . . and fuck, it looks like wealth. Your nerves are nowhere near settled after your last attempt at reconciliation, and paranoia is itching beneath your skin.

You open your GPS and blast your screamo playlist, hollering your way down the street with your windows down, rain be damned.

You’re burning holes through Ellie’s hotel room door.

You haven’t knocked, you haven’t rang. . . you're not even sure if your text of arrival went through. You just stare at the peephole with a clenched jaw. This big bag of Cool Ranch Doritos is doing an excellent job as a stress ball. It’s bound to pop from your grip soon.

Your bladder almost lets loose when the door gets pulled open, nostrils instantly hit with wafts of that forbidden flower. You’re pulled through the small crack by a strong grip before the door is shut and locked behind you.

Ellie faces you, bare arms on display, and leans back against the door… in those fucking grey sweats. After all this time, they still cause damage to your soul, “Sorry. I don’t wanna get kicked out.”

“It’s… you’re good.” You point behind her, trying not to gawk at her tattoo, “How’d you know— “

“You breathe loud.” She says simply, tone hushed and raspy. She nods behind you, “Sit down.”

She follows you to the lounge chairs that face each other. You sit, still tense, suddenly back in therapy, “I-I brought you somethin’.” You push the crumpled bag of chips towards her as she relights her joint.

Her pink, doe-eyes flit between yours and the bag before she mumbles, “Thank you.”

“No problem…” You awkwardly set them on the windowsill, swallowing your guilt and deciding to take initiative, “I… I know you have a lot of things going on and I don’t wanna take up too much of your time… I’m just…”

The loud splattering of raindrops is nerve-wracking, “I wasn’t… I didn’t treat you well. College was a very hard time for me and I didn’t really know how to deal with it without being a bitch—”

Carbon leaves her nose, “Is that your excuse?”

“N-No, no! I’m not… I’m not tryna avoid blame. I was terrible and you — no one deserved what I put them through… I-I’m really sorry, Ellie… From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry.”

Ellie’s silent. You have no idea what she’s thinking; She could be plotting to get you kicked out of her room right now and you wouldn’t know. Her stare isn’t angry, it isn’t anything… she just watches you. Every squeeze of your hands, bounce of your knee, every tic photographed in her memory. Just like before.

“Why're you back on campus?”

You exhale the breath you’d been holding, “Um… I gotta, like, TA job, I guess. With the art profs.”

“Still doing art, then, I guess.”

You stare down at your lap, “Yeah. Trying to.” You croak.

“Trying?” She asks, brows furrowed. Your shoulders bounce in a shrug. “I, err, hadn’t made anything in a while so… yeah. I thought it’d get me back into it.”

“Are you?”

“Hm?”

“Are you back into it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Why were you so upset when I moved out?” Ellie’s tone shifts into something much more delicate, ready to crack and bleed open at any given moment. You can’t tell her, your brain bellows over the pleads from your heart. You can’t tell her how much you missed her!

Your jaw slacks dumbly as you search for a believable explanation, mind blanking under her scrutinizing stare.

“I was drunk. I-I don’t remember…”

“You were drunk and don’t remember.” You cringe at her tone.

“Ellie… I don’t wanna— “

“Don’t wanna what? Actually be fucking honest?” Your babbles are silenced as she rants. “You reached out to me and you can’t even answer one question honestly. Why’d you even come?” She seems so disappointed in your response, but what can you do? Tell her how every part of your body yearns to be next to her? How you almost collapse when you saw her for the first time in what felt like an eternity? How manipulative would that be after everything you’ve done?

Ellie’s index finger jumps on the armrest as silence takes over once more. She’s deep in thought, it seems, teeth nipping at the skin of her lip.

“Ellie— “

“When I moved out…” She repeats sternly, “you told me you didn’t want me to go. Why did you say that?”

It’s on the tip of your tongue: because I’m weak and I like you! I’m sorry I didn’t fight! I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry!

“B-Because I didn’t want you to go…” You whisper between sniffles, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“Why's that?”

“I… really liked having you around…” You chose your words very carefully, but they’re not a lie. “You’re… you’re really nice.”

That seems to satisfy her a little, “I’m really nice?” Ellie’s brow quirks, a tiny smile blossoming on her face.

“And funny.” You sob, “Like, I laughed a lot.”

“You’re funny, too,” Ellie says awkwardly while scratching her ear. Your heart pulses.

Her eyes search yours, “I didn’t know how I would react when you got here. The thought of seeing you really… fucking freaked me out.” She scoffs to herself, and your shoulders begin to droop. “But… um...” She pauses and your pulse pounds in your neck. Tears brim in your ducts. This is when she tells you to leave. To fuck off. To drop dead, for fucks sake—

“I’m glad you reached out.”

You gawk in disbelief before your bottom lip trembles, “Really?” You ask meekly. She simply nods.

“Me, too.” You’re really trying not to cry right now, but the softness in her gaze isn’t helping. She’s too sweet. You change the topic before you say something you’ll regret. You point to the bag of chips, “I really hope you like that flavor. I just grabbed it because I was overthinking.”

“I don’t know why you bought those. I still owe you a bag from what I remember,” She grabs them, squeezing the end until the other side pops open. She grabs four ships and crunches them all at once before extending the bag to you. You follow her lead and munch to your heart's content.

“I was never mad at you, y’know.” Ellie sets the bag down and reignites her roach. “I wasn’t, uh, innocent, either. We both fucked up,” She puffs and hands it to you. You've never smoked bud before, only stole a couple of Abby’s edibles a while back. She vowed never to smoke with you since you’re a tweaker.

You accept the charred-to-hell baby jay and stare at it. You shrug, “Wasn’t worse than me. How do I do this without burning my finger off?”

“Err… just breathe in and hold it.” She instructs. “Have you never gotten high?”

“I have. I don't— “

“Oh, yeaaah. Non-smoker. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you mumble before bringing the remnants up to your lips and sucking in. Nothing happens. Ellie snickers, “Not like that. It’s not a fucking lollipop. Just, like, fill your cheeks up and hold it.”

… Are you an idiot? “I don’t know what that means.” Ellie cackles like a witch at your lost expression, nearly falling over in her chair. Your cheeks burn and you try again, cheeks expanding to fill in the smoke. The second you inhale, you start choking, eyes bulging out of your skull from the burn in your chest.

Ellie finds your near-death experience fucking hysterical as she hollers from her seat. Tears stream down your face and the veins in your neck are bulging as you gasp for air. You’re never doing this shit again. Your lungs finally decide to spare you when Ellie passes you water from her dresser. You gulp that shit down like no tomorrow as Ellie’s giggles dwindle.

“What the,” cough, “fuck— “

“Fucking baby lungs,” Ellie mumbles with a grin. “You’ll be fine after a couple tries.”

You chug more water, “Girl… fuck you.” You gasp. Ellie’s grin turns cocky when her head tilts.

“Fuck me?” Her voice lowers and goosebumps rise on your skin. Your heart stops in your chest and your gaze falls to the floor as your tummy swirls in delight, cheeks fiery. You stand and Ellie sits up at your sudden alertness.

“Um… Like I said, thank you for taking the time to talk to me today. I really appreciate it.” Ellie stands to grab your arm when your feet slowly start backing towards the door.

Her smile drops, “I-I’m sorry. I was just kidding—”

“No, it’s fine! It’s not you! I just, uh… y’know what I mean?”

“… No.” She mumbles, “You don’t… have to go yet. You just got here.” She chuckles weakly.

“I just… don’t wanna… pry.” You whisper like it’s shameful. Ellie’s head shakes in denial, “You’re not! I’m… inviting you.”

Your eyes beg her to understand where you’re coming from. It’s not like you don’t want to, but the two of you just got back cool three seconds ago. The last thing you want to do is force yourself back into her life. Your relationship needs time to marinate and heal before anything else happens… if she allows it.

“I… I still miss Pickle?” You suggest with bright eyes, and Ellie’s soften despite her confusion. “Would it be okay if I see her?” You ask quietly.

Her mouth turns upwards, “How long are you in town?”

“I don’t know… These hotel bills are runnin’ my credit in the fucking mud.” You sigh.

“She’s with my dad right now. Come this weekend. I’m outta here on Friday, anyways.” She suggests, cheeks glowing in the dimming room. You hope Ellie doesn’t notice your dejection at the mention of her father… It still stings. Her eyes are so hopeful, meadows flurrying with excitement… and you can’t say no.

“…Okay.”

“Yeah?” She confirms, smile widening. You nod. “She misses you like crazy.” Ellie notes and tears get to cooking. You think about Pickle every day. Little munchkin.

“I miss her, too.” You sniffle. The hand that rests on your bicep slowly slides down your sleeve, closing around your wrist. Not strong, but her hold is steady. Ellie whispers your name.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad we’re… okay.” Your heart soars with adoration. Her eyes explore your face in admiration, and your body glows.

“Me, too. Thank you.” Ellie’s gentle gaze drops to your lips and you stiffen. Your hands clench when she moves an inch closer. It kills you to move away, and an inkling of hurt overcasts in her forest. She lets you go and backs away, “Sorry— “

Your head shakes desperately, “S’okay, I just think we should… move… slower?” You never fail to sound like an alien who just arrived on Earth, but Ellie seems to get it.

“Yeah, I… yeah.” Ellie stares at her sock-covered feet, red dusting her cheeks. You try to hide a smile while she walks you towards her door. She opens it for you, propping up against it.

“See you Friday?” You throw over your shoulder and Ellie grins. “See you Friday.” She parrots. You can’t stop cheesing even after she closes the door. You make your way back into your driver’s seat, heart bleeding with relief.

MAY, 2014

Her record is clean! I would’ve never expected this from such a great kid, your professor says to your father, But violence, especially to this extreme, is completely unacceptable—

What about what he did to me! You shout, and your father glares at your tone, He put his hands on me first! H-He—

Your body shudders in disgust at the recall of your classmate touching you the way he did. You were on your way to class when hands enclosed around your chest in a tight squeeze, all oxygen leaving your body. It was abrasive and made your skin crawl, and you swung. Your arms moved on their own until you were on top of him, his nose gushing blood while his friends attempted to pry you off.

There was laughter when he groped you. So many people — students that you see every day — all watched it, and no one came to your defense.

Your principal sighs with his palms up, I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what happened—

No, you’re not! I already told you what happened and you’re tryna make it seem like I’m lying! You stand and grab your bag off the floor, stomping towards the door to the office, Y’all can choke—

Your dad calls out for you, and your fingers twitch at his tone, but you keep walking, pushing past the double-doors of the school and towards the bike rack. Tears flood your eyes when the double doors slam shut, your father berating you about making a scene in public. You unlock your ride, blocking out his rampage that draws the security guard’s attention.

He put his hands on me, dad! You shriek as loud as you can between your cries, He put his hands on me! Why’re you yellin’ at me?

I’m not yelling at you! I’m yelling in general! You scoff and swing your leg over your bike, strapping your helmet on, I’m tryna understand what happened! You broke his goddamn nose! They’re boutta suspend you!

Imma be at Maya’s, you say, monotone. I’ll see you later.

Amaya isn’t even home. Your dad’s hollering his lungs out as you ride down the sidewalk, but you block it all out until the wind fills your ears like a monsoon. You’re not sure where you’re going, but it’s somewhere.

Hopefully somewhere you can cry to yourself without disturbance.

It’s your first day back at school since being suspended. Fuck everybody… except Amaya and Ceniyah. You probably would’ve switched schools if it wasn’t for them. You can’t wait to see them during lunch and tell them how fucked up it’s been staying at home.

Today has been weird as fuck, to say the least. Friends that you’ve grown used to talking to in the hallways have either disappeared or ignored you. It’s quiet around you, now, and you’re on edge. What the fuck is going on?

Walking into the cafeteria is frightening. It’s always loud, rowdy, hectic, but the minute you step foot inside, everything seems to stop. You grip your tray so tight; you think it’s about to snap, frantically searching for your girlfriend.

But your two favorite people are nowhere to be seen. You wander and come up empty-handed. Where the fuck are they—

Your thoughts are cut when a shoulder shoves right into yours. You throw your tray onto the nearest table. Laughter surrounds you before a snarky voice shriek in your ears.

Watch where the fuck you’re going,

No, you watch where the fuck you’re going. Dumb ass bitch, You spit. You're about to get suspended for knocking this broad out. Who even is this?

Coming from the slut who cheated on her girlfriend! Are you sure you’re a lesbian? Or are you going back to dick?

The entire room seems to collapse from top to bottom, crushing you beneath clutter in attempts to suffocate. You freeze when everyone turns to stare at the scene, some standing to surround you, hoping to see a fight. You release a shuddering breath as your fist clench.

… Cheated on your girlfriend? You love your girlfriend. You’re in love with your girlfriend, and she’s in love with you! What the fuck is this bitch talking about.

I think she’s going back to dick! One of them laughs, and the rest follow, and the entire room glows red.

Your knuckles are drenched in the color when your dad comes to pick you up.

PRESENT

Maybe being a TA is helping. You’ve finally pulled your sketchbook out of your work bag.

The point of your fine liner hovers over a blank page of your sketchbook. You can’t stop thinking about Ellie, and you don’t have many distractions.

It’s been so long since you’ve created anything, and frankly, your ass is clenched with anxiety. Never in your life would you think that creating art would wrack your nerves in such a way, but your insecurities are working hard. Probably the hardest they ever have. Once upon a time, your sketchbook was your safe haven, and now the feeling of blank pages feels like needles.

What if you’ve… lost your talent? You can see everything you want to make clearly in your head but your pen isn’t moving. The attempts at reigniting your passion would be pointless if you can no longer fucking draw. Your fingers are itching.

Maybe you should try that corny shit from the movies where they close their eyes and move their utensils on pure muscle memory… Maybe you should do fucking shrooms! Visuals always peak on psyches, according to the experts. At this point, why the fuck not—

“Son of a fucking — this is fucking stupid, bitch, jus’ fuckin’ draw,” you mutter to yourself in agitation. Just fucking draw! You do this! You do this, you do this!

Minutes pass and your paper is mussed with smudged, small ink marks from constantly moving your pen around, trying to find the right angle. Another piece of paper gone to waste. You fucking suck. You slam your pen down on the table.

You stand and start to pace, “Positive affirmations only,” You remind yourself aloud, “You got this shit, like, what the fuck. Everything’s gonna come back to you. You’re in a funk and tha’sit. It’ll pass, it’ll pass— “

Whoever your hotel neighbor is… Praying for their sleep schedule.

It’s going to be a long night.

“Hello?”

“Hi, kiddo. Sorry I missed your call. Your pet knocked out on my hand.”

Ellie giggles, “It’s cool. How ya been?”

“Fine… She’s a rascal, ain’t she? I found her head first in one of my flower pots. Her tiny legs were wiggling tryna get herself out,” His chuckles are like warm hugs, “How’s work?”

Ellie’s cackles calm, “Also fine… Err…Um… speaking of Pickle…”

Her dad hums, and Ellie sighs, “Remember when I told you about how I found her?”

“Yeah… You and that girl found the poor thing freezing to death outside… Why?”

“… Would you believe me if I said we somehow reunited by the grace of God and she’s coming back with me tomorrow?” Ellie squeaks, and her confidence drops when he exhales. It sounds heavy.

“Um… for what?”

“To see Pickle…”

“…Alright.”

“What’re you thinkin’,” She nips at her nails.

“Nothin’…”

“Dad…”

“I dunno what you want me to say, darlin’… Everything you’ve told me about her so far wasn’t… great to hear.”

Ellie rolls onto her back, “Yeah… I dunno. Something’s different about her now.”

“How so?”

She can’t tell him how badly your shielded eyes have taken a toll on her. How desperately she wants them to revert to the shining rivers they used to be. How badly her chest ached when you left her room last night, “I dunno. It just is…” She mutters weakly. Another heavy sigh.

“I mean… You’re an adult. I can’t tell you what to do anymore.”

“Don’t be like that, please.”

“Not being like anything. I can only accept.”

Ellie’s hand drags down her face in exasperation. The rants she relinquished onto her dad about you are making her nauseas.

“Just… be nice to her, please.” He hums begrudgingly.

“Dad, I’m serious. I feel like we… could be friends.”

“Friends… Alright.” He sounds skeptical, but he isn’t combative. She hopes he’ll keep it together when he sees you, “How should I plan for this friend when she gets here?”

Ellie smiles sadly, “Make eggplant parmesan…”

Her dad snorts, “… Since when do you like eggplant?”

Ellie grins, “I don’t.”

Why can’t black roses be real?

Ellie doesn’t seem like a flower girl, but she has a gigantic leaf imprinted on her arm for the rest of her life; She must appreciate the autotroph kingdom. Your mother always told you how fucked it is to enter people’s homes empty handed. Walmart usually pulls through with the awkward housewarming gifts, but they’re slacking in their garden selection today. Fuck your life.

You’re forced to settle on peonies… They’re pretty and all, but you’d prefer alliums for her. Maybe even a carnation. Plus, Amaya always told you to never buy flowers that sound like penis.

Amaya… Are you really about to break down in the frozen food section? Maybe. It’s time to go. You're shocked to find out you have more than ten dollars on your card. Fuck hotels, from the depths of your soul.

You set your purchase in the passenger’s side and pull up Ellie’s pinged location. She left way earlier than you. You would’ve carpooled, but you couldn’t miss these hours for this paycheck. How are you a struggling student and not even in school?

The drive is going to be long.

At least you have time to scream out your frustrations.

“Hey, Siri.”

… UH HUH?

“Play This Cold Black by Slipknot.”

PLAYING THIS COLD BLACK BY SLIPKNOT.

Your head thrashes as you back out of your parking spot.

“WELCOME HOOO— “

The ride wasn’t long enough, actually. Ellie’s dad’s house is right there. Like… right fucking there, and your voice is almost gone. Clouds are beginning to roll in over the neighborhood. The universe is fucking with you. Great.

You dump the last bits of water into the thirty-dollar, peony-stuffed vase before exiting your car, backpack strapped over your shoulder. You climb the brick staircase with a pounding heart.

“Okay,” You croak, “Hi. Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. I heard my — our cat was with you—“ You rehearse and cringe. Why are you pressing him about a cat in his domain?

“Fuck, okay, wait,” You try again, “Hi, Mr. Miller, I’m Ellie’s, uh, friend. We were roommates some time ago— “

Some time ago? Who the fuck are you? Shakespeare? Emily fucking Brontë? Get a fucking grip.

You almost drop the fucking vase when the door opens. Your coughs are uncontrollable when you see Ellie, eyes flicking between you and the ring light camera. Why the fuck does she look so good? Cartier watch, black button up and slacks, hair… neat. She’s about to trigger your asthma!

“Uh… you okay?” She questions flatly. You’re still choking on your own esophagus, but you send her two thumbs up anyway. You’re great! Terrific! Immediately scared shitless when a… big ass man holding a black furball creeps up behind her. He’s not as dolled-up as Ellie and it makes you less insecure. Why the fuck do you have this hoodie on? You should’ve at least worn some trousers!

“Nice to meet you.” His voice sounds like grovel. Gravel? You can’t fucking think right now! He adjusts Pickle in his grasp so he can extend a polite hand out to you, “I’m Joel. I’m Ellie’s father,” He sounds courteous, but there’s something simmering beneath his pupils as he stares at you.

His grip is strong when you accept it. You’re going to vomit, “I-I’m — I mean, hi, I’m, uh… Me’n Ellie used to live together—“ You sound like a frog who just learned how to speak.

“I’ve been told.” He hums.

Meow!

You almost start bawling at your baby’s cry. She's so big now and her coat is so shiny! She’s eating well. Ellie accepts the flowers with dusted cheeks before stepping aside and allowing you entry. You’re instantly hit with the smell of garlic… Can the whole bloodline throw down in the kitchen?

“Nice home!” You crack and cringe. You cringe so fucking hard. They both say thanks in unison, but her father’s is gruff while Ellie’s is delicate like petals. She can’t stop staring down at the flowers. Joel finally sets Pickle down so he can head back into the kitchen, and she follows him without hesitation.

She doesn’t remember you. Your heart shatters.

“Thank you for the flowers,” You hear Ellie say from beside you. You swallow the lump forming in your throat with a smile. “No problem… You look, um, great.” And you smell like heaven. Like clouds before the rain.

Her face gets redder and she grins behind petals, “Thank you. I got called in today. For… editing and whatnot.”

You snicker, “Whatnot?”

“Shut up. C’mon.” You follow her into the kitchen where she sets the vase in the middle of the dining table before waddling towards her dad, who stands over the stove. You stand back and watch as she playfully punches his upper arm while he stirs the simmering pot, cracking jokes amongst themselves while Pickle paws at Ellie’s calf. Your doting smile vanishes at their laughter; What a little happy family. Are you breathing?

You turn to face the living room and breathe in as deep as you can, eyes glued to their maroon couch. You crack your knuckles and release the wind in your lungs before repeating.

“You’re okay, it’s okay. You knew what it was before you came,” you whisper to yourself. Ellie mentioned how close her and her dad were way before you got here, so why is the pain in your chest so sharp?

A hand comes down on your shoulder and you jump, “Sor — fuck, sorry — “

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks, concerned.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Jus’ looking around,” You laugh shakily and note the large paper crane on the TV stand. You point at it, “That’s so cool! Did you make that? I love origami.”

“No, my dad did— “

Fuck, “Oh— “

“Yeah, um— “

“D-Do you have a restroom?”

She observes with worry, “… Yeah, right down that hall, to the left— “

“Thank you, BRB,” You’re practically running to the fucking bathroom. The door closes and locks and you pace. They have a nice shower curtain: black and white stripes. You count them all from top to bottom.

“Your dad’s dead, fucking relax, it’s been like that, it’s been like that,” You exhale shakily, tremors building in your hands, “You’re fine, you’re fine, calm the fuck down.” You unzip your hoodie and ball it up before shoving your face in it. Your screams into it are muffled.

You come up for air and stare into the mirror, “You’re fucking fine. The food smells good as fuck and you’re gonna eat and you’re fine.” You open the door and… kitty’s staring at you. She’s sitting pretty and inspecting your disheveled appearance.

“Hi, baby. Remember me?” You squat and stick your hand out to her. She sniffs curiously before nipping at your pinky. “Ow,” you coo with a smile.

“She remembers you.”

Ellie’s leaning against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. You need her to stomp the fuck out of you with affection; She looks so fucking good, fuck—

“I hope,” you squeak and cough. It scares the shit out of Pickle and she runs.

Ellie’s gaze lingers on your bare arms. “Can we talk for a sec?”

“Yup.” Sound casual, you think. You sprinkle a shrug in there. She nods before heading down the hall and entering the last door. You can’t hide your shocked expression at the scenery.

Every inch of the room is covered in posters, most of them about galaxies and all their intricacies. There’s a red racecar bed covered in Regular Show sheets and pillowcases and a bunch of stuffed animals, dresser covered with discarded sticker papers and seemingly empty polaroid cameras. There are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling before coming down and around the bed frame, across the closet, and finally slung over her dresser. There’s little action figures and trinkets everywhere.

The door closes behind you, “… Is this your room?”

Ellie snorts, “It was. Not anymore.”

You laugh, “I’m fuckin’ with it. That bed is crazy, though.” Ellie joins in, scratching at her ear. She takes a few steps until she’s in front of you, still at a distance. Thank God; Any closer and your celibacy goes down the drain.

“Sorry I only brought flowers. I would’ve brought fucking… cake or something if I knew y’all were gonna cook.” Ellie waves you off.

“The flowers were pretty. Thank you.”

Your entire face is on fire, “Y’know what I mean…” You cough.

“Um… I just wanted to talk to you about something. About my dad.”

There’s a hole in your chest that’s expanding. She takes your silence as attentive, “He can be really overprotective… like, he’s kinda stubborn.”

“Oh… I see where you get it from,” You laugh weakly, clearing your throat when Ellie doesn’t. “Sorry.” You mumble. Ellie looks down at her feet, “Does he not… like me?” You ask quietly, embarrassed out of your fucking mind.

“It’s not that, he’s just… I told him a little of what happened between us. Not everything, just some of it!”

“The… bad part, I’m assuming?” Her silence is enough confirmation.

Ellie looks like Pickle when she’s guilty. You remember when she hopped onto the counter and knocked over your water cup, eyes large and pleading for forgiveness over the mess she caused.

“M’not mad,” You mumble, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.” Probably is used very strongly.

“I’m sorr— “

“It’s okay— “

A knock comes from the other side of the door.

“Come eat, you two!”

“Coming!” Ellie yells back before rubbing her hands together. “I’m really— “

“Ellie, it’s fine,” You reassure her with a light slap on her bicep… It’s quite hard. “C’mon, uh… I’m hungry?” You brush past her and head towards the door, holding it open for her. “After you?”

Ellie reminds you of a strawberry milk squishmallow when she eases past you, trying to hide her smile and pink cheeks. Your cheeks puff as you release the air in your lungs, shutting her door behind you.

This is the best eggplant parmesan you’ve ever tasted in your goddamn life. Too bad you can’t enjoy it due to Ellie’s hardcore mobster dad sending you deadly glares from across the table. He hasn’t said a word this entire meal, and you’re not anticipating the minute he does. He’s going to blow a gasket.

“D’you like it?” Ellie says lowly from beside you. You nod your head with two thumbs up. You can’t hide your smile when you notice all the gooey cheese and noodles eaten off the pieces of eggplant.

“It’s delicious. Thanks Mr. Miller.”

“Don’t mention it.” He sounds like he means it. Your heart drops and Ellie scowls at him. Your fingers clench around your fork and you scarf down what you can. It’s so good and you’re so scared and you want this meal to be over.

You're the last to clean your plate so you stand in a rush, gathering all of the plates and spoons off the table before scurrying to the sink.

Ellie pads close behind you, “Oh, you don’t have to— “

You cut Ellie off with a nervous laugh, “The least I could do.” The dishes clatter and you grab a sudsy sponge. You waste no time, scrubbing the living hell out of these dishes.

“Go sit down, Ellie.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at his stern tone, “Wha— “

He slices through her refute, and still manages to sound calm, “Go.”

You continue to scrub, sighing at Ellie's descending stomps. Joel creeps into the open space in front of the sink, grabbing a dish and another sponge.

“Ellie told me you’re an artist.” He mutters over the running water.

“Yeah. Sorta.” You reply as calmly as you can.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” He gets right to it, it seems. You scrub harder.

“Just… tryna make things right between us.”

“Why's that?”

Word vomit. You can’t help yourself. You’re so fucking nervous. “I-I fuc — sorry — I screwed over someone that was… really great. Your daughter’s a sweetheart and I feel awful with how things left off.” You stumble with a heated face. You catch the arch in his eyebrow and back pedal, “Not like we were — we weren’t dating or anything! Like, not like that! We just — “

“I was a student once upon a time. I know how these things go.” He snickers humorlessly. Your shoulders relax a smidge before he asks, “Why now?”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you wait so long to talk to her? The two of you graduated forever ago.” His tone is much calmer than it was seconds ago, but anxiety surges in your gut at his questioning.

“I didn’t wanna reach out without being in the right headspace. I had… a lot going on and I had to handle it. Therapy’s hard as fu — heck,” You sigh, “I still don’t think I’m doin’ a good job, but… I dunno, it earned me a Michelin star eggplant parm. Must be doing something right.”

You don’t expect Joel to laugh, but he does. It’s hearty and deep. Very dad-esque. Your heart crushes to dust all over again.

“Look, kid,” Joel sets the clean plate in the rack before grabbing another, “I wasn’t gonna say much, but Ellie seems to like you… a lot. More than most people.” Your heart flurries back into shape at his observation. You want to ask what a lot means exactly, but he continues.

“She’s… she gets very attached to people. I know it’s hard to believe but she’s very… sensitive,” His voice is low, but he’s not bullshitting in the slightest. The protective aura has returned and it’s radiating back onto you, pushing you back. Keeping you at a distance from him. From Ellie, “I’m never gonna shit on anyone’s journey, but frankly… if you’re not here to stay, I’d suggest leaving her alone now.”

This is definitely a threat. But you don’t feel threatened. You feel… sad. Joel is doing what any great dad would when faced with an outsider: armoring his cubs by any means. Something you’ve never experienced. If meeting Joel has shown you anything, it’s been what you’ve missed out on your entire life. Little does he know the last thing you want to do is separate from Ellie a second time. Another breakdown is bound to crash into you very soon. You forgot where the bathroom was.

You’re not going anywhere. Your heart won’t allow it. “I’m— “

You’re interrupted by a loud rumble, instantly followed by the heavy droplets of pouring rain. It sounds like pebbles are being thrown at all windows of their home; Is it hailing?

“Holy shit,” Ellie calls from the living room window, “Was it supposed to storm tonight?”

“Yeah, it was on the news,” Joel confirms. Ellie rushes over and points her eyes to you.

“You’re not driving in that.” She breathes out. Your heart fist pumps, but you maintain nonchalance.

You shrug awkwardly, “I don’t wanna pry— “

“Nah, she’s right. We have a guest room.” Joel sighs, “Ellie, show her where it is. I’ll finish up in here.”

Ellie’s hand closes around your wrist before guiding you down the hall. The bathroom’s right across from the guest room. On the left side, you note.

“Fuck a guest room. You’re staying with me.” She mumbles and opens the cupboard. She grabs you some sleep shorts and presumably her father’s sweatshirts. You try to convince yourself that the strong pounds in your chest are from fear of the storm, and not at all from a lesbian slumber party.

… Fuck.

The storm is roaring outside. And Ellie’s chiefing in neon astronaut jammies. This feels like a fever dream.

“They glow in the dark.” Ellie hums around a cloud of smoke from where she sits across from you on the bed. You pause your gawking, “Huh?”

“My pjs glow in the dark. Wanna see?” Her eyes sparkle and your heart sprouts legs and sprints around in your ribcage.

“Fuck yeah.” You gasp. Ellie’s teeth shine before she puts her joint between her lips and leans across her bed to shut her lamp off. Every fiber of your being tries to not lock onto the smidge of skin that appears from under her sweatshirt when she stretches. The room goes dark around the neon pink and green outlines of the design. You choke out a laugh at the pigmentation; How the fuck are they so bright!

“Sorry if this is boring. I’ve never had a sleepover before.”

“Shut up, that’s cool as fuck! You gotta battery pack in there or somethin’?” Ellie giggles out a no. A smile stretches wide across your face when you look up at her, hers just as bright. “Are you sleepy?” You ask.

“Not at all,” she hums as she switches the lamp back on.

“We could play a gaaame,” You suggest sing-songy.

“Oh, fuck. Like what.” Ellie huffs a laugh.

“Truth or dare is a sleepover classic— “

“I’m not licking a toilet seat.” Ellie states flatly. Laughter explodes from you at her face. “I’m not a crazy dare-er like that. The most you’ll have to do is prank call an ex or some shit.”

“I don’t have an ex.”

“Oh… Well, a family member.” Ellie nods in acceptance. “Can I ask first?” She asks.

“Mhm. Lay it on me.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Show me what’s in your backpack.”

“…Fuck.” You sigh, and Ellie cackles. “Were you planning this shit?” You ask and stand, walking over to the dresser where your bag sits. You grab it and hand it to her. She wastes no time, stubbing her joint out before rummaging through your shit, sifting through loose-leaf paper and markers used for coloring. You plop down onto her bed and she pulls out your sketchbook.

“Is it okay if I look?”

“I dunno,” You smirk, “Can I finally see your fucking portfolio?”

“Come home with me tomorrow,” she says instantaneously, “It’s there. You can see it.”

“… Then yes.”

She flips through pages and pages of visuals you’ve created before your father’s passing. They range from sloppily scribbled orchids, to immaculately shaded depictions of eggplant farms. Ellie giggles when she finds a small comic of Pickle playing with her favorite mouse toy.

“She still has it.”

“Good,” you whisper. You watch as she studies each page to her heart’s content, fingers dragging across lines that catch her attention. “You’re so good,” she says softly, awestruck and eyes sincere. Your gaze drops to your lap.

“Thanks,” you match her volume. She hums and flips to the next page. You eye the ashtray on her bed before snagging it, snatching her lighter and igniting the joint. Ellie eyes you like a hawk.

“I watched a tutorial on how to become a professional pothead… I think I got it down.”

“Show me.” She whispers and your stomach jolts.

Smoke leaves the lit end of the J and you flick the lighter off. You bring it to your lips and puff your cheeks full of smoke, inhaling as deep as you can before your lungs squeeze. You cough and heave tearfully and Ellie leans in to rub your back.

“That was better.” She says softly. “I was gonna dare you to hit it anyway.” Your coughing fits calm and you swallow.

“Shit,” You say. Ellie takes the joint from you and hits it like a fucking pro. She's much closer than she was seconds ago. You examine how her lips curl around the roach, cheeks expanding around carbon before inhaling, allowing the remainder to leave in a bunch of circles.

“You really blowing O’s right now?” You think you hit it right this time. The jitters you’ve had all day are beginning to dwindle.

She smiles mischievously, “Mhm.”

“Truth or dare?” You mumble.

“… Truth.”

“Did you think about me… after you left?” If you were to lean forward an inch, Ellie’s nose would touch yours. Nose hug. Her face spots are so adorable.

“Yeah. A lot.” She passes the J back to you and you accept it boldly. You’re releasing your stress with every exhale. Ellie was right; Smoking does feel good.

“What’d you think about?”

“Isn’t it my turn?”

“No.” You smile.

She shrugs, “I dunno. Just…” Her gaze falls onto her stuffed tabby cat.

“I feel like you’re boutta say something nasty.” You snicker.

“Wha — no! The fuck— “

You mock her, rubbing all over yourself, “I thought about your hands, ooo, aaa— “

Ellie smacks your arm a bunch of times before pushing you back onto the bed. You’re howling laughter over her whining, “Bitch, that’s you! Don’t think I forgot about that shit you pulled in the car!”

“You have nice hands! What can I say,” You slur with a dumb grin, “You have, like… classic lesbian hands. All you need is some Hot Topic rings and all the hoes gon’ flock to you.” You take one last toke before the lit end can reach your fingers, stubbing it on the ashtray.

Ellie seemingly ponders with the theory, “… Is that why a milf ate me out at the club?”

Your neck almost snaps when it cranes to look at her, “What the fuc— “

“Yeah. Craziest experience I ever had. Like, in my life.”

“Fuck, Ellie…” Your head flops back onto her Lightning McQueen blankets. “Was it good?”

“I… I guess. I came.”

You stare at the star stickers on her ceiling. “You guess?” She only hums.

“But…”

“Hm?” You urge her to continue.

“She didn’t… kiss me.” She whispers like it’s dirty to say out loud. You slowly blink at the opaque walls. “I mean, she did, but it wasn’t a real one.”

“Shame on her.”

Ellie maneuvers so she’s lying on her back beside you. “Yeah…”

“Ellie?”

“Hm?”

“Were you a virgin before I touched you?”

You expect her to slap the shit out of you again, but she doesn’t. She takes one deep breath before muttering, “Yes.”

You stop yourself from melting into her bed, turning on your side and propping yourself up on an elbow, gazing down at her. Her eyes are wide as saucers as she looks up at you. You can see her fingers twitching around her pillow, squeezing the fabric of the case. Right on Rigby’s nose.

“A-Are we still playing truth or dare?” She whispers, her breath hitting your face. She smells like oranges. You shake your head, tongue rolling over your lips. “No.” Your free hand lands on her hip and squeezes. Her jaw slacks around a gasp.

“… Oh.”

“Oh?” You want — need to kiss her so badly. Steal all the oxygen from her lungs so that she has no other choice but to breathe from you. Only you. Your vision is hazy with each travel over her face. She looks so soft, so pliant, so ready and prepared for you to take from her. Just like you hoped.

Your hand travels, pushing her sweatshirt up just above the waistline of her pants, fiddling with the knot right under her bellybutton.

You pull at the string until it loosens, “She gave you head?”

“T-The milf?”

“Yeah. The milf.” Aggravation seeps through your tone. Ellie’s hips twitch.

“… Yeah?” She coughs. You hum and hook your thumb under the band and inch them down. They aren’t even off all the way and you can tell she’s naked underneath.

“How good was it?”

“I don’t… know?”

“Yeah you do. How good was it?” You snip, and Ellie winces. “I-I squirted.” She trips over her words and your clit jumps. You don’t say anything, and she seems sad.

“… Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Your tone says otherwise. You’re not mad. You don’t know what you are. You don’t like what she’s telling you, though. Fuck milfs… You love them with your entire heart, but fuck them.

… Yeah. You’re high as shit.

You sit up and she moves to follow you, but you push her down and she goes limp under your touch.

“Don’t move. Just lay there.”

She pouts and you almost kiss it, “Don’t be mad.”

“I told you I’m not.” You swing a leg over her waist and she sighs dreamily. “How many times did you come.” You’re not asking; She’s going to tell you. You raise her sweatshirt up over her breasts.

“T-Two — Two.” She moves to throw her sweatshirt over her head but you snatch her wrists, pinning them right on the cushiony mattress. She doesn’t fight you.

“I want you quiet. Your dad’ll kill me if he hears you.”

Her eyes go glossy and twinkle, “Okay— “

“I mean it. Don’t say shit.”

“M’not gonna,” She whines before her mouth clamps shut. You give her overlapped wrists one last threatening squeeze, watching her fingers go lax before releasing her. You cup her tits and her eyes flutter shut, teeth sinking into her lower lip. You mouth at the valley between her tits and her back arches to follow each swipe of your tongue.

You kiss all over her ribcage, almost feeling each erratic thump of her heart under your tongue. She keens when your tongue flicks over the rising bud of her nipple, thighs squeezing around your hips. Your mouth latches onto the skin right above her areola, teeth sinking into it before sucking. Her hips raise and she’s breathing like she’s about to faint, and you grin like a fox.

You don’t let up until a wet maroon mark is left on her tit before swiftly switching to the next one, leaving a much harsher spot on the raised skin. An eager hand scratches down her torso until it brushes the patch of hair that peeks out from under her pants.

You shove your hand beneath the light cloth and your fingers are drenched in seconds. Your walls squeeze around nothing when you feel her clit jump in excitement. Her squishy lips spread around your middle and index fingers, her throbbing bundle of nerves cinched between them. She keeps making fucking noise and the walls seem to shake.

“What’d I say.”

“I — m’sorry, can’t h-help i— “

“Be quiet, Ellie.” Your fingers slip over her messy clit in slow, teasing circles. You release her skin until it’s blistering and bruised, quickening the pace of your fingers and she pulses in your hand. Your tongue swirls around her nipple once more, cheeks hollowing when you suckle.

Your eyes search for hers but her head is thrown back, neck strained and veins popping from beneath her skin. Your lips release the skin and your drippy hand leaves her pants. Your nipples harden under your tee when she reaches for your retreating form, fingers digging into your sweats.

Her pants are yanked down and tossed across the room, her toes curling in her rainbow-striped socks when your hands hook under her knees to push them up to her chest. Her arms entangle under her bent legs to hold them out of your way.

“I could fuck you right now with no problems.” You exhale in a daze, “S’fucking drippin’.” You envision how good her pussy will swallow whatever pops in, how easy it’ll stretch around something thick—

Ellie’s eyes shine like you offered her candy and her hole clamps down hard. You chuckle. “You want that?”

Her head bounces off the pillow in rushed nods. If your mouth wasn’t so fucking dry, you’d be slobbering all over her pussy. “Remember what I said?” You remind her, and she plants a heavy hand over her mouth. You kiss her ankle in appreciation.

Your fingers move on autopilot, massaging her clit a few more times before inching down, your index pushing past the tight, gripping muscles. Your finger’s swallowed whole in an instant and Ellie’s trying her hardest to mask her squeaks. “Fuck me,” you sigh when she takes another finger with no hassle, walls engulfing your digits in wetness. Her scent is surrounding you and it’s intoxicating.

“Missed you s’bad— “

“Missed you more, baby. Missed this pussy,” You’re pussydrunk and you’re slipping. That spot in her cunt becomes plumper with each press of your fingertips, “She fucked you better than me?”

Ellie’s denial is convincing, but that sick part of your brain doesn’t believe her. She loved being touched by someone, wanted by someone. Someone who wasn’t you, and you’re livid, “Nooo— “

You slice through her whine, “No?” Your smile is sadistic and your fingers are relentless, “You said her name like you said mine?” You grit and her eyes cycle into her skull, her hair sticking to her forehead. She’s trying to keep her voice down when she whispers how she only thought about you when she made a mess. She wanted you there, she says, she needed you there to take care of her.

“Y’fuck me s’good, fuck— “

Your eyes are dead, “I’ll hurt you. Be quiet.”

Fear flashes beneath her desire and she listens, keeping her sobs to a minimum. The sloppy, wet sounds of her pussy overtake the entire room the harder you fuck in, her nails tearing into her Pikachu stuffie on the corner of her bed. A string of drool dribbles from her bottom lip to her sweatshirt, her eyes glowing under the dimly lit lamp.

Her walls shake and throb on you, “Gonna cum, baby?” You grin manically at her dumbed-out expression, cheeks wet and eyes droopy. You coo at her and force in as deep as you can, curling your fingers up, fighting against the tight contractions of her walls.

“Make a mess on me, baby, I gotchu, c’mon— “

A long, drawn-out moan escapes Ellie’s lips, and you’re so hypnotized by the heavy spray of juices that lands on your thigh that you don’t even bother to shut her up. She’s drenching her sheets and blankets and you and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re fucking wave after wave out of her and she’s practically riding your hand, groaned curses and dazed squeaks of your name bouncing off the walls.

It feels like minutes pass when her orgasm slows, inner thighs drenched and dripping with slickness. Ellie’s entire body shakes and her thighs squeeze around your hand as she attempts to catch her breath, but you’re not done. You’re not satisfied. She didn’t give you enough.

You climb onto her and your lips connect in a simmering kiss, her wet mouth smacking against yours. Her cold hands land on either of your cheeks and your hips roll downward on hers. She whines into your mouth and tries to meet your hips but you force them back onto the mattress. She yanks at your shirt in attempts to rip it off but you don’t let up, lips slipping down to connect with her neck.

Your wrist twists downward until you're met with her sticky bush once more, spreading her lips apart and shoving your fingers back inside her. She chokes a wet gasp when they hit right where she needs, her arms wrapping around the back of your neck to hold you close. You’re babbling nonsense in her ear as you work her, telling her how she’s stuck with you, how you’re never leaving her side again, demanding that she says you're the best she’s ever had. And she does, and either you’re fucked out of your mind, or she means it.

You barely catch how your hips move like you're fucking her, driving into her as hard as you can and she takes it, stretches her legs wider so you can reach the spots she’s never been able to on her own. She’s saying your name like a prayer, like it’s all she’s ever known, and it’s breaking you down, only to build you back up so you can crash back into her. You missed her so fucking bad and you’re unleashing all of your feelings on her body and she eats all of it. How could you leave her when she fucking needs you this badly? You’ll never forgive yourself.

She’s warning you, crying about how you’re going to make her squirt again, begging you to slow down because she can’t take what you’re giving her, but you feel so good and you know she does, too. You can’t stop even if you want to. You want to drain her, live inside her for the rest of your days on Earth. You’re forcing space for you inside her.

Her nails dig into your shoulders as she cums. She’s unapologetically loud and it flows directly in your ear, and your own noises leave your mouth and land onto the clammy skin of her throat. The jets of fluid that leave her are stronger than the last, and you laugh. Laugh in ecstasy and joy and pleasure that you can’t even feel, but it’s there. Right in your chest.

You’re not done. You’ll never be done with her.

The night evaporates with you in between her legs, slurping every bit of cum and stress that you may have caused since knowing her from the source until the sun shines through her blinds, drinking from her like you’ll die without her taste on your tongue. She lets you do whatever you need to feel satiated, but it’ll never be enough now.

You’ll never be done with her.

Ellie’s naked form jolts awake when ticklish breaths hit her shoulder.

You’re beneath her, slumped, pantsless legs entangling hers and arms twisted every which way as you slobber and snore. A smile grows on Ellie’s face at your peaceful expression; She’s never slept that good in her own bed. She doesn’t want to wake you, but she has to pee so fucking badly.

She shifts in her position and instantly cringes at the soreness in her legs. Warmth coats the crests of her cheeks when she sees the discarded sheets and pillowcases that were changed only hours ago on the floor, head plopping onto your shoulder to hide in your neck. Your snoring gets cut by a guttural cough and Ellie laughs to herself when your snores pick up again.

She’s not a morning person in the slightest, so why the fuck is she so happy? Is this the post-sex glow that her friends always tell her about? Is she still considered a virgin if you only used your fingers and tongue? She doesn't feel like one… Sex rules are fucking dumb. She stops stressing before she ruins her morning.

The pangs in her bladder are getting on her nerves; She wants to cuddle. She sighs and shifts on top of you, trying her hardest not to disrupt your deep slumber. She manages to separate and clothe herself before waddling down the hall and into the bathroom, trying to ignore the aches in her thighs. You wrecked her shit… What the hell.

The second she leaves the bathroom, she smells coffee. Her dad’s up. She might vomit.

The two of you weren’t that loud. Definitely not. He couldn’t have heard. He didn’t hear! Ellie’s stealthy as she tiptoes through the hall… until the fucking floorboards croak from beneath her and she nearly faints.

“Come out, dipshit. I know it’s you.”

Her eyes squeeze shut and she curses to herself. She reluctantly appears from behind the wall, her dad sitting comfortably on the couch with a filled mug and newspaper, Pickle napping on his lap. He peeks from above his reading glasses.

“Think we needa talk.”

“… Fuck me.” She whispers before shamefully limping into the living room. She flops onto the couch and glues her eyes onto the decorative rugs under the coffee table.

“She seems nice.” Her dad sips his mug. Ellie’s face burns.

“She is.” She mumbles. You took such good care of her after last night. You got her in the shower, brushed her teeth for her when she was damn near sleepwalking, watched her down two bottles of water. Her heart flutters at how soft your eyes turned when you kissed her to sleep.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“… I dunno.” He hums and sips.

She doesn’t know. You’re not dating, but Ellie thinks you like her… She thinks. She likes you… a lot. She bites at her nails.

“You like her?” He asks lowly; She knows he knows.

“Yeah…” Ellie whispers, cheeks rising on their own. She covers her face when he smiles.

“Just… take your time.” Joel advises gently, “Did she tell you she’s in therapy?”

Ellie’s ears perk and her brows furrow, “No.” She sits up. Her dad’s gaze softens, “Wait til she brings it up, then. Y’all should talk before things get serious. It’s only been a couple days.”

Ellie knows her dad is right, but it’s hard to control herself when she’s around you. She naturally gravitates towards your aura; It’s comforting and she doesn’t want to lose it again.

A gentle clatter comes from her bedroom and she stands. You’re awake.

“I love you, kiddo,” Joel says, and she smiles softly. “Love you, too.”

She scurries down the hallway and enters her bedroom, seeing you sprawled out on the floor, all wrapped in sheets.

Your eyes are droopy when you croak, “Hello.” Ellie snickers.

“Hi. What happened.”

“I was reaching for, like… an orb in my dream and I guess I did it in real life,” Your voice gets so raspy in the morning, and it tickles her ears. Ellie can’t stop laughing. She helps you stand before kissing your cheek.

“Good morning,” she wraps her arms around your neck.

“M-Mornin’,” You squeak, eyes flitting around, “Uh… How'd you sleep?”

“Good.” She’s lost in your brown eyes. They’re warm like the sun. Why won’t you look at her?

She follows your line of vision down to your fiddling hands before whispering, “You okay?” You simply nod. Ellie’s heart stutters nervously.

“Do you still wanna come over later?”

“… Yeah.” Your attempts to disguise your stiffness fail. Ellie feels a lump forming in her throat when she detaches from you, and you search for the new pair of pants she gave you before you went to bed. Ellie watches silently, crestfallen. Something she did triggered your aloofness, so she turns to leave the room.

Her voice cracks, “I’m gonna… shower again— “

“Ellie.”

She turns, “Yes?”

Her fists clench when you walk until you’re standing in front of her, warm hand coming up to hold her cheek before kissing her. It’s soft and makes Ellie’s fingers thrum with excitement. It only lasts seconds before you pull away, and Ellie chases your mouth.

“I’d love to come over. I think we… should talk about some things.” You say quietly, and Ellie silently agrees. You let her go and she wants nothing but for you to pull her in once more, shrouded in your warmth.

You’re making her bed when Ellie leaves for the bathroom, body falling against the door to calm herself down. You’re not upset with her, and you want to come over… to talk, whatever that means.

The hot water burns her skin; She spends her entire shower thinking about how she can make you as happy as she feels.

taggiessssss :3 @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl @callmewhenyoukan @macaroni676 @draculurasblog @ellieaesp @@gravygranules @elsblunt

#in frame ✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams angst #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us 2 #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

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runnning-outof-time · 3 months

Note

Hello! Can I request John with "Do you actually love me?"

Hi there @kpoploverxx-12 ! Thanks so much for sending this in! I’m sorry it took so long for me to write it! I hope you like what I did with it! This is my favorite John fic that I’ve written in a long time….it might even be my favorite fic of this celebration. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

Exactly Like That

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 683

Summary: Two friends become a something a little more than that when John lets those three words slip.

John and (Y/N) were sitting on the bank of the Cut, like they usually do. They’d gone there nearly every Friday for the last ten years, spare the years when John was away at war. Whenever he’d come home though, they’d somehow find themselves sitting there.

In a way, it became like their therapy. The calming sound of the water flowing became the backdrop that the two would share their goings on to.

It was there that these two became closer to each other than anyone else in their lives.

John just finished telling (Y/N) what was happening in his family. She was the one person who would listen to everything and not tell a soul. She did so because she knew John would do the same for her. They were both thankful for each other in that regard.

“You’ll get through it, John. You always do,” she said to him, a smile forming as she turned to face him. “And hey, if you don’t, I know that I’ve got a handsome amount of money coming my way,” she joked then, cracking up at her own statement.

John couldn’t help but laugh. Her laughter was like music to his ears. It always instantly put him in a better mood. “I love you,” he admitted once his laughter died down and he’d been watching at her as she came down from her fit of giggles from a few moments ago.

“Yeah,” she agreed, not really hearing what he said at first. Silence fell over them as (Y/N) looked down to the water again. Then it clicked. “Do you actually love me?” she asked, a seriousness present in her voice that hadn’t been there seconds ago. This conversation had essentially changed tones on a dime.

“Yeah, course I do,” John responded without a second thought.

(Y/N) froze for a moment, her heart rate quickening. “Yeah, well not like that, right?” she scrambled to ask while mentally telling herself to calm down and not get ahead of herself.

John’s eyes danced over her face for a moment, taking her features in before the slightest smile graced his lips. “No, exactly like that,” he spoke with sincerity, like it was the most important thing he’d ever said.

(Y/N) let out a breath, her eyes going wide as she quickly looked straight again. She was freaking out now, and she didn’t want him to see it. In all their years of friendship, she never thought that things would get to this point…where she’d make her feelings for him known.

Nothing was said as John reached over and gently took hold of (Y/N)’s chin so that he could guide her eyes back to his. They held eye contact for a few moments, the air around them holding this weird tension that neither of them had experienced before.

John just had to break it. “I love you, (Y/N). Have since you and I was kids,” he told her, speaking softly due to their proximity, but she heard every word clear as day. She also didn’t miss his eyes as they flitted down to her lips. There was no hesitation in her moving the slightest bit closer to him, showing him that she wanted exactly what he wanted. He licked his lips before continuing, “…been wantin’ to do this for a long time too,” he breathed, giving her no time to respond - if she even wanted to - before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss felt exactly like those kisses that are described in the romance novels…the ones that sweep people off of their feet. (Y/N) was thankful that they were sitting, because otherwise she wasn’t sure if she could trust her legs to hold her up.

“I love you too, John,” she breathed against his lips once they broke the kiss. Her eyes were closed, but she was able to feel his smile, and that alone made her smile. Nothing else was said as their lips met again…nothing more was needed to be said.

**tags in reblogs so that hopefully they get sent

MASTERLIST

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby blurb #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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buckys-wintersoldier · 1 month

Text

Corruption inside of SHIELD | Steve Rogers

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> You’re visiting your boyfriend at work but when the two of you just want to get some food there are suddenly agents working for shield but fight against Steve.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 1.844

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> fighting scene but not much, tiny bit of angst, fluff

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> 10 Years Anniversary CA:TWS | March 28 | Theme: SHIELD | The Triskelion, Compromised, Surprise Visit, Weapons, Favorite scene | @catws-anniversary

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you to @rogersbarber for helping me to come up with that idea.

Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

When you enter the kitchen, you shake your head, giggling. Steve just forgot his lunch, and you told him in the morning at least ten times to take his lunch with him. Sometimes you feel like he doesn’t listen to you, just admiring your body, kissing your face over and over again, and mumbling sweet nothings into your ear. You don’t have much to do today, so you will just bring him his lunch, and then the two of you can spend his lunch break together. But before you make yourself completely ready for the day, you make yourself a bowl of cereal and walk into the living room to watch one of your favorite movies. After the movie, you get ready and decide to wear one of Steve’s t-shirts and a hoodie, which actually belongs to him as well. Then you take his lunch, putting your lunch into the bag as well, and make your way to the Triskelion.

With your favorite music, the way doesn’t feel that long, and you can see the big building already when you smirk softly. Steve doesn’t know you will visit him during his lunch break to bring his food. You’re already excited when you just think about it; not only does the big building give you some excited feelings, but Steve also causes the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. The two of you have been together for a few months now, but it still feels like you just fell in love with the tall, blond man.

Steve and you met a few months ago. He was just ordering a coffee and some food to the Triskelion, the most adorable building you have ever seen. You were always curious about what it looked like from the inside if there were lots of people walking around, and then you had the chance to get into the buildings and deliver coffee to the famous Captain America.

You stumbled into the building, almost falling over your own feet with the coffee and food in your hand. From the inside, the building was even bigger, and it reminded you of an office. So with your hands full of things, you made your way to the woman behind a desk. She looked like she knew where you could find Captain America.

“H-Hello. I have the food Mr. Rogers ordered. Where can I give the delivery to him?” You asked politely.

She looked up from the screen in front of her and smiled at you. Then she saw the food and the coffee in your hands and looked back at the screen.

“I will tell him his delivery is here; just wait a moment,” she told you, and you nodded.

Your eyes scanned the whole room; it was big, there were some plants in the corners, and next to them were a few couches. And some people were sitting on them, talking to each other, or they were just busy with their work. Some agents were walking through the room, greeting others, some on their phones, and some walking next to others.

The restaurant you work at is small, and there are not even as many people as you see walking or sitting in the hall right now. Then you see a man in gray pants and a light brown shirt walking in your direction. His hair is short and blond, he is shaved, and his steel blue eyes lit up when he saw the food and coffee in your hand.

“Hello, I’m Steve. Steve Rogers,” he said, taking his order out of your hands.

Before the two of you were able to say something else, someone crashed into Steve, and he threw the cup of coffee all over your t-shirt. You hissed softly when the hot liquid met your skin, and Steve immediately apologized. He was looking for a tissue to help you dry the coffee, which soaked the fabric of your clothes.

“I’m so sorry. Please, let me take you out for a co- maybe for a pizza?”

You nodded with a smile and dried your shirt before you wrote down your number and handed it to Steve.

“Don’t worry, and I would love to get a pizza with you.”

Steve’s smirk was from one side to the other, his eyes roaming over your body when you walked out of the building. Your smile was at least as big as his; you were going to have a date with Steve Rogers.

You enter the building, walking straight up to the woman you met for the first time in the Triskelion a while ago. The two of you have talked a few times. When you pick Steve up and she has a shift, the two of you gossip over some agents.

“Picking him up today?”

“No, he just forgot his lunch, and I thought I would spend his lunch break with him then.”

She nods and smirks at you before she looks at the screen of her computer, tapping something.

“He is in Fury’s office. You could go there; the meeting should be done in a bit,” she tells you, and you thank her before you walk to the elevators.

When you get into one, you tap the bottom, which brings you to the floor with Nick Fury’s office. He is kind of Steve’s boss, and he can be funny and a weird man at the same time, at least after things you heard from your boyfriend about the other man. When you get out of the elevator, you walk along the floor, looking for Fury’s office, and you see the door already open.

When you walk closer, you see Natasha and Steve in the room; they are talking to each other, papers are everywhere on the table, and you knock at the doorframe, not wanting to scare them both. They turn their heads towards you, and Steve immediately smirks at you; his eyes light up, and he walks closer to you.

“What are you doing here, princess?” Steve asks, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close against his broad chest.

“You forgot your lunch at home, and I thought I would bring it then,” you say, holing the back with food up.

Steve smirks and leans closer, capturing your lips with his for a short but sweet kiss. You wouldn’t mind feeling his lips on yours all day and his hands on your body while you get lost in his beautiful eyes. But Natasha interrupts your thoughts when she laughs behind Steve. He turns around, pulling you with him and turning you so you’re standing with your back against his chest.

“What’s so funny?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re so old; you look like a guy our age, actually. But you act like an old man, grandpa,” she says, and the two of you burst out laughing.

Steve grumbles behind you, and when you look up at him, he pouts. You chuckle, standing on your tiptoes, and your hands find their way around his neck, pulling him closer until you reach his lips to kiss the pout away.

“I will leave you two love birds then. Have fun- but not in the office, please.”

Steve rolls his eyes playfully and lets Natasha walk out of the room, then he kisses you once again before he lets go of you and puts some stuff together.

“Let’s get downstairs; it’s more comfortable there,” he says when he takes your hand and leads you back to the elevator.

When the elevator reaches the floor in the Triskelion, you get into it and wait to get downstairs, back into the hall. You’re looking out of the elevator, loving the view you have, while Steve stands pressed with his body against you, kissing your neck softly. When the elevator stops a floor deeper, a man with two bodyguards gets into the elevator. Steve turns his head toward the men.

“Rumlow.”

“Rogers.”

Both men greet each other before the elevator gets further down. On the next floor, a lot of men get into the elevator. The next floor and another few men join you in the elevator. Slowly, you’re all pressed together, and Steve kisses your neck once again, leaning closer after looking around and seeing the sweat on someone’s forehead and the hands of a few men near their weapons.

“I love you. Don’t move away; enjoy the view, princess,” he mumbles, and you nod softly.

Then Steve turns around and faces a few of those men. He then says something, but you’re focused on the people walking around. Then you hear a crack, and the elevator suddenly stops. You don’t move, obeying Steve. You hear the sound of metal against metal, punching and groaning, and you see in the corner of your eyes some men lying on the ground. You grip the railing of the elevator, digging your fingers against it, while you hear Rumlow's voice.

“It’s nothing personal, Cap.”

“It kind of feels personal,” Steve says, then you hear another groan before Steve inhales deeply and walks closer to you again. “You’re oke, Princess?”

You nod, turning around to hide your face in Steve’s shirt. You grip the fabric tightly and pull him closer. Your boyfriend’s hands slide up and down your back, comforting you.

“Let’s get out of the elevator,” he mumbles, and he turns around to open the doors of the elevator.

When he does so, there are a few more agents running in your direction. He groans and closes the door, using his shield to let the elevator fall down before he stops it with his shield. You want to scream, but there is nothing similar to the tone that leaves your lips. Steve opens the doors once again, but there are even more agents.

“Where do those agents come from?” He asks more himself as you.

He then walks over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, before he starts running and crashes with his shield in front of the two of you through the glass off the elevator. You're screaming, your fingers digging into his skin, holding him tight against you while you two fall down, his shield still underneath you when you meet the ground. It wasn’t hurtful, and when you open your eyes - which you didn’t even know you had closed while the two of you were jumping out of the elevator - you see Steve laying underneath you, smirking at you before he kisses you softly.

“What was that? Why did they come into the elevator?”

“They are members of Hydra. Nat and I found it out earlier, before you came with the dinner.”

“It’s flat now,” you mumble.

“That’s oke, we get some food on our way home. Nat will be there later too,” Steve says, helping you get up.

Your legs are shaking, and you’re clinging to your boyfriend and his arm is wrapped around your waist while you make your way to his motorcycle to pick up some food and drive the two of you home.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬.

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @felicitylemon @cjand10 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf

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waywardxwords · 8 months

Text

Empty

Summary: Ten months ago, Sam threw himself and Lucifer into the cage. While Dean went off to live happily with Lisa and Ben, you couldn’t bring yourself to live a “normal” life. While on a hunt, your trail leads to Lansing, Michigan where you get your hopes up when you stumble upon the Sam Winchester in a dive bar. Instead, bumping into the man you had fallen for years before leaves you feeling empty. Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Female Reader Word Count: ~4.1k Warnings: IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, PLEASE STOP READING. THIS IS RATED M FOR MATURE. Soulless!Sam, swearing, smut (p in v, unprotected), slightly angsty, sadness, feeling used…Sam is kind of a douchebag in this (hello, he has no soul) - I would also like to preface that I'm still new at this whole ~writing smut~ thing, so please be kind but I am 10000% open to critique/feedback!

A cloud of cigarette smoke pooled above the bar as your boots clicked upon the hardwood of a little dive bar in Lansing, Michigan. It had been ten months since everything changed–Sam in the pit as Lucifer’s vessel, and Dean off living the life he had always deserved with Lisa and Ben. You were happy for him, truly. But that life wasn’t your life. Once you knew about all that went bump in the night, there was no going back. Thankfully, you had found Alice McCaffrey. Bobby had introduced you when you told him you wanted to get back out there. “You don’t hunt alone,” he had warned you. Alice was a little older than you, but you seemed to gel well. It wasn’t like hunting with the Winchesters, but it was still fine.

The two of you found a small, round table towards the back of the bar where there were billiard tables and took your place on the stools.

“I just don’t get it,” Alice gnawed a little at her bottom lip. “We tracked that trail all the way here…there’s no way it just goes cold.” There was plenty of evidence floating around that the Shapeshifter was here, in Lansing. And when you said ‘the’, you meant the one and only: first of its kind, Daddy Shapeshifter; the one who created all shapeshifters.

“I mean, this thing has been alive for how many years?” You toyed with a round paperboard coaster in your hands. “He could just be that good. He’s used to evading hunters for centuries.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she grumbled, but you knew she wasn’t going to let it go. That was fine by you, but in the meantime…

“I’m gonna grab a beer, you want anything?” You asked her as you thumbed to the bar.

“Yeah, one for me, too. But none of that light shit…see if they have a Guinness or something,” she pulled out her laptop and her leatherbound journal.

Just as you turned to walk towards the bar, you caught sight of him. Him. The him you had mourned (and were still mourning, if you were honest with yourself). Your breath caught in your throat as his tall, broad frame stood over a billiard table. The bright light above the table accented each of his features–nothing had changed, really, besides his hair maybe being a tiny bit longer and it looked like he had been working out again. His eyes grazed over the green baize fabric on the table to check his next move.

You didn’t want to make a scene, but this wasn’t possible…there was no way in Hell this man could be standing in front of you. You quickly pulled your cell phone from your pocket and dialed the familiar number. You refused to pull your eyes away as you watched for any sudden movements.

“Bobby?” You asked when he answered after just the third ring. “You got any idea why I’m standing in a bar in Michigan looking at Sam Winchester right now?”

As if on cue, Sam seemed to feel your gaze as he pulled his eyes up from the table and found yours.

“Balls,” Bobby grumbled as you listened to his drawl through the receiver of the phone. “Listen, it’s Sam…but I didn’t say anything ‘cause I didn’t want ya to get hurt…” you weren’t sure what that meant. Sam had already started his pace over to you. There was a smile upon his lips, but it seemed different. “Something’s different about him. He ain’t been the same since he got pulled out of Lucifer’s cage. You hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear ya, Bobby,” your words were soft. “I’ll, uh, I’ll call you later.” You hung up quickly just as he approached.

Your name fell from his lips, almost inquisitively. That same old Sam Winchester half-smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Sam,” you breathed in return. It was difficult to keep Bobby’s warning in the back of your mind when the man you had hunted with for so long was standing just in front of you. While hunting with the brothers, you had never allowed your feelings to see the light of day. They were professional, and they had taught you so much about what looms in the dark. But you would be a liar if you said you had never felt butterflies when Sam smiled at you, laughed at your joke, or the way it felt when his fingers grazed your skin…

“Hey, wow, it’s been such a long time,” something did feel a bit off with his words, but even more so with his demeanor. You had mapped out those hazel eyes over the two years you spent hunting with the boys, and there was a lightness missing. They just felt empty.

“Sam, how are you here? I saw you fall into the cage myself,” the thought alone made your eyes burn. Watching Sam and the strength he had to throw himself (and Lucifer) into the cage was devastating.

“Yeah, uh, I don’t really know?” He chuckled softly. You searched for the light, but still couldn’t find it—even behind his laughter. “I just sorta woke up and I was back…”

“God, it’s so incredible to see you,” you couldn’t stop staring at him, afraid if you blinked, he’d disappear. “Is Dean here? Are you guys trying to figure out what brought you back?”

Sam broke his gaze from yours, but only for a second. He slipped his hands into his front jean pockets. “No, uh, I didn’t want to pull Dean back in. It’s rare to get an opportunity to get outta this life. He seems happy,” he nodded. You couldn’t help but notice the lack of emotion in his tone or on his face. “I, uh, I actually found some of my mom’s family. They have a compound here in Lansing, so I’ve been hunting with them.”

You tried to hide the way his words stung. He was so stoic, you didn’t want to look like a fool. But you were hurt…he had to have known you were still hunting. It made you doubt yourself—there were probably better people to hunt with and he had found them. You had always wondered if you were just a tagalong for the Winchesters; maybe they had just felt bad for you, after all.

“Oh, nice,” you forced a smile and a small nod. “That’s good. Hunting with family is good…” your words trailed.

Sam matched your nod. As if he realized he should be asking you about yourself, he continued with, “What about you? Are you hunting still?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you turned back to your hunting buddy as she watched cautiously from your table. “This is Alice McCaffrey,” you introduced as you stepped back to the table and Sam followed. “Alice, this is Sam Winchester. Alice and I have been hunting together."

Alice’s eyes widened. “The Sam Winchester?” She asked, incredulously.

“The one and only,” he chuckled as he shook her hand.

“Wow,” Alice’s eyes drifted to you—you knew immediately what she was thinking: shifter? Demon? Shifter-demon?

“It’s really him,” you confirmed. While you hadn’t tested him yourself, you trusted Bobby. Bobby seemed very certain. He just also made it explicitly clear that Sam was different.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” she smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I just…I thought you were in the pit…”

“Yeah,” Sam tucked some strands of brown hair that had fallen forward back behind his ear. “I was, but somehow got a way out. We’re still trying to figure that out.” He explained.

“That’s great,” she seemed a little hesitant, but that was why you loved Alice. Alice was wary of anyone and everyone; she didn’t trust at face value. There were still days you wondered if you had earned her full and complete trust.

“What brings you to Lansing?” Sam shifted the topic, his eyes on you now.

“We’ve been trailing a shifter,” you kept the topic brief. It felt weird not delving into all the details of your case, but you couldn’t quite shake the fact that Sam had been back and hadn’t tried to connect with you.

“Oh, the original?” He looked between the two of you. Alice narrowed her eyes at Sam.

“Yeah, are you hunting him too?” She questioned.

He looked between the two of you, still emotionless. “Yeah, we got him. A few hours ago, my team had him killed.”

“You…you managed to kill him?” Alice looked at him with the same level of shock as before.

“Sam, he was the original shapeshifter. Like, father to all shifters,” you added in, wondering if maybe he didn’t realize.

“I know,” he looked between the two of you. “He was a beast. But we’re a team of six. We had it covered.”

Alicia glanced at you—you knew the look. She wasn’t sure of this Sam Winchester guy.

“Hey,” Sam's fingertips grazed your hand. “Would you wanna get outta here? Some place we can sit and catch up. Somewhere quiet?” Between his fingertips on your flesh, and the way his voice had dropped lowly, you shuddered internally.

Somehow, you still seemed hesitant. Had this been ten months ago, you would have leapt out of your chair and been halfway to the door by now. But it wasn’t. And this version of Sam just felt different. You pushed past the hesitation. “Yeah, okay,” you nodded.

“Let me just go let the guys know I’ll be back in a while,” he thumbed back to the billiard tables where you finally noticed an older man, bald and eyes that you felt like could see through your soul. You managed a quick nod before he headed back that way.

“Can I say something and you promise it won’t piss you off?” Alicia asked as soon as Sam was out of earshot.

You were fairly certain you knew what she had to say, but you pulled your eyes from Sam’s back and looked back at her. “Of course.”

“I listened to you go on and on about this Sam Winchester guy. Even when you didn’t realize you were talking about him. You talk about him in your sleep,” she emphasized. Warmth crept up your neck and into your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you were sleep-talking about him… “But the Sam Winchester you’ve been mourning for almost a year? Girl, that’s not him.” Her eyes bore into you.

“I know he seems a little…rough around the edges,” you tried to reason as your eyes found him talking to the bald man in the corner. The man had returned his gaze to you as Sam spoke. “But we have no idea what happened to him in that cage. That would change anyone, Alicia.” You looked back to your hunting buddy.

“I get that, I do,” she agreed. “I’m just asking you to be careful. A lot can change in ten months. Especially when we’re talking about someone coming back from one of the darkest depths of Hell…if not, the darkest depth of Hell.”

“I’ve got it handled,” you watched him as he moved back towards your table. “I’ll meet you back at the motel later.” You managed a quick smile and hopped off of your bar stool.

“Ready?” Sam asked as you approached. You nodded once, but couldn’t help the feeling of the bald man watching you. Sam began to lead you away from the table.

“It was nice meeting you,” Alicia practically yelled over the sounds of the bar. Sam nodded once nonchalantly back at her.

“Yeah, you too,” it was strange, but then Sam’s hand snaked around yours and held it in his palm, and any uncertainty you had in your gut went out the window.

When Sam suggested going some place quiet, you had assumed that would be a café or diner; somewhere public, but where you could get caught up. It surprised you when he pulled into a motel parking lot and had you wait in the car. He wasn’t staying here…why was he getting a room? You were smarter than this, but somehow Sam Winchester had always had a way of emitting a haze around you; a haze that more than clouded your judgment.

“Why a motel room?” You finally managed to ask as you stood behind him while he unlocked the door.

“I just figured it would be nice to get caught up…” you noticed his eyes trailed down the front of you. He was looking at you in a way he had never done so blatantly before; a way you had always imagined in your mind, but never experienced. Your throat ran dry as he opened the door and held it open for you to step through. Suddenly you felt nervous.

“I really missed you, Sam,” you felt a lump of emotion knit together in your throat. Your eyes moved up his torso to find his hazel gaze. A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

A surprise to you, his arms snaked around you and pulled you into his chest. “I missed you, too,” you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam was saying it because he knew he was supposed to.

“Sam…” you started cautiously. There were two parts of you, and they were at war: on one hand, you had wanted this moment to happen for so long–you had willed for Sam to come back. But the other part of you had so many questions that you felt needed answered before you could fully open up to him. “How long have you been back?”

“Just about ten months,” he answered with little-to-no hesitation. He seemed a little surprised when your eyes widened.

You moved away from him to sit on the edge of one of the double beds in the room. Your eyes found the multicolored carpet that lined the motel room floor. “You’ve been back almost the entire time we thought you had been gone, and you didn’t call?”

“It’s…complicated,” he breathed out as he moved to sit next to you on the bed. “Things aren’t like they were ten months ago,” he tried to explain. You kept your eyes on the carpet as he spoke. “Things are different now. The Campbells are different…” there was that word again: different. Your eyes didn’t budge until your name fell as a whisper from his lips. “I really did miss you.”

You watched as his eyes trailed over you once more. Across your face, down your neck…you felt the heat rising again. “I feel like I’ve had this dream a million times–you coming back. And now it’s real, and it just feels…”

“I know,” his words were soft again as his body shifted towards you.

Before your brain could argue with your heart again, you felt your hands pull at the collar of his plaid button-down shirt. His face moved closer until your lips crashed against each other in a hasty motion. His movements were quick, but thorough, as his hands traveled to your waist. He pulled at the hem of your cotton t-shirt until his fingers slipped underneath and grazed against the flesh of your hips, causing goosebumps to bubble on the surface of your skin.

Your hands tangled in the locks of hair at the back of his neck just as his hands lifted you and pulled you onto his lap so your legs straddled his waist. His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt again until you instinctively raised your arms and broke where your lips met as he tugged the garment over your head. His fingers tangled in your hair once more as he stood up with your legs secured around his waist and turned to lay you on the bed. Once your eyes fluttered to see him pulling his button-down off, your brain kicked back into gear.

“Sam,” you breathed. He was back hovered over you now, his fingertips tracing a line of goosebumps down your neck, then your clavicle, to the tops of your breasts. Your breath hitched in your throat once more. “Sam, should we…are we doing this?” You were still trying to wrap your head around the idea that this was happening.

He paused for a moment and looked back down at you; your eyes tried to find old Sam once more–even just a glimmer. But you were coming up empty, yet again.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” his emphasis on the word ‘long’ made your heart and stomach flutter simultaneously. “I should have before. But I was stupid, and then I was saying ‘yes’ to Lucifer, and I never thought I’d see you again.”

Your brain wanted to remind him that he could have called you, hell, he could have shown up at your doorstep and you would have welcomed him back with open arms. But your heart decided against it as he leaned closer to your lips.

“I thought maybe you wanted this too,” he breathed as his lips gingerly touched against yours once more.

Words failed you, so instead you reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair once more. The way you moved your lips against his gave him your answer.

His fingers strategically moved behind you, expertly unclasping the black bra that constrained your breasts. With a quick flick of his fingers, you felt the material relax and the straps slipped off of your shoulder blades. Your eyes found his once more–the only thing you saw was want and lust.

You relished in the feeling of his lips as they trailed from your lips to your neck, sucking on the skin just under your earlobe. You closed your eyes at the sensation; your heart allowed your fingers to move through his hair, down to the nape of his neck. He moved against you in a way that warmed you to your core. You hadn’t realized Sam had moved his fingers down to the metal button clasp on your jeans. His fingers very quickly and skillfully moved so the button popped through the denim material and loosened. As he worked, his lips trailed down to your breast and attached to your nipple. His tongue moved over the already hardened bud, massaging in a way that elicited a moan from the back of your throat.

The break of the suction of his lips from your skin evoked a pop that echoed to your ears. In one swift motion, he pulled your jeans from your hips, bringing your underwear with it. He took a moment to stand at the edge of the bed. You watched as the muscles in his fingers, hands and forearms flinched as he worked his belt and jeans from their own metal clasp. He pulled his jeans down along with his boxers until they were at his ankles and he could step out of them.

“So fucking sexy,” he breathed. Your breath hitched once more–that wasn’t something your imagination had come up with when you had thought of this moment. The burn from the pink glow you had felt on more than one occasion tonight crept back up your skin once more, but this time you couldn’t hide.

“Sam,” your breath hitched in your throat, yet again.

Sam moved back over you at that moment, no additional words exchanged. You felt his length harden just between your legs upon your thigh. Your eyes closed once more as he kissed you with a force you had never felt before–you couldn’t place it. It wasn’t passion, it was need.

His hands moved yours just above your head so they were bent at your elbows. With one hand, he clasped them there. His other hand moved down the side of your face, down your breasts until they wrapped around his cock. You felt his knee move between your thighs to part them. His hand shifted until his fingers deftly found your center. Sam’s index finger slipped between your folds, finding out for certain just how excited you were for this moment.

“You’re already so wet for me, baby,” his breath tickled just below your earlobe as he whispered. He picked up the pace with his fingers as he rubbed your swelling nub with his thumb. He moved in small circles that made you begin to grind your hips with his motions. Without warning, he plunged a finger inside of you once, twice, three times before he added a second finger.

A gasp escaped your lips as you pressed your head back into the mattress even further, your mouth agape. “Jesus, Sam,” you couldn’t help the words as they toppled out between your lips. After a few more thrusts, he reached down to pump his hand between his legs again. Without his touch, your brain started working once more. “D-Do you have a condom?” You didn’t mean to stutter, but you were lucky to even get words strewn together that made any sense at this point.

“It’s alright, I’ll pull out,” he kissed just below your ear on your jawline. Goosebumps flooded the surface of your skin once more as his stubble trailed over you. Your brain didn't have a moment to respond.

As he lined himself up against your center, you opened your eyes to find his gaze. His eyes were dark–a dark you had never noticed before. The normal flecks of gold, green, and blue were suddenly a darker yellow, forest green and gray. It was beautiful–lustful, even–but you didn’t see any emotion. They were still just empty.

Your mouth fell agape as he pushed into you, releasing your hands above his head so he could reach down and pull your legs and hook your ankles around his back. Instinctively, you moved your hips against him, meeting him with each movement he made.

Sam ducked his head so his lips could connect with the sweet spot he had found just above your clavicle. You couldn’t be sure, but by the feeling you knew it would leave a mark; you didn’t care. You focused on the raw feeling of him inside you, the way he grunted with each thrust. You flattened your palms up his back, the feeling of his muscles under your hands adding to the pooling warmth in the pit of your belly.

Strategically, Sam reached between the two of you and pressed his thumb to your clit once more. The continuous motion of the small circles sent a shudder over you.

“Sam…” you warned.

He nipped at the skin below your ear. “I know, baby. Let me get you there,” the words dropped from his lips in a whisper once more.

You moved your hips to the rhythm of his hand and his thrusts. The muscles in your abdomen tightened and trembled as he pushed you over the edge. The pace of his movements picked up as he removed his hand and gripped your hips again–he pumped in and out of you with such fervor, you thought you might break.

With a shallow grunt, he quickly pulled out as he found his release–and suddenly, you felt empty.

Sam removed himself from the bed quickly and retreated to the small bathroom to clean up. As he came back, he handed you a towel. While you never could have known what being with Sam would be like, exactly…this wasn’t what you had expected.

“That was…” your voice trailed off as you tried to catch your breath. You rolled to your side and propped yourself up on your elbow as you watched him. Instinctively, you pulled the rustled sheet up just under your chin to cover yourself.

Sam’s eyes found you as he pulled up his boxers, and then his jeans. His chest heaved only slightly as he got dressed. “Yeah, that was nice,” a smile pulled on his lips. “I’m glad we bumped into each other again.” Your throat felt dry again. Words failed you; you didn’t know what to say to that. He pulled his shirt over his head and fixed some of the buttons. “I paid through the night, so you can crash here, if you want,” he gestured to the room.

“You’re…you’re leaving?” You tried to shove the emotions bubbling up so they went back down. It felt like you were underwater–Sam was different. There was no hiding it or trying to deny it anymore.

He looked back at you quizzically, as if he couldn’t understand why you were asking him this, but then turned his attention back to his boots as he tied the laces. “Uh, yeah. We have a lot of work to wrap up, and you’re just passing through,” his words trailed off a little, but it didn’t seem to be because he felt bad. “It really was good seeing you again.”

He managed one more small smile before he grabbed his remaining belongings and walked for the door.

The emotions finally bubbled over, but all you felt was empty.

A/N: Please, please don’t hate me. If you love Soulless!Sam with zero feeling and emotion, then this might be your jam. If you prefer loving, kind, caring Sam–you’re probably wanting my head on a platter. This is part one, I have a part two in the works and I promise I’ll fix everything <3

#supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural ff #spn fanfic #spn ff #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #soulless!sam x reader #soulless!sam #sam winchester #supernatural

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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Am I the asshole for giving a random guy my friend's phone number?

(🍫📲 to find later)

I (22 NB/F) was working one day at my place of work by going around and putting various items for sale where they belong in the store, as well as taking out the recycling. As I was making my way up to the front of the store so I could go to break, this older gentleman needed help reaching something. I helped him pull it down, but before I continued I was stopped by this other kid. He had a healthy-looking emo haircut and wardrobe, so I didn't think too much about it at the time. I kid you not, his eyes were big and wide like some kind of bishounen anime (idk if I spelled that right). Literally looked straight out of one almost, he reminded me of an excited puppy too.

"Hello! Do you need help with something?"

"Uh- actually, I was wondering if I could have your Snapchat?"

I was completely gobsmacked.

"Uh- I don't have a snap chat." A lie, but only because my snap is exclusively for my BFFEAE (Best Friend For Ever And Ever). I don't pass it out to my coworkers, family, or any other friends. Just her.

"Can I have your number then?"

Usually guys don't like. Spend this long on me. I'm Demiromantic and Asexual, and for those who don't know, that means I have no interest in having sex with anyone and have no interest in dating anyone but close friends. I never thought I'd be in this situation. Ever. The idea of anyone asking me out of the fucking blue for this is so far out of left field for my expectations that I was just staring awkwardly at him for a moment.

"... unless... age is an issue?"

"Ah- no, I am 22, but I'm just not interested in a relationship right now."

And it's the truth, honestly. My mental health has been a rollercoaster of emotions and schedules that I've been struggling to maintain for months. I did have one at the beginning of the year, but dropped it because I realized I couldn't trust my lover (he was extremely conservative, and I had to hide a lot of my life from him, but it was nice while it lasted honestly. Broke up on good terms).

"That's okay. Maybe we can just hang out sometime or something."

I'll be honest, I haven't been in good health to try a brand new friendship with a complete stranger either (I have horrid social anxiety to the point where I am basically a shit in hermit, and with everything going on in my life I don't think I can handle pushing my anxiety well).

Now, years ago, when me and my BFFEAE first moved to different states, we agreed that we could use each other's phone numbers to give out if we couldn't handle it or just wanted the guy to leave us alone. We have each other permission to pretend to be each other for it, that way they're more likely to listen thinking it's you saying "no thanks" instead of her friend saying "get off her back".

So in the span of ten seconds, because this kid was really sweet and I was still pretty shocked this was even happening, I was giving my friend's number to this sparkly-eyed kid (idk how old he was but I assumed he was younger than me, that's just my natural assumption honestly) and continued on with my work day. I told him a semi-common nickname of mine instead of my actual name bc my name is hard to spell and I didn't feel like putting much time into it.

Of course, immediately after I called my friend up and left her a message saying I passed her to this really sweet kid and to be kind with him (she's a protective mama bear kind of person) but that I simply wasn't interested and didn't have the right mindspace for a new anything.

Fast forward to when I get off work and check in with my friend, she and the kid had been chatting back and forth. Apparently he was into drugs (I have sensory issues and can't handle that kind of thing, so I feel like I've actually dodged a bullet) but was getting along really well with her otherwise. We got chatting about it when I confirmed that I'm not open to hanging out with him and that as long as she's kind and doesn't try to set me up with him or anything, I'm fine with her discussing whatever with him.

"I get it girl, we all get like that for a time. I'll keep it away from ya.

By the way, he thought you gave him a random number. He was SOO excited when I responded as you lol"

I felt absolutely sick and was horrified. I figured he would have been like "sick", but apparently he had been like "FUCK YEAH". I feel horrible for deceiving him like this, but I genuinely am in no spot where I can mentally handle picking up a new friendship, much less a romantic relationship. It doesn't help that he genuinely caught me off guard, and passing him her number was my first response to handling it.

Am I the asshole for doing this?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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stateofcharles · 2 years

Text

we have your back - LH44

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

word count: ~ 2,1k

warnings: hurt/comfort, harsh language, sexism, RB team

summary: (requested by Anon) Hello! Can I request one with LH44 where you work at Merc, and are like the little girl for everyone in the team, and in one race someone from other team is really mean to you so he defends you 🙏🏼💕

a/n: first request yay :) i added something to the end, lemme know if you like it. keep sending me your ideas, i love reading them and i’ll try to work on them asap <3

“Good morning Y/N!” Angela greeted you as you entered the Mercedes garage that Thursday for media day. You were wearing your Mercedes merch, as usual, and you had sunglasses on the top of your head.

You were a quite known figure in the paddock: despite being very young, recently graduated, you had been working in the F1 world for 2 years already. Everything had started thanks to your dad’s long friendship with Toto Wolff. The Austrian man had always been a constant presence at your house, ever since you were a kid, and when he knew about your studies he hadn’t hesitated to offer you an internship at the Mercedes factory.

Saying that everyone had loved you ever since the first day was an understatement: your outgoing and friendly personality had immediately caught everybody’s attention, especially a certain British driver’s.

You and Lewis had gradually gotten to know each other and you had developed a strong bond. Despite the age gap, you were great friends and you both knew you could count on each other whenever you needed it.

Over time, it was crystal clear that you were born to work in that environment, you were a natural talent, and it didn’t take a long time before you had a stable job.

While everyone in your team was really happy and proud of you, it was no secret that some other team didn’t believe the same. More than once you had been told about Marko’s and other Red Bull’s workers bad-mouthing you. The most popular rumour spread by them was that you had gotten your job because you were hooking up with one of the drivers or - even worse - with Toto. That latter was disgusting: Toto was almost a second father to you, how could that thought even cross their mind?

Despite your numerous attempts not to listen to them, those words hurt you. You had always been confident about your capabilities and you really didn’t want some stupid man to ruin that state. That day someone thought it differently though.

“Hiya Ang!” you greeted the woman back, then asked “is Lewis already here? I have some documents he should read before the interviews begin.”

“I’ve seen him heading towards his driver’s room about ten minutes ago, but I don’t know if he’s still here.” You smiled and nodded, then you headed to the drivers’ zone, where you knew you could find the boy. In fact, you saw him just leaving his driver’s room, so you called his name, drawing his attention.

“Hey beauty!” he smiled at you, genuinely happy to see you, and then engulfed you in a big hug.

“Hi Lew,” you untangled from his arms, immediately handing him the papers, which he gazed confusedly at, “Just some stuff I was told you should read before the conference.”

“What about?” he asked.

“You know, the usual, about which journalists will be there and the kind of questions they could be asking you.” you answered boringly; that pattern would repeat itself almost every race weekend, you knew it by heart basically.

“Well, then I don’t care.” He handed it back to you, “You know that anyway I’ll do whatever I want” he stated with a devilish grin.

“Yeah, sure.” You grinned back, it was impossible not to be affected by his beautiful expression.

“See you later Y/N, gotta go!” he was almost leaving you but before you could wave back, he surprised you by leaving a sweet kiss on your cheek.

You stood in the hallway, unable to move: these interactions weren’t new, but in the past they had always come after a specific event. That was the first time he had acted so spontaneously. You couldn’t deny you had liked it, that would have been hypocritical.

__________

Lewis was sitting in the conference room together with Pierre, Daniel, Mick and Alex. You had managed to sneak in just a couple of minutes after the beginning, and were now standing in the back of the hall. No one had noticed you except for him, his face had immediately lightened up when he saw you, and that had made your stomach clench. You were falling for the driver you worked for, how could you be so pathetic?

You were too busy drooling all over him that you hadn’t heard the question he had just been asked. You were alarmed by his expression, which suddenly became serious, too serious.

“Sorry, can you repeat, I think I misunderstood.” He was tense, you could tell it by both his tone and his body position: he had brought his elbows on his knees and he was staring intensely at the journalist, his eyes meaning just Tell me I misunderstood because otherwise you’re dead.

“Uhm yeah, sure.” The journalist, a man in his 50s, had as well sensed Lewis’ mood shift, and he was clearly trying to readjust his question. “Have you heard about what’s been said this morning about your team?” He was testing the waters, scared that he may have overstepped.

“No? I didn’t have this pleasure but enlighten me, please.” He was sarcastic, meaning that he had perfectly heard the first question.

“Ok, then-” the man stopped, he was blatantly nervous. “In a press conference this morning it has been said that someone from your team has been hired thanks to some favours done to the people from high up, and it was sworn they would bring evidence.” He had said it all in one breath, and he was now waiting for Lewis’ answer, like all the others in the room. Everyone was silent, and you could see some photographers getting ready as soon as Lewis took a deep breath before replying.

“May I ask who spread those rumours and who are they about?” The boy was still incredibly calm, but you could sense he was soon to blow up.

“I can’t- I mean I was told not to-” the man was stuttering, utterly scared by the Britishman. It was impressive how towering his presence was, he could silence everyone with just a glare.

“Perhaps I should rephrase my sentence: tell me now who said so and who they were talking about. It’s not a question, it’s an order.” He was clearly getting angrier and angrier, you knew he couldn’t stand anyone being disrespectful towards his team, which had been his second family for almost 10 years.

The journalist sighed desolated, clearly knowing what he had gotten himself into and that he was anyway going to be screwed. “Christian Horner, this morning during an interview for a Dutch channel, and he was talking about Y/N Y/L/N.”

Lewis didn’t seem to react at the beginning, but then he let out a sour giggle before stating, “Why was I expecting it?”

The room was dead-silent, no one dared speak or move. Your heart started pounding and you could see your vision blurring because of the tears: knowing about the rumours was already humiliating, but hearing them from a complete stranger who seemed to believe them was something else. The fact that now Lewis was conscious was even worse. You thought that you were the only one in the team who was aware of them, but now you knew that it was just a matter of time before news would be spread everywhere, and you would start getting hateful messages from anyone.

When Lewis finally decided to speak, you were still petrified and were barely registering his words. “First of all, tell Horner to mind his fucking business and worry about his team and his team only. Also remind him that the trophy here is for winning the races, not for who spreads more bullshit about other teams, ‘cause he seems to be a pro in this.” His voice was pure ice, but he didn’t seem to want to stop.

“Secondly, nobody from the team owes you any kind of explanation, but since apparently this is the only way you’ll shut up, then I guess it’s on me. Y/N was hired because she’s incredibly talented, she has proved more than once that she has all the requirements and she’s perfectly qualified to work with us, she’s even doing better than many other people who have been there since before her arrival. And then I’d like to ask, but this is just my impression, why hasn’t anyone said anything about Elliott? He’s a friend of Angela’s and he was hired just a couple of months ago, though no one seemed to care about it, am I wrong?” As he kept speaking, you couldn’t help but stare at him, a sense of protection was flowing from his eyes to your body.

“Avoid this kind of sexist comments because if you think they’ll get you some popularity then you’re completely wrong. And now I’m leaving, I don’t care about this shitshow anymore.” As he finished his speech he stood up, he placed the microphone on the chair and headed towards the door. Just before exiting, he seemed to remember something and you saw him walking to you, before grabbing your hand and leaving through the fire exit.

You weren’t really paying attention to where he was leading you, still startled by what had just happened, but before you could realise you found yourself in his driver’s room. Again, he hugged you tightly before whispering in your ear “Let it go” and then was when all your walls broke down. Tears started streaming over your cheeks and then on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care, he just lifted you up and then sat on his couch with you still clinging to him.

He nuzzled your neck with his nose, an incredibly intimate gesture that immediately calmed your sobs. When you looked up, you were met with the kindest hazel eyes and the softest smile you had ever seen. He left a kiss on your forehead, one on your nose and then he pecked you on the lips. You widened your eyes but he didn’t seem to notice any change, as if it was routine for him to kiss you like that.

“You know you don’t have to listen to what some idiot rambles about you right?” He didn’t even wait for your answer, he just kept going on, “Here we all know your value, you are perfect to work here and I know Toto saw that something in you.”

“I- it’s just so difficult Lewis,” your voice was still broken and you let out a deep sigh, “I know I can make it but it’s horrible because their words creep in my head.”

“Why have you never told me about it? You know I’m here for you, right?”

“I know that and I’m extremely grateful to you for this but- I don’t wanna be a burden and I wanna show them I can make it on my own, you know that?”

“I get it but-” he paused, as if he was looking for the best words to voice his thoughts, “This world can be overwhelming and cruel. No one will blame you if you look for help, especially during these first years. The team and I are more than willing to support you in your journey sweetie, just don’t keep all this inside, it’s not healthy.” He left another kiss on your forehead, as if he was sealing his promise.

You couldn’t help but throw yourself in his arms, shaken by that day’s events but extremely grateful for Lewis and your team having your back. You were still processing everything that had happened in the previous hour that you almost forgot about the kiss. Though apparently they boy hadn’t.

“Can I ask you something?” he was suddenly… nervous? You nodded and he went on, “I know maybe now it’s not the best of times, but I was wondering if- well if you’d like to go out together tonight.” Wait, was he blushing? Lewis Hamilton, 7-time world champion and the man who had just silented a whole room just with his gaze, was blushing… because of you?

You came back to reality when you realised his words. “Go out… like a date? Me and you?” You couldn’t believe your ears, was that really happening?

“Yeah, that was the idea.” He scratched the back of his head, a sheepish smile on his lips, on those flawless lips that had kissed yours just a little while before.

You took his hand in yours, squeezing it, while this time it was you who left a peck on his mouth. “I’d be honoured to.” You whispered back, and you could swear that the smile that adorned his face after was the brightest you had ever seen.

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selfishlove-tf · 1 year

Text

5th Annual TF Story Exchange - for Jockifyme

G’day :) I wanted to challenge myself so I entered the TF Story Exchange to force myself to write something. The author I got for the exchange was @jockifyme so please enjoy. I hope I met your requirements @jockifyme .

***---***

I’m an accountant and sometimes we audit High Schools. We make sure that the donations or funds received go places they should be going to, we check payroll and budget; we call it “cash stuff” in the office because “expenses” and “finances” start confusing our smaller-minded Gen Z workers.

From that “defame our younger generation” comment alone, you should be able to tell that I am older – not too much but I feel myself reaching the other end of my thirties really quickly. Luckily, the stresses of older age haven’t touched me too much; I have my curly brown hair, though it is fading in colour just like my eyes which used to be emerald, now swamp. Got my height from my mum, she was six-three and she gave me my current six-one. Got my metabolism (or lack thereof) from my dad whose genes garunteed no weight would be gained – I was skinny, a measly one-forty pounds.

The lights in the schools office behind reception showed my touch-of-sunburn off more than I wanted to, my skin naturally pale like a ghost flared up with areas of red where I misapplied my sunscreen. I, however, didn’t feel the burn so the sun must’ve been somewhat lacklustre that day. Sunburn was the last thing on my mind anyway. Numbers, numbers, numbers. I enjoyed the numbers and I did well in maths back when I was in school some blah blah blah years ago – I’d rather not say how long – and was in the top ten of students in my school who graded highly during the final exams before graduation. The only part I hated was listening to the administration guy who lightly flirted with the teachers as they walked by. They couldn’t see it but the “that dress fits nice on you” and “did you forget your glasses because those eyes are shining today” commends he has said in the past ten minutes were dangerously close to the line of being fired should someone actually pay attention to him.

I continued my counts and record-checking and, soon enough, the admin guy was talking to me about football. I never got into that kind of thing, my focus was more on work and work and work. I didn’t need to watch a bunch of men running into each other, the idea was stupid to me. Yet, despite my disinterest in the topic, the admin guy continued to drone on about it.

I looked at my watch; I had only been here for an hour. All the kids were in their classes so, gladly, I decided to quickly take a break and get a drink. Stupidly, I forgot my water bottle and I didn’t want to deal with more dead conversation from the admin guy and, as I recalled, I remembered there being a bubbler/water fountains near the building facing the oval. With a quick “I’ll be back” to the admin guy, and a swift exit, I was out the door and headed towards the oval, a quick hello and hi to some teachers passing or students that were supposed to be in class. Reaching the bubbler, there was footsteps nearby and voices loudly talking. I leaned down, pulled the lever and started drinking, footsteps getting closer. The closer it got, the more I heard the topic of conversation.

‘I don’t know what we’re gonna do, man,’ one started. ‘Tyler’s out for the game tonight and we got no backup since Harry left.’

‘Cool it, Reid!’ another cut the first off. ‘We’ll find someone or deal with a short team no matter what coach says.’

‘Yeah, but where are we gonna find something so short notice, Jay?’ A third asked. I had become invested in the conversation that I didn’t realise that they were now walking behind me as I was still drinking from the bubbler until they stopped.

‘How about you?’ Jay asked.

It took me a minute to realise he was talking to me. I stopped drinking and turned around and was greeted by four teens in football gear. ‘You talking to me?’

‘We are looking at you,’ pointed the fourth.

‘Smart kid, though I don’t go here clearly.’ I gestured to my whole figure, hoping they weren’t dumb enough to think I was any younger than thirty-five.

‘Not a problem with us.’ Jay, who I assumed was the leader, stepped forward. ‘I’m Jay, and these are my bros Reid, Mikey and Kyle.’ He gestured to his friends as if I was interested in knowing them. Jay was short, wide and brunette; Reid was tall, thin and blonde; Mikey was tall, tan and built; Kyle was the shortest, brunette and athletic. The group did seem like the perfect popular boys of school, they just lacked more arrogance.

‘How would you expect to fix that?’ I questioned. ‘Compared to you guys, I’m weathered. Y’all haven’t even touched hard work yet.’ That comment seemed to irritate Reid, subtly puffing his chest up.

‘Hard work? Football is full time!’ Reid arched up.

‘Reid, not another word,’ Jay snapped. ‘You’ll only scare him away, and we’re already about to get scary.’

‘Oh, I’m shaking.’ I teased before rolling my eyes and started walking back to the office.

‘Take him,’ I heard Jay mutter.

Soon, three pairs of hands were on me and started to pull at me, dragging me in the opposite direction. I started shouting to let me go and, for a moment I thought why it was suddenly so quiet at the school; no students or teachers were walking by and no one seemed to look out the windows at the commotion I was causing. No matter how much I shouted and wriggled, the guys’ strong hands had firm grips. I looked behind me to where they were dragging me and found that they were taking me to the locker rooms. They barged in, pushed me to the bench and sat me down, Reid and Kyle holding me down while Mikey went off to grab something.

‘We’re gonna make sure you’re ready for the game tonight,’ Jay said matter-of-factly.

Mikey returned with football gear which I began to question myself about how stupid they really are. Jay motioned to Reid and Kyle as Mikey came to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. Without warning, Reid and Kyle started to pull at my clothes, tearing my button up off and yanking my shoes off before pulling off my pinstripes. I tried to fight back with all of my strength but Mikey was stronger than he looks, making sure to hold me in place during the process. At the end of it, I was left in my briefs.

‘Let me go you freaks!’ I shouted. ‘I don’t know what you plan on doing but it needs to end now!’

Jay motioned to the football uniform and gear and Kyle and Reid moved almost immediately. Reid began with what looked like compression shorts, sliding them up my legs until they were on properly. I felt immediate embarrassment being dressed as if I couldn’t do it myself. When the compression shorts snapped into place, my legs felt like they were burning although bearable. No sooner did my legs start burning that Kyle had put on long socks and oversized football boots, and the burning spread down until it reached my feet. My whole lower half was on fire and, sure enough, when I looked down, I saw why. My thighs started to plump up, calves sharpening and I felt my toes touch the end of the boot. Soon as that began, Reid grabbed a compression singlet and slid it over my head and over my torso, Kyle soon following with the shoulder pads.

I was panicked, my whole body starting to feel like I’d worked out for hours, and my body was catching up. My torso bulked up, a bit of muscle showing as my chest puffed up and my biceps blew up. My flexed forearms had a roadmap of veins as my increasingly meaty hands gripped firmly on the bench. I was beginning to tire myself out through all the strain and flexing I was doing due to the pain of the growth. At some point, Jay told Mikey to let me go because he knew I wasn’t going anywhere, not that I could because of the amount of pain I was in.

Soon enough, as it had started to die down, I looked over myself while out of breath and saw how toned I got. I was in shock; something completely impossible just happened. When I looked up to the group, there was glee in their eyes, but mine saw red. I had no energy to do anything, though, exhausted from the growth.

‘What the fuck did you do?’ I gasped between breaths.

‘It’s not over,’ Jay said. ‘Look at me.’

He grabbed my chin and lifted my face to look at him directly in the eyes. He smiled before swiping some black paint onto my cheeks, and then he let go of my chin and stepped back. There was a brief moment where nothing happened, but it hit seconds later. I gripped my head and squeezed my eyes shut as images flashed across my vision of school, football, training, hanging out with the bros. Bros? No, I was an adult. I was here for an audit. No, that doesn’t sound right? I was on the oval with my bros talking about the game. No! The admin guy, we were talking about football while I was doing work… work? No, I was skipping class. My brain went back and forth and soon enough, the school-kid persona was taking over. All the games my bros and I played, the games we won and the after-parties we went to. My body, face, and mind were all getting younger. My hair turned a darker brown, keeping the curls, and my eyes had regained their shining emerald green. My sunburn cleared up and my skin looked tanned from spending weeks in the sun. Although keeping the muscle on, my body shrank a little and smoothed out. After all of a few minutes, my head cleared and my body no longer felt like it was burning. I felt completely painless, in fact, I had a lot of energy.

‘You good, Jack?’ asked Reid.

I looked up at the group, a brief pause before nodding my head. ‘Still mad Tyler can’t make it.’

‘Well, we gotchu at least,’ Mikey pointed out. ‘We’ll sure win tonight.’

‘We always win, bros!’

‘That’s the spirit!’ Jay cheered. ‘Now let’s get practicing! Don’t forget your jersey, Jack.’

I looked down at the bench where my jersey was. I grabbed it and slipped it on, unknowingly sealing the transformation. ‘Do we gotta wear the shoulder pads during training?’ I complained.

‘Shut up and get out there!’

#age regression #getting younger #jock tf

471 notes · View notes

anemonelovesfiction · 7 months

Text

Kinktober 4- Choking/ Spanking

Avatar! Jake Sully x Human! Fem Reader

Warnings ⚠️: Smut bro. MDNI or I’ll block you.

So there is a special someone I wanted to dedicate this for getting her blog back! I hope you can read and enjoy on your own time My Love 🌙 ❤️ @pandoraslxna

Sul’Eyanos is not something that is in Na’Vi vocabulary but something I had actually come up with… it means the binding of three souls, aka three soulmates. I did it when I was writing a shifting script for myself to be in a relationship with both Jake and Neytiri because I couldn’t break them up 🫣

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Word count: 6k words (sorry I got carried away but I included both choking AND spankies 🤭)

One of the strangest things about being on Pandora, was the fact that I had been born amongst them as a total surprise, sure my parents knew they were expecting, but I was an accident. We lived in an already confined space, but I’d always been a good listener, making sure I appeased my parents and wasn’t much of a nuisance, taking interest in what they called ‘work’ and going along with it. I found myself sticking beside Max’s side, which is how I knew that there was a new batch of scientists arriving, I was thirteen around the time that Jake and Norm had arrived on the planet.

I’d felt drawn to the ex-marine, for some reason, stunning half the staff when I’d bothered making an effort into saying hello to him, his smile spreading on his lips as I seemed to talk to him normally, not bending down or in his face. I was often shy in nature and never bothered speaking unless spoken to and that had been out of character for me.

I had been very close with my mother, but she had developed cancer in her brain, dying about three weeks prior to the next batch’s arrival, so I’d mostly been with my dad -who already buried himself in his work to forget about mom- and Max, who’d claimed he’d seen me reading a lot of medical books, taking me under his wing and teaching me everything he knew. Although Max was a scientist, he doubled as a Doctor for the humans, and somewhat of a medic for the Avatar’s as well. Since he’d taken me under his wing I’d been joined at the hip, essentially becoming a Doctor alongside him without the official title.

There had been very few things I had done on purpose within those three months since Jake’s arrival. One of them having been conspiring with Max and Trudy on how to sneak the trio out of the jail cell they were being held in, Max telling me he had to go with them and entrusted the care of the other humans and Avatars to me- a thirteen year old with no medical degree, taking care of adults- one of them having just given birth about three days ago.

Another thing I’d done on purpose was making sure that the other scientists hadn’t caught on that I had been without Max and attempted to make it seem like everything had been alright, until Paz had bumped into me and asked where Max was since she claimed she needed to be given a green pass to start working again, it had been about ten minutes since we had broken the others from their cell and my heart was beating erratically at the woman before me. She cut her losses with me and struggled to keep a steady gait while attempting to stomp away, knowing I had to place a couple of stitches on her tears after her son’s delivery.

Max appears not even a second later telling me Jake needed us to stay on the inside and be his lookouts in case any other thing happened. Another thing I had blindly agreed to and purposely done, I was a kid, I’d do anything for the people I’d grown to call my friends, even though I knew thats not how the real world worked.

But one of the things I hadn’t done on purpose was the crush that developed from having found it easy to talk to the ex-marine, I felt like an idiot for feeling as if I had been getting any kind of special treatment from him. Even when he’d always take the time to show me the pretty flowers that grew in the forest whenever he’d managed to sneak me out alongside Grace. Pointing out the many different kinds that grew in clusters while Grace and Norm took samples a couple miles away from hells gate and still very far from the Omatikaya. During the small period between him getting accepted as one of the people and before the war.

I did find him attractive in either form, but I should have known better than to let that shit stay in my head, knowing that there was no way he would feel the same for a thirteen year old. And I was proven right when I’d overheard him talking to Norm and Max at one point and stating that Neytiri was pregnant. I’d obviously had to congratulate him alongside the other men and I did feel happy to know he had finally seemed to have found his purpose, but I had cried so much that night. Taking it upon myself to follow in my fathers footsteps and drowning myself in my work and slowly detaching any kind of relationship I had developed with him, barely speaking to Norm unless it involved work, and not needing Max to hover over my shoulder anymore.

But that was fifteen years ago, I’m twenty-eight now, the same age Jake was when he’d given up his human life and permanently passed through the eye of Eywa, truly becoming a Na’vi and having woke up in his blue body, burying the body he’d once inhabited. I could feel a pull toward him any time I’d see him come in through hells gate but always pulled myself away from any room he had entered or pretended to act busy, I didn’t need to put myself through the same depressed puppy love I had when I was younger.

“Hey there stranger.”

My head snaps up at the sudden familiar baritone voice I’d taken to avoid any time I could, removing the one earbud that had been in my ear as I took my late night leisurely walk to give myself a break before diving my head back into my books, back already stiff as I turn around slowly, praying it was just my imagination. I just stupidly stared up at him.

“After all this time and you’re still quiet, huh?” He lowers his body as he squats on his toes and meets my height, I take a step back to give him his personal space so he doesn’t feel like I was invading it and he eyes me warily.

“Do I smell?” He jokes with a glimmer in his eyes and a half smile, showing his pointed canines, thats right, I have to act like I’m not losing my shit or going to embarrass myself.

“Sorry, just a bit tired. Was there something I could do for you?” I asked and watch him lift a brow and eye me warily.

“C’mon, kid, you treat me like you don’t know me.” Another playful smile but I internally grimace at the nickname, Kid, thats all he’d ever see me as and I thin my lips without meaning to and nod my head a big and turn to place the earbud on the stack of books I’d come back with.

“Life has changed the both of us, I knew you a long time ago and you have changed, you may as well be a stranger to me.” I shrug lightly but force a smile to imply that I had been joking. “What brings you in, shouldn’t you be off doing Olo’eyktan duties?” I attempt to redeem myself by adding the bit of sass I used to have for him, but I could tell by the flash in his eyes he knew I was putting on an act.

“I wanna show you somethin’.” He tilts his head back as if also asking me to go with him somewhere and I knew I had to decline. I was practically in love with a man I met as a child even though I knew he had been married and he had children, I knew nothing would happen if I decided to oblige and head out with him, but I knew I had to stay here for my own sanity.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I stated firmly and felt some pride blossoming through me.

“You have something more interesting going on in here?” He asks simply, taking a glance around the lab as if trying to understand what I had found worthy of my attention at that moment, eyes coming back to meet mine.

“Well it’s not interesting but-“ This had been my first mistake.

“Then lets go.” He urges but remains on his toes and watching me intently.

“It’s my job-“ Second mistake.

“ The humans that stayed don’t work for the RDA and you aren’t your father.” He stated and my face falls at that comment.

When the RDA had arrived with General Frances Ardmore, they had essentially told all of the staff that they could have been arrested for treason, since my father had gone through everything on Earth, they had a file on him as well as every human Scientist and Doctor that remained on this planet. Had they voluntarily come back and assisted the RDA they would be dropped of said charges and receive the full time pay and compensation for ‘doing the right thing’. I’d grown upset at this statement but was reminded by Max and Norm that I had been born on Pandora and no record had ever been kept on me on Earth, they didn’t know of my existence and I was free to choose whatever it was I wanted, so I chose to stay. Unbeknownst to me, my father decided to leave as if everything he’d ever worked for had meant nothing, like abandoning me was the better option, another one of the reasons I buried myself in my work so I wouldn’t be reminded of how easy it was for him to betray the humans and myself.

“It’s still my job to find remedies to cure anyone who gets sick.” My third mistake was to attempt to keep this conversation going and I watch him roll his eyes.

“Who gets sick on Pandora anymore, if anything you could always learn from Mo’at, lets go.” He’d asked nicely before but this sounded more demanding. I hesitantly look back at the stack of books I had brought to read. To be fair, I’d read these books several times and I wasn’t looking forward to reading them again or adding notes onto my notes. My eyes glide over to his before I sigh.

“Fine, where are we going?” I asked him and see his smile grow before standing tall again, extending his comically large hand over toward me, and I take it as he turns and starts walking.

“You won’t need a mask.” He continues walking just a bit further before reaching a closed door in which you needed badge access to get through, but I was never really bothered walking anywhere I didn’t need to be and was pretty sure my badge wouldn’t slide the doors open, but he turns to take it and scans it in, and I watch the doors part, a circular room in front of us encased in glass.

My eyes widen slightly to take in the room, there are floor-to-ceiling windows where the curvature was, noticing most of the mountain we were encased in covering about five foot off the floor, the rest of it uncovered and showing the night sky above, the stars shining beautifully. I had no idea this place existed beyond the doors and hearing the whirr of the mechanics of the door shutting again.

“What is this place?” I asked and felt myself stepping closer to the glass, placing my hands on the window in awe, staring up at the sky and feeling like a little nerd all over again.

“It connected to the old observatory when this building was still a part of Hell’s Gate. Crazy how it fit perfectly in here.” I could see his body come into view from my peripheral and he’s gazing up at the stars, like he’s trying to find one, before smiling and pointing it out, although its hard to tell which one he’s looking at.

“Do you see that pale yellow star off in the distance, it has three blue ones around it.” He specifies and I let my eyes wander and actually manage to see the star he’d been talking about, all three stars shared a different hue of the color but the pale yellow shone brightly against it.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Thats where I come from.” He stated proudly, almost nostalgically.

“Do you miss it?” I asked while allowing my eyes to stare at the stars in the sky, many of them were white, very few were blue, and only one was that pale yellow color. A small insignificant dot in the sky suddenly bringing on more meaning to my life.

“No, I found my place here.”

“I’m sure you feel accepted here more than you did on Earth.”

“Sure I did, it’s not every day you’re welcomed by the thirteen year old who is said to be shy by every crew member, only to realize she had a crush on the cripple.” He lightly pushes my shoulder, the beautiful expanse of space now being long forgotten as my widened eyes turn to meet his.

“You knew?” I had been too focused on avoiding him after a while and felt that it had been enough distance to make it seem like I’d outgrown him, as if he were a phase in my life I was no longer interested in. Far too invested in his answer to allow myself to blush or feel any shame from it, what he didn’t need to know is that I still felt this way, even now in his blue body.

“It wasn’t hard to decipher.” He shrugs while speaking and I could feel the embarrassment settle as I hunch my shoulders at the ick I could feel crawling up my body.

“I’m sorry.” I stated rather sourly, my eyes finding a deep interest in the floor below me, this was starting to get awkward and I needed to leave, I should have known the night was going to be spoiled by my own feelings.

“I should probably go,” I pointed back over my shoulder and turned pretty quick not bothering to meet his eyes. I was hoping he wasn’t as observant as he had been before and wouldn’t notice that the feeling persisted on my end, the last thing I needed was to be teased about how I’d felt about a mated man, but if he were to see through it, would he see my attempts at staying away from him and the respect I had for Neytiri and his children? Would he see that I willingly avoid him at all costs?

“So she was right.” His voice rings out and snaps me out of my thoughts, his big hand had wrapped around my bicep to stop me from walking further, and my head whipped around to stare at him.

_________

Just when I think I know everything about the Na’Vi and have found my understanding in their culture, there always seems to be something added on to it and more customs I had been unaware of. One of them was the binding of three souls, something Neytiri told me is quite rare, she had been open at explaining that she only taught me the basics while teaching me her ways, but since I had been Olo’eyktan now, I must know of everything in order to properly fulfill my duties.

She explained the binding of the three souls, better known as Sul’Eyanos, is a pull from someone toward an already mated pair, something that is initiated by Eywa when she feels the three are compatible and better off together. She had stated she often found herself checking in on Y/n to see where the younger woman had been and if she didn’t see her anywhere she’d feel sadness. Neytiri could tell that the human was attracted to me from the moment she had met her, mentioned that Y/n had purposely avoided me, but harbored those feelings deep inside.

“Who was right?” Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I could tell she’d been embarrassed by the situation, tears weren’t exactly threatening to escape but her eyes had become glossy, and it felt like the puzzle piece had finally snapped into the right place. Without another word I’m quick to pull at her arm to turn her back to face me, release my hold on her, and place my hand on her lower back as I squat on my toes, bringing her even closer and connecting our lips.

I remember when I first kissed Neytiri, I could feel a warmth rapidly spreading through my body, a primal need to face plant her on the forest floor and fuck her had guided me to doing just that, not that she had minded, that same urge surging through my body at this moment. I could feel her tiny hands push against my chest and I’d backed away from her even though I hadn’t wanted to.

“Wait, you’re mated, what are you doing, what would Neytiri think?” I could see the panic settling on her face, her gaze downcast and I knew she’d attempt to slide out of my grasp at any moment.

“Hey, hey, look at me-“ I use my hand as gently as I can to caress her cheek, making her refocus on me, feeling pride at managing to get her to look back up, smiling gently.

“This was her idea.” I admit and watch her shock resurface. “We were given the opportunity to have a third mate, Eywa has chosen you for us, but we don’t want to force it on you.”

The confusion starts changing into hurt as her eyes fill up with tears, some already falling onto her cheeks, I could only watch as she starts to frantically pull herself away from my hold, her small cries reaching my ears and my own chest starting to feel heavy. I did not intend for her to cry and had no idea how to calm her at the moment, but I knew the second she’d get out of my grasp it would be game-over, she’d work overtime in avoiding us and refuse to be near us.

“Babygirl, stop it.” I huffed but she listens, slumping over and letting her tears fall like a river, I sigh and work on swiping them with my thumb. “I know you think this might be a prank or some stupid shit like that, but it’s not.”

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, but this is-“

I didn’t bother waiting for her to finish her words and placed my lips over hers once more, one hand on her cheek and the other on the back of her head to hold her steady, but also to prevent her from pulling away this time. Her smaller hands had pressed against my chest and applied pressure to steady herself, never pushing harder to get me off of her, but the primal urge surges through me again and the need to claim her was making my head feel stuffy.

I swipe my tongue over her bottom lip while sliding the hand that had been on her head down toward the back of her neck to cradle it, the hand on her cheek sliding down toward the small of her back to pull her closer.

“Mmph-“ I’m assuming she tried to say something but wasn’t protesting much when I shoved my tongue in her mouth. I could taste the fruit she’d been eating earlier and remember Max saying she had been obsessed with yovo when she was younger, I could tell from the taste she still had been, swiping my tongue over hers and feeling it go limp, allowing me to do whatever I pleased.

I could feel myself pulling her body closer against mine, glad I’d managed to build up my endurance for this pose while tending to my own children, thankful I had the use of my legs again. My ears flicker at the sound she’d made and feel a craving to want to hear it again, tongue and lips disconnecting from hers and quickly kissing along her neck, ensuring my fangs were dragging alongside her skin and hearing her breath come out in short pants.

“Jake~” She whines, the hands that had been on my chest showing my just how much she was enjoying it as her nails dug into my skin.

“I can smell you babygirl, oh fuck, can’t keep myself off you.” I grunt out as my hands were quick to tug on her shirt, silently asking for permission to take it off, catching her open her eyes and nodding frantically, sliding it off and attaching my mouth back on her neck, kissing down her chest.

“Are you sure we should-“

“Yes.” I groan as I felt the weight of her chest in the palms of my hands, looking back up at her angelic face. “We go as far as you want, hmm.” I hummed to catch her attention and she meets my eyes with a nod.

“I want to, but-“

“Then we will.” I stated while simultaneously running my thumbs across her nipples and hearing her gasp lightly, her face turning downward to look at my hands encasing her chest, planting myself on my knee’s and covering her body with mine and placing one of her breast in my mouth, flicking the nipple with my mouth and teasing the other one with my hand. Feeling her tiny hands grab onto my scalp to keep my face cradled in her arms and chest.

“Jake~” She moans lightly as I switch between her breasts, ensuring I plant a kiss between them before placing the other in my mouth, the other one being rolled between my pointer finger and thumb, gently pushing her down on the cold metal floor. A small hiss leaving her lips as her back comes into contact with it.

I’d knelt myself down on the floor, sliding myself between her legs, scooting close enough to have the backs of her thighs meet my shoulders as I got myself settled in, hearing a slight squeak as my hands grab her ass to slightly lift her, resisting my urge to take her at this moment and groaning at her scent.

“You done any of this before?” I asked and see her bite her lip, nervously looking away and nodding her head, feeling relief flood through me, knowing I wouldn’t hurt her and she’d be used to some stretch.

“Good.” I bring my mouth to kiss her exposed thigh, the skirt she’d been wearing wasn’t covering much from this angle, but that was a reward, I had to work my way toward it. My arms had wrapped themselves around them, the tips of my fingers gently squeezing the inner thigh and pulling them apart as I kissed, licked, and nipped at them. Hearing her breath hitch as I got closer, she’d been subtly moving her hips over, hearing a groan of frustration once I switched over to the other thigh and repeating the process.

“For the love of Eywa-“ She huffs and brings her head up and this had been the first time I’d ever seen the fire blazing in her eyes, nipping the skin just right while staring at her, her head falling back down.

“You wanna finish that thought?” I ask as my head feels dizzy from being this close to her clothed cunt and wanting to devour her.

“No-“ She mutters weakly, her head shaking, and eyes closed tightly. I take it upon myself to nuzzle my nose on her clothed cunt, skirt having been thrown on her belly carelessly, eyes closing and a loud groan emitting from my throat as I take the first sniff straight from the source, my cock hardening fully.

“Fuck.” I stated loudly, taking in another sniff, my head feeling dizzy as the logical part of my consciousness was getting muted, my primal urges surfacing as my finger hooks toward the side of her underwear, and swiping it to the side, her scent and leaking cunt making me groan, not bothering to check in with her before my face is shoved into her sweet petals, tongue pulling her lips apart and finally tasting her.

“Fuck-“ Her breathy gasp follows along the slightest thrust of her hips, I squeeze my hold on her thighs slightly tongue starting to work in overdrive for two reasons, to get to taste her deliciousness and to be able to hear her moan.

“Oh fuck!” She gasps while panting, hands finding comfort in my hair and holding on for dear life, the slightest of tugging toward where she wanted me had my logic slipping further, not caring if her thighs were attempting to close around my head and wanting to drown myself in her scent.

“Stop fuckin’ moving, babygirl.” I protested, feeling the cool breeze hitting my face wherever her juices decided to stick, knowing it had ran past my lips, her eyes shooting open and ready to say something. But I slid my finger into her cunt and all that comes out is a choked moan, head falling back to the floor.

“Please, please use another.” She begs silently, eyes slightly open, head lolled to the side just to look at me, my pride swelling since she had refused to lift her head.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” I oblige and place another finger in her warmth hearing her draw in another gasp and broken moan as I did so.

“Talk to me.” I stop all thrusting and keep my fingers buried inside her, my cock straining against my loincloth, but refusing to continue until she tells me if she’d fine or if I’m hurting her.

“Feels like a dick- just your fingers, please move, move now.” She rambles in hushed whispers that I barely catch as the sound of the blood traveling impossibly fast through my body- mostly down South- is roaring loudly in my ears. I slowly work on drawing my fingers back out of her cunt and slide them back in, hearing her first loud moan. Soaking up the sound with my ears turned toward her, wanting to not waste any of this experience.

“You won’t be left unsatisfied again, babygirl, I can promise you that.” I grunt and find myself captivated to pull my wet fingers out of her cunt, her whines rippling through my brain, telling me to get back to work, but I just had to take her clothes off. Tapping her hips with one of my wet fingers and feeling her understand my command right as I settle on my knees, the heels of her feet settling on the floor once more to lift her hips, finally taking off her skirt and underwear in one swoop, her bottom falling back onto the floor beneath her, legs spreading greedily to welcome me back into my spot.

“Hands and knees,” I stated as I untied my loincloth, dick springing upward and she freezes, looking at it as if she’d never seen one before.

“Thats huge.” Her eyes appear widened, mouth slightly open as she stares at it.

“Thought you said you’ve done this before.” I smirk with my teasing tone, some clarity returning back to me.

“With another human- is that going to fit?” I can hear the worry in her voice, and take the time to stroke her cheek again, placing a gentle kiss on her lips, connecting our foreheads.

“I’ll make it fit, babygirl, get in position.”

She nods before placing her knee’s on the floor with her hands bent at an angle, pushing her ass in the air as if presenting herself to me and I groan at the sight, taking the fingers I’d previously shoved in her cunt and do it again, exploring her from the new angle and hearing her moans return louder this time.

“Fuck, you look delicious.” I mutter through my lips as I focus on thrusting my fingers into her sopping cunt and not wanting to fight against my own urges, and finally giving into them.

_________

A stinging sensation spread like wildfire on my bottom, but his fingers continuing their ministrations were driving me wild, a loud moan escaped my lips when another slap is reverberating in the empty room, my cunt instinctively squeezing on his thick fingers. With only two of his fingers in I felt like I was getting fucked, humans must be pretty small in comparison to Na’Vi.

A third slap was done to distract me from the third finger being inserted, the stretch was absolutely welcomed, his thrusts having slowed down a bit to help me accommodate for the extra digit but my hips were starting to meet his thrusts as I pushed myself back onto his hands.

“Your pussy is such a greedy thing, yeah? Rocking back to meet my fingers like the hungry cock-slut you are.” Another slap resonates within the semi-circular room, not bothering to respond verbally as my moans and whimpers were telling him everything he needed to know. He slips his fingers out and I can hear him grunt, turning my head back and biting my lip as I see him rubbing his slick covered hand over his cock, eyes locked with mine.

“You ready?”

“Fuck me.” I mumble under my breath at his cockiness, his lazy smile cut off by a whimper and that catches my attention.

“I will.” Fuck me indeed. He places his left hand on my hip while continuing to stroke himself as he lines up to me.

“I hope I stretched you out enough.” He whispers and I can feel the head of his cock slip in, the sting that I’d only felt when losing my virginity starting up again and I suck in a breath.

“Fuck babygirl, don’t clamp down like that-“ Jake grunts and sneaks the hand covered in my juices snaking around my hip, placing a large finger on my bud, heavily rubbing the nervous tissue and I buck my hips at the feeling, taking more of him in.

“Thats it,” I could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he keeps the same pace, taking the time to slide the head of his cock in and out cautiously, if I could think without my horny brain I’d be bursting at the seams at his realization and quick thinking.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, such a good girl for me, huh?” He asks rhetorically.

“Yes~” I moan out and slide myself further down his shaft, taking in the pleasure of him paying attention to my sensitive clit once more, feeling used to the head and craving more, but he was right about one thing, I don’t think I’d be unsatisfied anymore.

“You should see what I see,” His hand abandons my clit and another slap, this time a wet spot left from his fingers cooling down the stinging cheek right as he draws himself out and shoves himself all the way in, the breath getting knocked out of my lungs at that moment.

“Move, move, move, move, move-“ I chant toward him, needing to feel that friction again, not caring if the slightest sting was there, wanting to feel the way his head and shaft glide in so smoothly that it sets all my nerves on fire, another wet smack on my ass as he obliges, repeating the movement.

“Jake, please, again-“ I pant as I say those words and feel another smack on the opposite cheek, releasing a frustrated moan as he stays still, I can feel his arms leave my hips and I whine at the loss, a thud implying they’d been placed in front of me due to his size.

“Hush ya’ mouth, kid,” He comments in my ear, straining his voice as he attempts to thrust slowly, dropping some of the weight of his chest into my back to prevent me from moving my hips back.

“I don’t wanna hold back, please, just go at your pace, I don’t care, please.” I moan between words, I didn’t care if I couldn’t walk from the mind blowing dick he was giving me, I just needed to come.

“Shut up, babygirl.”

I feel a hand circle around my neck from his position, his thumb and fingers squeezing gently at my neck as he says that and I could feel a flutter in my pussy, heat pooling down my lower belly, and I felt a deep desire to be filled with his come.

“You like being choked hmm I can feel your sweet cunt squeezing my cock.” His voice is driven my lust that I didn’t think this was the same man talking to me earlier. “I’ve wanted to take care of this sweet pussy for a while now, watch it swallow my cock, hear you beg for it.” Jake pauses and I felt the orgasm that had been approaching stop with his movement.

“Beg.”

“Please let me come, I was so close, please-“

“Mm, you could do better than that, you did so good for your colleague last week, do I need to repeat the words you told him?”

I could feel my pussy drench in juices as he stated that. I’d heard the sound of someone closing the door right after I’d almost reached an orgasm with Jensen but he told me I was just imagining everything- of course right after he’d gotten to come and left me high and dry- I had to finish myself off in my room, I wonder if he-

“Shame you had to finish yourself off, but that won’t happen again, just beg.”

“In the-“ I pant as I feel the heat on my face “-nicest way possible, I don’t wanna walk after.” I stated with a gasp as he picks up his speed.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” He mutters in my ear and squeezes the sides of my neck once more, I believed he’d already been going as fast as possible, only to feel him lift me from my neck as he settled myself on his knees, making sure my thighs were spread over his knee’s, still squeezing my neck.

The shock of him lifting me, settling me on his lap, and thrusting his hips at lightning speed had my orgasm approaching faster than it had been when he was moving at a turtles pace. I could feel my thighs shaking at the feel of the head of his dick rubbing every spot inside I had no idea existed. My feet hadn’t exactly been touching the ground, but I could feel them ghosting over the floor with every thrust, the idea of being manhandled like this turned me on so much.

“Jake, I’m coming, I’m-“ I didn’t have time to finish the sentence as he squeezes the side of my neck and reaches over his other hand to rub my clit, speeding the process along nicely and making my orgasm crash over me.

The words he’d been saying were incoherent at the time, but I did feel warmth, everywhere. He’d wrapped his hands around my chest, the other on my hip to keep me steady, and another type of stretch was filling my pussy, his cock buried deep in me as he comes inside, most of it being dumped out due to it’s limited space.

“Holy fucking shit.” I stated tiredly, thighs still shaking as I manage to slowly bring myself out of my orgasmic mind-fuck. Mind suddenly reeling back and realizing what we’d done. “Holy fucking shit-“ I repeated in a different tone.

“You are ours, babygirl, you don’t need to freak out. It was her idea, remember?” He stated while kissing my temple and I could feel my heart rate picking up.

“I’m still scared to face her now. I fucked her husband.”

“She is also your wife.”

“But does she want to be-“

“Would I be here getting you off if she didn’t want to?”

#avatar #avatar smut #afab reader #human reader #lunaskinktober2023 #JakeSully #jake sully x reader

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eviesaurusrex · 2 years

Text

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʙʟɪꜱꜱ | ꜱ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ

GIFs by the awesome @cumberbatchlives

Stephen Strange x Stark!Witch!Reader

summary: Stephen and YN—world famous Avengers (but kinda retired)—are picking up their kids from school. That’s it. That’s the summary.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: nothing, pure fluff, a bit of married bickering

author's note: These GIFs have me in a chokehold ever since seeing them for the first time. For timeline’s sake, there wasn’t a blip and no, I didn’t forget about it while writing and was too lazy to rewrite it leave me alone o.o

"Yes, Tony, we're coming. I told Pepper two weeks ago when I got her invitation," YN spoke while holding the newest (futuristic) Stark phone in hand and left the subway station. The odd stares from every single person around her were something she had become accustomed to years ago, but more like a decade. The earplugs canceled their hushed, but not hushed at all, whispers at least. "I wanted to make sure you didn't forget it—or that douchebag talked you out of it." Eye rolling, YN typed a quick text as she listened to her brother. Even after ten years of dating and six of them married, Tony still had to annoy the hell out of Stephen. "I want to see my nephews and my niece, and Morgan would love some company that can keep up with her mentally." She knew what he meant. Morgan was exceptionally bright—it was in their blood, after all—and her own children had gotten the full dose of Stark and Strange intelligence. The quartet was as close as friends could get.

She sighed softly. "Did you already talk to Midtown?" But she knew the answer to that. "You know Pepper doesn't want her to feel out of place between all the older students, so we're waiting, I guess. It's probably the best anyway." Humming, YN rounded the block corner to reach her kids' school. "I suppose it is. But you can take a deep breath now because we're coming over the weekend. But please, don't annoy my husband, would you? Try to be a decent adult for at least 48 hours. Think about it as a pre-birthday present for your most loved sister." Smiling, YN waved to one of the already waiting moms as she approached the private school's gate and laughed as she heard Tony's groan. "That's an even harder task than fighting Thanos, but yes, okay. I will try, but only if he tries as well! Gotta go, evil spawn, my girls are coming home. Don"t forget to bring the good wine!" And with that, the older Stark ended the call and left YN with a soft shake of her head.

The earplugs disappeared in her bag just as the tunes of today's end echoed over the courtyard and the first students came rushing out of the building. YN pushed her sunglasses up to place them on her head, and her smile morphed into a grin as the mop of dark curls of her youngest appeared between all the other kids. As soon as she saw her mom, the girl grinned as bright as the sun above them and hurried over the court to get to her. "MOM!" Laughing, YN caught her with open arms and pressed the five-year-old tightly against her. "Hello, sunshine," she greeted the small girl, bent down, and peppered kisses all over her head. It had been Stephen who had picked the kids up in the last couple of days because even though the couple was retired from their lives as world's mightiest heroes, sometimes the world still needed them. "Did you fight the bad people?" Ophelia was always eager to know everything about her mom's superhero duties, and YN always obliged every order to tell every single story.

They never needed books full of bedtime stories.

Pushing the soft curls behind her small ears, YN grinned. "Sure thing, munchkin. Just as easy as eating that ice cream I bought this morning and which is waiting for a special girl and her very special rainbow spoon." Ophelia started to clap while jumping on the spot. "Can I have some instead of lunch? Please, Mommy!" This kid knew what she had to do in order to soften her mother's heart, and YN nodded without thinking. "But first, I wanna see those math homework done, deal?" She had to pretend at least as if she wasn't as soft as she certainly was for her children.

Tough superhero, my ass, she thought with a smile and raised a hand to wave to her two eldest children as they finally appeared at the front door. The seven-year-old twins—Vincent and Peter—let their eyes wander, and just as they settled on top of their mother and sister, a familiar body appeared next to her.

"Right on time, I see," Stephen grinned down on his two girls, and Ophelia screeched before jumping into her father's arms. "I thought Mom would be the only one picking us up!" One could barely understand her words because her voice climbed higher and higher at the excitement she felt in her small body. The sorcerer grinned even wider. "Well, then, my surprise most definitely worked out. Hello, sunshine." He kissed her small cheeks before setting her back on the ground and opening his arms for the twins. Only Peter jumped into them, but Vincent pressed himself against his side.

His hand softly carded through his unruly mop of hair while moving Peter softly to find the perfect position. "Didn't you say something about being away for the next week?" Vincent always was the more straightforward of the twins. Peter was just happy to have his father back sooner than he thought.

Stephen hummed while walking them both the short distance over to his wife and their mother. "That's right, but I finished a lot faster than anticipated," was all he told them before reaching his wife with the knowing look in her mesmerizing eyes. "More like you threw them insult after insult in their poor faces and just vanished through one of your portals, love," she returned and waited until Peter was put back onto the ground to hug her boys. "What do we do when we see Mom after an awful lot of time, boys?" The twins blinked up to her, crystal blue eyes shining brightly and soft grins tucked at their lips. "Hello, Mom!" They both spoke in unison, and YN laughed softly before bending down and pressing loving kisses on their heads. "Hello to you too. School was okay? No bullies treating you wrongly anymore?"

YN really hoped that her talk to the headmaster was something that helped the situation instead of making it worse.

"He isn't at the school anymore. Best birthday present ever, Mom, thank you!"

Grinning with that hint of mischievousness she had to herself, the mother nodded, satisfied. "Very well, then. You guys take your sister between you, and we can head home as soon as I greet your dad." And with that, the former Stark pulled Stephen to her and enveloped his broad shoulders into a tight embrace, and took the feeling of his lips against hers in after he had bent his head. Her fingers softly carded through his dark hair while her other thumb caressed his jawline, and a soft sigh escaped her at the feeling of his skin against hers.

Even though they had known each other for so long and had been in a relationship for a decade, she felt as thrilled as she had been during their first shared kiss. YN didn’t believe that this would change anytime soon—or ever.

“Are you alright?” Stephen asked in a husky whisper, lips still touching, while his eyes opened and scanned her face for any visible marks or scratches. YN smiled up to him, gently bumping the tip of her nose against his. She may be an Avenger, and a powerful one at that, but Stephen always worried about her—but well, she worried about him just as much. “I am,” she nodded, but her barely palpable flinch as the pad of his thumb made contact with the skin stretching over her left cheekbone gave her away. Her husband’s brows furrowed tremendously, and his eyes stared at the spot, now discovering the deception his wife had created with makeup. “I didn’t want to worry the kids,” YN whispered at the sight of realization in his eyes, and Stephen nodded. “Of course. But don’t you dare think I will let you get away with this. As soon as they are nose deep in their books, I will demand a look on it, wife.” Grinning, the woman nodded. “Of course, husband,” she replied, pressing their lips together another time before turning to their beautiful children, who occupied themselves with hopscotching over the drawn numbers.

Vincent and Peter had their eyes settled on their younger sister like hawks, ready to jump to her aid whenever she stumbled. Ophelia sang happily to the rhythm of her small jumps, curls bouncing around her pretty face.

Smiling, YN let Stephen pull her into his side, arm around her shoulders and lips pressing on the top of her head. “We really have the most incredible children,” the father mumbled, still in awe of how his life had turned after the accident. And this strong, wonderful, and compassionate woman in his arm had gifted him the most precious gift life had to offer: undying love and the happiness of fatherhood.

“Don’t let Tony hear that,” she grinned softly, eyes still trained on her two sons and daughter. But then she looked up at her loving husband, who felt her gaze and looked down at her, one brow softly cocked. “Just in case you forgot about it, but they await us this weekend.” His eyes widened suddenly, and a groan left him, head falling back. “Why? Didn’t we agree on once a year in our prenup?” She hit his chest with a flat hand. “Really funny, especially because we both know very well that we never had one of these. Remember? You told me something about marrying out of pure love and utter devotion and that contracts belong to cooperations? That you weren’t another business deal I sign?” She grinned up to him, and Stephen groaned again. “I see now the advantages of said prenup. I could’ve put the once-a-year rule in it,” the sorcerer returned with a playful nudge to her chin with his finger. “That’s why we’re going. The kids could use some nature, and Lia misses Morgan. So…” Stephen cocked a brow. “Don’t you dare and say the thing you want to say right now.”

But YN said it anyway. “You’ll behave, even if my brother tries to get on your nerves,” the woman decided, but the Strange couldn’t keep it at that. “So, he can behave like a spoiled child, insult me countless times, and I have to sit it out?”

“Yes.”

“That’s unfair.”

“It’s called being an adult and how one shows that they’re upon such childish behavior.”

The verbal slugfest was quick, and the kids turned to their arguing parents. “What’s going on? Are Mommy and Daddy fighting?” Ophelia asked wide-eyed, but the boys only changed a look before Vince answered his sister. “Mom is the boss, Lia,” he grinned, and the youngest Strange giggled.

Stephen sighed again. “You win,” he gritted, but his wife only grinned wider. “What a surprise,” she teased him because, frankly, it wasn’t. She always won—Stephen would never admit it, but he couldn’t deny his wife a single request, even if it meant enduring his annoying brother-in-law for an entire weekend. He rolled his eyes lovingly before taking YN’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together, and turning to their children.

“Are we ready?”

All three of them nodded excitedly because they knew what their father would do in just a second. Shortly, the man let go of his wife to open a sparkling portal right into the foyer of the Sanctum Sanctorum, where Uncle Wong already stood, waiting. He crouched to hug the lot after the three kids had jumped over the golden threshold of the portal while Stephen held again onto his wife’s hand and led her into their shared home.

;

Hope y’all enjoyed this little piece, and thanks for reading! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3

Taglist: @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @seasonofthenerd @onecrazydirectioner @meeksmusic83 @harpywritesfic @strangeions @apple-and-berry @ben-er-ino @multifandomrandomgirl @lucimorningst4r @samisubi @hunterofshadows04 @y-napotat @lejuveinlegroove @ohchoices @jyessaminereads

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flordeamatista · 1 year

Text

𝑰𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕

pairing: Demon!Lloyd Hansen x Reader

concept: There is no breath or glare in the world, but only a faint demonic memory.

word count: 1.1 k

warnings: dark themes, knife play, dreams lust, soft dubcon, kidnapping, nicknames ─ (Sunshine, Cupcake)

a/n: My small daydream entry for @boxofbonesfic Friday the 13th Challenge I had an old wip for a demon and Lloyd decided it was time to write for him.

lovely betas: @lunarbuck

line divider: @s-tarksintern

moodboard and gif made by me but shoutout to @sgt-seabass for giving me the screen caps for Mr. Lloyd!

Masterlist

In him, he is restoring and preserving your soul.

The dull numbness that had struck when a tranquilizer shot you while you were running had mostly dissipated, leaving only a slight burning sensation.

You were blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a chair.

Your ears pricked, and you listened for any movement from anywhere, trying to control the panic in your body.

Your only memory was getting on the plane, seeing the clouds, and noticing a stache.

Silence. Silence engulfed the room.

Twisting around, you felt a loose knot behind your back.

This was it. There’s a window.

You smiled as you slowly freed yourself from that knot.

While you hurriedly removed your blindfold and gag, you looked around in the semi-darkness, trying to recall the last few hours, but you weren't able to see much.

As you slowly counted to ten, half of your vision gradually returned until you could see definite objects and your surroundings clearly. The roar of ocean waves and water rocking back and forth could also be heard.

“Well, hello there, Pumpkin! The figure spoke as light flooded his face. Your eyes glazed over his diamond-like check polo t-shirt and shiny ring on his finger as he slowly caressed your face, you noticed his blue eyes, lustful eyes.

Game pieces make up his world, and you are its center

It's that voice. You could hear the demon's voice. It was almost ten years ago, when you were in your twenties, that you sold your soul to this voice.

Demon Lloyd.

Having known why he was here, you knew your time was running out. Since you didn't want to leave your lifestyle behind, you were about to deal in a contract with a higher demon to wash away Lloyd.

A smirk spread across his face. Open-mouthed dark-lusted kisses trailed across your jawline until your ear was submerged in his sultry breath.

Each word he spoke traveled along your ear's shell before biting into the lobe as he gripped the ear. The temperature of his hand at your waist lowered while a sharp cold sensation traveled along your thighs. “I'm collecting you, Sunshine. I've been waiting for you since the first day you came to me."

“I don’t like chasing you,” he said, sliding a knife on your skin. Your skin felt like it was melting. As you looked down, you saw your dress melting under the knife like fire and air, revealing your body to him.

The gasp that left your mouth elicited a sinister chuckle from his throat.

Your skin erupted in goosebumps as the knife allowed your body to breathe for him to see.

“Sunshine, you are all wet for me. See how close I am to your damp underwear. Have you thought about fucking me from the start? We are destined to be in harmony together. It was meant to be, my sweet sunshine." The way he put the knife handle into your pussy just enough to pass through the fabric of your underwear had you breathing heavily.

He overpowers all the damned with his mischief; you can moan and groan in bliss for him.

Feeling it, you wondered how his mouth and fingers would feel. Despite knowing demons had tails and hearing stories about humans and their sexual adventures with them, maybe you were curious to experience something other than a sharp knife.

Lloyd ground the knife into your thighs, balancing between light and painful.

The demon's only desire was to hear you groan his name as he held you tightly in his embrace.

As he squeezed your throat, kisses fell on your collarbone and the middle of your neck.

An echoing moan leaked out of your ears pumped blood through your body.

Suddenly the movement stopped, the blade flipped a second time, and your underwear met the same fate as your dress.

Lust and desire flooded his azure eyes.

"What should I do, use that smart mouth of yours or let you scream my name for the whole world to hear?” A glittering tip of the blade appeared under the starlight as the knife fell between his fingertips.

My touch will reveal how I will equal you

A moan from your lips fell into his mouth like a sealed contract. He retreated with a smirk that hovered just high enough above your head to escape your grasp.

Your skin was marked by the wind around his fingers, knife, and kisses.

You could feel it blowing like a plane flying into clouds.

This was not real.

Dreams.

There was a strong wind blowing, shattering windows and tearing apart the wind, even destroying the desire.

A sudden flickering of lights and screams from your jet caused you to awaken.

Upon waking, you realize everything was a cloudy dream.

The lustful dream is still clouding your mind when that voice speaks again. You're sure you're not sleeping this time. As you attempt to calm your breathing, you hear his voice.

A scratching comes from the outside of the plane on the side of the window.

Shadowy clouds are all you see around you, along with the golden ring in the reflection. Your breath becomes heavier, and the air ices over. Slowly turning around, you see him again.

There is no breath or glare in the world, but only a faint demonic memory.

There is a rapidity in his movements. You feel euphoria creeping up in your chest as everything tightens.

He digs his fingers into your hips, flips you onto his lap, rests one hand on your cheek and slowly runs his lips along yours. He hums, "Such a pretty Sunshine. Surrender yourself to me!"

Lloyd bites your lower lip before tracing his finger slowly down to your pussy.

As you closed your eyes, he had you.

In return for a decade of freedom, you gave him your soul for eternity.

“Cupcake, spread your legs. You’re now going to see my true form.”

As he licks his lips, he focuses on your bare skin, and you see his tail on your legs.

Your tongue is filled with scorching moans.

As the world flips, desire demon paint greets you in an unending sky

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x female reader #demon!Lloyd Hansen #friday the 13th challenge #chris evans character fanfiction #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x y/n #the grey man #lloyd hansen x woc!reader #lloyd hansen x latina!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x latina!reader #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen one shot #demon!lloyd hansen x reader

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imaginationlover101 · 1 year

Text

One Way Or Another

Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: After Sam's findings for the newest case, which leaves both you and Dean in disappoint visiting the town of Broken Bow, Oklahoma turns to work out for the better.

"I still dont get the whole "plan" that's going on" Dean smirks and wraps his arms around my shoulders. "Dont worry you'll find out in a second."

Sam, Dean, and I had just landed another case in Broken Bow Oklahoma. Sam had found the newest case after seeing newspaper clippings of new lakeside properties gone rogue. What once were new modern lake house soon turned bug and mold infested.

Sam insisted that he saw a real case out of the clippings and the next morning we were out of Texas driving towards our newest destination. I still found the whole situation disturbing seeing how bugs was a big fear on my list, but I could never tell the boys. So when Dean stopped the car leading us to the newest bug infested property, I wanted nothing more than to run.

Inspecting the picture perfect town we were in I could already smell trouble. The town looked way to peaceful and something definitely was going to go wrong. Turning the car off Dean began to go over why we were here and what he thinks it might be. Sam and I were clearly not listening. Sam was too busy ignoring Dean since hes mad hes taken over the case, and I was too consumed in fear.

Dean was starting to get agitated that no one was listening to him. He could clearly tell that Sam and I were not paying attention. "Uh hello"

"You know I'm really starting to doubt this case is anything, I mean bugs that doesnt seem like our kind of thing." I could see both the boys turn towards me tilting there heads to look towards me from the front seat.

"What's the matter sweetheart, your scared of bugs." Dean turns to look my way from the front seat, scratching his fingers across the front seat to mimic the sounds of bugs. I swear sometimes that man made me so sick.

Slapping his hand away from the seat, I move up between the two boys and began to whisper, "What's the matter Dean, are you scared of planes?" Dean shushed me and slammed the car door.

"Wait Planes, Dean's scared of Planes!" Sam waits for my awnser and before I could even nod my head he starts laughing. But not any laugh, the classic loud obnxious Sam Winchester laugh. Sam looks my way and smiles, "I am so not letting go of that."

Before leaving the car Sam looks around seeing Dean was looking through the trunk. Leaning closer Sam whispers to me. "Are you ever going to tell him?" Blushing I start to move away from Sam, "Whatcha talking bout Sammy" leaning in I punch his arm. "Oh Y/N you and Dean are so much more alike then you give on."

Sam emerges from the car leaving me to be the last behind. Sitting in the worn out backseat of the impala I couldn't help but think maybe Sam was right about something, but I knew the case wasnt apart of it.

Walking up to the picture perfect houses that all look the same, I couldn't help but think that this was my life ago years before I met Sam and Dean. Life before the boys was different. Back then I lived similar to the people living on these properties today. All living the apple pie life with there happy families enjoying innocence. If it wasnt for John Winchester that one night ten years ago I wouldn't have been as lucky.

Dean directs Sam and I to the front door pointing at the open house sign. Sam and I had no clue what Dean was getting us into, but the minute the front door of the house opened it was game on. Dean stood beside me with his arm wrapped around my waist, while Sammy stood there with a smile.

The salesman's stands at the door with a wide smile opening the door wide inviting us in. "Well I guess you guys are here for the open house today." Dean laughs directing me inside the house and begins the introductions. "Yes sir, that would be us. I'm Dean and this is my fiance Y/N, and that handsome looking fella is my brother Sam." "Well we are open to any family's, orientations, realtionships." Immediately I turn to Dean waiting for him to say something.

"Oh no this isnt a 3s company situation side sir." The man begins to smile wider opening the door letting Sam, Dean, and I in. Dean let's go of my waist for s moment leaving a kiss on the side of my temple, and then suddenly hes off leaving Sam and I all alone.

Sam laughs and the two of us walks closer up the stairs near the front door to start our investigation. From our eyes (and the ghost detector) everything seemed to be fine. There were no signs of distress, or blinking red lights, no hidden mistakes behind furniture.

Opening the door to the bathroom I was investigating I started to look for Sam finally finding him in the hallway. Huffing my way towards him I knew this was a pointless hunt, "Well that was useless."

Turning around from his stance Sam begans to smile, no actully beam. Picking up the hallway centerpiece bowl he points to a hole hidden below the table. Furrowing my eyes since I was seeing nothing, Sam takes out his flashlight and shines the light through the tunnel. Below the the tunnel was filled with gunk and when taking the machine out it started beeping insanely.

Sam starts to take pictures of the hallway and the hole we found below the bowl while I simply held the flashlight over him. The simple act reminded me of a memory back at Bobby house between Dean and I. It must of been at least 9 o'clock at night and Dean was no where to be seen. Sam and I had already has dinner and for the first time in along time Bobby had a date. After dinner Sam read his favorite book and within 1 minutes he was fast asleep on the couch.

I was beginning to wonder where Dean was since I hadn't seen him all day so I began to search for him outside. Even though it had been a hot summer day, the temperature seemed to drastically drop and the air was much cooler. I regretted not bringing a jacket outside unknowing to me seeing as I would be outside for a long time, but neverless I still went outside cold and all in my sundress. Within 3 minutes of walking outside with a flashlight I already knew the spot where Dean was.

Almost as if he was directly under the moonlight Dean Winchester was hovered over his presious car baby huffing over something that went wrong. The minute I came besided him pointing the flashlight in his way he turned around and smiled "Sunshine you already read my mind." That night was spent in Dean and Is company for 3 hours in the cold trying to fix his car. I could of sworn my arm was frozen until Bobby came back from his date grinning and all. He parked his car and yelled at Dean for letting my outside without a jacket before going inside.

Dean turned around almost oblivious that I had no jacket on and began to touch my shoulder. "Jesus Y/N why didnt you tell me you were cold, you could of went inside." Dean pulls me closer pulling me into his side, rubbing up and down my arm trying to supply me with heat.

"I'm not complaining I got to spend to time with you." Dean stops his movements on my arm and tilts me near him so we both made eye contact. For a minute it looked like he wanted to say something more, his mouth was barely open and he was about to speak but nothing came out.

Snapping me out of my thought Sam begins to take the flashlight from my hands giving me a questionable look. "Well that was something else" "Tell me about Sammy."

Sam throws the flashlight up in to the air then pointing it my way bumping shoulder with me along the way. "I told you so." Looking at him with question I started to tilt my head. That was all Sam said before walking down the stairs back into the main hallway.

For a moment I wanted to laugh, Sam was so tall that when he walked down the stairs it almost looked like he was running, he almost hit his head a couple of times on the ceiling in the stairway because of his height.

Sam and I conversed through the rooms imagining what our lives would be if we weren't hunters, but like all good things the mood, well at least my mood simply faded when Sam and i walked through the sliding doors.

Placed in the center of a circle Dean Winchester was in his element. Surrounded by "milfs" Dean was seen to be in his heaven when they all came colliding near him like cattle. All the mothers hanged on Dean tugging at his shoulder, talking horribly about there husband, and gleaming into Dean's eyes as if he was their savior.

Dean's eyes widened as Sam and I walked outside and Dean began pointing our way. "See ladies this was the women I was talking about my fiance." All the women seemed to roll there eyes over me and wander straight to Sam. Like a bull to its predator, most of the women left Dean and walked straight towards Sam. I began to wonder if there was less of a bug problem in the town and more of a cheating issue.

Dean grins and point toward Sammy not believing that all the women went to him. Wrapping an arm around my waist Dean whispers in my ear. " I gotta mark my territory." Slapping his arm I began to lean on Dean's arm. " Please I dont have any moms chasing after me." " Think again sweetheart."

Turning around Dean directs my eyesight to the group of Dads sitting at the bar table. "Seems to me sweetheart you have some secret admirers." Slapping Dean's arm suddenly they all start to wave our way.

"Should we wave back?" I question looking at the over-aged men. Putting my hand up for a wave Dean begins to stop me "Well it depends on what you want for dinner tonight?" Putting my hand down I start to turn around. "Ewwww Dean."

Laughing with his ever so obnoxious ways, Dean guides me to make our way out of the backyard since Sammy was no where to be seen. Walking out of the yard Sam was I found talking with a boy who seemed to be no older then 18. Sam was talking back and forth with the teenager pointing to the box of bugs he held in his hands.

Walking to his car Dean looks towards the two boys and sighs, "Of course my brothers talking to the bug kid." Shaking my head at Dean's side comments I began to make my way towards the boys.

Unlike Dean, by making conversation I soonly l learned that "bug boy" was the son of realtors house. The block that the houses on were all new and built in the time span of a year. The realtors were all trying to sell the houses out as fast as the could to get the new property's off the market. But according to "bug boy", the grounds were built on ancient lands and if disturbed (which they now are) bugs would forever haunt the land.

Sam and I watched as our teen suspect walked back to his house as his dad was yelling at him. Sam looked my way with a sigh and I already knew he was thinking of his dad. Sam always got two short end the stick, while Dean just took the bad news and agreed with it.

Walking back to the car Sam already offered the front seat, and I accepted. Looking back at the boy and his dad I couldn't help but feel bad, Sam looks at me with the same though and we both start to look in the car. Sitting inside his famous impala Dean Winchester stares out the window singing "All out of Love."

"Is he singing?" Sam points at Dean through his tinted window. On usual days you wouldn't be able to see inside the car, but because off the sunny weather that appeard all of a sudden, you could see clearly. To top it off Dean left the passenger side window open a crack leaving Sam and I to hear him perfectly. Disturbing our eavesdropping Dean practically screeches the last lyric of the song.

Slamming the car door open Sam goes in the backseat while I go to the assenger side. Acting causal again, Dean switches to the rock station quickly before turning to face the two of us. Pretending like nothing happened Dean looks towards Sam and I "So whatd bug boy says?"

Sam hums for a moment leaning back on the leather seat debating on what to say. "Well for one thing he defintly didnt hear you screaming "All out of love". Dude I didnt know you were an Air Supply fan." Dean hides in side of the door, "Please dont act all innocent when Y/N I went out that one day in Clayton and you were all alone in the hotel. Dont act like i didnt catch you toying with-" "DEAN that's enough." " please Sammy its fine we all-" " Wait Dean, that why we went back out to get the "fries". You LIED!"

"Yes Y/N that's why we went back out. You see when a man has certain desires and I know its suprising even Sam has them, but sometimes it causes us-" Sam sits up in his seat pointing to Dean. "Okay thats enough, cant we just focus on the case." Huffing Dean looks my way, "Sure Sammy but remember next time take the video out when your done." "You know thats not fair! Last week you were in the bathroom and I didn't say anything- and. "

I couldnt bear to hear the boys fight back and fourth anymore about there problems. "Can you two stop! You've been talking about your-" pointing the lower region I look back up at them "problems for WAYYY TO LONG!"

Dean sighs starting the car up "Sure Y/N but being my wife and all i thought you liked-". Before the words even came out of his mouth my face was a deep shade of pink. Sam smacks Dean's head from the backseat glaring my way. Sliding down my seat I watched as Dean put gas to the car and off we were, leaving the prestigious house for a moment driving off to the hotel.

The heat in the impala was on perfectly adding the prefecture temperature to the cool autumn day and to no ones surprise Sam and Dean were still bickering back and forth. For a while there was no talk of the case, at least not until we went back to the hotel. Dean was the first one to suggest take out take out and both Sam and I agreed. We all knew that greasy burgers and fries were our weakness. Although the case of bugs didnt get solved that minute, the boys and I made up for it. Meanwhile the case did turn us on our feet, but that stories for another time. Although the boys bickered and make fun I loved them dearly, and deep down I knew Sam Winchester was right. If I was in love with Dean I would to show it sooner or later.

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #dean and sam #love aesthetic #love #dean winchester imagines #supernatural season 3 #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural season 2 #supernatural

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seraphiism · 1 year

Note

hello! congrats on 1k kay! you really do deserve it~ as for your dreamscape event (if it’s still open), how about dusk with lavender & ⭐️ xiao? thank you vv much! i hope i did not forget anything else ehe~

- blue

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

( you are the only people i'd surrender my softness to )

chara : xiao fandom : genshin impact quote cr : noor hindi a/n : HELLO BLUEEEE thank you sm hehe !!! <3 late xiao birthday fic !!

・❥・[ dreamscape event ] ༊*·˚ ⌛fluff • ⭐️ xiao • 💐 lavender : serenity

xiao has always found birthdays to fall in line with human tradition, the many years in his life turned blur and haze in the depths of a life filled with chaos forevermore. he does not pay any mind to the special day, finds it to be as ordinary as any other time in his life : a moment in passing , a fleeting memory that will soon be lost in translation.

the yaksha does not quite remember when he started looking forward to his birthday: was it two years ago-- three, even? his brows furrow ever so slightly in recollection of your first encounter. you were so incredibly stubborn, relentless in attempt to become acquaintances with someone who had almost forgotten what it meant to cherish another-- and how incredibly determined you were in declaration of confessions, anxiety dissipating the moment you noticed the pink hues settle on his cheeks.

xiao sighs, eyes closed as he feels the cool winds blessing his skin. time is such a very strange thing-- the way it feels like he has known you for a lifetime despite the few years it has been. to speak of love is something that brings him into a state of embarrassment, but there is a strange gentleness that resides in the heart, dulls the pain of karmic debt unleashed.

another inhale , a heaviness that settles in his limbs. xiao feels himself losing the battle against sleep, head resting so comfortably on your lap. seldom does he sleep, but in your presence, he is much more prone to it. he doesn't like to admit it, but there is a calm in your existence and it quells the pain, allows tranquility to slip into his life. he cannot fall asleep here, not now, not when you're--

"don't open your eyes. i'm not done yet!"

he frowns at the panicked tone yet doesn't move a single inch despite the way your hand covers his eyes instinctively. he wasn't going to-- not when you had asked so politely earlier, telling him that it was a surprise for his birthday. it was just a mere thought after all, yet somehow you had picked up on it. it is almost frightening how well you have learned to read him.

"i'll fall asleep soon."

"okay, well, don't do that. give me five minutes."

a quiet hum of acknowledgement. he listens, fights back the smile that threatens to grace his lips at your mumbles here and there. five minutes turns into ten, then--

"xiao," you begin, voice quiet and curious, "are you awake?"

he opens his eyes to the sight of your bright gaze, and this time, he does not fight the smile. you blink once, twice, almost caught off-guard at the tenderness in his gaze, but you lean down, kiss his forehead, laughing when that all too familiar blush surfaces.

he sits up, turns to face you, and watches in silent question at the way you hide something behind your back. there is a hint of nervousness that adorns your visage; you know he isn't one for huge celebrations, especially if they revolve around him, but with everything he has ever endured, you wish to celebrate the joy of his existence, the joy of your friendship, and the joy of a love beyond.

with slight reluctance and a timidness xiao is not at all used to, you bring your hands forth ; in your grasp lies a delicately crafted floral crown, brilliant hues of white and green from qingxin flowers. there's a bashfulness in the curl of your lips, and the yaksha wonders if your face is as warm as his right now. he swallows hard, eyes wide, and wonders if he is worth of such kindness.

"may i?"

he snaps from his train of thought, a sight panic surfacing in amber hues, and nods. with the gentle bow of his head, you place the crown on him, find yourself almost breathless when he looks up at you. you have always found xiao to be beautiful, but there is something so incredibly soft about this moment -- the gentle breeze, the sway of the trees that shield you from the orange glow of the sun, the way he looks at you like you have always been the one thing his heart has been searching for all these years.

it is all so overwhelming, the beauty in catharsis. you feel that familiar sting in your eyes, but you don't dare make him fuss over you, not on his birthday-- so instead, your hands cup his cheeks, devotion lingering beneath your fingertips, and you kiss him, ever so gentle, fall into the feeling of veneration.

"happy birthday, xiao." you murmur against his lips, and in the way he pulls you closer, you know that this will be one of many birthdays you will spend with him in a blissful future.

#genshin impact #xiao x reader #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #.: event!fic.dream of me 🌿#.: writing

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lydias--stiles · 1 year

Text

Love is Blind x Juke

For the past two days @thedeathdeelers and I have spiralled into a Love Is Blind x Juke fanfic in the dm's and this is what came out of it. So, a co-written Imène and Ophelia special for Juke Jeudi. Ta-da!

///

“Hi,” a voice called out from the other side of the Pod. This was it. The start of this mess.

Luke perked up. "Uh, hey, I'm Luke."

"I'm Julie." A pause. Then a laugh. "This is really weird, huh?"

Luke laughed as well, the tension of the last twenty-four hours slipping away. One second he was drunk in his apartment with his buddies on the Netflix website, the second he was on a flight to San Diego for a freaking reality dating show. Or rather: a marriage show. Insane. But whatever. It wasn't like he was actually going to find someone. He was just gonna lay low, write some songs, and then dip after ten days.

"So, Julie, what made you sign up for this thing?" he asked, draping himself across the couch. A cup of rum and coke dangled in his hand.

"Um… I guess I wanted to do something I'd never do. I'm always waiting for love, you know, instead of… just going for it. So here I am. What about you?" Her voice was pretty, slightly raspy, yet melodic, and he felt himself listening to her intently.

"I'm here to write songs," he replied, blunt.

She laughed. "What?"

"Yep."

"You're here… for songs?"

"Don't take this the wrong way," he said, "but this is like a retreat for me."

"Well, that's excellent, actually," she replied, smooth. "Because I happen to be a songwriter."

***

Julie went into her second date after an hour long conversation about music and their favourite bands with Luke. She felt giddy, but knew a first impression didn’t mean anything in an experiment like this. Sitting down, she called out: "Hello?"

"Hi, I'm Nick," a male voice said.

Julie smiled. "I'm Julie."

"Julie," he repeated, and she heard the scribbling of paper. "So, tell me about yourself, Julie."

"Um… what do you wanna know?"

"Where are you from?" he asked.

Easy enough. "I’m from Los Feliz."

"No way!" He laughed. "Me too!"

Her brows raised. "Really? Where did you go to school?"

"LF Public High."

"Ah," she sighed, "I went to the arts school. It would be crazy if we've met each other before."

"Or maybe it's fate," he teased.

An amused smile twitched on her lips. Guys that flirted with the word ‘fate’ to wrap a girl around their finger; she’s met those before. "Yeah, who knows."

***

After three full days of jamming and creating music with Luke, somehow able to connect on such an intense level with a shimmery wall between them, they found themselves in amiable silence. It wasn’t awkward, somehow. The song they worked on had been rather emotional, about family and history and regret. It brought back memories she hadn’t dared to discuss in the Pods. But now…

“Not to like, um,” she licked her lips, “dump all my trauma, but—”

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

“My mom, uh, died… two years ago.” Julie took a steadying breath, though let the tears roll as they came. He didn’t see her. She could cry. “She’d been sick for a while—terminal cancer—so we were prepared, but… nothing actually prepares you for it.” She heard him hum, encouraging her to continue. “And that’s why I applied for the show. The day she died, I felt like I died with her. I’ve just been on auto-pilot. So, ‘Love Is Blind’ was honestly this, like, desperate attempt to feel again, but I didn’t think I’d actually marry someone. I just wanted to break free of this dead feeling… if that makes sense.”

After a beat of silence, Luke said, “It does. Trust me, it does. I’m sorry, Jules, for your loss. That’s the worst thing that could ever happen, I–” A curt laugh left him. “I wish I could hug you right now, fuck.”

“It’s okay,” she sniffled.

“You’re probably the strongest person I know, not gonna lie,” he continued. “Trying to keep living after that… you should be so proud, Jules.”

Julie’s lip wobbled as she sank to the carpeted ground and shuffled to the shimmery wall, pressing one hand against it. She hadn’t had a sip of alcohol today—even though the producers wanted her to—so she knew all she felt was pure.

“I am proud,” she agreed. “Only a crazy alive person locks themselves in a Pod for seventeen hours a day.”

A laugh barked out of him. Jumping off the couch, he sat cross-legged in front of the shimmery wall. His heart hammered a nervous beat. “I, uh, relate, to be honest, to, like, mom stuff.”

“Oh?”

“My mom hasn’t died, fortunately, but… when I was seventeen, we got in a really big fight. Like, we said some nasty stuff to each other. I ran away. I didn’t speak to them for six years.” He shook his head. “And I know it’s not the same. Trust me, I know. I left by choice. But it felt like the death of my bond with them. I felt like I was dead to my parents. They never tried looking for me. Maybe because they knew where I was, but… they never tried reaching out. Until I did it at twenty-three.”

Julie sighed, “I’m so sorry, Luke.”

“It caused me to produce some fire songs, but… I don’t know if it was worth it.” He chuckled, tears rolling down his cheeks in surprise. “I don’t think I ever told someone that before.”

Julie smiled. “I’ll keep it a secret. Thank you for sharing that with me, Luke.”

“No problem,” he tried to sound nonchalant, but to him, it came off infinitely grateful.

“How’s your relationship with them now?” she asked.

“It’s… it’s alright. It’s not perfect in the slightest, but, you know, I come around for dinner or lunch at least once a month, I keep them in the loop, they keep me in the loop, they’ve attended one of my concerts…” He trailed off. “We’ve come a long way.”

“That’s great to hear,” she smiled. “Family is so important to me, so I would’ve felt so bad if I wouldn’t be able to—” She paused, warmth spreading in her body and face.

Luke frowned. “What?”

“If, um, if I wouldn’t be able to, um, meet them,” she uttered awkwardly. They had come to the silent agreement that they wouldn’t marry and simply be each other’s confidante for the ten days in the Pods. Julie has never felt like this before though. She felt… she was in love. Which was crazy, but how else could she explain the feeling in her gut?

A smile grew on Luke’s face. “You wanna meet them?”

“Don’t goad me like that!”

Luke laughed. “I’m not! I’m not! It’s… it’s cute, Julie, that you wanna meet them. Y’know, I wanna meet your dad, too. He sounds cool.”

Julie smiled. Her heart felt like bursting. “He is.”

***

The next day, Julie stood in the kitchen of the women’s quarters stirring a carrot and bell pepper soup on the stove. Luke’s favourite. If they ever were to meet in real life, she’d introduce him to other, way better, soups, but this would do for now.

Suddenly, Carrie—another contestant—appeared beside her. “You’re talking with Luke, right?” Carrie asked.

Julie looked up. “Yeah, why?”

“Well,” she shrugged, haughty, “he's my number one, so.”

Julie frowned. Luke’s her number one? Since when? She had never heard Carrie speak about him. Did something happen in the Pods that she wasn’t aware of? “I thought Nick was your number one.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Nick is so passive. I like Luke a lot more. I mean, musicians are hot, right?”

Carrie was baiting her, Julie realised, replying with a weak: “I… I guess…”

“Yeah,” Carrie affirmed, “so he’s my number one. I heard he’s yours, too.” The blonde tried to pull off an air of nonchalance as she inspected her perfectly manicured nails, but Julie didn’t bother with an answer and chose to add a pinch more paprika to the soup instead. She smiled; yeah, he’d like that.

Aggrieved Julie didn’t respond, Carrie continued: “So, why are you making soup?”

Julie threw a disbelieving look at Carrie. “It’s for Luke. For his birthday?”

Carrie, who had already lost interest in the conversation, suddenly whipped her head back towards Julie, hair flicking with the motion. “It’s his birthday? When? Since when?”

Julie rolled her eyes at the girl, and shook her head. Deciding to make a dig, she said: “I thought he was your number 1?”

Carrie frowned and pointed at the pot. “Can I give him some, too?”

"No,” Julie puffed, in disbelief that the woman even dared to ask her that. “That's honestly weird for you to ask, Carrie. It’s disingenuous."

"Okay, whatever," she grumbled and skulked away to talk to Kayla.

***

"So... I talked to Carrie..." Julie brought up after Luke had accepted and had taken a swig of her homemade soup. It had to be their sixth date at this point, but it has felt like forever.

The man looked up from his guitar in confusion, wracking his brain for the last time he spoke to Carrie. "Okay?"

"She said you're her number one."

His frown deepened. "What? Really? We've spoken maybe twice."

"Oh." A relieved laugh left Julie. "Oh, wow. Then she's super jealous, or something." Her cheeks felt warm. "I was a little worried for a second, to be honest."

Luke grinned. "Yeah?"

"Mh-hm..."

"Y'know, I was worried about Nick," he confessed.

That surprised her. "Really? Why?"

"‘Cause I know you did have a connection with him."

"Yeah," she admitted, "but not in the way that we connect. Nick's like... a friend. That's all."

"Then you should tell him that," Luke said, amused. "'Cause he thinks you guys are fated."

Julie rolled her eyes. "Oh, jeez."

***

It was his favourite time of the day—sprawled across the sofa, snacks littering the floor—as he scratched out a chorus to Sunset Curve’s new song.

But that’s not why it was his favourite.

It was his favourite because he could just about hear Julie scribbling in her own journal right across that damn shimmery wall separating them, almost picturing frown lines between her brows. Which was weird, ‘cause he had never actually seen her.

It was weird, right?

But that didn’t stop him. Luke felt a silly grin taking over his features as he hummed along what he imagined would be the pre-chorus, leg swinging over the armrest—

And then he froze, stopping all movement.

Because he could be hallucinating, but he swore he just heard singing coming from the other room. The one that contained Julie. The human wrecking ball that had already captivated him before he had ever seen her.

Or heard her, apparently.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

Luke nearly fell off the couch as he stumbled into a sitting position, jumping from his spot to the shimmery wall. He splayed his fingers as he pressed his palms against the damn thing keeping them apart, and then placed his ear against it.

He stopped moving; stopped breathing. She was singing. And it was fucking beautiful.

Shit. He was fucked.

He remembered Julie telling him about her complicated relationship with music; how she hadn’t sang in over a year. But now she was singing, here, with him, and he was finding it so hard to keep himself in check. He could clearly hear Alex’ voice in his head telling him to ‘cool it, Patterson. You’re going to scare her off.’

And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Afterwards, Luke barged into the men's quarters and yelled: “I'm marrying Julie!”

Dean barely looked up from his paperback. “Yeah, we know.”

"You haven't talked about anyone else," Seth added.

"Oh," Luke said, scratching the back of his head. "Well, yeah. Now I'm gonna do it."

"Cool, man," Garrett grinned. "Get that woman!"

***

On the tenth day, Julie wore her prettiest dress. A purple number, nothing too special, as she hadn’t actually thought to get married on this show. The other women had ornate dresses, but she’d have to do with this one.

Then again, she wasn’t actually sure Luke would propose. He told her he loved her, but that didn’t mean he wanted to marry her in a month; that didn’t mean he wanted to go through with the experiment; the reality show.

Opening the door to the Pod, she heard Luke already pacing on his side.

“Hi,” she said.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Hey!”

She paused at the wall. “You’re nervous?”

“It’s the tenth day, so, uh…” Luke shook his head and stared at the silly velvet box in his hands. This was ridiculous. Insane. Every other synonym for that word. He wasn’t marriage material. He was a guy from an underground rock band that came here to get inspired and write. But here he fucking was.

“I don’t wanna say we’re fated, ‘cause I don’t believe in that shit,” he suddenly continued, the words flowing out of him.

Julie smiled. “Me neither.”

“But I do—I do think you’re my person, Julie. That we should be together outside of the Pods. When we make music it’s like–like–”

“Magic,” she finished, her smile widening and her hands pressing against the wall.

“Yeah,” he breathed. Sinking onto both knees, he kept his eyes on the box. “We’re magic together, I think. And I love you. I know that. I love you.”

Julie let her forehead drop against the wall as she giggled. Nothing about this made sense. No one would be able to understand what she felt right now. “I love you, too.”

“So… Julietta Rose Victoria Marie Molina…” He took a steadying breath. Now or never. “Will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

An elated sob left the woman, nodding profusely despite him being unable to see her. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes!”

***

The white doors slid open in a swoop and their identities were revealed. Luke took a step forward and found his jaw falling slack at the short woman several feet away from him. She… was perfect. Down to those cute, scribbled-on sneakers.

Julie laughed, showcasing a gap between her teeth, and waved at him. "Hi."

"Hey," he grinned, his walk turning into a jog—he had to get to her—and grabbed her into a hug. "Holy shit."

"I know," she laughed, latching onto him. "Neither of us had a proposal outfit packed."

"Julie–Jules, you–" Pulling away slightly, he felt moisture building in his eyes from the shock and tension. His hands cupped her cheeks. "You're–wow."

"Thanks," she giggled, her eyes also wet. "You're wow, too."

***

After the couples arrived in the resort in Mexico, Julie and Luke settled into their suite. They unpacked their suitcases as they chatted about their flight, rosy-cheeked and happy. The camera flipped to Julie in the confessional, seated on the terrace in a pretty blue dress.

"Luke and I have arrived in Mexico," Julie said. "And it's definitely weird, suddenly, like, being able to touch him and see him, but it also feels so natural. We're just really excited to continue growing what we have and make more music."

"Julie's gonna do the speaking for me this vacay," Luke added next in his confessional, a big smile stretched across his cheeks. "I'm twenty-nine, guys, I've forgotten 10th grade Spanish, y'know."

“Yes, we’ve kissed,” Julie continued, shy, “on the plane. We wanted to do it away from the cameras, and um… it was–it was good.” Her eyes averted as her smile grew. “It was really good.”

Luke plopped down on the bed. “What do you wanna do first? Check out the pool? The beach?”

“The buffet,” she emphasised. “I’m super hungry.”

He laughed. “Sounds good to me.”

Julie slid beside him. “I also wanted to talk to you about something, now that we’re here…”

Luke nodded. “Okay.”

“Um… so we’re now sharing a bed…”

“Yeah.”

“I’d like to wait until after the wedding before we have sex,” she admitted. His face gave nothing away, simply listening to her. “It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, I am, but it’s something I want to honour, you know?”

“Of course,” he whispered. “I can wait, Julie, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Sex isn’t that important to me,” he said with a shrug. “It’s great, but it’s not everything.”

“Duh,” she deadpanned. “Music is.”

He laughed. “Exactly, you get it.”

The woman let out a relieved breath. She didn’t think Luke would be appalled, but she hadn’t been totally sure. Now, she could sleep beside him without the stress. Kissing his cheek, she said, “Besides, we can do other stuff.”

He wiggled his brows, mischievous. “‘Other’ stuff?”

With a roll of the eye, she pushed him away and got up. “Let’s get food.”

“Yes, Boss!”

***

The next day in Mexico, all the couples met up at the pool. It was the first time they all could see each other and properly meet. Neither Julie or Luke were worried their affection would sway, but they were nervous to approach Carrie and Nick. Both had claimed a connection, but now they were a couple themselves.

It especially bothered Luke, if he was honest. Julie was… incredibly beautiful, especially in that purple dress she wore tonight, and he wasn’t blind to the eyes Nick had been giving her.

Afterwards, Julie and Luke sat on the bed curled towards each other, discussing the events of the night.

"So... what did you think of Nick?" Luke asked, feigning nonchalance.

Julie smirked at his obvious attempt to seem cool. "He was… nice."

"Yeah? Got a crush on him?"

"Sure," Julie deadpanned, "and that was why the conversation ended after, like, two minutes, and I stayed by your side for the rest of the night."

Luke grinned and placed a hand on her knee. "Yeah?"

"Mh-hm." She caressed his tattooed arm. "Don’t worry. I... there's not a shadow of doubt it's you, Luke. Trust me."

Luke's smile melted into fondness. "I trust you."

***

After Mexico—where one of the couples devolved and split up, leaving four couples left—they all returned to Los Angeles. Unfortunately, they couldn’t move back into their regular apartments, but all had to share the same complex. Julie and Luke lived on the third floor in a shiny, white apartment. It was the furthest thing from Luke’s actual place.

On a positive note, they could finally introduce their partner to their friends and family. Like now.

"Today, I'm meeting Luke's friends and band members," Julie said to the camera, standing outside of Luke’s studio in the heart of Mar Vista. "I've talked with them on the phone a couple days ago, but this'll be the first time we'll be face to face."

Luke drifted on his heels as he barely looked at the camera, clearly addressing Julie. "I'm not worried. Julie's, like, the puzzle piece we've been missing. And I fucking love her. So. Yeah."

Julie and Luke walked in where Reggie and Alex were already seated in an old, leather couch. Reggie seemed nonchalant, but Alex often flitted his eyes to the camera.

"Hi," Julie greeted. "I'm Julie!"

"Ooh," Reggie cooed. "You're even prettier IRL!"

Alex eyed her in disbelief. "Yeah. Blink twice if you wanna escape our Luke."

"Awesome support, guys," Luke grumbled.

Julie worried that the boys perhaps thought that what she and Luke had was too good to be true—that it wouldn’t last—and all it would do was interrupt their music career. She didn’t stop worrying until Alex gently pulled her away from the guys mid-practice session, and took her on a short walk around the garden.

Somehow, he knew exactly what was on her mind—and exactly what to tell her.

“Luke’s a pretty open book with just about everyone, or that’s what people think. He likes to show everyone all the good sides to him; the music, the cheerful attitude, the constant pep-talks. But he’s never, and I mean never, talked to anyone about his mom as openly as he did with you.” Alex stopped to turn and face Julie. “He’s always worried about dumping all his problems on others and it’s been his thing ever since we’ve known him. He just hides it all to himself, until he explodes and writes a song about it.”

He shrugged, though Julie could see the worry in Alex’ eyes. “But the fact that he shared some of that stuff with you, let you hear ‘Unsaid Emily’… Julie, you’re it for him. And if you’re it for Luke, you’re it for us.” Alex grimaced at his choice of words, but didn’t correct himself, choosing instead to smile encouragingly at Julie.

A moved Julie nodded in relief and pulled the drummer into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.

That evening, it was time for Luke to meet Julie’s family, namely: her father, brother and aunt Victoria. The rest of the family would attend the wedding. Which, according to Julie, was ‘a lot’. She’d prepped him for tonight, but she still seemed nervous as she rang the bell and waited for the door to open.

“What’s the prob?” he asked.

“Well—”

The door flung open and an older woman in athleisure squealed at the sight of Luke. “Lukas! Come in, come in! Oh, mija, you did such a good job picking him!”

“Tia—”

“My name is Luke, actually—”

Victoria continued unperturbed and ushered them inside. He barely had time to soak in the interior as she continued babbling on. "Thank you, Lukas—" Victoria gushed.

"It's Luke—"

"—for taking my Julie off the street. Twenty-seven! Who would've thought!"

"Ah, yes," Julie drawled beside him, slightly peeved. "The old crone's age of twenty-seven."

“I think she was the one who took me off the street,” he said, throwing a smirk Julie’s way to ease the nerves a bit.

Her father and brother popped in from the kitchen, the former with a wide smile and the latter rather sceptical. “Is that my daughter’s fiancé I hear?”

***

"Luke is meeting my best friend, Flynn, today," Julie said outside of a bar. "I'm a little nervous, because Flynn is super protective of me, but I think it'll be fine!"

Luke smirked. "People love me. Everything will be great!"

That was, until Flynn said a quick hello and then shoved a ten-page questionnaire in his face. She smirked. “Just to see you’re not a serial killer and won’t break my friend’s heart.”

“Because those two are mutually important,” Julie replied, sarcastic.

Luke scratched the back of his head as he thumbed through the pages. “I–I have to do this now?”

“Why? Scared?” Flynn pressed. “Also—” She whipped a cotton swab from her pocket and grabbed Luke’s face, pushing his mouth open. "Just the usual," she muttered and swabbed the inside of his cheek. "Just normal DNA things…”

After the horrible bar situation, Julie paced along the kitchen island continuously apologising for her friend’s behaviour. “I swear she’s usually not like this, I’m so embarrassed, like she’s protective, but not—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Luke grabbed her shoulders to stop her from pacing with a relaxed smile. “Yeah, it was weird, but it wasn’t the end of the word.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “You have a Flynn, I have a Reggie and Alex," he soothed. "It's all cool."

***

As Carrie and Nick argued for the umpteenth time at the Cheese Tasting Date, Luke and Julie were bent over Luke's songbook, scribbling and discussing the bridge of a song.

"No, no, there should be an inverse and then, like, the reveal, that he was never there at all," Julie said.

"I don't wanna write a sad song, Jules. It's a love song," Luke bounced back.

"I mean—" She popped a piece of brie in her mouth. "---it is a love song, just not a happy one."

A grin ticked up his lips. "Is it about Nick and Carrie?"

Julie swatted his arm. "Luke!"

"What! C'mon, Jules, look at 'em." He nodded at the pair currently shouting at each other outside, two cameras on them. "They're not exactly soulmates."

Another pairing, Vivian and Dean, joined them at their table. "Oh my God," Vivian said, "can Carrie and Nick just end it already?"

"Carrie wants those followers, she can't leave just yet," Dean added with a roll of the eyes.

"Yeah," Julie trailed, "it's... a lot."

"What're you working on, dude?" Dean asked.

Luke grinned. "A song, obviously."

Viv sighed dreamily. "It's so romantic, honestly, that you guys have, like, a 'thing'."

Dean frowned. "We have a thing."

His fiancée's brows raised, challenged, and Luke and Julie recoiled into their songwriting shell again.

***

The wedding was a no-brainer. After a teary-eyed dress fitting and a fun bachelorette party with the girls—where Carrie tried to disrupt her happiness one final time—Julie found herself in the hotel room of a beautiful ranch where she and Luke would officiate their marriage. Somehow, the month felt like a year and her relationship with Luke felt like a decade.

“Are you nervous?” Flynn asked, buttoning Julie into her dress.

She shook her head. “No, just healthy jitters.”

“Good.” The two stared at each other in the mirror. “You deserve this, girl.”

Victoria came in with glasses of champagne. “Well, I’m nervous, so drink up, my loves.”

On the other side of the hotel, Luke, Alex and Reggie sat in the plush chairs, ready for the wedding. Luke’s foot bounced up and down in anticipation, ready to hold her and kiss her and be hers. He knew he was a romantic, but he never thought it could get this deep.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?” Alex asked.

Luke nodded. “Yeah. There’s honestly not a doubt in my mind, dude.”

“But what if she does?”

“Then…” Luke took a swig of his beer as a salute. “Then we’ll have a killer album in no time.”

Soon after, the ceremony began. Luke first went down the aisle where he smiled and nodded at all his friends and family. His parents sat in the front and smiled proudly at him.

And then came Julie. Julie, in a beautiful gown and a shimmering face, taking his breath away. It felt like he had tunnel vision. She, too, couldn’t look anywhere but him, and felt her racing heart calm down the second he helped her up the steps. Her father had tears in his eyes as he gave her away.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hey,” he whispered back, smiling, “you look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

The officiator began his speech, Luke and Julie exchanged quick vows—though most has been said in the countless lyrics they’ve written together—and they sealed it all with a kiss. They were married. Forever.

For the final time, Julie spoke to the camera with shiny cheeks and sparkling eyes. “How do I feel? I mean, I think you can guess.”

Luke jumped into frame and picked her up, bridal-style. “You’re looking at Miss Julie Molina-Patterson, Netflix! Hell yeah!”

***

At the reunion, they were the only couple left standing. Obviously.

***

#juke #juke jeudi #happy juke jeudi!!!#jatp fanfiction #lib x juke

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