#Oh also she's a small print in my shop just gotta wait for her to be here before she's listed in stock
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Perennial Pt.10
03/19/2022
Sweet Dreams
Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 3,165
Warnings: angst, talk of families, fluff, jealousy, pining, language
Featured Flower: Impatiens
A/N: Time for some good old fashioned bowling and fun! “FUN”! Hope you enjoy this chapter! xoxo
Please don’t steal, copy, translate, or repost my stories anywhere else!
Don’t be a dick.
It was never your intention to leave Bucky out of the bowling night plans.
Somehow, at lunch with Steve on Saturday, the two of you were just so enthralled by the excitement of the night to come that you made the plan to meet at the shop before walking to the bowling alley.
You’d color coordinated too, choosing to both wear a shade of blue to match your choice of team name. Steve came prepared with a spare pin for you to put on the breast of your t-shirt.
“Thanks!” you take the offered white star and carefully pin it on the right breast of your shirt.
“Yeah.” he nods, smiling down at you as he looks you over.
“Well? Does it look okay?” you wonder, indicating mostly the pin but also your simple jeans and t-shirt.
“Perfect,” Steve says, not at all upset that your own t-shirt is more cerulean blue than the bright primary blue of his own t-shirt. He touches the small red impatiens flower you’d shoved behind your ear while closing up the shop after watering. “Pretty.”
You gasp, making to remove the flower but Steve catches your hand. “Leave it.”
His t-shirt has its own white star, bigger than your pin, printed directly on the shirt’s right breast. He’s so wide. Shoulders for days.
You admire his physique despite having no interest in him romantically. He looks like he’s doing the same before offering you his elbow.
“Oh? How gentlemanly of you,” you tease, but take his arm and let him lead you down the road still self-conscious about the little flower behind your ear.
“Sarah Rogers would be devastated to hear anything less, were she still alive.” He smiles.
“Your mom?”
He nods, looking fond of the memories that must be going through his head. No trace of sadness.
Your mind is brought back to the conversation you’d had with him at lunch and you can’t help but think how lonely he must have felt for so long with everyone in his past lost to time.
While he and Peggy hadn’t officially been together until the very end of their time together, there had been no doubt between them as to who either was with.
Steve had loved her, still loves her, and Peggy had loved him too.
The depth of his feelings, the way he’d explained them, had been so profound at lunch that you can’t even begin to imagine what it was like for him to wake up from his years in the ice to find out the love of his life had lived her own to its fullest.
He doesn't seem upset by the thoughts of his deceased loved ones and instead resigned to his feelings for them.
"I'm not in a hurry to move on," he'd said at the Café. "But I know it'll happen. Just gotta find the right person."
You wonder who will steal Steve's heart.
"So, how angry do you think Bucky will be that we both forgot to tell him and Kali we were meeting at the shop?"
Steve considers your question for only a split second before he huffs a small chuckle and shakes his head.
"I didn't forget to tell him," he confesses. "I just didn't."
"What?" you ask, slightly stunned.
"Trust me," Steve assures you, pulling you closer so that you sway as you walk and then straighten out again. "It'll be good for him."
You frown at Steve, searching his face for some kind of giveaway to what he means but he doesn’t elaborate and you know he won't answer if you ask.
As the two of you reach the old red brick factory, nestled at the back of a large car park with big illuminated letters spelling out "Pinners", you spot Bucky pacing while staring down at his phone.
He presses the screen and then holds it up to his ear, his other hand on his hip as he waits.
In your back pocket your own phone begins to jingle.
You pull it out, seeing Bucky’s name flash across the screen. As you and Steve approach, your ringing phone pulls Bucky’s attention. You hold up the sleek black device and wave it as if greeting him.
For a very quick moment, his eyes go wide, but then he hangs up and waits for you and Steve to stop before him.
"You're matching?" He asks, confused by your shirts and jeans.
"Yeah," you nod. "We're a team."
You can't help but beam up at Steve and then turn the same bright smile to Bucky as he scrunches his brow and continues to look utterly perplexed.
"When did you decide this?" He half demands, both hands on his hips now.
"On Saturday," you explain. "When Steve and I went to lunch."
"Saturday?" Bucky shakes his head. "You two went out to lunch?"
He reaches up and scratches at his chest, a plain black t-shirt and dark jeans his outfit of choice today.
"Yeah. It was fun."
You give him a smile and then beam up at Steve again.
"We both forgot to tell you we were meeting at the shop," you explain, then take your arm from Steve's and shove your phone back into your pocket. "Where's Kali?"
Bucky looks from you to Steve and back, then again. His eyes scan your t-shirt and then Steve's, his face nearly a frown as he finally gestures over his shoulder with his thumb.
"She’s inside getting shoes." He huffs, frowning fully now as he fixes his gaze on Steve. Some silent communication happening between them. "Forgot to tell me, huh?"
"Oh, great!" You ignore his question as it isn't directed at you and clap your hands focusing on the news that Kali’s inside. You gently slap Bucky’s shoulder as you move past him, hating the way your fingers relish in the tightness of his muscles. "Let’s get this bowling extravaganza started!"
Kali is already at the two lanes Steve had reserved for tonight and she waves at you as she spots you.
She's so beautiful that your heart aches but you move past it quickly and wave back.
You don't hold any ill will towards her. In fact, if anyone has any right to be angry, it's Kali.
You're seriously into Bucky and while you respect their relationship and wouldn't dream of overstepping, lots of women would put a clear line between their boyfriend and any female friends they have that might have feelings for them.
You're grateful for her kindness and you know she has no reason not to trust Bucky.
It's in his face as he comes in, bickering with Steve about something you can't hear.
As soon as he lays eyes on her, Bucky is a puddle. Just as smitten as he was with her the first day he came in to buy her flowers.
You chew on your lip, waiting as the man at the counter finds a pair of shoes in your size, watching Bucky move past you and head straight for Kali.
He pulls her into a hug, arms locked around her waist as he leans down to give her a kiss.
You turn away before their lips can meet and swallow hard.
This is good. This is what you need. Seeing them together will help you move past this.
You can finally leave Bucky behind you and focus on being what he needs. A friend.
Steve stops beside you, elbow resting against yours as he leans on the counter and gives the man his shoe size too.
"You okay?" He asks.
You're able to pretend at least and play off his concern with ease. You're the model of tranquility and chill vibes tonight.
"Of course," you scoff playfully. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You looked a little…nevermind. Oh, shoot." Steve places his hand on the center of your back gently, reassuring you with one touch though of what you're not sure. "Let me go type in our team name before Bucky puts something stupid."
"Okay," you chuckle, imagining the dumb names Bucky could come up with.
"Can you bring my shoes?" He calls back.
"Of course." You assure him and watch him race to grab Bucky’s hand before he can start typing.
You meet them at the lane only a few minutes later, one pair of shoes in one hand and the other under your arm while your other holds one of the lighter bowling balls you could find.
As you settle on your designated seat beside the spot with Steve's phone and keys, you take in the rest of the alley. There are lots of families and groups of young kids gathered around the colorfully lit lanes lanes.
It's rowdy and despite the din, you can still pick up individual conversations from around you.
Steve and Bucky have been noticed but everyone seems to be respecting their need for space.
"Definitely a double-date," Some girl whispers from somewhere behind you towards the bar, but you're not sure who it was because everyone there is whispering.
Steve finally sits beside you and begins to pull on his shoes.
“They’re talking a lot of shit,” he whispers to you.
You’re slightly surprised to hear Steve curse if only because he’d been painted as such a pure figure for so long in your childhood. Then the Accords happened and your perspective of him changed. Still…
You gasp playfully, “Captain Rogers! Cursing? In front of a lady?”
Steve looks horrified before he realizes that you’re just joking and then he throws his head back as he laughs.
This draws all eyes to you two, Bucky and Kali included.
Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed as you notice everyone watching. You swing your arm at him, smacking him in the stomach.
He catches your hand and holds it for a bit as he continues to chuckle dizzily.
“What’s wrong with you?” you demand, shrugging at Bucky’s own confused look as Kali grins like the Cheshire cat.
“I’m sorry, I just…I really thought you were serious,” he lets your hand go and goes back to putting his shoes on, allowing you to slip yours on.
Bucky moves towards the two of you, Kali following beside him.
Despite the activity and the atmosphere–arcade machines are going in the distance, the lights are dim, the smell of stale smoke from the bar, the sizzle of burgers from the snacks area not too far away, and the clink of bottles all scream casual wear–she’s chosen to wear a pink pleated skirt with lace along the top and a white frilly yellow top.
She’s gorgeous…but overdressed. Somehow, she still manages to look stunning and like she’s ready to bowl with her rented shoes on.
“Triple S?” Bucky asks, looking at your team name.
You follow his gaze and smile, “Yeah!”
“What does it mean?” he wonders.
“Star-Spangled Splits,” you tell him and Kali laughs but pokes Bucky in the side.
“We should have come up with a cute team name too, Bubby.”
The sharp sting of her affection wrapping around that pet name startles you and you turn towards Steve to hide the despair for a moment.
He meets your eyes and tilts his head slightly, curious. He reaches out for you, places his hand on the small of your back for support.
“It’s the best team name I’ve ever had,” Steve announces, his hand moving to stroke your back as you force yourself to recover quickly.
But Steve sees your need and without another thought pulls you into his arms, hugging you sweetly as he allows you to bury your face against his shoulder.
You let the mask slip for a second, crumbling into pieces for a few seconds before you give Steve's side a squeeze and he loosens his hold.
Bucky narrows his eyes slightly, once again looking confused before he reaches back to take Kali’s hand.
“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “Cute names aren’t going to save you from losing tonight.”
“I think those are fighting words,” Steve tells you, helping to draw you back to the conversation.
With a lick to your lips, you get a hold of yourself, and rise. With a determined grin, you crack your knuckles and move to grab your ball.
“Let’s do this, Barnes. I’m gonna have you eating those pins.”
Kali and Steve laugh. Bucky only smirks.
~~~~~~~~~~
The sweetness of your beer is overwhelming as you guzzle it down. Satisfying.
Beside you, Steve slides into your booth, one arm around the back as he places down your order of nachos and pizza between you.
“Good?” he asks, looking down at the goodies.
“Yes!” you gasp, astonished by the beautiful cheesy goodness he’d bought you. “Thank you, you’re so nice, Steve. That’s two meals. I owe you.”
Steve smiles, that crooked one side smile that makes him look absolutely gorgeous. It draws the eye of every woman but Kali within a twenty foot distance.
You’re not inhibited one bit, this being your first beer of the night. You’d restrained yourself from drinking during your rounds of bowling to keep your skill level at max.
To Bucky’s irritation.
“Are you still pouting about losing?” you ask him.
“I’m not pouting!” he argues, pouting even more as he crosses his large arms across his chest and rests both elbows on the table.
Kali wraps her arms around Bucky, nudging him lightly as she tries to draw his eye.
“It’s okay, Bubby. We’ll get them next time! It had to be beginner’s luck, right?” she accuses, then winks at you.
You cough, laughing once at the audacity of this woman!
“Ex-ka-use me, lady,” you pretend outrage and press your hand to your chest. “That was nothing but skill. I have been bowling my whole life and Steve has dedicated countless hours throwing his shield at very specific targets in his line of work. If anyone was going to win tonight, of course it’s us.”
You reach for your pizza and take a bite.
“Typical,” Bucky grumbles, also just playing in his anger. He's not really upset. Well, not about losing. “Steve carried you. Without him on your team, you’d have lost to us.”
“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “Who was the one with four strikes per game?”
“Me!” Bucky argues, which is also a blatant lie.
You laugh, “Oh my God, Bucky! I had no idea you were such a sore loser.”
Steve nods, “He really is. When I have kids, I’m going to make sure that none of them turn out remotely like their Uncle Bucky.”
For some reason, this picture that Steve paints draws a blindingly bright smile from Bucky.
“You want kids?” you ask Steve, slipping a nacho into your mouth and crunching loudly.
You've known for a long time that Bucky wants a wife and kids. He'd expressed eagerness for it and had even commented on Kali being the perfect mother of his children with her being a teacher giving her the skill to handle lots of them at once.
You'd listened like the good friend you want to be, ignoring the stabbing pain his hopes and dreams caused.
“Of course." Steve assures you, reaching and eating his own nacho smothered in cheese and topped with two jalapeños. "Buck and I have always had the same plan. We’ll get married around the same time if not the same day. And we’ll have kids the same year. That way they can grow up together.”
The image he paints is very lovely. A surprise to you as in their line of work, you’d think they couldn’t live that kind of life.
Then again, Steve is retired. And Bucky isn't Captain America. He doesn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders. That's Sam's now.
"That so fucking cute, Steve." You gush at him and he gives you that half smile again before offering you a chip.
You take it and look over to the real couple of the night to find Bucky watching you and Steve with a surprisingly unreadable face and Kali looking dejected, down at her hands in her lap.
“You want kids?” Kali’s voice cuts the pleasant atmosphere, her tone anything but excited.
Bucky turns to look at her, suddenly leaning back against the booth and watching her with carefully guarded eyes.
“Yeah,” Bucky tells her. “As a kid I always wanted a big family. I spent a lot of time on my own and I love kids.
He reaches over to her, placing his hand on her back, the other grabbing her forearm.
You’re breathless as you watch this exchange. At first you’d thought nothing of it, but now that you see how flustered Kali is, it’s the only thing you can watch and listen to.
“Don’t you want kids?” he asks her, suddenly you realize that maybe this is something they should have known about each other before they started dating.
Maybe they should have had this conversation way before tonight and in the privacy of their own homes.
Kali doesn’t answer aloud, but instead she looks to those around her and the amount of them that seem to be listening.
“Um…I work with kids all day,” she begins to explain quietly so that you and Steve can hear them fine but no one around might. “And as much as I enjoy teaching them, coming home to even more kids is not something I’ve ever wanted.”
Bucky watches her, mouth gaping for a bit before she huffs and gets to her feet.
“Excuse me,” She tells you all and then hurries off towards the arcade.
Bucky watches her go, his eyes trained on her every move, “Kali!”
He says her name quietly and without another word to either of you, he gets up and follows her out of sight.
All you can do is sit up and follow Bucky’s every step until he’s out of sight and even then, you’re still watching.
“It’s Bucky, isn’t it?” Steve asks you quietly, his tone even and calm. “The guy you’re hung up on? You don’t hide it as well as you think you do, but Buck’s a little on the dumb side when it comes to girls these days.”
You settle back into your seat, and struggle to comprehend what just happened.
Your lower lip trembles and you shake your head.
“I’ll get over it, Steve.” you promise and reach for another nacho.
And you will. No matter what it costs you, you will leave this Bucky infatuation where it belongs: filed under fantasy pairings that are never gonna happen.
You hope, for your friend's sake…for Bucky and Kali that they can overcome this stumble. But kids? That's a pretty big issue.
And Kali doesn't seem like the type to compromise about something so important, so that means Bucky would be left to accept her wishes and it absolutely breaks your heart to think that Bucky might choose to live his life without his dream of a family coming true.
#bucky x reader#bucky x florist!reader#bucky barnes x florist!reader#bucky barnes x reader#flowershop au#marvel fanfiction#marvel au#bucky fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky fanfic#bucky fic#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#perennial pt10#perennial#winter soldier x reader#steve rogers
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SIGN ON THE LINE || STEVE ROGERS
PRETTY WOMAN AU
pairing: Escort!Steve Rogers x bisexual!black!reader ; minor pairing: escort! steve rogers x bisexual!black!reader x bisexual!natasha romanov || word count: 14,446 || warnings: smut, sex, rough sex, ass eating, butt stuff, oral sex (male & female receiving), rough oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, face sitting/riding, 69, cockwarming, nipple play, consensual voyeurism, prostitution, daddy kink
authors note: right under the buzzer! this is for @allaboardthereadingrailroad marvel diversity challenge! my prompt was Pretty Woman AU. this is a pretty loose interpretation of the movie, but there are some similarities threaded throughout if you’re familiar with it. once again, a lot was inspired by @honeychicanawrites headcanons here, here, and here. there was also a black and white gif floating around of an animated woman, rubbing, sucking, and fucking her dude, but i lost the link! (i was gonna embed it, but i don’t want my post flagged). also, daily convos with @tropicalcap led to some of the filth. enjoy!
line divider by @firefly-graphics
The wine glass clinks against the porcelain of the bathroom counter as you set it down gently, backing up to eye yourself in the mirror. You push your box braids off your shoulders and twist your body, smoothing your manicured hands down your hips as you primp. Sliding your fingers underneath the thin band of your thong, you adjust it slightly, pulling them up on your hips before letting the material snap back to your body, cutting into your flesh. The Zodiac tights come next, wiggling your hips to pull the crystal embedded fishnets up your smooth legs and up over your behind.
You dig your hands into your bra, pushing your tits up so they sit a little higher in it and pucker your lips, adding a little more gloss. A deep buzz sounds throughout the bathroom, your phone illuminating as a text slides through.
In the lobby
A smile spreads across your face. You grab the fluffy, white hotel robe and shrug into it, tying a tight bow at your waist before arranging your hair again and bringing the glass of white wine to your lips to finish it off. The small bottle of Baccarat Rouge 540 is the last accessory you reach for— spritzing your neck and wrist, rubbing them together slowly to spread the sweet, floral aroma. Grabbing your phone, and the now empty wine glass, you move out of the bathroom and hit the light switch to cover the lavish room in darkness.
You’re wet already— tight muscles clamping around nothing as you pad back into your Presidential suite. Blood starts to race, skin heats up as your heart beat grows harder. You’re so fucking horny it hurts. Stomach is tight and knotted, your clit achy and sore— fingers not enough to quell the need. So you went out one night, found a sex shop, which isnt hard in the heart of L.A.; bought a pretty glass dildo and a diamond studed butt plug— even a pocket vibrator, but it wasn’t enough. You need the real thing, a big, hard, dripping, warm cock to put you out of your misery so you can focus on the reason you’re in L.A. in the first place.
“Oh girl,” Natasha winked, handing over an off white business card, “Having dick on retainer is a must.”
You flipped it over in your hand, your dark eyes skimming over the telephone number printed in the middle of the card, the initials S.G.R. scrawled out just underneath it, “Give him a call,” she winked, “He’ll keep you plenty occupied while you’re here.”
That was two days ago— over a business lunch when the VP of Operations and CEO of the company you’re trying to acquire stepped away from the table. You’d known Natasha Romanov for exactly one week at that point, but she knew the desperation of a woman going without— you're convinced she smelled it on you as soon as you walked into her office. It took her a few days to pry it out of you, but once she caught you discreetly making eyes at the waiter, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you in close.
You’re a woman of the world, you both realize and understand sex work is a valuable commodity, and champion it, for men and women alike. But you never honestly had to give it a second thought, you’ve always had options. A cute little black book that sits just inside of your nightstand, full of names that can satisfy your every mood.
Tony for a quickie when you’re buzzed and on the way to an event, Sam for a back breaking, fingers in your mouth, ‘call me daddy’ romp, sweet Bruce when you want it real nice and slow— somebody to love you just for the night. That little black book doesn’t help you in L.A., and you aren’t about to fly somebody out for a four hour layover.
There’s a rap at the door, three quick knocks, “Just one second.” you call sweetly, slipping into a pair of Giuseppe heels— your favorite Giuseppe heels.
You untie the belt around your waist and throw the robe over the back of the couch as you click towards the door, leaving you in your black, strapless bra, thin thong, and waist high tights. There’s really no need to be modest— you’re both adults. Turning the square, stainless steel door handle, you pull gently, throwing it open for the tall, blonde man leaning against the far wall. He stands up straight, blue eyes going wide as they drop down your body, pink lips quirking into a lopsided grin.
You spin on your heels and retreat back into the room slowly, hearing the door as it hitches when he catches it with his palm. Eyes are on your body as you switch your hips seductively, moving towards the minibar. You can’t help the smile that curls onto your lips.
“Would you like a drink, Mr. Rogers?” You purr, voice low and smooth.
“Steve’s fine,” his voice equally low, equally smooth, “What do you have?”
You hum, opening the small fridge and bending just slightly, poking out your ass, “Looks like Modelo, Vodka, Rum,” you point towards the ice bucket, a bottle of Dom Perignon resting in the chips, “Champagne. I also have some white wine.”
You glance back at him, your braids dangling over your shoulder, swinging gently with each little movement you make. Steven Grant Rogers is a sight for sore eyes— and a sore pussy. He’s tall and lean, chest and shoulders wide and broad, biceps thick. His waist is small, but it adds a little allure to his frame, giving him a little shape. He has a sense of style about him too, another tick in the ‘pro’ column for him. His suit is a simple one but it reeks of great expense. Black, slim fit, no tie. Crisp, white button down with the first couple of buttons undone. Black red bottoms, and a titanium, black faced Hublot watch.
Creed Aventus fills your nostrils as you breathe in and your muscles clench again. You like a man with lavish taste.
“Champagne, please. Not too much though, I don’t like to drink when I’m with a client.” Curious eyes follow you as you move towards the ice bucket, staying on you as you pour two flutes, “I don’t want any misunderstandings.”
“Misunderstandings?”
His thick fingers brush along yours as you step close, handing him the tall, thin flute. They’re soft, his fingers. He nods gently, clinking the rim of his glass with yours before he lifts it to his pink lips, licking them slowly, “Gotta keep a clear head.”
A sharp inhale of air fills your lungs; a sly smile tugs at your lips. Through hooded eyes, the two of you keep watch of the other as you both down the bubbly champagne. Your lips tingle as you rub the glass along your bottom lip, your eyes bouncing around his handsome, heavily bearded face. His eyes twinkle underneath the lights as they roam— down your chest and stomach, down your long legs— slowly. Drinking you in. Taking stock of each curve, each dip, each line.
His eyes snap back to yours suddenly, but they’re different. Hungry. Aggressive. You take another breath, holding it in your chest for a tick before you exhale and cross your legs, squeezing them tight.
He takes a step forward, closing the already small distance between the two of you to a mere inch, maybe even less than that. He drops his eyes again, his eyelids closing to slits, the dark, delicate, long eyelashes lining them splash out on his cheeks. He inhales deep, a small, thin hum vibrating in his throat as he’s filled with the sweetness of your perfume.
“Nervous?”
The word greets your ears softly, just as it left his pretty mouth. You lick your bottom lip and pull it between your teeth, chewing as your eyes bounce between his. He smiles, pushing his face closer so the tips of your noses touch. He rubs your noses together slowly, up along your bridge, and then the tips again, his smile growing.
“There’s no need to be nervous. We’ll take it real nice and slow, okay?” his voice steady and smooth, low and soft, “You’ve never done this before?”
Two mammoth hands push along your hips, slowly dragging up and down, up and down, up and down. You swallow, a pathetic tremble sounding in your throat that gets him to smile again, “It’s that obvious?”
He chuckles, “It’s okay, honey.” he answers, hands pushing over your ass, “I’ll get you warmed up.”
He squeezes your behind; you inhale again, your hands settling on his chest. Your body is moving, swaying gently back and forth at his insistence, his hands pushing up to the small of your back. Blue eyes stay on deep browns as his warm palm settles in the center of your back, holding you in his orbit. You start to rub his chest, feeling the bulk, the muscles of him— the thick. Your index finger drifts; drifts towards the open buttons of his shirt, playing with them; eyes settling on the sliver of skin and dark hair showing through.
A knuckle pushes just underneath your chin, pressing, pressing, pressing until your head, more importantly your mouth, is tilted up to his. Your eyelids instantly— instinctively— droop, lips part in wait, in want; in need. Hooded blue eyes gaze back at you, a hint of a smile on his lips.
“May I?”
Shudders ripple down your spine as reddened lips brush along yours, “Please.” It’s desperate— the way you ask.
Steve licks into you with his tongue, groaning a little when he sucks your top lip into his mouth. He pulls you in, right up against his hard body, your hands sliding over his shoulders and wrapping around his neck. This mouth is skilled— tongue slipping along your bottom lip and caressing your own. Not too rough, not too gentle, just enough to make you melt into him; to make you go a little limp in his arms.
He nibbles on your bottom lip, pulling softly until he lets go, letting it snap back to your face. A giggle bubbles up, filling the air surrounding you and you swear you feel his dick twitch.
“Feel better?”
You smile sweetly, pulling out of his grasp and sauntering towards your abandoned phone. Tapping into the short text stream with him, you snap your eyes back to him when his phone chimes seconds later. You watch as he digs it out of his pocket and another grin cracks his face as his cash app alerts him to the fifteen hundred deposited into his account.
“Does that answer your question?”
Those pretty white teeth of his dig into his bottom lip, trying and failing to hide the grin that’s been brought upon by your quick wit. He pulls his jacket off of his shoulders, tossing it over the back of the couch before ticking his head towards the bedroom, “Bed please.”
You do not hesitate. You pass by each other as you move towards the bedroom, him towards the ice bucket, plucking it from the table in the center of the room and turning on his heel to follow you. You toss your eyes over your shoulder as you flounce, hips switching again, heels clink, clink, clinking against the marble floor.
The lights of the bedroom rise automatically from the sudden motion in the room. You feel weightless as you fall onto the mattress hands first, crawling into the center of the king bed. His footsteps continue to sound as he enters behind you, setting the champagne bucket at the end of the bed as you prop against the headboard, drawing your legs up, swaying them back and forth slowly.
Steve keeps his eyes on you as he starts to pull on his cufflinks, unclipping the double knotted, sterling silver Tiffany & Co. accessories to free his arms. He rolls his sleeves up his forearms, revealing hair and thick veins— more flexing muscles. Blue eyes bounce between the task at hand and you, that soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips never wavering, never leaving. Foreplay at its best.
Once his forearms are free of the constricting material around them, he grabs the champagne bottle by the neck and plucks out a crystal flute, dropping his eyes from yours as he pours another glass. He moves around the side of the bed, champagne bottle in hand as he sits next to you, handing over the full glass. Lifting it to your lips, you snap your eyes to him when he tuts quickly, wagging that thick index finger back and forth.
Your mouth drops open, eyes go large as you watch him take a swig, right from the bottle. He then leans over you, pushing his index finger into your chin again, tilting your head up towards his. Warm, pink lips crowd your open mouth, his eyes closing gently, the cool, bubbly liquid slipping from his mouth right into yours. You sound— sweet, tiny, pitiful— as you swallow his offering, him kissing you quick after, not giving you time to reel from the intimacy of it.
He’s gone again, just as quickly as he came, heading back to the end of the bed. He knees onto the edge, large palms sliding over your bent knees, fingertips slipping down your calves, gripping and groping as they go. He drops one hand— right to his pants— sends his eyes back to yours as he pops the shiny button and unzips them at a snail's pace. Steve lets his pants hang open as he slides his hands down your thighs, all the way down to the juncture of your hips and legs, pushing his thumbs into the creases.
Steve pushes forward, forcing your legs open as he settles in, resting that hard, lean, strapping body on yours— kissing you again. Deep this time. Bruising. Tongue kneading yours, smacking and sucking your lips into his wet mouth. Moans, both his and yours, thrum and vibrate in your chests and throats. Your muscles clench again.
Lips and mouth are on the move— down your chin, nuzzling into the soft, sensitive crook of your neck. He licks, slow, before sucking the skin, finding that one little pesky spot that makes your hips jut up into his quick. He’s hard, and that makes you whimper again. You hold the champagne flute up high in your right hand, trying not to spill the contents as your hips start to roll, free hand wrapping around and digging into his thick bicep— but you aren’t so lucky. A few drops dribble from the glass and onto your chest, slipping down between your cleavage.
You shiver when his hot tongue slides between your tits to collect the cold droplets, his hands prying the silk material of your bra down. There’s a sound, a grunt, that cultivates deep in his throat at the sight of you, bare and wanton— nipples thick and perky. He slips his hands behind your back to unhook your bra, tossing it without a care to the floor once you’re free.
He inhales sharp, a hiss slipping through his teeth, “Fuck, these are beautiful.”
Your back arches up into his hands as he grabs your tits, squeezing gently, him moaning all the while. He thumbs your nipples before taking one into his warm mouth, tongue flicking and swirling, teeth grabbing. Your body jerks up into him, hips and chest, mouth falls open before your face twists in pleasure. He gives your other breast the same attention— kissing, licking, sucking before he ventures on, his fingers digging underneath the thin band of your tights and pulling gently.
Reddened lips follow his fingers, down your waist, down your hips, down your thighs, calves, ankles, toes until you’re free of the sheer garment. You sip on the bubbly champagne as his hot tongue pushes up the inside of your calf. Sweet kisses are pressed against the subtle curve of your knee, blue eyes through long, dark eyelashes on yours the whole while. Deep, stormy eyes— the kind of eyes that make you wanna think they’re only for you; aroused by you and you alone.
He draws that red bottom lip between his teeth, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief as he nuzzles into your thigh. His fingers curl around the strings of your thong as his eyes dip quickly. You close your eyes and take another sip of your drink when he starts to pull, a soft smile of your own spreading on your face as he exposes you.
There’s fingers— suddenly. Softly. Rubbing. A low hum vibrating in his throat as he touches you. A soft moan slips from between your lips as your hips start to roll, meeting each pass of his digits. Your slick already; clit hypersensitive, almost pained from going so long without. His touch is experienced, slow and deliberate as he presses soft, warm kisses against your thigh, rubbing his bearded cheek against the delicate skin.
The tips of his fingers start to drift. Down, down, down, away from your nub and to your slit where he rubs— caresses— gently. Then they’re pushing, his fingers, index and middle, sinking into you deep, pulling a sharp gasp from you.
He smiles wide before pushing out a breath, “That’s a tight fit, honey baby.” he purrs before blowing softly onto your hot, wet cunt, “It’s been a while, huh?” his voice soft, fingers pumping slowly, “Yeah, it’s been a while. Look at you squeezing down on me, baby.”
Your body jerks when Steve presses his lips to your pussy. He hums as he kisses you again and again and again, before he flattens his tongue against your clit, rubbing gently. He sucks you into his mouth, his eyes closing, eyelashes spreading over his cheeks. Your thin fingers thread into his long, blonde hair, gripping and tugging as your hooded eyes watch his head bob left and right, up and down while he devours you.
Heat blooms in your chest and stomach as you take another sip of champagne and it settles in your belly. You rest your heavy head against the headboard, licking your lips as uncontrolled moans spill from your mouth. Another sharp gasp fills the room as a third finger slips into your eager body. You can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up in your chest, and the satisfied groan that follows.
“Is this what you wanted, baby?”
His voice is as smooth as silk, the deepness of it rattling your fragile bones, “This isn’t all that I wanted, but this is a good start, Mr. Rog—” you pant, words cut off as you lift your hips when he starts to hit that little spot, “Ah, fuck.”
“Mmmm,” he purrs again, “I know this isn’t all you wanted, greedy girl.” Greedy girl. Your cunt clenches at the words, “Oooh,” he smiles as sitting up a little when he feels you tighten, “You like that? Are you Daddy’s greedy girl?”
The champagne flute slips from your fingers, the liquid spilling over your chest and stomach, pooling in your belly button, “Uh oh,” he coos, slipping his tongue up your body, sucking up the spill with his lips as he goes, “Responsive little thing.”
He pulls his fingers from you, leaving you empty, causing a frustrated, childish grunt to rumble through your chest. Steve tuts at you again, although smiling all the while as he starts to work himself out of his shirt. You bite down into your bottom lip as you watch him, more and more of his buttery, tanned, smooth skin coming into view.
His chest is wide, thick with conditioned muscles. Dark hair is splashed across the pallet of his pecs, the little happy trail spreading out across his lower stomach. There’s a deep v carved into his hips— hard abs and biceps flex as he moves. His weight leaves the mattress as he stands and shoves his fingers into his pants, pushing them down sturdy, hairy thighs. Your eyes instantly fall to the dick print in his black Armani stretch boxer briefs. Fuck.
You slip your hand down your side, over your hip and right between your sticky folds, hissing gently as you start to rub yourself, impatient and needy.
“Good girl.” he praises, making your heart sing.
He drops his hand to his dick, squeezing himself as he smirks at you. What a fucking tease— but nonetheless, your pussy clenches around absolutely nothing from just the sight of him. Those fingers of his push underneath the stretchy band of his boxers and start to tug, slowly, slowly, slowly, exposing more and more of his wiry, dark hair and skin. You drag in a deep breath when his cock finally springs free, an impressive girth bouncing as the material pushes over it.
He steps out of his boxers and starts to stroke himself, long, slow drags of his hand up and down his shaft as he watches you dip your fingers into your pussy. You tilt your hips upward as you pump your fingers, the heel of your palm pressing against your clit. Your mouth falls open, your eyes flutter, air chokes up in your throat as you fuck yourself for him, enjoying his hungry eyes on all of you.
But when he’s had enough, he’s had enough. He falls onto his knees, his weight dipping into the mattress and inches towards you, pulling your hand away. His fingers replace yours, rubbing your clit, pushing through your folds, teasing your slit quickly before he slides his hands underneath your butt and pulls you down the bed. His fingers dance over your knees before he pushes them apart and your legs fall open, pussy on full display.
Steve falls over you, hands on either side of your head, as he leans downs and captures your lips again, kissing you sweetly. There’s a sharp taste on his lips and tongue— it's you. You lean into his kiss, deepening it with your tongue as you push your hips upward, shivering when the tip of his cock glances over your clit. Shivers wrack your body again, prompting him to laugh, “Okay greedy girl, okay.”
He pulls back, rolling his shoulders as he slips his fingers between your breasts. You reach for him too— raking your fingers down his chest and stomach as he starts to push at your opening. You grip his side, digging your nails into his thick skin as the head of his cock breaks into you. He slides, agonizingly slow, his long fingers wrapping around your throat as he disappears into you, his own mouth dropping open as you envelope him.
“Fuck,” he groans, letting his head fall as he pushes a breath out of his mouth, his grip around your neck tightening slightly, “You fit me like a glove, honey.”
You push your hips, urging him to move as you wrap your small hand around his wrist and push it up his long arm, stroking gently, “Come on, baby.” You murmur, using your head to push away from the mattress slightly.
“What’s that, honey?” he asks, “Tell me, baby. Use your words.”
You mewl, husky, hips still pushing up into his, “God— fuck me, Steve. Please.”
You push your hips down into the mattress, his dick drawing out of you just slightly. You thrust back up, pushing him back in, deep, before you pull back again— over and over and over. He watches the connection, watching himself disappear and then reappear as he squeezes your throat, a steady, gentle pressure. You keep a hold of his large wrist, gasping and whimpering as you fuck up onto him.
“That’s right, doll,” he whispers, “You fuck my dick, baby. I should be paying you, shouldn’t I?”
You roll your shoulders, moaning loud, “Please,” you beg— nearly cry, “Please, fuck me. Please!”
He thrusts into you hard— biting off the words in your throat. You squeak when he fucks into you again, your tits bouncing with the force.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, thrusting into you a third time, “Hmm? Is that what you want, honey?”
You nod quickly, your face breaking, a long, strangled noise spilling out of you as he pushes his hips into yours. He sets a bruising pace after the first teasing thrusts. Hard, fast pumps of his hips into yours, skin against skin, the sound bouncing off the walls. Wet, choked sounds squeak out from you as he keeps a hold of your throat, your small hands still wrapped around his wrist and forearm. You swallow hard, the pressure from his hand making it slightly difficult but the sheer power— or the restraint he shows despite his obvious strength— makes you want to melt into the mattress.
Steve leans down, licking into your mouth with his tongue as he fucks. He kisses you hard, releasing with a loud smack before he grabs your face and chin, squeezing your cheeks as he shakes your head back and forth gently, “Does that feel good, baby?” he taunts, his red, full lips brushing along yours, “Come on sweetness, don’t go all quiet on me now.”
“S’good,” you grunt, slamming your eyes closed, “Fu— ah! Fuck!”
“That’s right, girl. This is exactly what you needed.”
You’re hoisted up, right up into his lap, your legs curling around his sides. Not missing a beat, you start to bounce and rock freely, throwing your head back as you hang on to his broad shoulders. His large hand wraps around your throat again, but his fingers creep up over your chin, the tips pushing into your mouth. You hum as you suck on them, sucking the salt of your slick right off the pads of his fingers.
Your wet muscles squeak with each push of his cock. Quick, hot spurts of precum dribbling into you as his hips thrust to meet yours. His free hand grips your hips, hefty fingers pushing into your skin, helping you move. Your nipples brush along his chest, the gentle sensation sending flashes of heat and electricity through your body— shudders racing down your spine. The hand around your waist snakes up your back, his fingers playing with the ends of your braids.
He pulls gently, then backs off, mouth agape and eyes wide as they search your face, seemingly asking permission. He tugs again and you let him— your head falling back as your tongue pushes down the length of the index and middle fingers still shoved in your mouth. Your scalp prickles with pain as he pulls harder, craning your head back further, exposing your neck. A screech explodes from your lips when his pearly whites sink into the crook of your neck before he sucks hard, pulling blood to the surface.
Faltering hips, wet smacks, damp skin to damp skin— it’s all so filthy. So crude— but exactly what you’ve needed. His hands leave your hair, leave your mouth; one wraps around your throat and the other thumbs your nipple. He keeps his eyes on you as he hisses, his hips pushing, fingers tweaking, hand tightening to push you closer and closer towards a release. Your pitch heightens, your grunts and cries shaky and desperate as he eggs you on.
“You gonna come for me, sugar?” he asks sweetly, kissing you quick and hard, “It’s okay baby, you can let go. You’ve earned it, sweet girl. You’ve been such a good girl.”
A broken moan chokes in your throat. He ruts harder and faster, each thrust pushing deeper, touching that sweet, vulnerable spot until—
Red hot is the orgasm that ripples through you. You wail as it blooms across your flesh, your toes curling and fingers digging into his shoulders. He grabs your hips as you come, guiding you down onto his cock, and then helping you rock back and forth to drain every last drop of your release. His grip around your waist tightens, his own grunts growing louder before a burst of heat swells in your cunt.
Steve punctuates his spurts with deep, sharp thrusts, hissing and groaning with each one until he’s spent. He murmurs sweet nothings into your neck, hot breath sticking to your damp skin. Your limbs turn to liquid, your head fuzzy and warm as he guides you down to the mattress. He slips out of you, strings of silk following, trickling down your hot, trembly cunt. Sweet, soft lips press against your chest and stomach, over your hips and down your legs as large hands massage your thighs and calves.
A calm washes through you as your eyes grow heavy, your breaths getting deeper and longer as you melt into the soft mattress. You feel Steve moving around, crawling back up to where you are. A long arm slips over your stomach, pulls you close, right into his warm chest and stomach. His beard and lips brush over your temple and cheek, soft fingertips run up and down your arm, pretty epithets lulling you into a gentle sleep.
You’re just as sweet as sugar, honey baby. Such a good girl.
~~~
You roll your shoulders as you shift, eyes fluttering as you start to wake. It takes a few long seconds before your eyes adjust, the room lights having long since dimmed. The moon is high in the jet black sky as bright stars smatter across the canvas. You're still cocooned underneath a heavy arm and crushed against a burly chest, a soft smile spreading on your face as he snores gently.
3:12am flashes on the digital clock on the nightstand as you feel him roll away from you in his sleep, rolling over onto his side, exposing his wide back. Your fingers instantly glance over his smooth skin, skimming down his spine before they curl over his bicep. You should have been sated, but there’s another pull— deep in your belly; still eager, still wanting. Closing the distance between your bodies, you push your bare breasts into his back as you slide your hand underneath the sheets and down his chest and stomach.
You push up onto your elbow and thread your fingers into his dirty blonde hair as your other fingers brush over his soft cock. You wrap your small hand around him and stroke him gently, right from his stomach to the tip of his pretty dick, your palm sweeping over his cockhead and slit. Another smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as he stirs after a few minutes but doesn’t fully wake; just pushes his hips languidly into your hand.
His deep breathing soon turns shallow and choppy, soft moans scratching at the back of his throat but he never opens his eyes. Warm droplets of precum bubble from his slit and you brush the pads of your fingers over the wetness, dragging it back down his quickly hardening shaft. You rile him up, make his cock rigid and angry before you pull on his hip, rolling him over onto his back.
You throw your leg over his body and settle on top of him, ass up, lips mere inches from his hot sex. In one fell swoop, you follow your hand down his cock with your mouth, his hips jerking softly from the wet warmth surrounding him. Humming, you flatten your tongue along him, the tip tracing the thick vein that runs the length of his shaft. You bob your head up and down, sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip, teasing his slit as more drops of salt-sweet cum dribble on your tongue.
Steve’s hands slither up your thighs, grab your ass and squeeze as you suck him off, his hips jutting upward into your velvet mouth. Your mouth goes slack, your eyes fluttering when he slips two fingers into your wet cunt. He fingers you slow, his thumb pressing against your asshole as you start to writhe, rolling your hips against his hard abs to massage your clit.
You pull off of him, your hand still moving up and down, squeezing him as you pucker your lips— letting them gently brush against his cock. His hips rock up into your hand, his moans growing louder by the minute, deep gasps and sighs making his chest tighten underneath your body.
“Goddamn, baby,” his voice low and groggy from sleep.
Your muscles clench around his fingers as they delve and prod, his thumb pushing and circling your warm rim. A hot breath and a quick groan push out between your teeth, his dick jumping in your hand as the air tickles his skin. You swallow him again, taking every inch, relaxing your throat to accommodate him as you bury your face in the dark blonde hair at his groin.
Steve curls his fingers, lightly scratching at your insides, making you clamp down on them, squeezing them tight; holding them in.
Steve shifts underneath you, sucking in a sharp breath, “Get up here, baby. I wanna taste you.”
The sound of his voice rattles through you. His words still slurred with sleep, voice husky. You oblige, wanting his beard between your legs once more, sweeping along the inside of your thighs. You clamor up to him, straddling his face, your thighs closing in on either side of his head. Steve flattens his head on the pillow underneath him and opens his mouth, pushing his tongue out in anticipation of you.
You push your hips forward, rolling your cunt over his lips and tongue. Your head falls back, jaw goes slack as you start to ride his face, his tongue pushing through your sticky, puffy folds with ease. A wet noise fills the room— both his tongue and lips smacking and sucking on your messy flesh. Your hand finds his cock again, your fingers fondling his tip and that pulsing vein.
A chorus of whimpers and whines, quick gasps and deep growls roll through your chest as you grab his hair, pulling his face— if it’s possible— even closer to your cunt. Steve's face is flushed red in the moonlight. He balls the sheets in his hands as he flicks the tip of his tongue against you before he sucks your folds and clit into his mouth, his head shaking gently back and forth. He only releases you to drag in quick, wet breaths before closing back in on you, humming and moaning.
A soft burn spreads through your thighs as you canter your hips, using his chin and nose, along with his tongue and mouth to cop a feel. You’re close again, hips jerking with unexpectancy, your core also starting to burn as your body strains with its need.
Steve isn’t done with you yet. He rearranges you quickly, lifting you right off of him. Your knees sink into the mattress as he grabs your wrists and flattens your hands flat on the headboard.
He fucks into you from behind, not wasting a second in setting a brisk pace. He holds your hips in his hands, fingers digging into your skin as you drop your head, your braids swinging. Your tits bounce with his thrusts, your head knocking into the velvet headboard as you hold yourself up against it. Steve’s hips and balls slap against your ass as he gruffly pulls you back into him. A hand curls around your hip and travels up to your tits, grabbing your nipple between his index finger and thumb to tweak and pull and roll the thick nub.
You’re panting again, cursing and howling as your stomach tightens and your heart leaps, heat rippling through you. A quick sweat pops up on your brow, goosebumps prickle up along your body as your toes start to curl again. Steve’s hips are relentless, driving, driving, driving hard, his girth filling every inch that you have to offer. His fingers start to prod your asshole again, pushing gently against your rim as it constricts and relaxes.
It doesn’t take much. The soft pads of his fingers against your rim, and one, two, three more strokes of his hips and you’re gone. Your mind going blank as your orgasm rushes. Steve fucks you right through it, dropping a hand to your clit as it jumps with the contractions of your cunt. He teases it— your clit— slapping and rubbing quick circles as your walls squeeze around him, finally coaxing him to come again.
You decide that you like the way it feels when he comes inside of you. His silk ribbons coating your squeaky muscles. You collapse against the mattress after your release washes through you. Steve falls beside you, rolling over onto his back and flattening his hand in the middle of his chest as he catches his breath.
“Gettin’ your money’s worth, huh?”
You dissolve into laughter, pushing your face into the blankets as you lay on your stomach, “I am a shrewd businesswoman, Mr. Rogers.”
“You don’t hear me complaining, do you?”
~~~
“It’s a financial risk, for sure,” you reiterate, hands shoved into the pockets of your slim fit pants, your suit jacket open, “But I assure you, we can turn this company around. Carter & Danvers hasn’t had an acquisition fail in over thirty years. I will personally oversee this transition through— until it’s turning a profit.”
All eyes are on you in the boardroom as Hank Prym, CEO and pain in the ass that just won’t sign the goddamn contract, of Lang & Prym Inc. stares back at you, fingers threaded over his lips. For whatever reason, he doesn’t trust you or anything that you have to say, despite the fact that within six months— or less— his company will have to file bankruptcy. Natasha Romanov, CFO of Lang & Prym, sits to his left, green eyes sliding between his and yours. Her delicate fingers play with the pen between them, rolling it slowly as she tosses her short, red hair.
“Mr. Prym,” she starts, “We have to do something. We aren’t going to last much longer without their help. I crunched the numbers for you multiple times.”
He shakes his head slowly, his dark eyes glancing off towards the windows, “We have time, right?”
“We do,” Natasha nods, “But—“
“I’m not ready to sign yet. Not yet,” he stands, and everyone else placed around the table follows his lead. He moves around the table and up to where you are, extending his hand and shaking yours gently, “You’re good, but I’m just not ready yet.”
You smile softly, tapping the back of his hand with your free one, “That’s alright, this is tough, I realize that.”
“I’m glad they sent you instead of that Wade Wilson,” he chuckles, “How long are you in town for?”
“Indefinitely. Until you sign with us, Mr. Prym, I’m a Los Angelean.”
“Well,” he starts, taking a step towards the door, “Have Natasha show you around town. She knows this little taco place that’s to die for.”
You toss your eyes towards Natasha as she approaches and wink, “I’ll take her up on that. She’s already given me a tip or two about the lays of the land.”
You shake hands with the rest of the board members as they exit the room, finally leaving you and the smirking redhead alone. There may be a little underlying tension between you and her, you aren’t entirely sure yet, but you know that her eyes tend to linger on your frame just a tad longer than they should— not that you mind the extra attention, especially from someone as effortlessly attractive as she is.
Her arms are crossed over her chest as she sits on the edge of the mahogany table. A tight, black pencil skirt accentuates her shapely hips and long legs. A red satin blouse, unbuttoned strategically to show off her soft, pretty, full breasts.
“You’re looking a little more lively today.” Her silk smooth voice floats towards you, making you smile, “You gave my pal a call, eh?”
A devilish smile curls on your lips as you push your hands back into your pockets, “He was worth every fucking cent.”
“Glad to hear it.” She winks, and pushes away from the table, her manicured fingers reaching for your tie. She steps in close as she drags her hand down the length of the skinny tie, her big eyes following, “Maybe the three of us can get dinner sometime, hmm?”
You wiggle your eyebrows, “You just name the time and place, Ms. Romanov.”
She hums approvingly before smoothing down your tie and turning on her heel, clicking out of the boardroom with her file folders in hand.
You plop down in the chair behind your open laptop, exiting out of your powerpoint and bringing up your email. You work for a while, but your mind drifts, back to the night before, back to one Steve Rogers. Broad shoulders, smooth skin, sweet, pretty mouth… soon, the thoughts keep you from working. Soon, you’re leaning back in your chair, your fingers playing with your bottom lip as you sway gently back and forth.
You slide your phone out of your pocket and thumb through your messages, landing on his number. Tapping the screen, you stand and bring it to your ear as you take a few steps towards the windows, your eyes scanning over the city as the phone rings.
“Back so soon?”
You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face as his warm voice fills your ears, “You make it hard to stay away, I must admit. How are you, I’m not disturbing you am I? I mean, you’re probably a busy man.”
He laughs, a warm, deep laugh and your body tightens “I do take breaks, you know.” You giggle, a sudden nervous energy filling you, which is strange. You usually have no problem asking for things you want, “Don’t get all shy on me now, girl.”
“God,” you scoff, tittering again, rolling your eyes playfully.
“Come on, I thought we were passed all this? Do I need to come over there and help you relax again?”
Muscles you weren’t even sure you had, clench tight, “Are you free tonight, Mr. Rogers?”
“You know, I like that. All that Mr. Rogers stuff,” You hear him moving around, then a deep exhale, “I wish I were, doll, but I’ve got a date. Dinner and a function.”
You click your tongue, your shoulders dropping as a quick flash of disappointment washes through you. It doesn’t last long, the disappointment— hell, you make deals for a living, “I’ll double whatever she’s paying you.”
“Oooh,” he purrs, “Jealous, baby?”
“Not jealous,” you point out, “I just don’t like to wait, and I don’t like to lose. It’s not in my nature.”
“That’s very flattering, but I can’t do that. I have a reputation in this city.”
“Yeah,” you laugh, “I’m sure you do.”
“I do! I can’t cancel on such short notice.”
“Then meet me for dessert.”
“Are you trying to kill me?” He laughs earnestly, “Listen, I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
You cover your face with your hand, laughing again, “Oh my god,” you sigh, “Well, fuck. I’ll get with Natasha and see if she can recommend another option for the evening...”
You hear him shuffle through the phone again, another deep sigh pushing out of his nose. He’s quiet for a beat as you tap your index finger against the edge of your phone, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
“Let me get back to you a little later tonight, alright? You and Ms. Romanov behave over there.”
“I told you I was shrewd.”
“You sure did. Wait up for me, babe.”
You smile big, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, “Will do.”
~~~
His knock sounds through the hotel room, making you tear your eyes from your laptop. You finish your email before pushing away from the small table and padding towards the door, your lace, burgundy kimono flailing with the air. You pull open the door and step to the side instinctively as Steve traipses through the threshold. You let it close with a soft click before you lean against it, crossing your legs and tilting your head as you find two crystal blue eyes on you.
The two of you blink at each other, eyes traveling over one anothers frames. He shrugs out of his black velvet jacket and tosses it over the back of the couch before he starts on his cufflinks. You watch in silence as he rolls up his sleeves, one by one, exposing his forearms just how you like— all veins and hair. His biceps bulge in the white button down, chest rippling underneath his black vest. He keeps flipping his eyes towards you, peeking through those lashes as he smiles.
He beckons you with his index finger and without hesitation, you’re moving towards him, pushing away from the door with your hands. Once you’re within range, he reaches for you, wrapping his long arm around your waist to pull you into him. Laughter bubbles up in your chest as you crash against him, his lips capturing yours in a flurry of kisses.
His hands push over your ass, squeezing your flesh before his palms push up and down your hips, “You look beautiful.” He says softly, his eyes drifting down your matching burgundy and navy bra and panties
You toss your braids over your shoulder before placing your hands back on his chest, “Thank you. How was your dinner?”
“Filling,” he smiles, “But I left room for dessert.”
“Well,” you start, pulling out of his grasp and moving back towards the table, “Hopefully you like chocolate.”
You spin on the balls of your feet to face him again, holding up a small plate with a large piece of chocolate cake. You smile as he laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets as he steps up to you, leaning down just a tad to take a whiff of the freshly baked German chocolate cake. He opens his mouth, flicking those big blue eyes up to yours again, waiting patiently. You pluck the fork that’s dug into the spongy cake and cut off a small piece before placing it at his lips.
He takes it slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he slides his tongue along the bottom of the fork, sucking the cake into his mouth. He chews it carefully, closing his eyes as he hums in satisfaction, licking his lips, “That is good.”
You pop a piece into your mouth, agreeing with his sentiments, “Mmhmm, this is really good.”
Cutting off another piece, you slide it into your mouth, closing your eyes and moaning again. You feel his gaze, drifting down your chest and stomach, down your legs and then back up again. It feels nice— having his full attention. You don’t intend to go without it for the rest of your stay in L.A. While waiting for him, you came up with the perfect solution— your greatest deal yet.
With a gentle flutter, your eyes are open again, finding his staring back into yours. A flush of red seeps into his cheeks and lips, down his neck as his eyes drop to your chest quickly.
“Something the matter?” You ask coolly.
He shakes his head slowly, sucking his teeth, “Rethinking my decision to have dinner, that’s all.”
A smile quirks onto your lips, “A man has to eat, Mr. Rogers.”
“I can survive on chocolate cake and champagne.”
“Not for too long; unless…” your words drift away with ease as you step away from him again, grabbing your phone and heading towards the bedroom.
The soft click of his Christian Loubotin slip ons against the marble floor greets your ears as he follows. You point the fork towards your champagne glass still sitting on the table but keep walking, passing through the threshold of the sprawling bedroom and plopping onto the equally big bed. He enters moments later, hands full of a champagne glass and bottle. The mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge, right next to you, where he watches you chew on another piece of the rich cake intently, his gaze only leaving to top off the bubbly, golden liquid.
Steve waits until you pause to pass the square champagne flute your way, thick fingers brushing along your thin, manicured ones. That strong gaze stays on you as you sip, a lopsided grin pinching his cheek, slow blinks until you hand the flute back and cut into the cake once more.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
He clears his throat at your sudden aloof demeanor, “Don’t be coy, tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
He laughs, “Maybe a spanking will help rejog your memory.”
You cut your eyes towards him, inhaling sharply at the notion, “Do you charge extra for that?”
“Only for naughty girls.”
“Let me grab my purse, then.”
You throw your legs over the side of the bed to stand playfully, but he catches your calf with his palm and gently rearranges you on the bed. He takes the fork from your fingers and digs it into the half eaten cake before bringing it to your lips.
“Answer me, please.”
You accept his offering slowly as your body constricts at the firm tone of his voice. You bat your eyes while you chew before slipping your hand down his wrist and forearm, stroking gently, “I was just thinking that you could possibly survive off of chocolate and champagne if that someone indulging you is also offering other vital nutrients.”
His eyes squint as he goes for another piece of cake, this time eating the bite himself, “Ah,” he says after a minute or two, his eyes towards the ceiling as he works it over in his mind, “You’re saying you’d also like to be my dinner.”
“Precisely. I mean, it doesn’t really make sense to leave one restaurant after the main course just to go to another for dessert.”
“It is timely; and, as you know, my time is extremely valuable.” He nods slowly, “My clients are a demanding bunch.”
You smile, “And don’t like to share.”
Steve pushes in close, brushing his lips against yours just to tease. He drops his face and nuzzles into you, the soft hair of his beard caressing the sensitive flesh of your neck before his lips start to nip and nibble.
“So you are jealous.”
The husky fullness of his voice sends a targeted missile to your core— your heart skipping a beat as the air freezes in your lungs. The feeling sinks right to your bones. A devilish hand slips along your bare stomach and around your hip to squeeze, before pulling you closer. A pink, velvet tongue presses against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sliding up to your ear before he plants gentle, gentle kisses.
“How are we going to solve this problem?” He whispers, teeth nibbling at your earlobe.
“Mmm,” you hum, “Maybe we should talk when you aren’t so full. I’m a woman of class— I don’t eat leftovers.” Your sentence ends in a whisper as you lean up and get right next to his ear.
His chuckle is deep, vibrating through you. He takes a breath, his chest puffing up, straining his shirt and vest before he pushes it out slowly, “I still have two hands and a mouth.”
“I don’t know where those have been either.”
“Well then why don’t you give me a bath? That way you can be assured I’m clean.” He stands, extending his hand towards you, “Maybe I can work up a second appetite.”
Steve whisks you into the bathroom, only dropping your hand to start the bath. You lean against the long counter, crossing your legs as you watch him undress. He takes his time of course, flicking those eyes up at you every now and again as he sheds the rest of his Tom Ford suit, taking the time to fold it up and set it aside. Your eyes can’t help but drift, down that chest and hard stomach, over the smattering of coarse, dark blonde hair at his lower stomach, right to his thick, long cock.
“I usually make clients pay before letting them ogle me,” he winks, “You’re getting a freebie. Come.” He beckons again, curling his index finger towards you.
“Oh?” you purr, pushing away from the counter and sauntering to him, “Why am I so lucky to get such a perk?”
Steve inhales deep again as he slides his hands underneath your kimono at the shoulders, pushing it right off, “I like you.”
“You barely know me.”
He spins you around, fingers unhooking your bra before he crushes his chest to your back, “I have a feeling that’s going to change.” He whispers, pressing his cheek against yours as he stares at you through the mirror.
He pushes his hands over your hips, fingers curling around the strings of your thong, slipping it down your thighs. He bends to lift each leg, pulling the undergarment from you and tossing it atop his pile of clothes. A large hand encases yours and moves you to the edge of the tub, keeping a tight hold as you step into the hot water.
“My phone, please?” you ask sweetly as you settle down, resting your back against the porcelain.
Steve disappears momentarily only to return with your phone and another flute of champagne. He sits the items on the edge of the tub and slips into the opposite end, grabbing your feet and placing them against his chest. He lifts your right leg and starts pressing his thumbs into the bottom of your foot, rubbing firm circles, smiling slowly when you moan. Grabbing your phone, you thumb through your music before Prince fills the bathroom.
“I thought I was supposed to give you a bath?”
“We’ll get to that,” he says easily, lifting your toes to his lips, kissing them softly, “I want to hear this plan of yours.”
You pull your foot from his grasp and reach for your loofah and shower gel before pulling on his wrist to get him to move towards you. Steve slides between your legs as you separate them, wrapping them around his waist as he lays against your chest. You dip the loofah into the water, letting it soak it up before you squeeze it over his chest. A smile and a laugh bubble from you when you start to wash his chest as low groans rumble through his chest.
You push him up to sweep the soap over his shoulders and back, admiring the smooth canvas of tanned skin. He relaxes easy, muscles cooling and calming under your fingers, his breaths getting deep and long. The length of his body captivates you as you push the sudsy loofah over his bicep and down his arm, not able to reach his wrist without straining.
“You alright back there?”
“Shut up,” another giggle pushes through your lips, “You know, my legs are forty four inches from hip to toe, so that means you have eighty eight inches wrapped around you right now and you’re still longer than I am.” You kiss the tiny spot just underneath his ear, “Your mama fed you well.”
“She was a good woman, my mama. Hell of a cook.”
“Was?”
He sighs deeply as he runs his hands up and down your legs, “She died, a few years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He shrugs, “That’s the meaning of life, right? You live, you love, you lose. I was lucky to have been able to take care of her until the end, some people don’t get that.” He tips his head up to yours, his eyes searching your face, “But that’s enough about me. How was your day?”
“Long,” you smile, anchoring your left hand in the middle of his chest as you continue to push the loofah around his body, “I couldn’t close my deal, so it looks like I’ll be in Los Angeles indefinitely.”
“We’re not that bad, you’ll fit right in.”
“You’re not a Los Angelean,” you tease, poking him gently, “I can hear that Brooklyn in you, no matter how hard you try to hide it.”
His laughter fills the bathroom, making you smile wide. It’s a nice sound, his laugh. It’s also nice knowing you can pull such a genuine response from him— the slight distance he’s worked so hard to build over the years slowly starting to slip away.
“I miss New York sometimes. I haven’t been back since—” he cuts the words off, but you know what he was going to say. He clears his throat, visibly catching himself slipping and tenses, trying to regain his control, “I’m sure this news has something to do with you wanting to be my dinner and dessert?”
“Yes, so,” you start, clearing your throat as well, “If it isn’t obvious, I quite enjoyed my night with you, and I’m sure you’ve picked up on the fact that I hate to share.”
“Only child, huh?”
“Shush,” you slap at him, “I don’t want to have to wait my turn for you, and I’m much too active, if you catch my drift, to go days between having you.”
He nods slowly, “I’m with you.”
“I’ll have business dinners and such, actually I’m attending a polo match on Saturday and I um, well, I’d like you to be… mine… while I’m here. Be at my every beck and call.” You click your tongue, “You know, like an employee of sorts.”
You peer at the side of his face as he sucks his teeth, nodding slowly, hands still dragging along and squeezing your legs, “That’s an idea, isn’t it?” he turns his head towards you, “You’re a very attractive woman, you could have anybody you want, for free. Ms. Romanov to start.”
“She talks about me?” you gasp, giggling a little, biting your lip, “But I can’t flaunt her around the way I want to, we’re technically working together, imagine if HR gets a whiff. No, I’d like a professional, although if you don’t mind, we could invite Ms. Romanov over to play every now and again.”
“Whew,” Steve chuckles, pecking your lips quickly, “I like the sound of that. Well, if you’re talking indefinitely, it’s gonna cost ya.”
You nod, “Of course. We’re both business people, we can work this out.”
He pulls in another breath, blinking towards the opposite walls, “That sounds lovely, and I’m flattered but,”
“Steve,” you whine, “Come on, you’re not even thinking about it.”
“I have dates lined up already.”
“Cancel them.”
“I can’t do that,” you scoff, “I can’t! Once you head back to New York, I’ll be the one dealing with a horde of angry women— if they’ll even want to see me again!”
“Okay,” you cut him off, “I’ll let you finish out your week. How’s that? Then, starting Saturday, you’re mine until my deal is closed.”
“That could be a month, or more.”
“It could be a day,” you shrug, “Name your price, I’ll pay it either way.” He grows silent, “The uncertainty makes you the real winner here.”
You walk your fingers up and down his chest, nuzzling against his cheek and wet beard as he thinks it over, “Let’s do some math,” you say after a while, grabbing your phone, “You charge fifteen hundred a night, right?”
“Yeah, but you want twenty four hours a day, and you want to show me off like some boy-toy,” he smiles, wiggling his eyebrows, “Price goes up.”
“Say it.”
He knocks his head around a few times, “Twelve thousand a week.”
“Fifteen hundred times seven is ten thousand and change, and even so, that alludes to you having a date every night of the week— which I doubt. Try again.”
“Fine, nine.”
“Five thousand a week,” you counter, “And I’ll pop for dinner on nights I don’t have a business engagement.”
“Eight thousand and I won’t charge you for threesomes with Ms. Romanov, which, I can easily talk her into.”
You laugh, “That’s not fair, we’ll both be enjoying those threesomes with Natasha. Six thousand, threesomes included,” you wink playfully, “You can stay here while I’m at work, and you can use up my thousand dollars a day per diem. The hotel has a spa, a gym, a world renowned five star chef in the twenty four hour restaurant— you can book a masseuse everyday for god sakes.”
Steve sucks his teeth, “Seventy five hundred.”
“Sixty five hundred.”
He smiles, “Seven thousand. You pay upfront, every Monday, and no refunds— no matter when your deal closes.”
You grab your phone, flipping over to your cash app. His phone vibrates in his pant pocket as you turn the face towards him, the seventy five hundred dollar transaction still lighting up the screen.
“A tip?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at the extra money.
“For humoring me. We got a deal, Mr. Rogers?”
He stands, water falling off his body as he steps out and grabs one of the fluffy, white towels, “Let’s fuck on it.”
You smile wide.
“You know,” he starts, wrapping your shoulders with the towel as you stand, “I would have stayed for five.”
You wiggle your eyebrows, “I would have paid twelve.”
~~~
It’s been a little over a week since your deal with Steve was struck, and the two of you have fallen into quite a lovely little routine. You’ve already gotten used to falling asleep on his chest, his long arms wrapped around your middle. Waking up at random times in the night to find him rutting into you softly, his warm breath on the back of your neck, hot lips pressed against your shoulder, fingers digging into your hips.
The two of you get along well— having dinner together every night, laughing and talking aimlessly whether it’s down in the restaurant or curled up on the couch, you in Steve’s lap as a random show plays in the distance (not that you’re ever paying attention to it). He’s a charmer, becoming an instant hit with the businessmen and women at the polo match and business dinner you were invited to. He looks good on your arm, and you like having him there.
Waking up with Steve is also fun. You currently stand in the bathroom, brushing your teeth as CNN plays in the embedded TV in the long mirror. There’s a shift in the reflection of the bed, Steve rolling over and letting out a deep sigh as he drifts back to sleep. Blinking back towards yourself, you glance down at your phone, tapping it to illuminate the time. You’ve got a few minutes to spare.
You rinse your mouth quickly and pad back into the bedroom, pulling the white sheets away from his naked body. The mattress dips under your knees as you climb onto it and place your hands on his thighs, raking your painted fingernails down his flesh. You knead the muscles, squeezing gently as you massage each thigh, working your way up from his knees. Within minutes, he’s growing, cock twitching before towering up, the light from the bathroom helping cast its shadow over his stomach.
There’s a quick sound from him, a half grunt, half moan, and you can’t help but smile— you’ve learned he’s a light sleeper. You sink your warm mouth over the head of his cock, your tongue swishing and teasing his slit. He gasps, and it sends a quick shiver down your spine, your pussy constricting as you push down his length, taking him all in.
You only bob your head a few times before his hips start to join in, pushing up into your mouth gently. Soft little moans choke up in his throat. Breaths hitching before he squeaks, his body twitching with each pass of your tongue. Hums vibrate through his throat and chest as he licks his lips and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip— a deep red flushing through his fair skin.
Each tiny sound from him, long hisses, desperate pants, quick, sharp whines as you work him over, sends jolts through your own body, your pussy wet and achy, stomach tight. But you have an early Zoom meeting, and time is slipping away. You reach for his hands and place them on your head as you slow down, giving him a clear signal.
He slips one of his hands down your cheek, rubbing his thumb gently against your skin to get you to peek up at him. You nod quickly, and not a second goes by before he grabs a handful of your braids and fucks hard up into your awaiting mouth. You moan with him as he forces your head down with his hands, his hard, long cock slipping down your throat.
Tears slip out of the corners of your eyes and down your cheeks, spit and cum bubbling out of your mouth as he fucks your face. Steve leans up to watch you take him, his hips still grinding hard.
“Tha’s right, baby,” he slurs, pushing out heavy breaths, “You take my cock so good, baby. That’s s’good, sugar. That mouth is so fucking pretty around my cock.”
Your heart leaps in your chest at his praise, the stroking of your ego making your body clench. You keep your nails dug into his thighs as he fucks into your messy mouth, lips flushed red, swollen and slippery. Steve whines loud, his octave high, the sound bitten off and broken as he slams his head back on the pillow, his mouth falling open. His hips pulse as he nearly cries, your scalp burning as he grips your head and hair.
You fight the urge to touch yourself, wanting to keep the delicious ache with you throughout the day. Steve lifts his head to make eye contact with you again, his face strained and broken as he whimpers, “Fuck, I’m gonna co— ,” he groans, loud and drawn-out, “That mouth is perfect. Ugh, I’m gonna paint that pretty mouth with my cum, baby— ah!”
He freezes suddenly and then pushes his hips upward, pushing his rigid cock deep before he spills, your warm, rough, pink tongue helping to coax him. He slams his head back down on the pillow, chest and muscles tense hard as each pass of his orgasm grows stronger, his spurts long and hot.
When his hips stop thrusting, he softens into the mattress, his limbs damn near liquid. His eyes flutter as he drags in deep, ragged, audible breaths, each one shaky and wet. You clean him up with your tongue, bobbing your head again, gripping his hips as filthy little noises and sweet cries squeak out of his throat. His body jerking and jutting. Once you’re finished, you kiss his tummy and smile before pushing off the bed.
“Where you goin’?” he mumbles, reaching for you as move back into the bathroom, “Hey, come’re”
You spin around to wink at him before closing the door a little to finish getting ready for your day.
“That’s not fair,” he shouts, making you giggle, “Fuck.”
~~~
One Zoom meeting turns into two, turns into three and beyond. You jot down notes, shaking your head slightly in agreement as you grab your phone, calculating a few numbers before you recite them for the rest of the group. It’s kind of amazing how you all deal with millions of dollars like it’s absolutely nothing.
You’ve had your nose so stuck in your laptop and phone all morning, you haven’t had a chance to pay any attention to the tall blonde traipsing around the place, shooting you little looks and quick smiles as you work, in hopes to garner a glance. It hasn’t worked so far; until now that is, as he saunters out of the bedroom after his trip to the gym and a late shower, chest bare, grey sweats hanging low on his lips.
Water still beads on his shoulders, a few strays slipping down his pecs into the dark hair that covers his chest. You cut your eyes towards him and slide them with him as he moves into the dining area, watching as he bends over to pluck a bottle of water out of the mini fridge. He stands back tall, rolling his broad shoulders a bit before he tips his head and guzzles the cool liquid, Adam's apple bobbing.
“Hello? You still with us?”
You snap your eyes back towards your laptop, a smirking Natasha Romanov staring back at you, “Sorry, I think my, uh, connection got a little wonky,” you lie, sending your eyes quickly back towards the chuckling Steve, “What were you saying, Ms. Romanov?”
“Scott Lang, our other CEO is flying in next week from Chicago, he wants to set a meeting with you but was wondering if you could carve out sometime to call him beforehand. He just wants a run down of the numbers you’re proposing.”
“Sure, I’ll pencil him into my schedule later today, if that’s okay? Around three?”
Natasha taps on your phone, “Perfect, looks like he’s free. Mr. Prym also would like to see you and Mr. Parker again to go over the construction plans of the possible new building.”
“Okay,” you nod, turning your attention to your phone to text Peter, “I’ll get back to you whenever Peter shoots me his schedule. He’s kinda busy though, so it might not be until next week.”
“That’s alright.” she answers absentmindedly, “Clint? Do you have anything for her?”
“Nope, I’m good I think.” The short blonde says.
“Nick? Wanda?”
After a chorus of no’s, you all say your goodbyes before you end the call, returning to your notebook, forgetting all about the burly man stalking towards you. Your phone buzzes, and you grab it up, skimming over Peter’s text message before you respond quickly, setting up a quick call with him for the following day and asking him to share his calendar with you. A soft ding sounds from your computer and you’re immediately turning back towards it, bouncing slightly when a weight pushes into the couch next to you.
The taps of the keys on your keyboard are followed by the swoosh of your outbound email before you grab your pen and start scribbling again. A constantly buzzing phone, more taps, more swooshes, and your gentle, random hums are all sounds you’re used to; not so much your sudden roomie. He’s bored and slightly annoyed by your snubs all morning— also wanting a little payback for your shenanigans so early in the morning.
You haven’t even noticed that he’s now completely naked.
You lean up a little, squinting as you study the growth chart on your screen, your fingers playing with your bottom lip as your mind crunches the information. A gasp fills your chest as you’re lifted from your spot and settled right onto his lap. Before you can protest, he shimmies the short shorts covering your lower half down your thighs and over your knees, and pushes your white satin panties to the side.
Steve sweeps your box braids over your shoulder as the head of his cock pushes through your folds. You feel his eyes on the side of your face, that soft beard brushing against your jaw as he rocks his hips slowly, teasing your clit and opening with his dick. He grazes his fingers over your thighs before he cups your hot sex in his palm and uses his fingers to spread you open.
With a firm press, he slips inside of you, pushing until he bottoms out. He wiggles his hips, just so you can feel him moving inside of you before he grabs your laptop and places it back in your lap, “Don’t let me disturb you.”
You squirm on top of him, your hips rolling slightly as he starts to play with your clit, rubbing slow circles against your soft, wet skin. Your mind is blank as you stare at the computer screen, breath light and choppy, body tightening around his rigid cock. You want him to move, to thrust up into you real nice and slow while he thumbs and pulls at your nipple, breathing hot, hushed words into your ear. Trying to coax him, you wiggle again, pushing down onto him but he doesn’t relent— he just turns on the tv and settles back into the couch, throwing his arm over the back like you’re not even sitting on his dick right now.
He continues to rub your clit lazily, keeping his eyes on Sports Center as your body tenses every now and again, tiny, needy moans vibrating your vocal chords. You try to focus on the numbers and emails in front of you, but your mind is mush— a dull ache throbbing in the pit of your stomach, your teased clit starting to sting from his gentle pressure.
Natasha’s name flashes across your laptop, sending a sudden strike of fear through you, heart dropping to your feet, “Steve—”
“Answer it,” he says gently, “I’ll be quiet.”
“She’ll see you!” You hiss.
He just chuckles in return, “Not if you stay still, she won’t. Answer it.”
Your fingers tremble over the mouse pad, the arrow hovering over the accept button. Steve reaches around and taps the button before relaxing back into the couch, sinking lower into it as Natasha’s smiling face pops up on your screen.
“Hi,” she greets happily, her chin in her palm, a pair of red, thick rimmed glasses over her eyes, “Are you busy?”
“Um,” you start, clearing your throat as your voice quivers, “Not, um, not really. What’s, uh, what’s—” you grunt when Steve finally thrusts into you.
Natasha’s eyes squint as she tilts her head, “You okay?”
Smiling quickly, you nod, “Yeah, sorry. What’s up? Does Mr. Prym need something else from me?”
“Oh, no, this isn’t work related.” She laughs lightly, “We’ve missed each other in the office this past week, I was just wondering if you were doing okay, see how L.A. is treating you.”
Steve shifts underneath you, pushing his hips hard. You tense hard, muscles quivering around him as you dig your nails into his thigh, trying to muffle the squeak that rises in your throat.
“It’s great,” you strain— high pitched and shaky, “It’s um, I l-like it here.”
“Have you seen Steve lately?”
Your eyes widen when Steve snakes his free hand up to your chest, grabbing a handful of your left tit. You turn the laptop away from you quickly as Steve leans up, resting his chin on your shoulder, another deep rumble of laughter falling from his lips.
He centers the screen on the two of you again, kissing your shoulder as Natasha feins shock, “She’s seen quite a bit of me lately.”
Embarrassment flushes through you— heat rising in your cheeks, but Steve rolls his hips slowly and jossles you on his lap and you can’t help but sound, a wet little whimper as he thumbs your nipple underneath your shirt, “S-Steve.”
“It’s okay honey,” he whispers, kissing your jaw, his eyes cutting back towards the laptop as Natasha leans back in her chair, teeth dug into her bottom lip as a pretty pink blush blooms across her cheeks, “Little Natasha has a voyeur kink,” he pushes his mouth right next to your ear, his octave dropping, “She loves watching me fuck pretty girls like you,” he lifts your top up, exposing your see-through bra as he turns his attention back to the screen, “Don’t you, baby?”
“Are you fucking her right now?” Natasha breathes, her voice thick and deep, “I wanna see.”
Steve sets the laptop on the glass table in front of you, pushing it back until your lower halves are exposed— his cock rooted deep in your cunt. You hear Natasha groan, watch as she starts to drag the pads of her fingers across her chest as she sways gently back and forth in her swivel chair.
“Does she feel good, Steve?” She asks.
“Oh,” Steve purrs, lifting your bra slowly so your tits fall out one by one, bouncing softly, “She is so tight, Nat. So warm. You’d fall in love with this pussy.”
You fall back against his chest, turning your head slightly to nuzzle into the side of his face as he gropes your tits in his massive hands, squeezing hard as he pinches your nipples between his index fingers and thumbs. Languid thrusts start to push you up and down, the fingers on your pussy spreading you open for Natasha as she stands, wiggling her hips to hike her skirt up.
She sits back in her chair and lifts her left leg, resting her foot against the edge of her desk. Her thin fingers push through her slick, wet folds as she watches Steve fuck you slow, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. You open your eyes just enough to watch her unbutton her blouse, slipping her hand in to pull her left breast out, exposing her pierced, pink nipple.
“Oh, fuck,” you groan quick, before hissing as Steve pushes in and out, humming soft as he starts to let it go to his head, “You’ve been hiding those from me.”
“You can see them in person soon,” she purrs, her head falling back on the chair as she pushes two fingers into her cunt, “I can’t wait to feel your tongue on my tits.”
You tense at her words, Steve cursing as your muscles squeeze around him. He bites down on your shoulder as he starts to fuck into you faster. He rolls your nipples in his fingers as the sound of your skin slapping against his gets louder— sharper. Natasha blinks slowly through hooded eyes, her sweet mouth falling open as her hips buck, one hand slapping at her reddened clit and puffy, slick folds, the other pumping in her slit.
A shudder races up your spine— hips jerk unexpectedly, digging down into Steve’s, “Sugar’s getting close, Nat,” he breathes, sliding his hand back to your clit, “God, I wish you could feel how tight she’s squeezing me. Hear how wet she is?”
You should be embarrassed; how spread open you are, the wet, filthy squeaks and squishes of your cunt as he ruts into you. But watching Natasha as she fucks herself to you, hearing her mewl and curse, her fair, smooth skin blushing red while she loses herself. It’s all obscene. Sleazy; but that’s why you like it.
“Oh, make her come, Steve,” Natasha groans, her tongue slipping out to lick at her nipple, “I want to see that pussy quiver.”
Steve wraps his arm around your middle, holding you tight, breathing into your ear as his hips go into overdrive. He fucks into you fast and hard, bouncing you on his lap. He shoves his fingers into your mouth, hissing and groaning as you suck them. The sweet whimpers and whines of Natasha make you shiver, the sight of her hips thrashing and the sun glinting off of the diamond studded bar nipple rings accenting her perfect tits, send you right over the edge.
You throw your head back as your orgasm blooms, spreading through your veins like fire. You whail as you slam your eyes shut, Steve dropping his wet fingers to slap your cunt, teasing your clit as it jumps with contractions.
“Oh, God, yes,” Natasha pants, her fingers rubbing quick, hard circles against her clit, hips pulsing, “Yeah, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna... come, baby— you’re so fucking perfect, sweet girl.”
“You are perfect, honey,” Steve moans into your ear as wave after wave of your orgasm washes over you, “That tight pussy feels so good around me. So sweet— that’s why I call you honey.” He wraps his fingers around your neck, “You want me to come in her, Nat? Huh? You wanna see my hot cum spilling out of her?”
“Yes!” She cries, hunched over as she thrashes her hand back and forth, her mouth hanging, “Yes, Steve.”
As if on cue, he grunts deep, his cock jumping as he starts to spurt. He keeps a tight grip around your neck as he fucks hard with each spit, the hot ribbons coating your slick muscles. He pulls out of you unceremoniously, cantering your hips to give Natasha the full view of his silk dribbling out of you, your spasming, tight cunt pushing it out.
Natasha comes hard, her moans growing louder and higher as the coil finally snaps. Her tits tremble with the aftershocks, her hips jutting upward randomly as she creams. Her fingers slow as her eyes close, her head tilts back and resting against the back of her swivel chair as she licks her lips. Deep, smooth breathes swelling her chest as her hips come to rest.
Steve kisses you deep— tongue pushing into your wet warmth to massage the roof of your mouth. He sucks on your top lip, smacks on you loud as he palms your thighs before kneading gently. Smiling against his lips, you let your body go limp; melt right into his burly chest and stomach, his cock resting against your balmy, used, sticky cunt.
“Goodness, me,” Natasha purrs, a sated, soft smile on her lips, “That was sweet. We really need to get together now.” She laughs.
You giggle, pushing your fingers into Steve’s hair, “Steve let me work threesomes into his base price, so you’re welcome any time, babe.”
“Oh, he did, did he? That’s not fair Steven Grant, you nickel and dime the shit out of me.”
Steve shrugs, “What can I say, she’s a better business woman than you.”
“I can see that. I hate to come and run, but I need to freshen up. I have a meeting with Hank in a half hour. Maybe we can all have dinner Friday night?”
“I’ll make reservations. The restaurant in the hotel is fabulous.”
She winks, her lips curled in a smile, “Text me.”
The connection ends and you fall back into Steve’s chest, brushing your cheek against his, “Now that your debauchery has ended, can I get back to work now?” you laugh.
“Nope,” he answers quickly, slapping your laptop shut and lifting you with him as he stands, “It’s lunch time.”
“Steve,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you back into the bedroom, “I have so much to do. I’m waiting for the architect to call me back, I have a presentation I have to put together—”
“Numbers to crunch, businesses to buy, blah, blah, blah,” he drops you onto the mattress and grabs the menu from the nightstand before plopping down next to you, “They got sushi today, yummy.”
Work becomes an afterthought. You and Steve lay in your nakedness, eating slowly as you stare at each other, rogue fingers reaching out and sliding along hips and arms and tummies. Lingering blue eyes skip along your face and body, his deep laugh rattling every bone, every muscle, every vein you possess. He opens up a little more, talking aimlessly about he and Natasha’s friendship, how they met through his friend, and fellow escort Bucky Barnes.
“Bucky,” you lay on your back, leg bent at the knee as it sways back and forth slowly, Steve curled around you, “Even his name is kinky.”
He nuzzles into your neck, exhaling deep as he rests his eyes. His long arm is slung over your chest, legs tangled with yours, “He’s a good guy. I might let you meet him one day.”
“Might?”
“I don’t want him stealing you away from me.”
The words hang over you like a cloud. You blink slowly up at the ceiling as they, the words, swirl around you, filling your chest and head. Maybe you’re thinking too much into it, putting too much weight on them. He probably says this to all of his clients while in a post sex haze. You’re being silly, you don’t even know this man… but you want to.
That scares you.
After only a week, you don’t even recognize yourself anymore. What started out as just needing some company every now and again, has turned into looking forward to seeing him after work. Not being able to wait until you're across a dinner table from him, being squeezed against his body while in the tub, not wanting to pry yourself out of his arms in the morning. There was a time where you thought nothing of work— buying, selling, making money, climbing the corporate ladder— you ate and breathed your work.
Now?
All you want to do is eat sushi and nap the days away, with Steven Grant Rogers wrapped around you like a blanket.
~~~
Steve glances over his shoulder at your sleeping body as he sits on the edge of the bed. He stands slowly, running his hand through his hair as he moves towards the double doors and out onto the balcony. Night is falling over L.A., the sky dark as the moon and stars start to shine through. He leans over the concrete columns as he thumbs through his phone, casting his eyes out over the streets as he taps on a name.
“Steve,” a deep voice says, “Shit, I thought you died, man. Where have you been?”
“Sorry Buck, I’ve been with a client all week.”
“All week? Wow, big spender.”
“She’s from New York, in town on business.”
“That sounds fuckin’ awesome. Where are you?”
“The Waldorf Astoria, Presidential suite.” Steve turns, tilting his head as he watches you sleep.
“Oh, shit! You lucky bastard!”
Steve continues to stare at you, blinking slowly as you roll over onto your side, “You know, she hasn’t been out on the balcony once since she’s been here,” He says absentmindedly, nibbling on his bottom lip, “She’s afraid of heights.”
“O-kay?” Bucky chuckles as he draws out the word, slightly confused, “Why do you sound so sad? What’s going on?”
“I’m breaking rule number one.” Steve answers softly, dropping his head.
“Steve,” Bucky warns, his octave dropping.
“I don’t want her to go.” Steve answers softly, “I’m— fuck, I think I’m falling for her, Buck.”
~~~
Your phone vibrates softly against the couch, illuminating in the darkness as a text from Natasha slides in.
Good news! Hank’s ready to sign the deal first thing tomorrow morning!
#marveldiversitychallenge#steve rogers#steve rogers x black!reader#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#you x steve rogers#reader x steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fic#steve x you#you x steve#avintagekiss24
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Yuri x popular Fem!reader
summary: fluffy fic in which the reader sees Yuri while working at a coffee shop and intends to be closer friends with her.
word count: 2.1k
"Y/N!"
You stop in your tracks, turning to scan the tables around you for the source of the voice; it was kind of familiar, and your eyes fall on a customer that's a regular here at the coffee shop. A young man around your age, usually here with his friends but alone today.
You had been about to go make another coffee for a different customer, but you force a service smile onto your face and hurry over to his table. "Hello!" You wrack your brain for a second to bring a name to this man- it wasn't easy keeping track of so many different people, and not just at your job! You also tried to keep tabs on the majority of your peers from school, too. Fortunately, it clicks a moment later. "Hatsumi, was everything alright?" You ask, noting he's already finished his pastry and drink.
Hatsumi grins, clearly pleased you had remembered him. Customers tended to get really happy over little things like that... if only they knew you did this with all of them. It was no secret you were one of the favorites here at the little shop, consistently getting better tips than many of your coworkers. "It was great!" He answers you brightly.
You nod and inquire politely, "Would you like me to go ahead and bring the bill out now?"
A moment of hesitation, and then, "Oh- uh, yes, thanks." He seems a bit disappointed, but you don't have time to dwell on it right now, not with how busy today's rush hour is. The only good thing is you're hopefully going to be getting off in about a half hour.
You assure him you'll be right back and then flit off to the counter to ring up the items he'd ordered and print the bill. As you're doing so, you feel a tap on your shoulder.
Glancing up, you see your favorite coworker, a girl several years older than you. "Y/N," she begins, a bit of a pleading look in her eyes that means she's about to ask you for a favor.
Biting back a sigh, you push down whatever annoyance you have at being interrupted to look expectantly at her. "What's up?"
"Can we please switch tables really quickly?" She practically begs you.
Switching tables wasn't too terribly uncommon- sometimes when guests came in, the baristas would know them outside of work and might ask a coworker to deal with the order and anything else.
"Sure," you giggle, ever the people-pleaser. You had a reputation to keep, after all! You don't like to brag, but you do enjoy the fact that you have many different friends and are well-liked by just about everyone you know. "Who?"
She gives a hop of delight. "Can I take the bill to Hatsumi?"
You can't help but smirk mischievously. "Ohhhhh, I see."
She lightly smacks you on the arm, instantly blushing. "Nono, I just-"
You cut her off before she can defend herself, knowing the two of you don't really have the time to waste playing around. "It's no worries. And who's that order for?" You question as you point at the circular silver tray in her hands which is holding a cute polka-dotted cup of tea.
"Ah, this goes to table three, the girl with the purple hair."
You nod, exchanging the bill for the tray. You want to watch and see what will happen between your friend and Hatsumi, if anything, but when you look towards the designated table, already heading for it, you realize you recognize the girl sitting there.
You have no trouble recalling her name. One of the members of your Literature Club, Yuri...
You haven't actually been in the club all that long at all, maybe a week-ish, and you feel like you haven't had any time at all to get properly acquainted with Yuri. Part of you feels that it's a shame, because you get the sense she's a very interesting and sweet person beneath her quiet and distant shell. It's just hard when she's always reading, and even in the rare moments she's not, she doubts herself so much during conversations with you that it just ends up being a bit weird.
But not today! No, you're suddenly filled with a sense of determination to get closer to Yuri.
You consider playfully scaring her when you walk up, but ultimately decide against it; aside from being naturally timid anyway, she's also, as usual, reading, and doesn't seem aware of anything going on in the shop around her. So, yeah, best to use a more gentle approach.
"Hey, you," you say, putting all the friendliness in your voice as possible, stopping beside the table to greet her.
In spite of everything, Yuri still jumps a bit in her seat, violet gaze flashing up to you in alarm.
'So much for trying not to scare her,' you think unhappily. Pushing that thought away, you give her a reassuring smile. "Sorry, it's just me! Y/N. We're in the Literature Club together," you try to remind her, wondering with a pang of horror if she's actually forgotten who you are. That would be a first for you.
A second of silence, but at last Yuri's tense grip on her book loosens, and she glances down at it, avoiding making eye contact. "O-Oh, I'm sorry."
Another awkward beat of silence. This was what you meant!! It always went like this with Yuri, and you wished more than anything that you knew how to make her more comfortable around you. Hoping to carry the burden of saving this interaction, you laugh nervously, "It's no worries! But, you didn't forget me, did you?" As much as you're just trying to joke around, there really is a slight feeling of hurt that that may very well have been the case.
Yuri stiffens, quickly answering, "No, I- I didn't!" It's a rushed response, louder than you've ever heard her speak and yet still quieter than most people's normal speaking voice. As if embarrassed by her small outburst, she ducks her head to add quietly, "Uhm, that is- I just meant that... I wouldn't ever forget you, Y/N."
Oh. Talk about giving someone butterflies. You never knew what to expect with Yuri- sometimes she could never get her words out, but then other times she'd say something with such a deep meaning that it would catch you entirely off guard. What's odd though is you know for a fact how truly sincere she is; Yuri is the type of person that's much deeper than most people, and she wouldn't say something if she didn't really think or believe it.
"Thank you, Yuri," you say warmly, setting her tea down near her on the table. "Here you go! I like this kind, too." Truthfully, since you hadn't taken the order yourself or even made the drink, you weren't 100% sure what kind of tea this was, but you were willing to try anything to make Yuri more at ease. It also wasn't unheard of for you to make conversation with customers, even if it was busier than usual right now- for once though, you weren't aiming to make a good tip or secure a regular customer. You genuinely wanted to talk with her. "Hey, is that the same book you're reading at the club?" You question after catching a glimpse of the cover art.
She shakes her head, causing some of her bangs to fall into her face. Brushing them out of the way, she frowns and then nods. "W-Well, kind of. I finished that one yesterday... this is the sequel," she explains.
"It must be pretty good if you want to read the next part already," you comment. "What's it about?"
As predicted, Yuri noticeably perks up. "Oh, I think you would really enjoy it, Y/N. It's about-"
"Y/N!"
You flinch at the stern voice of your shift supervisor, who apparently hadn't realized Yuri was speaking when he cut her off.
You glance back to see him gesturing at you in clear annoyance, motioning to the line of guests waiting for their drinks to be made. You nod, signaling you'll be right over.
Focusing back on Yuri, you're unable to mask your disappointment. "I'm sorry, I've gotta get back to work. I'm supposed to be off in a little bit though."
Yuri seems to also be discouraged, apologizing for keeping you, even though you're the one who had intentionally kept the talk going. She bites her lip, and then, probably overtaken by a brief moment of courage, suggests, "When you get off, maybe then I could tell you about the books?"
You're stunned, but at the same time, this was precisely what you'd been hoping for! "Yes, sure! That sounds great. I'll see you then!" You chirp, hurrying away.
The last of your shift passes by rather quickly, and when it comes time to clock out, you actually have to tell your supervisor no, you can't stay another extra hour even if they are busy, because you have plans! Normally you would have, but not today.
You meet Yuri at the door and the two of you leave the coffee shop together. The sun is close to setting, but not quite there yet. "Thank you again, Yuri! I like spending time with you, I've just been a little busy lately," you say.
Yuri mumbles something you can't quite hear, but then adds more clearly, "I-I'm glad..."
"So," you begin, clasping your hands behind you and beaming at her. "About those books!"
That's all it takes for Yuri to dive into an explanation of the main plot points as the two of you walk side by side towards your home.
You're more than a bit tired from work and standing on your feet for so long, but it's nice to have company on the walk back, especially someone like Yuri. You hum and comment every so often, honestly thinking that they did sound like the sort of books you would enjoy. Full of fantasy and mystery and thrills... and of course, romance.
"So, the main character ditches his friend, who's been with him the whole time, for the new girl? And she's from the enemy's group?" You surmise.
Yuri hesitates. "I don't want to spoil anything for you if you're wanting to read them for yourself..."
"Such a tease," you sigh, pretending to be betrayed. "Oh, we're here- this is my house."
The two of you stop at the gate leading to the front yard of your home, and you're positive you aren't imagining the plaintive expression on Yuri's face. You didn't really want your time together to end either, but alas, you both have classes tomorrow.
"If- If you really would like, you can borrow the first book from me," offers Yuri. "And then... you'll see for yourself how it all goes."
You nod enthusiastically. "Yes, please! Thank you, that's really sweet of you! We can discuss it too after I'm finished reading it. I think I already know who my favorite character is going to be, though."
Yuri tilts her head curiously. "Who would that be?"
"Nope! It's a secret, for now." You pause, glancing up at the darkening sky. "Will you be okay walking home by yourself?"
Her violet eyes soften at your concern. "Yes, I don't live very far from here."
You find yourself unsure of how to say goodbye to Yuri, an uncertain quiet settling over the two of you, but she doesn't seem to find it awkward. "Okay, if you're sure. Do you mind giving me your phone number, though?"
She starts in surprise, a dusting of pink covering her cheeks. "U-Uhm- I- you-?"
"So you can text me when you get home," you quickly defend your reasoning, feeling a bit shy yourself at Yuri's reaction. She really was unique- most people tried to play it cool when asking for or giving numbers.
"R-Right," she stammers, reciting it off for you, and her phone buzzes at the quick text message you sent her so she would have your number.
"I'll see you tomorrow then, at the Literature Club," you finally say, already looking forward to it. "And don't forget to bring the book, please!"
Yuri steps back, her gaze on the ground but you still see her smile to herself. "Yes, I will. Bye, Y/N." She seems like she has something else she wants to say, but then she gives herself a shake and quickly turns away, her long hair twirling to follow her.
You watch her go until you can't see her anymore, partly due to wanting to make sure she was safe.
You couldn't help but admire her for her intelligence and beauty, even if she seemed to admire your social skills in return. Hopefully this was the start of a very deep relationship with Yuri.
#yuri#yuri x reader#ddlc x reader#doki doki literature club#reader insert#scenario#imagine#fem reader#ddlc reader insert#preference
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Jaemin Soulmate!AU
Jaemin has a reputation as a “cool” kind of guy, which is why he wears bracelets to hide the words permanently etched on his left wrist
“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”
Jisung and Haechan are notorious for giving him shit for having a ‘weird’ soulmate, but Jaemin thinks it’s kind of funny, honestly
Like great question dude but,,, why are you asking me this
Jaemin’s apartment is around the corner from a little family-owned grocery store that he’s frequented since his high school days.
He’s very much a regular, to the point of the owner being like “Jaemin…. Please just work here. You already know where everything is”
To which Jaemin has to respectfully decline, because he wants to focus on his dancing and singing, and working too much would get in the way of practicing.
That, however, does not stop the old man from sending customers with questions to Jaemin whenever he comes in.
Because Jaemin is too polite to be like “uhh I don’t work here, good luck”, he always ends up helping them
But secretly, he doesn’t mind. He thinks that maybe one day, his soulmate will be the next one to ask him a question.
Even after repeated questions about “how much does this cost?”, “when do you guys open tomorrow?”, “when will the next shipment of bok choy be in?”, he still isn’t terribly bothered.
The other employees chastise the boss for sending customers to Jaemin, but the old man is always like “he knows this store better than you all do. That’s why he gets a discount higher than yours”
Employee discount: 15 percent off all merchandise
Na Jaemin discount: 20 percent off all merchandise
It’s an unspoken rule amongst employees that Na Jaemin gets a discount, but they are NEVER to mention it to him! He knows that business has been rough recently and wouldn’t accept the generosity, but the boss thinks Jaemin is too skinny and wants him to be able to afford to eat well.
Now lovely reader, this is where you come in. You recently got a job at this grocery store but you work in the back, so you have never seen the famous “Na Jaemin” that all your fellow employees chat about so frequently.
Coworker #1: “Ugh, he’s like SO dreamy”
Coworker #2: “I know right? He’ll have no trouble becoming an idol at this rate”
Meanwhile you’re like “lol what who? Also where is the printer for printing clearance labels”
You specifically applied for the back of house position because you did not want to talk to people.
It’s not that you’re antisocial by any means- honestly it’s the opposite. It’s just that you have the tendency to say whatever you’re thinking with absolutely no filter.
So in the past when more…. challenging… customers have talked down to you, you gave back the same energy without thinking.
Management was not happy,,, so you were like “mmmm maybe I should just keep to myself and everyone would be happier”
One day though, it seems that you’re shit out of luck.
Your work bestie calls you at 3 in the morning on your day off saying that her kid has a fever and she’s gotta stay home and take care of him.
You have no plans other than generally being a lazy lump at home, and she’s always had your back at work, so you’re like “girl don’t worry about it, I got your shift. I’ll make some chicken noodle soup for him too”
To which she’s like “bitch if I hadn’t found my soulmate already I would’ve snatched you up T-T”
You giggle and tell her to try and get some rest- both her and her kid.
And then sleep another blissful 4 hours before rolling in for the 8am shift.
When you get there, boss man is like “ayeee so you’re covering for her shift which is stocking shelves, are you gonna be okay doing that?”
You: “Ahaha yeah it’ll be fine~ just please don’t send customers to me oh my gosh”
Boss Man: “Don’t worry, I just saw Jaemin walk in. I’ll send them to him”
You: “... who is Jaemin”
Boss Man: “He’s my FAVORITE!! Remember that!”
You: “Oh, okay!! Yes sir!”
You’re like fifteen minutes into your shift and you’re already on edge because all you’ve done so far is dodge all the old ladies who are shopping this early.
No actual products have been put on the shelves yet, or at least not by your hands.
Settling down in the dairy section, you relax a bit and start putting cold products in the cold shelves fixed to the wall.
And of course- things are in the wrong place. Why would anyone put anything back where it belongs?
Picking up a product, you glance at the label out of sheer boredom more than anything.
“Wait- if it’s not butter, then what is it?”, you say to yourself.
Or so you think.
“Yeah, that is like the one question I don’t know how to answer”, you hear a masculine voice say from behind.
You spin around and look up into the man’s face.
And oh boy is that a nice looking face.
“Oh I’m sorry, I- WAIT”, you start, before you realize what he said.
Grabbing his left wrist, you push up the bracelets to reveal what you’d just said. Then you drop his hand out of sudden shyness, and because it’s not cool just to grab people.
“Do… do you mind if I look at your wrist as well?”, he asks quietly.
You roll up your sleeve and present him with your arm. He delicately wraps his fingers around your wrist and flips it over to read the words written”
He drops your wrist and sinks into a squat, flopping his arms over his head and looking at the ground.
“Oh my gosh why did I say something so lame…”
“Umm,,, to be fair,,, I did ask you about butter so by comparison yours isn’t that bad,,,,”, you try to comfort him, and he lifts his head up to meet your gaze.
“You mean that? It wasn’t like the lamest thing you’ve ever heard?”
“Oh I’ve heard much lamer things, don’t worry!”, you say with a cheery smile that contrasts your words entirely.
He stands up again and clasps your hands in his. With a look of determination he looks straight into your soul and asks:
“What time do you get off work?”
You tell him, but let him know that you’ll be busy after work making chicken noodle soup for your coworker and her son.
He’s like “oh you can cook?” and you’re like “lol no but I’m gonna die trying”
He writes his phone number on your arm (next to your soulmate tattoo) and is like “text me when you’re done with work and I’ll swing by and walk you home and maybe I can help you cook”
And quickly clarifies “ONLY IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE WITH ME IN YOUR HOME, I UNDERSTAND IF BECAUSE WE JUST MET YOU-”
You’re like “dude,,,, it’s fine, we are literally destined to be together. Also if you try anything I’ll just beat you up so it’s chill”
Looking at his watch, he sprints makes a beeline for the checkout counter, going on about he’s gonna be so later and Haechan’s never gonna let it go if he’s late twice in a row, and something else but by that point he’s so far away from the dairy aisle you can only hear muffled sounds where words should be.
The next several hours could not go by ANY SLOWER.
Starting off today, you figured the day would go by quickly because you’d be preoccupied figuring out how to do something new, but now all you can think about is pretty soulmate boy.
And how he never mentioned his name, but to be fair, it was a rather quick exchange.
What feels like centuries later, your shift is coming to a close so you grab the ingredients you the internet tells you you need for the soup and head to your favorite cashier.
Somehow the front of the store is both quiet and abnormally loud for this time of night.
“Jaemin’s been waiting there for fifteen minutes? Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”
“Maybe he needs to talk to the boss? Usually he’d just ask one of us to grab him but he’s just standing outside”
“Ugh it’s so cold, should we tell him to come inside?”
You glance over to the crowd of coworkers towards the entrance and break out into a smile.
“Just keep ringing me up, I’ll be right back!”, you tell the cashier and fast walk past the small crowd.
Peeping your head out the door, you greet him.
“Are you cold? Come inside, I’m almost done”
“Oh okay, should I wait by the door though?”
“No, come with me. I wanna show you off~”, you instruct and he raises an eyebrow, but plays along.
Holding open the door for him, he scuffles his way in and shyly offers his hand.
Gladly, and with a pounding heart, you lock your fingers between his.
“Your hands are freezing, dude”
“Shhh it’s fine. I was trying to be cool, okay”, he jokes with you as you walk back to the register
Ringing up your items, the cashier is looking at you and him with raised eyebrows, and you’re just like “shut up jessica I’ll explain tomorrow”
The two of you walk back to your apartment and spend the rest of the night cooking and talking about everything and nothing.
The more you learn about Jaemin, the more confident you are that the universe got this one right.
Even when most things feel unclear, you know this person is someone you can always rely on.
(also when you bring your sick work bestie the soup, Jaemin insists on tagging along and she’s like “omg Y/N that’s JAEMIN” and you’re like “I KNOW” and he’s like “hi here’s some soup, also why do you know my name”
#me?? posting actual content?? more likely than you'd think#nct#nct dream#nct u#na jaemin#jaemin#nct jaemin#nct scenarios#nct scenario#nct soulmate au#kpop soulmate au#nct imagines#nct imagine#jaemin scenarios#jaemin imagines#jaemin scenario#jaemin imagine#jaemin x reader#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct na jaemin#nct writing#NCT Dream Scenarios#nct dream imagines#nct dream scenario
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Indruck 22 for the meet uglies?
Here you go! I went SFW on this one
you’re on a date with this awful, awful person who keeps getting under my skin because my friend and I have been eavesdropping all night and your date says something that makes me snap … I thought it was a first date, not a three year relationship
“...such a waste of money. I mean, why spend all that to get something tacky on your skin?”
Indrid rolls his eyes at Barclay from across the counter of the Amnesty Lodge coffee shop, the cooks arms and hands sporting a plethora of tattoos rivaled only by Indrid’s collection.
“I dunno, l like the one I got.” The other man--who seems to be on the worst first date of his life--shrugs.
“You honestly think you and Juno couldn’t have spent that money on something else in college?”
“I mean maybe but, uh, we were earnin our own cash, figured we got to decide what to spend it on.”
“Hmmmm” the first guy sips his coffee, “sounds like a typical excuse for someone who doesn’t want to admit a mistake.”
“C’mon, that ain’t fair-”
“Ugh, stop saying ain’t! I can’t take someone who talks like that to meet my family.” Before the target of his disdain can respond, he snaps his fingers, “hey, buddy, can I get a refill or what?”
“The station for black coffee refills is right there, sir.” Barclay indicates the very obvious corner of dispensers, his voice the kind of calm that Indrid knows means he’s memorizing this guys face to warn other staff about.
They earn a brief reprieve while The Asshole leaves the table. When he returns, he’s shaking his head.
“God, have you looked at the photos they’ve got up? Who the fuck wants to look at bones?”
Indrid quickly glances at his friend to be sure he’s permitted to start a fight. Barclay nods.
“Quite a lot of people.” Indrid spins on his stool. “I’ve sold a number of them just from the display here. So perhaps you could keep your rude, unclultured, close-minded, obnoxious mouth shut.”
The man balks, looks to his companion for help. He offers none, mouth trying to form words and only coming out with halves of ones (except for the “fucks” which are plentiful).
“Oh my fucking god, you agree with him! That’s it, I’m out.” The Asshole pushes back from the table and storms out. The remaining man leaps up, panicked.
“Fuck.”
“It’s okay man, shitty first dates happen to all of us.” Barclay offers from beside the bakery case.
“I mean yeah, they do, but that wasn’t one of ‘em. That was my boyfriend of three fuckin years.” He dashes out of the shop, sparing a final glare at Indrid as he does.
Indrid trades a sheepish look with his friend, “Oops.”
-------------------------------------------------
“I’m glad you finally get to meet Duck!” Aubrey grins over her shoulder as she and Indrid wind down the hall at the office Kepler magazine.
Founded by childhood friends, Kepler worked a combination of print and video content that saw its subscribers and revenue climb while other publications struggled to stay afloat. Aubrey was head of the video team, though she contributed content to the magazine in the form of interviews about environmental activists of color and sustainable gift guides.
Kepler has three sections: travel, science, and environmental writing. Indrid now has the honor of being one of their primary photographers. He started two weeks ago and is thoroughly enjoying his work and the company of the other staff. The only person he’s yet to meet is Duck Newton, one of the founders and main reporters, as he was off on an assignment.
Aubrey knocks, gets a friendly “come in” and ushers Indrid into the office.
Looking at him from behind the desk is The Asshole’s Boyfriend, whose face goes from open and friendly to confused, then to perturbed.
“You okay?”
“I, uh, fuck, n-ye.” Duck sighs, “remember how I told you Alex and I split after a shitty date in a coffee shop?” He points at Indrid, “this was the fella who, uh, expedited the process.”
“Ohhhh.” Aubrey frowns, then shrugs with a smile, “whelp, he’s our new photographer. We’ll see you around.” She hurries them outside once more, shutting the doors. As they head back the way they came, she whispers, “his ex was a huge fucking dick, so if word gets out everyone is gonna think you’re a fucking hero.”
“He didn’t seem to see it that way.”
“It was only a few weeks ago, so it’s still pretty fresh. He’ll heal from it okay, Duck’s a tough cookie. And I’m sure you guys’ll get along eventually.”
---------------------------------------
“Juno, please, you gotta come with me.”
“I would bud, except it’s April and I’s fifth wedding anniversary that weekend. And no, we already have plans, so we can’t just take over this assignment as part of the celebration.”
“Fuck” Duck leans back in his chair.
“...You really asked everyone?”
“Ye-no, fuck-”
“Duck.”
“I ain’t asked Indrid yet.”
“There it is.” Juno smirks, “you gotta ask; besides, we were gonna have him do illustrations for the feature, but photos would be even better. And we both know it ain’t his fault y’all broke up.”
Duck nods, promises to ask Indrid after lunch. He finds the photographer flipping through his files from his shoot for next issues cover. His silver hair is pulled back, red glasses sitting on the desk beside him so he can gauge color correctly.
Duck kind of wants to pull the silver locks just to see what happens. It’s not his fault Indrid looks like his Sophomore roommate who he had a raging crush on, only with more tattoos and a much more captivating face. Pity he helped fuck up Duck’s last chance at a stable relationship.
“Hey, Indrid, you got a minute?”
The photographer cocks his head.
“I, uh, so we got a feature on this whole chunk of places touting themselves as ‘sustainable romantic getaways. I booked a bunch of places, but a lot of ‘em will turn me away if I turn up solo. And the person I was supposed to go with ain’t an option any more. Neither is anyone else. You get my drift?”
Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “you realize this is a terrible idea, yes?”
“Hey, we been workin together just fine. Ain’t we? Wait, fuck, I ain’t been treatin you bad even when I’m tryin to be professional, am I?”
“No, you’ve been perfectly polite. But there’s a world of difference between being cordial in an office and going on what’s functionally a vacation together.”
Duck crosses his arms, “I ain’t about to lose eight hundred bucks in deposits.”
Indrid blinks, then chuckles, “Fair. What day do we leave?”
-------------------------------------------------
The temperature rises and the air dries as they speed south on Five. Indrid fiddles with games on his phone as cover for the list of “will this be a disaster or not” he’s mentally constructing. So far the signs are positive; Duck isn’t very chatty, but neither is Indrid. They have similar tastes in music, which makes much more sense when Duck explains he was a burn-out in high school. He also isn’t agitated by Indrid stimming, which makes it easier for the photographer to relax and enjoy the drive.
But they haven’t spoken about the elephant in the car, and Indrid resolves not to be the first to do so. No point in poking the sore spot if he doesn’t have to.
They stop at a Sinclair for gas. Duck reaches into his glovebox for something as Indrid climbs out, comes away with a photo instead. It’s one of those ones from a photobooth, faded but unmistakably him and his ex. His face falls for a second and Indrid scurries into the Dairy Queen attached to the convenience store.
As he waits in line, he turns one fact over in his mind like a picture he’s trying to make sense of; it would be easier to let their awkward first meeting go if he did not genuinely like the other man. He’s charming, in a quiet way, and very friendly. He’s built like the guys Indrid always got useless crushes on in college, usually third tier frat boys or--if he was lucky--a bear a few years older than him who liked his men on the odd side.
He doesn’t like seeing Duck sad. The sadness isn’t something he can fix. The stalemate between these two facts annoy the living hell out of him.
He’s next in line, glances up to confirm what he wants, and gets an idea. Last week, he overheard Duck talking with Aubrey about roadtrip snacks of their youth.
“One chocolate dipped cone, on me.” He holds the treat out to the other man.
“Oh. Uh, thanks. These are my favorite from when I was a kid.” Duck’s smile returns.
“I remembered. Or, ah, that is, I remembered you saying that.”
The smile changes, “you didn’t need to.”
“I wanted to. Shall we?”
“Yep. Uh, you gonna be able to drive and eat that at the same time?”
“Do not doubt my ability to consume ice cream under difficult circumstances, Duck Newton.”
They make it to their first stop unscathed. It’s what Duck refers to as, “eco-bespoke,” a fancy spa and hotel built in a former school, the kind that was made in an era of beautiful instead of grim educational architecture.
“Goats!” Indrid claps his hands, delighted, at the two animals stabled near the main building. One of it’s supposed sustainable elements is the small farm that helps feed the on-site restaurant. Duck smirks and Indrid suddenly feels the gulf in their upbringings, “Ah, I suppose they’re not exciting to someone who grew up in a rural town.”
“Nah, but they’re damn cute.” Duck checks the tag on their room keys, “okay, we’re in the green building, room 2B.”
Indrid snaps some photos as they cross the grounds, more to remind himself of things he wants to come back to later than anything else. He’s busy studying a strange mark on the wall by their door when Duck says, “I can sleep on the floor.”
“Why--oh” he stares at the single bed, “in retrospect, we should have seen this coming.”
“Yeah.” Duck drops his bag near the closet, slides the door to look for spare linens. Indrid summons his courage, finds it lacking, and so bolsters it with nonchalance.
“It’s a king, we could easily share.”
“You’d, uh, you’d be okay with that?”
“It is only narrow definitions of masculinity that mean something like sharing a bed is inherently sexual.”
He’s not entirely sure that made sense, but Duck nods, “You want the right side or left?”
“Right, please.”
“Great. And, uh, Indrid? Thanks for rollin with all this. I, uh, I know it’s fuckin weird but this is a huge feature for the magazine and we woulda been fucked if we had to pull it.”
Indrid gingerly sits on his side of the bed, “You’re welcome. And I don;t know about you, but” he smiles, catches Duck watching him intently in the mirror, “I’m enjoying myself so far.”
------------------------------------------------------
“Why has an activity that renders one incapable of using their thighs been deemed ‘romantic?” Indrid mumbles, face-down on the bed to offer his burning legs relief.
“Fuck if I know.” Duck groans as he sits next to him, “Kinda fun, but if I was doin this to get you in bed, I’d be fucked.”
“I am in bed” Indrid teases.
“And if I tried to put the moves of you you’d toss me outta it. Assumin I could even move myself that close.” Duck nudges him, then clears his throat, “uh, I mean, not like we’d be doin that-”
“Nono, point taken.” Indrid rolls over. The horseback ride was one of the “couples exclusives;” a trot out to a beautiful oasis for a gourmet picnic. Indrid got some excellent shots, including one of Duck with honeycomb dripping down his chin, which he will not be offering up to editors but may keep for himself. For it’s beautiful composition, of course.
Mercifully, their next stop is the pool. Indrid settles himself in the hot tub while Duck types some notes on his phone. Then his friend doffs his bathrobe and Indrid may as well be in a dream. In the steaming, echoing paradise of multi-colored tile and ecstatic shouts, Duck stands like one of the angelic fountains at its heart has come to life.
“You okay there, ‘Drid?”
“Yes.” He hopes his lack of glasses means Duck will mistake his blatant staring for trying to get his vision in focus.
“Then scoot your cu--uh, your butt over so I can sit down.”
Indrid gladly moves aside, finds he’s so comfortable with Duck pressed against him that he begins nodding off in the warm lull of the water. When the other man nudges him, saying it’s time to go, he finds a strong arm draped over his shoulder and Duck’s smile the most relaxed it’s been all trip.
Their last task at this location is to locate the speakeasy somewhere on the premises and order the “lovers delight” (only available to couples). To do so, they follow clues purple light bulbs, doors that lead to tiny, art-filled rooms, secret staircases, and a false supply closet to a dark wooded, dimly lit, incredibly pleasant bar looking out over the property. The drink turns out to be a massive goblet (more a bowl that someone stuck on a stem) of ginger syrup, prickly pear juice, and silver tequila.
It also turns out to be incredibly strong. So much so that when they get back to the room, Indrid loses his balance getting his shoes off, which makes Duck laugh, which results in both of them flopping onto the bed.
“S’fun. You’re, you’re real good at the clues. Should, should go to an escape room when we get home.”
“Wasn’t, hic, that hard. They, they want, hic, want you to find it.”
“Take the compliment, goofus” Duck pushes his shoulder.
“You’re, hic, the goofus.”
“Nuh uh.” Duck sticks his tongue out. Indrid does the same, then licks his cheek just to hear him laugh.
Duck rolls onto his back, giggles dying down to a contemplative sigh, “He woulda hated this.”
“Your ex?” Indrid crawls to stay close to him.
“Yeah. Everythin I like, or, or thought was fun, he thought it was a waste of time or just plain worthless. He, he wasn’t like that at the start. Dunno what changed. Probably me. Probably got borin. Got worse.”
Indrid is not so drunk that he believes he can fix this. But he’s just drunk enough to stroke Duck’s cheek and murmur, “No. Nono, hic, you’re th’best.”
He doesn’t remember falling asleep after that, but he must have, because his phone is beeping at them to get up and face the day. They do so with to-go coffees in one hand and their bags in the other, neither speaking of the night before until Indrid has turned the car into deeper desert.
“Sorry for gettin on a thing about Alex last night.”
“It was a three year relationship; goodness knows you’re allowed to have feelings about it.”
“Even relief?”
Indrid glances at him, “Of course.”
His friend leans back in his seat, sipping from his travel mug, “That’s half the reason I been in such a funk. I feel like I oughta be sad, then I feel guilty for the fact I’m relieved instead. But if I really was that unhappy in it, why did I hang around so long? Maybe that was the best I deserved, y’know?”
“I know the feeling, yes, but I can’t say I agree with your statement. You deserve someone who sees you for who you are and adores it, not someone who loved what you once were and became bitter when you grew.”
Duck looks at the console between them, at Indrid’s chipped black nails and the hand he hopes isn’t shaking. He squeezes it a moment longer than necessary, “Thanks, ‘Drid. It’s nice to hear that from someone who’s still gettin to know me. Juno and them, they’re my friends, I know they’re in my corner but, uh, sometimes I worry that anyone new is gonna find me dull or somethin like that.”
“I’m sure some people would, just as some take one look at me and decide I’m a weirdo who they don’t want to deal with. But I can say with certainty that I don’t find you that way.”
Duck grins all the way to their destination. It’s a quirky trailer park full of amenities and built mostly from salvaged materials, doing it’s best to run off the grid. It also gives each trailer a theme, and Indrid flaps his hands when he sees they’ve been booked in the “The Cramps” themed one.
“Hell yeah.” Duck mirrors his excitement as they open the door. Their haven from the desert sun is full of kitschy horror artifacts and a much smaller bed than the previous spot. There’s no debate this time; Indrid settles on the right, Duck on the left, and they settle in for a nap before venturing out to work.
They take in the bar, the arcade, the mini-golf course, and the “couples supply room” (“damn, didn’t know they made eggnog scented massage oil” “ooh, I like how that smells”), but Duck turns out to be most excited to rent a stargazing kit and guide Indrid out into the dark desert. They’re on their backs, shoulder to shoulder and munching chocolate covered fruit, when he discovers the source of his glee.
“There!” Duck points to a crackling streak of silver.
“A meteor” Indrid wiggles happily as a second one speeds through his view.
“It’s the Perseids, and this is a damn good place to watch ‘em. Look, there’s another one.” He’s breathless each time and Indrid’s heart threatens to beat hard enough to crack the earth at the sound.
“Did you ever wish on stars when you were little?”
“Yep. Never asked for much worth notin, though I’m pretty sure I wished once to just wake up and be a boy. Or, uh, guess for everyone to see me as one. What about you?”
“I wished...I wished for someone to do things like this with, some who’d kiss me and tell me that they didn’t need to wish because what they wanted was right here.. I love the world, I want to see so much of it, that’s half the reason I chose my profession.. But when I was young I thought I’d be with someone when I did. I thought it was easy to find that kind of love. To be worthy of it.”
“Hey now” Duck rolls onto his side. He’s backlit by the moon, meteors zipping behind him as if they, just like Indrid, are pulled to him, “what happened to all the stuff you said in the car about deservin someone who adores you?”
“It’s easy to apply such things to you, harder to believe them about myself.”
“How come?”
“Because you are everything a sensible person could want in a man and I am not.”
“That’s where you’re wrong” He sets a hand next to Indrid’s shoulder, “Can think of at least one sensible fella who wants to get to know you a whole hell of a lot.”
“He’ll get to know me plenty, we’re co-workers.”
“There are different kinds of gettin to know someone.” Duck dips down, brushes their noses together, “for instance, the last few days I’ve gotten to know you’re a damn good travel companion and that Ned was smart to hire you. But I’ve also gotten to know there’s some things about you I really wanna know.”
“Such as?” Indrid’s fingers find Duck’s sides.
“Such as whether you wanna go on a date with me when we get back. No assignment, just the two of us gettin some time together.”
“I want nothing more.” He leans up to kiss him, feels him shudder happily when their lips meet. Indrid wonders how long it’s been since someone kissed Duck like they meant it, and resolves to make up any deficits with an enthusiasm that would put horny eighteen year olds to shame.
Indrid nips Ducks ear, “you know, were it not for the threat of mosquitos and scorpions, I’d suggest we make good use of the non-food items in that basket.”
Ducks grin lights Indrid up like a comet, “Then howsabout we go test just how conducive our trailer is to romance?”
Indrid kisses him adoringly, “Lead on, sweetheart; I’ll follow you anywhere.”
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Dark Pleasure.
A/N: This AU is between my two all time favorite books Bloodbound and The Royal Romance! It is the crossover to end all crossovers.
A/N 2: This fanfic will be dark! And sexy! And violent! And delicious! And will quickly become your guilty pleasure.
Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Tristan Rys (LI) and Latisha Tucker (MC) x Adrian Raines and Tiana Reynolds-Raines | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me) are property of Pixelberry.
Current Word Count: 1,210 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾♀️)
Prompt Time! Today I’ll be using @wackydrabbles prompt #87 “No offense, but I'm not interested.”! It’ll be in bold in black.
If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘
Series TW: drug use, violence, murder, mentions of torture, prostitution.
This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!
(MAJOR SHOUTOUT TO @secretaryunpaid!!! SHE GAVE ME THE KICK IN THE ASS THAT I NEEDED TO START THIS SERIES! I DON’T THINK I WOULD’VE HAD THE BALLS TO WRITE THIS IF SHE HADN’T HAVE PUSHED ME IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION!)
Chapter 1.) Into The Shadows.
Tristan Rys has everything any man could ever want. Money, power, cars, girls, homes you name it, he’s more than likely got it. As President and Chairman of Rys International Group, it’s his job to provide his clients with every luxury their hearts desire. After all he’s known all around the world as The King Of Cordonia.
His late father Constantine started the company with just one small hotel and when he turned the business over to his youngest son, Tristan turned it into a powerhouse that rivals Marriott and Hilton. He has his Le Roi de Cordonie hotel group, his Lotus spas and The Underground nightclubs all over the world.
And now he’s looking to expand to the US. After scouting possible headquarter locations in California, New York, Miami, Boston and Chicago, he settled on Washington D.C. He took a liking to the busy city vibe. With D.C. being the home and hub of American politics and the potential growth of his client list, he was sold on the location. Because what better way to grow his true business than to be in a city that thrives?
What is his true business you ask?
Tristan isn’t just the owner of Rys International Group, he’s also one of the biggest drug lords in the world. No one has ever been able to touch him.
And right now he’s about to have the biggest investment meeting of his life. If he’s able to make this deal it would mean he’d truly be unstoppable.
He’s about to meet with Senator Adrian Raines.
Adrian has known Tristan since he was a kid. He and Constantine were great friends and eventually Adrian became one of Rys International’s biggest clients. After all, they hosted Adrian and Tiana’s wedding. So when Adrian heard that Rys International was coming to D.C., he had to see what brought Tristan to town. Although Adrian doesn’t run the day to day of Raines Corporation he was still willing to meet.
Both arrived to an empty Ocean Prime Steakhouse for their meeting.
“Adrian! It’s good to see you!” Tristan said as he stood to greet Adrian with a handshake.
“It’s good to see you too Tristan. It’s been a long time. I haven’t seen you since you were a kid.” Adrian replied, returning his handshake.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Senator.”
“Please you know you can always call me Adrian.”
“I know but I want to respect you and your new position.”
“Thank you. What can I get you? Scotch?” Adrian asks.
“Whiskey if you don’t mind.” Tristan replies.
Adrian signals for the waiter to bring them a couple bottles and glasses.
“Now before we get down to business, I gotta ask…how’s that spitfire wife of yours?” Tristan asks.
Adrian snickered.
“You know how she is about you. She won’t shut up about the new spa you opened up in New York. I can’t keep her out of there.” He replies.
“Yes I know. Still the best sex I’ve ever had.”
“You’re a liar but I’ll take the backhanded compliment anyway.”
The two shared a laugh as the waiter brought them two bottles of whiskey.
“I don’t know about you but I’m starving! So shall we order?” Tristan asks him.
“Of course let’s order.”
They placed their orders and while they waited for their food to be delivered, they started to discuss business.
“So let’s get down to it. Why am I here Tristan?” Adrian asked.
“I have a business proposal for you Adrian.”
“Oh? And what is this business proposal as you put it?” Adrian asks.
“Consider it a bit of a ‘you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours’. I’m new to town and I know how cutthroat D.C. can be. And I’m a small fish in this very big pond.” Tristan replies.
“Meaning?” Adrian asked with an eyebrow raised.
“Meaning you give me protection here in D.C. and I fund your entire senatorial re-election and future presidential campaign.” Tristan replies.
Adrian scoffed.
“No offense, but I'm not interested.”
“Come on Adrian! You can’t seriously be passing this up!”
That’s when their food arrived.
“Need I remind you that you are one of the biggest drug dealers in the world? You’re a danger to my campaign!”
Tristan shrugged.
“Suit yourself Senator. I was actually looking forward to working with you but I’m sure your opponent in New York will be happy to take the deal.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh no? Why not? Because you’re an old friend of both me and my father?” Tristan asks.
Adrian smirked.
“You’re an asshole. You do know that right?” Adrian asks.
“High praise!” Tristan replies.
“If I agree to this, what do I really get out of this?” Adrian asks.
“Like I said, a fully funded re-election and future presidential campaigns. On top of the perks of being a valued member of Rys International’s platinum club and a few other personal perks and favors, of course.” Tristan replied.
“All while you get to set up shop here in D.C. and run your legal and illegal business, correct?” Adrian asks.
“A win-win situation if I do say so myself.” Tristan replies before pouring himself a drink.
“And how would we go about this…business?” Adrian asks.
“Very simple. Your head of security Jax will meet with my head of security Drake Walker and coordinate.” Tristan replies.
“Jax won’t agree to that.”
“Why not?” Tristan asks.
“Jax doesn’t like working with people.” Adrian replied.
“Neither does Drake. Unless it involves sex and liquor.”
“Oh well in that case, they’ll be great together. They’re both brooding, moody and love liquor and women.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
“What about your brother Leo?” Adrian asks.
“Simple. While all that happens my brother will work with Raines Corporation on the business side of things.”
“And what about us?”
“Just two old friends working together to make sure that you are re-elected and my business flourishes here in America.”
“And no one will know about your cartel?” Adrian asks.
“Nope. Hell I’ll even throw you a cut of the profits…and a few of my finest girls.” Tristan replies.
Adrian sat back and thought about Tristan’s words.
“Come on Adrian. I know you’re considering it.”
“You’re an egomaniac!”
“And you’re the vampire who is married to the most powerful woman in the entire universe. And together you and I will become the two most unstoppable men on the planet!”
Adrian just shook his head then grinned.
“Damn you’re good…”
“That’s the nature of my business. So what do you say? Do we have a deal?” Tristan asks.
“This goes against everything I have believed in! I am better than this!” Adrian hissed. “And yet…this is too damn good for you to pass up.”
Adrian took a deep breath and Tristan rolled his eyes.
“Just say that you accept the damn deal old man!”
“Fine! You’ve got a deal! I can not believe I’ve been talked into this.”
“Wonderful! I’ll have my legal team contact yours and we’ll hammer out all the fine print.”
“You truly are ruthless, Tristan.”
“Jay-Z said it best. I’m not just a businessman, I’m a business…man.”
Adrian snickered.
“Here’s to a very lucrative partnership.”
“Finally!”
The two toasted to their new deal.
#choices#choices stories you play#pixelberry#khoicesbyk#choices fanfiction#fanfic#bloodbound#the royal romance#dark au
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@febuwhump day 14
meddling kids
summary
“Ned, you’re a genius,” says Peter. “We’ll just play some cupid, get them together for real, and they’ll be so distracted we can go back to movie days at the Tower.”
“Because that plan doesn’t have the potential to turn into a big, fucking disaster,” says MJ.
“It’ll be fine,” says Peter. “It’ll be good. It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Even they deserve to be happy.”
OR
Peter attempts to meddle in Sam and Bucky’s relationship, and Flash meddles in Peter’s and MJ’s.
Rain hits the windows of Avengers Tower, and Peter pulls MJ a little bit closer. His eyes are glued to the TV screen, where it’s also raining, and where the two leads in the cheesy, rom-com Ned had switched on argue in the midst of the downpour. It isn’t long before the argument turns to kissing.
“That’s so romantic,” says Peter. That’s really what he’d rather be doing. Kissing MJ in the rain.
“Dude,” says Flash, shoving a fist full of popcorn in his mouth, from where he sat on the floor. “You’re such a sap.”
Peter scrunches up his face. “I’m not a sap.”
“Kind of are,” says Ned.
Peter turns to MJ for help, and their faces are so close, their noses almost brush up against each other. Forget the rain. He’d rather be kissing her now, in the common room, on the Avengers favorite couch.
“You’re totally a sap,” she tells him. “But you’re my sap.”
“You two are disgusting,” says Flash. “Just get a room and let Ned and I finish watching this in peace.”
Peter doesn’t think that sounds like such a bad idea, and he’s about to say so when he’s startled into sitting up straight.
“Parker!”
He turns his head and sees Sam and Bucky entering the common area.
“Oh,” says Peter. He and MJ scoot to opposite ends of the couch, as if it mattered and they hadn’t already been seen. “Um, hey Sam. Bucky.”
“What is this?” asks Sam, gesturing to the common room. “What have we told you about using the Tower as your own personal clubhouse for you and your school friends?”
“That I’m definitely welcomed to do it?”
“Well that’s one interpretation of hell no,” says Bucky.
Peter could strange both of them right there on the spot. They’re the annoying big brothers he never wanted, and he hates how they only ever agree with each other when it disadvantages him in some way.
“Take your Scooby Squad and scram,” says Sam.
“We’re not the Scooby Squad,” says Flash. He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen, and his hand stays in the bowl of popcorn. “We’re the FlashMob, don’t forget it.”
“We’re not the FlashMob,” says Ned. “We’re the FOS gang.”
“FOS?” questions Bucky.
“Friends of Spider-Man,” answers Ned.
“Meddling kids seems more appropriate,” says Sam. “Parker. Get them out.”
“If we’re the Scooby Squad you’re the grumpy old men,” says Peter, with a sigh. He stands, snatches the bowl of popcorn from Flash, and orders Friday to switch off the movie.
Peter, MJ, Ned and Flash file out the room, listening to Sam and Bucky as their bickering turns towards each other. Apparently Bucky’s chosen spot on the couch was where Sam sits, apparently the throw pillow Sam claims actually belongs to Bucky, and so on.
“I swear,” says Peter. “They bicker more than Mr. Stark and Gerald.”
“Gerald?” asks MJ.
“He’s going through a phase.”
“Well it’s obvious why they bicker,” MJ tells them.
All three stare at her.
“..It is?” asks Ned.
“Come on, guys,” says MJ. “It’s classic. They’re in love.”
All eyes turn back to the couch. They’re both sitting at opposite ends and they both take turns telling Friday to switch the channel on the TV. Doesn’t seem like a very productive war. Peter develops whiplash from just standing off in the background, watching the TV screen flip back and forth between Jaws and some old timey black and white film.
“I bet they just kicked us out so they could be alone together,” she continues.
“Enemies to lovers?” asks Ned, still staring at them, with a tilted head.
“I’d ship it,” says Flash.
“Wish they’d get a room, or an apartment,” says Ned. “So we could get back to our movie day.”
“Ned, you’re a genius,” says Peter. “We’ll just play some cupid, get them together for real, and they’ll be so distracted we can go back to movie days at the Tower.”
“Because that plan doesn’t have the potential to turn into a big, fucking disaster,” says MJ.
“It’ll be fine,” says Peter. “It’ll be good. It’s almost Valentine’s Day. Even they deserve to be happy.”
MJ kisses him on the cheek, and links his arm with hers as they march off towards the elevators.
“You really are such a sap,” she tells him, a fondness in her tone that causes Peter to realize he doesn’t actually mind being a romantic so much, not when MJ was the one saying it.
*
Peter leads Bucky down the season aisles at Target, and figures he’s really on his last shot of this cupid business.
He hasn’t exactly been subtle over the last couple of days. Bucky’s already wondering why Peter had insisted on him tagging along on his trip to Target with him.
They pass by heart shaped boxes of candy, and Peter digs through the bin of cute stuffed animals until he finds a unicorn. When he squeezes it, it’s teeth turn pointy and it’s eyes turn mean. It’s perfect.
“For MJ?” asks Bucky.
“No way, man,” says Peter. He turns his attention to the chocolate boxes with cartoon characters printed on the front, and grabs the one with “I got her presents months ago. This stuff is for Morgan.”
“How’s Stark handling Valentine's Day as a father, anyway?”
“He loves it,” says Peter. “He’s a little bit obsessed, actually. He wants Morgan to pass out the best Valentine's cards in her class, so he stayed up all night designing them online and he’s having candy delivered for some fancy chocolate shop in Germany.”
“I don’t think kids really care about fancy chocolate,” says Bucky, and Peter watches as he eyes the boxes of chocolate. His eyes go back and forth between two different brands.
“They don't,” says Peter. “But they do if you bribe the chocolate makers into molding the chocolate into the replicas of famous Avengers.”
Bucky doesn’t respond. All his focus is on the candies.
“What kind of chocolate do you think Sam likes?” asks Peter.
Bucky snaps his head around and narrows his eyes at him. “Why would you ask that?”
Peter shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe we should get him some. It’d be nice.”
Bucky stares at him, and Peter shuffles his feet around, dying to come out with his suggestion that he and Sam should just go out already. That they’ll be a lot happier together, way less grumpy.
“How do you know?” asks Bucky.
“How what?”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“I don’t have to play dumb,” says Peter. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Come on,” says Bucky. “What’s the deal with you crawling around on the ceiling hanging mistletoe above wherever Sam and I are standing? Or that night you made us dinner and set the table with candles and rose petals?”
“I was just being nice. Who doesn’t like roses?”
“I know you know about me and Sam,” says Bucky. “So quit harassing us, and keep your mouth shut about it.”
“Wait…. You and Sam… are already together?” asks Peter, with a gasp of disbelief. “I was trying to set you up!”
“You didn’t know?” asks Bucky. “We thought you knew and were being an asshole about it.”
“Holy shit,” says Peter. He shifts Morgan’s presents to one hand, and pulls his phone out of his pocket with the other. “I gotta tell MJ.”
Bucky swipes his phone. “You can’t tell anybody. We’re keeping it a secret for now.”
“Fine, fine,” says Peter. “Secret safe with me.”
“No secret is safe with you, Parker,” Bucky tells him, before marching past him, and to the next aisle where he continues looking for Sam’s present.
Peter frowns. He’s got no clue why people think he’s incapable of keeping things secret.
*
Peter manages to keep Sam and Bucky’s relationship to himself, until the day of the Midtown High Valentine’s day dance. And it’s not exactly Peter’s fault. He isn’t exactly to see the two of them in his school’s gym, with linked arms, wearing identical grins.
“You two cannot be here,” whispers Peter. His eyes darted around the gym, at all his classmates, somehow forgetting no connection could realistically be made between Peter Parker and two Avengers.
“Sure we can,” says Bucky. “We’re chaperones.”
“And I’m Captain America. I can go anywhere.”
“I hate you both,” says Peter.
Sam claps him on the shoulder. “Consider this revenge.”
“For what?!?”
“For being annoying,” says Bucky.
“And young,” adds Sam. “And for torturing us with mistletoes.”
“Oh, look,” says MJ, emerging from the crowd of students on the dance floor. “I was right. Who’s surprised?”
“Yeah, congratulations,” says Sam. “Now take your irritatingly observant selves over to the refreshment table, get yourselves some Scooby snacks and leave us to our chaperoning.”
Peter doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s ready to put so much distance between himself and the old, grumpy chaperones. He and MJ are crossing the dance floor when they’re favorite song starts to play, but it’s something else that grabs Peter’s attention.
It’s Flash, standing on the bleachers, holding a lighter up to the smoke alarm.
“THIS IS FOR YOU PENIS PARRKKKERRRR,” he yells across the gym, just as the smoke alarm blares to life.
He’s confused, until sprinklers on the ceiling turn on, and water begins to rain down on the entire student body, soaking dresses and suits and splashing into the probably already spiked punch bowl.
“I guess you were right about something too,” says MJ, with a small smile. They’re standing in the middle of the dance floor, while most others run and duck for cover under chairs or in the hallway, while Bucky and Sam chase Flash around the gym. “This is kind of romantic.”
“I can start an argument with you,” says Peter. He hooks his arm around her waist and pulls her closer. “If you want it to be like the movies.”
“Nah,” she tells him. “We can skip that part.”
She brushes his soaked hair out of his face, and they kiss. It’s every bit as romantic as it is in the movies.
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Chapter Four
Chapter Summary: We get a revelation from Bucky and we get some background info on an *as of right now* minor character. Sweet Bucky and him teasing the hell out of reader.
Warnings: Swearing, mild sexual content, sexual tension, slightly creepy Bucky
Word Count: 3,004
A/N: Did I title drop? OH YES I DID!!!! Don’t judge me, it just happened. Lol. This chapter was gonna go a different way but then ideas happened and it pretty much wrote itself. Hope you enjoy!!!
Deciding at the last possible second to not ruin your friendship forever, you kissed Bucky's cheek instead of his lips and then slunk back into his arms. You could kick yourself, you knew you wanted Bucky, wanted to be with Bucky, but you knew you couldn't. It was maddening being literally so close to the thing you desired most but not able to reach out and grab it. Well, you could physically grab him, but you wanted more than that. You wanted a love that lasts. A love that consumes them both, body, and soul. You wanted a fiery passion that left you both breathless, you wanted tender moments with soft caresses.
You wanted Bucky more than you've ever wanted anything in your entire life...except his friendship and the irreplaceable bond you shared with each other. You knew if you told him, you'd lose him. And you'd long ago decided that you'd rather not live in a world without him in it. If you lost Bucky, you would simply cease to exist, fading into nothingness. With his arms wrapped around you, pinning you to him, you felt tears prick at the edges of your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. You didn't want to cry, but you did. Your body shook with sobs and Bucky pulled you away from him to look at you questionably.
"What's the matter doll? Why ya crying?" He searched your face for answers as he placed his palm on your cheek and wiped away your tears with his thumb.
You sniffled and pulled yourself a bit out of his reach, putting on a fake smile. "I'm just really glad you found my wallet, Buck." You lied. "Wanna know why I was looking for my wallet the other night to begin with?" You asked, hoping to distract him.
He nodded, not quite believing your lie but smiled sweetly at you anyway. "Sure."
You reached over to grab your wallet and scooted closer to him again, not quite in his arms but definitely in his personal space, your bodies touching. You opened your wallet to grab the small photo of the two of you that you kept there. The edges were frayed and the picture itself showed signs of wear and tear. You held it up to his face and smiled.
His face lit up as he reached for the photo. "Wow y/n, I can't believe you still have this." Admiring the photo some more he turned it over, back, and forth in his hand. "That was a really fun day. I kept mine for so long but now I can't find it anywhere....this is why you were looking for your wallet?" He held it up, his eyebrows rising incredulously.
You shook your head in earnest. "Yea, I thought I'd lost it and that made me really sad. This was a special day. It's my favorite picture of us and anytime I'm sad or happy or just whenever I want to look at it I can." You explained, shrugging at the end.
He beamed at you. Not saying anything, only reaching his hand out to grasp the back of your neck and pulling you forward to kiss the top of your head before placing his forehead against yours. Shaking his head, he let go of you and moved into his seat properly to put his seat belt on, you did the same, putting the center compartment back down to rest your elbow on, so did Bucky, one hand on the wheel. Bucky still didn't say anything as he began the journey home, taking his time. At a red light, he looked over at you, grinning, and flipped his hand over, palm up and open in a silent gesture for you to lace your fingers together. And you did, smiling at him in return. You stayed that way the entire drive, his thumb drawing circles on the back of your hand until he pulled up into his driveway. He begrudgingly let go of your hand to put the truck in park and shut off the engine, looking over at you again in the dark, silent cab. You were overwhelmed. You had to get out of the truck, get some distance from him. You couldn't get your hopes up like this. Opening the door, you slid out of your seat, not even glancing his direction before you walked to your door and opened it, leaning your back against the door once it was closed and letting out a sigh.
"Rough day?" Your mom asked from the couch, looking at you with concern and love.
You pushed off the door and sighed again. "Yeah...but good news, Bucky found my wallet. It was in his truck. So, there's that." You said leaning over the back of the couch on your elbows.
"That's good dear, how was the game?"
"It was good. I got a picture of Blake holding my purse, I'm gonna print it and send it to him." You chuckled. "Bucky made a sweat ass tackle there at the end and Steve brought it home. So...we won...obviously." you recounted excitedly. "Then me and Buck went to Penny's to grab some food. And OH MY GOD, they have a new milkshake. It's key lime pie. It's so good mom, oh my god."
Your mom watched you explain your day, smiling and nodding, chuckling when she thought something was funny.
"Well, I'm glad you had a good time. I'm sorry I wasn't able to come to the game, I really wanted to be there for James."
"What happened with that by the way?"
She sighed. "Well...we found some weird stuff in a client's books. We had to go down a rabbit hole to figure it all out. We're still looking into it all so the next few days or until we can get it squared away might be long days for me, I'm afraid."
"You gotta do what you gotta do." You shrugged. "My truck will be out of the shop on Monday, they said they'd have someone there to let me pick it up after school since I've gotta stay late to go through and edit the photos from the game and choose some for the school paper and stuff. Bucky said he'd take me since practice should be over by then. So, no worries." You tried to put her mind at ease, knowing she's worried about the prospect of you fending for yourself for a while, even though you were pretty much grown.
"Okay baby. I think I'm gonna head to bed early tonight, today was rough for me too, but I wanted to stay up to make sure you got home safe and see how the game went." She said as she stood up and turned the TV off, coming around to hug you before heading to her room.
You made your way upstairs to get some pajamas and take a shower, noticing you smelled like a sweaty football player and shuddered. Before you left though you opened your curtain and saw the light shining behind Bucky's curtain, opening your window, and grabbing a few of the plastic BB pellets you and Bucky use to get each other to open the window before tossing one to his. You waited briefly before throwing two more in quick succession. Eventually, you saw movement as he made his way over and smiled at seeing you, securing his curtains he opened the window, leaning out a bit and nodded his head in that stupid 'what's up motion he knew you hated. It was so dumb.
"Hey." You said, tilting your head to rest on your shoulder, enjoying the view of him in his pajama pants and nothing else.
"Hey." He replied, copying your posture, grinning at you.
Not really having a reason to bug him, you didn't know what else to say. You just wanted to see him.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Bout to take a shower. I smell like sweaty football players. You?"
He laughed, holding up a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. "Reading."
You were shocked. Bucky rarely ever read, especially not a classic from the great Alexandre Dumas. "James Buchanan Barnes...I'm impressed." You said, folding your arms under your breasts as you stood up.
"Guess you don't know me as well as you thought you did now huh baby doll?" He teased, his arms spread wide in a mock bow to you.
"Boy!!! I know you better than you know yourself!!!" You bit back, just the tiniest bit offended he would insult you like that.
He placed his hands on either side of the window and hung his head while shaking it slowly, chuckling under his breath. The image did things to you. You saw the muscles in his arms and shoulders roll when he moved, his stomach tightening as he laughed, making his abs more prominent. His pajama pants hung low on his hips, and you couldn't look away, couldn't stop your wayward imagination, not realizing you were biting your lip and literally eye fucking him. There was no hiding that he knew the direction of your thoughts when he lifted his head to look at you again, arms still spread out.
When his eyes met yours, they were dark, tonguing his upper lip as he smiled at you. “You alright there doll?”
You couldn’t breathe. The way he looked at you, the way he looked period, left a feeling in your chest you’ve never experienced before, you couldn’t identify it or even how to begin explaining it. It was all-encompassing. All you could do was nod your head, returning to a more normal disposition.
He grinned. “Sure, you are. Now get outta here, this book is getting good, I wanna get back to it.” He jerked his head to the side.
All you could do was comply, not able to make any words come out of your mouth. You closed your window, unintentionally leaving the curtains open, and grabbed your things to take a shower.
Feeling y/n shudder underneath him immediately jolted his brain into panic mode, he knew her well enough to know when she was crying like she currently was. Why would she be crying this hard right now, this was a happy moment…right? He leaned her back to investigate, searching her face for any clues. Wiping her tears away, hating that she was upset and worried he had done something to trigger the downpour. She pulled away a bit to explain to show him why she had been searching for her wallet the night of the video chat. Seeing the photo and examining it, he could see how often she took it out of her wallet by the marks of frequent use around the edges of the polaroid-like photo, the plastic over the image itself having a small amount of give in places. He was left speechless and breathless at the notion that such a small thing of them brought out this kind of reaction in her. He was awestruck at the level of devotion to a small piece of paper that held evidence of the strength of their bond, the way she was more upset about losing this small picture of the two of them in each other’s arms laughing and smiling than she was about losing everything else she had in there, all important stuff too. I love her he thought to himself, noticing the way his heart fluttered and warmed at those same thoughts. This was more than the love born in friendship and companionship, this was more…so much more. And he couldn’t stop smiling, truly happy in this moment. He was in no rush to reach their destination, wanting to stay in the moment forever, this little bubble of bliss, holding her hand this way.
But then she bolted. She didn’t say a single word or even look his way as she sprinted to her door and opened it like the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. He was shocked, standing there for longer than he’d like to admit, staring at where she retreated into her home. Shaking his head with a sight he walked into his house, seeing his parents at the kitchen table eating, they looked up.
“Hey honey,” his mom said excitedly, “We saw you at the game today, nice tackle there at the end!” She said proudly.
He grinned shyly, “Thanks ma, I actually have something I need to talk to you guys about.” He said as he cupped the back of his neck nervously. Both his parents looking at him with concern.
After explaining the ins and outs of what coach had told him, his parents were beyond excited, they both jumped up and down excitedly as they put their arms around him. They’ve always been so supportive, even his dad, despite his many obligations to the U.S. Army. Him and his dad devised a new workout regime that would hopefully help in getting noticed by a few scouts, agreeing to start as soon as possible, his mom throwing suggestions here and there. After some time, they parted ways and Bucky found himself in his room, too many thoughts filling his head for him to consider sleeping. So, he decided to grab a book, selecting a book y/n brought over to read often enough she left a copy there in his bookshelf. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about but decided if it ended up being boring it would at least help lull him into a state he could sleep easier. He took his shirt off and grabbed some pajama pants, deciding to lay down on the couch and read there. The book was a little confusing at first but was quickly drawn into the retelling of a harsh betrayal, a lost love, a prison escape, and the ultimate vengeance on those that betrayed the man who lost everything, only to rise from the ashes a changed man. He quickly realized why y/n enjoyed this book so much, it was good!
Tap
Jerked from the vision in his mind, brought to life on the pages in front of him he looked around, trying to find the cause of the sudden noise, finding nothing, and eagerly returning to the book in his hands.
Tap...tap.
Now he recognized it. With a slightly frustrated sigh he got he got up and saw y/n across the way, he smiled at her. She didn’t say anything but a shy hello, so he asked what she was doing. Her reply made him swell with pride knowing it was his scent that clung to her. And when he showed her the book he was reading in response to her question she was visibly impressed and even stated so. He was proud he could conjure this type of response in her, simply by reading, noticing the way her arms framed her breasts nicely. He decided to tease her a bit, ‘baby doll’ slipping from his lips, enjoying the notion of calling her that more than he’d like to admit. Her clever retort had him laughing, holding onto the window frame for support. Lifting his head after his bought of laughter he noticed the way her lower lip was caught in her teeth, how her eyes grew darker as they roamed his body. It was blatantly obvious she was checking him out and enjoying what she saw. This wasn’t a new thing for him, many people often ogled him when he was jogging or working out, what was new, however, was that y/n was the one doing it now. This was the first time he ever saw her appreciate his body and he realized he enjoyed it. A lot.
“You alright there doll?” He couldn’t help but tease just a little. He liked the way she always blushed when he got the courage to behave this way, the way her breaths became quicker, and her pupils dilated. He knew what he was doing to her, he knew she was turned on. And the thought excited him in such a way he was fighting back the urge to grasp his pajama pants a little. She didn’t even respond to his question, she simply nodded and tried her best to hide her body’s response to the situation. After encouraging her to go take her shower so he could continue to read, he noticed she left her curtains open, and a sinister plan came to mind. His small sofa was angled in such a way that if he lied down, he could see a great deal of her bedroom, almost all of her bed, her desk, her closet, and bedroom door. He never really noticed this before, but he was suddenly thankful for the bay windows they each had. He also knew that when the lights were off in his room, because of the angle of the roofs and their respective houses, you couldn’t see a damn thing. He’d been in her room enough times to know how his room looked from her window. He was filled with eager anticipation for the game that was about to unfold for him as he turned off his lights and got comfortable on the couch, laying one hand on his stomach and the other bent behind his head, his legs spread as one leg was kneeled up against the back of the couch. His mind played visions in his head at the thought of her being in the shower right now, of the things he might glimpse as he made a plan to make sure the curtains would be open for at least a little while. He also decided that since he’s getting a show, unbeknownst to her, he’d do the same for her, remembering he had a strict workout regime that needed to be implemented from here on out. He grinned like the cheshire cat at how he’d torture her now that he knew she at least liked his body enough to be caught admiring it.
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#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x reader#a/u bucky x reader#james buchanan barnes#teenager bucky x teenager reader#teen bucky and reader#a/u#slow burn#mutual pining#marvel
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Cruel Summer Part Four-Chan
The street was busy with people as usual. Chan and I walked hand in hand leisurely observing the life of others. A group of school kids excited to finally be on vacation make their way into an ice cream shop shouting and laughing. A street performer taking a break outside a McDonald's. People pushing passed each other to get to work or some where they are urgently needed. Then there is us. After what had happened earlier in the morning I thought it would be a good idea to spend the day out together. Chan wore his usual. A black Vetements hoodie and sweats. A mask to cover his face and pair of shades. He did look suspicious to be honest but he said it would attract less attention. I went for a much less black look with my pink hoodie and shorts. My favorite Chanel wallet and a mask. It was moments like this that made it seem easy to be together. Just him and me walking in the street. He would point out something in a window and I would agree it looked worthy to look at so we would walk in the store to snoop around. Window shopping was fun with Chan.
"Oh look at that! Wow it's so pretty!" I cooed looking into the window. Chan chuckled to himself and moved closer to see what I was adoring. He arm went to the small of my back which made me jump a little bit blush at the little things he does that makes my heart flutter.
"What are you looking at?" He said confused.
"That!! Right there in the front!!" I said jumping excited.
"Baby that's....a kids watch?" He said giving me a look. He didn't understand what drew me to it.
"It's Hello Kitty though!! Look at the little flowers on the band..." I said pouting a little. I read for his hand and hold it looking at him for a second. I then leap over towards the door of the shop dragging him along with me. Chan laughed again mumbling something this time I can't hear. The bell dinged as we entered alerting the sales lady to greet us.
"Welcome in! Are you looking for anything or for anyone?" The lady said approaching us. Her eyes were deep brown and hooded. Her lashes long and elegant. She stood confidently in front of us in her short black dress and heels. Her hair was long and black. It flowed to her elbows as she reached out for a hand shake from Chan.
"We are looking thank you." Chan said nodding his head politely and shaking her hand firmly. Her eyes looked him up and down smiling in a flirty way. This made him uncomfortable and he stepped back bumping into me.
"Ah sorry my baby are you ok?" He said concerned holding my back and my shoulder.
"Ah yes ummm good heh..." I said brushing off his touch walking towards the Hello Kitty display. He bowed shyly towards the lady embarrassed or his actions and followed behind me.
"Ahh wow look there's other characters too!" Said looking through the glass case careful not to get my finger prints on it.
"I like that one it would look cute on you haha.." Chan said nervously stepping over to the other side of me to look at it closer. He took off his mask looking over at me smiling. I take mine off as well and he reaches for mine to hold. I nod at him thanking him for his gesture.
The lady returns over near the case display we are looking at. With a bottle of windex in hand and a cloth she stands by waiting. I look up at her expecting her to say something. She just gives me a warm smile and continues to watch us.
"Um can I please look at this one please." I said pointing to the one Chan liked. He steps back to give the lady space and stands behind me closely so his arm can drape over my shoulder. The lady unlocks the case and reaches inside for the glove, putting them on. Taking the item in her hands she holds it in front of me to show off the items.
"How much is it?" I asked reaching to touch it. The lady quickly moved away and placed it back in the case. She giggled quietly before speaking.
"Maybe a little too much for you dear.."She said swiftly then spraying the case and cleaning off the non existent fingerprints. A little annoyed I huffed.
"She asked how much it is? So tell her." Chan said seriously placing his hands in the case. The lady was startled by this move and stepped back.
"Oh I'm oh it's... one moment.." She said trying to gain her composure taking a look at it again.
"800." She said confidently looking over at me as if she had defeated me.
"We'll take it." We both said at the same time making us laugh a little. The lady smiled again and took it over the the check out space. I gave Chan a look of "what the fuck" and he did a sheepish smile. Rubbing the back of his neck he mouthed sorry. I eased my way over with Chan following behind taking out his wallet the same time as me.
"No Channie I got it please.." I said handing the lady my card.
"Oh you better let your boyfriend pay he seems to know what he's doing.."She said looking down at me. Did I look weird? I looked at my clothes and then his. I mean yeah his hoodie is designer but we are both wearing hoodies.
"No I think she can handle it actually." Chan said sounding a bit pissed off. His hand instinctively grabbed my free hand holding it tightly. I smiled at the lady to mock her placing my wallet on the counter. Looking down she notices the Caviar wallet and realizes her mistake.
"Ah yes of course ma'am would you like it boxed as well?" She said bowing her head to show respect.
"Yes." I said flatly earning a laugh from Chan who was looking over at me fondly.
"I'll also take that right there." I said pointing at the Hello Kitty bag on the shelf.
"Ah yes one moment of course!" She said dashing over the grab it. She stopped for a second then rushed towards the back yelling:
"I'll get you a fresh one!"
Once she disappeared through the wall that was a door Chan and I began to laugh. He pulled me into a hug still laughing while rubbing my back.
"Ah oh my god!" I said wiping the happy tears from my face. We gained our composure and look at eachother as we pulled out of the hug.
"You know you didn't have to pay." He said to me quietly.
"Yes I did Chan. You can't let people like that walk all over you ya know." I said pursing my lips in a teasing way.
"I'm just saying I could of protected you. You didn't have to-
He stopped after realizing what he said. His head raised to look in my eyes. I was confused why he stopped talking but I feel like he just had something click in his head.
The woman returned with my purchases and handed them to me in the shopping bag. I paid promptly then we left with the ding of the bell going off again.
Walking back to the dorm we were silent. It felt comfortable though. It was like nothing needed to be said and we knew that. Chan was insistent upon carrying my bag and I reluctantly let him. When we arrived at the dorm we were greeted with hellos from the members and their guests. Everyone was having a lively conversation when Hyunjin's girlfriend approached me.
"Hey! What did you get? I'm nosy sorry.." she said excited sitting down next to me on the sofa.
"Ahhhh baby don't be rude she probably doesn't want to show you." Hyunjin said walking over to her then pulling her into a hug sitting with her.
"No no I'll show you. It's no problem I like Hello Kitty so I got this watch I saw in the window with Chan.... then uh this bag aswell." I said as I took them out of the boxes to show her.
"Broooooo oh my god I got the same exact bag!! Holy shit we are meant to be best friends..." she said excited and she reached over to hug me. Hyunjin laughed and apologized to me for her excitement.
"She likes Sanrio characters a lot. Ah... sorry" he said shyly pulling her away. I hugged her back laughing.
"No it's ok! I do too.." I said as I watched her eyes light up. Without realizing Chan was sitting there observing.
"Hyung are you going to help your girlfriend carry her things back to your room or are you going to sit there like a creep and stare at her." Hyunjin said earning a loud laugh from his partner.
"Ahhh Hyunnie don't be mean to Chan! Don't worry Chan I got your back!" She said shooting finger guns at him. We all laughed and Chan got up and nervously began packing the things back into the boxes with me.
"Are you ok?" I whispered in his ear.
"Yeah I'm good.." he said whispering back picking everything up and standing. I followed him to his room and watched him put my things down on the unused chair. He walked over to the bed sitting down with a deep sigh.
"Oh no .. you only sigh when something is wrong.." I said cautiously approaching him and sitting next to him. He laid back and I took this as an invite to lay across his tummy. Our bodies making an X shape across the bed.
"What are you doing baby.." he asked chuckling a little. I laughed feeling his stomach contort from his laughing. We both began to laugh not being about to stop. The felt too funny. After a few moments we fell silent and he reached for my hand.
"You know.. nothing is wrong. I wanted you to know. I needed today and it help me realize." He said.
"Realize what.." I said scared of his rejection.
"I need you in my life. I want to protect you. I want to laugh with you.. I want you. Please can I have you?" His voice cracked at the end. I sat up then sat on him my legs on each side of his hips. He lifts his neck to see what I'm doing before I engulf him in a big hug almost knocking the wind out of him. I cuddled him close my face in his neck. He responded by wrapping his arms around me.
"You always had me." I said in his neck. He breathed out a sigh of relief. Lifting myself off him my back was arched still in his arms.
"Hey you guys wanna watch the new 90 Day Fiancé with us! Hyunnie and I think it would be fun since..
She stopped talking as they stood in the doorway seeing us in the position we were in.
"Well at least he lets her be on top!" Hyunjin's girlfriend said. I gotta remember to ask her for her name.
"What do you mean?! You were on top last night!?" Hyunjin whinned pulling her into a hug as if it would stop their little argument.
"Barely! It was for 2 minutes but you said you wanted to be on top so you could muffle the sounds of ..
They walked off arguing. I was a bit worried but Chan opened his mouth.
"They aren't actually arguing by the way. That's just how they talk to eachother when they are around others. They are so soft for eachother when no one is around." Chan said as we sat up.
"I kind of wanna watch... 90 day fiancé..." I said to him.
"Yeah they make it sound so good huh?" He said standing up reaching my hand helping me up.
"Yah! Hyunjin save some space on the couch!" Chan said as we walked into the living room.
"Where did they... go?" I asked looking around and through the kitchen.
"Oh heh I uh forgot..." Chan said shyly looking down. I was scared to ask but I did.
"What?" I said.
"Their "arguments" are usually resolved rather quickly.."He said looking over at Hyunjin's room.
"Gross!" I said covering my face embarrassed.
"It's just you and me then I guess.." Chan said plopping himself down on the couch.
"Well we can wait.. you said quickly.." I said sitting next to him hugging his side.
"Oh did I say that.." he said reaching for the remote to turn on the tv.
"I meant loudly.." he said again turning up the volume of the tv of the movie playing.
"Gross!" I said again slapping him lightly.
#bang chan#hyunjin#kpop#stray kids#kpop fics#stray kids reaction#stray kids smut#angst#chan x reader#stray kids fic
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A Present for a Money-Grubbing Yakuza
happy birthday sakyo! here’s a little something i got the idea for while reading act 7 :) this is not well-written, i have an actual assignment demanding my best writing at the moment lmao
word count: 732
this is vaguely sakyoizu but also they’re like the only characters in it
read it on ao3 if you prefer
“It’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Izumi muttered to herself as she passed storefront after storefront. “Matsukawa could have at least given me directions.”
Ever the helpful one, Izumi had offered to pick up the flyers for Autumn Troupe’s new show while Matsukawa visited his family for the weekend. The earlier the company had them, the earlier they could pass them out on Veludo Way. Now, if she could only find the print shop…
Finally, she saw a store advertising poster and photo printing across the street. That had to be it. She walked across the street past a crowd watching a street act and entered the store.
“Hi, I have an order to pick up for the Mankai Company,” she told the man behind the store counter.
“Alright, I’ll go grab it from the back. It’ll only take a minute, miss.” He walked out of her sight to pick up the flyers.
While waiting, something else in the shop caught her eye. It was a small banner that read “We now offer laminating services!” Huh. That might be nice. They could get some of the show posters laminated so they would be long-lasting keepsakes. It might be cheaper than getting them framed, and certainly less prone to breaking if a punch or a can of coffee was thrown their way. Maybe she could convince Sakyo of that.
Right, Sakyo’s birthday was coming up. He had to be the most difficult person to shop for. Even the most well-intentioned of gifts carried a risk of a twenty-minute lecture on the dangers of frivolous spending. But Izumi was stubborn, and she wouldn’t pass up this opportunity to show the man her appreciation for everything he had done for her and the company.
Looking back at the banner advertising affordable lamination, she was reminded of another thing.
The man walked back to the register with a large box. “Here are your flyers, miss. How will you be paying today?”
Izumi’s attention was jerked back to the store counter. “Oh, I have a check here. Thank you!” She exchanged the check for the box and went on her way.
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When she arrived back at the dorm, she dropped the box on the dining room table. How was paper so heavy? Maybe she should have dragged one of the guys with her on her errand.
The kitchen and lounge were oddly empty for a weekend, so she decided to take a walk through the rest of the dorm to see who else would eat lunch if she made some. Azami and Tasuku were kicking a soccer ball around in the courtyard. Perfect.
“Hey, Azami. Can you do me a favor?”
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“I thought I said not to worry about getting me gifts! There are so many things the company needs that this money could have been used for--” Sakyo protested.
Izumi cut him off. “I used my own money for this, and I really think you’ll agree that this was worth it. Come on, let me do this for your birthday! Just open it already.”
“I highly doubt that, but I’ll humor you, Tachibana.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and took the small wrapped package from Izumi’s hands. Wedging a finger under the fold in the wrapping paper, he tore it open and saw what the woman had gotten him.
In his hands was a small stack of laminated cards. Specifically, he stared at the handmade Jin-Gi-Oh cards he had made with a younger Azami, and the cards his mother had made for him, each encased in a thin sheet of protective plastic.
A small “Oh,” left his lips.
“It didn’t cost that much, and now they’re more durable. You’ve held on to them for so long already and I would hate it if they got torn or crumpled, so I wanted to do this for you.”
“How did you even get these?” he asked.
“Oh, uh…” she looked away, embarrassed. “I asked Azami to dig through your stuff to find them. Sorry.”
“That little brat,” he muttered in annoyance, but the tiniest smile betrayed his true feelings.
“So how’s that for a sensible present?” Izumi giggled.
“You get a pass this time. But don’t try to get clever again,” he said, pointing a finger toward her like a scolding parent.
Izumi nodded, smiling. “Sure. Yeah. Whatever you say. Now, let’s go have some dinner.”
#a3!#a3! game#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! fic#a3! fanfiction#a3#sakyo furuichi#izumi tachibana#happy birthday sakyo#furuichi sakyo#tachibana izumi#sakyoizu#My fic#my writing
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Imagine: Joe realizing he’s falling in love with you, but quickly finds himself in serious denial...
(NOTE: This takes place in the same universe as my Valentine’s Day, 1983 fic ((AKA- this story takes place 3 years after that)). I recommend reading that before or after you read this, it doesn’t really matter when.)
Internal conflict, anyone...?
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(June, 1986)
A hot evening in Paris met you both once your afternoon together came to an end. You and Joe had spent the day at each other's sides (being as you both really wanted to go out and about, but neither of you wanted to do it alone), and were now about to get settled into the hotel room you rented at the last second. Yes, you were staying with Steve and Phil in their apartments for a weekend visit, but after careful consideration, the impulsive decision to stay on the opposite side of the city for the night prevailed. Since you knew you could, you decided you would. Besides, 6pm and trying to fight your way across Paris seemed like a bad idea.
"It's like an exclusive sleepover," you teased as you trotted through the door into the lightly colored room, "Ooh, and it's so nice in here too! There's a great view of the pool down below, so that's definitely exclusive."
"Exclusive?" Joe laughed as he entered with all the shopping bags the two of you acquired throughout the day, "Yeah, I can get behind that- 'a luxurious and exclusive sleepover'. 'Specially with all the loot we've gathered.”
He held up the bags with a grin and set them down against the wall.
"'Specially with the sense of fashion we've gathered," you turned the new, ribboned sunhat you were wearing.
He pointed and nagged, "You mean the sense of fashion I gathered for you?"
"Oh please- I found the hat."
"But I paid for it!"
You made your way to the balcony doors and opened them, letting a cooled breeze blow your long, thin shawl forward, "And I thank you immensely for that, but you didn't have to! You were just being nice!"
Joe slid onto the closest bed and warned, "It was calling out your name, Y/N. I couldn't just let you walk out of there without it! It probably would've followed us out of there if we didn't get it."
"Now you see why I suggested you get those knee-highs?" you sat on the other bed with a bounce, "I thought the leopard print was only fitting for Leppard's lead singer."
"And the stitched-in glitter? Was that 'only fitting' too?"
An inhale sounded from you, but you passed it off with a huff of laughter, "Yes- of course it was! Tacky is totally you."
Joe flopped onto his back and laughed out loud; it was all he could think to do. For the whole day, he felt different around you, like there was some sort of strange tension between you both. He didn't think of it as a negative feeling, but more of an awkward feeling than anything. He felt almost like a kid trying to act cool around a role model. And while you didn't notice it, Joe knew he had trouble forming correct sentences whenever you were around that day, and also felt the invisible pressure of your presence. He didn't know what to think of it; this feeling was out of his control. If he didn't know any better, he'd say he was trying to impress you.
Whatever part of his subconscious was making him feel strange around you, he didn't want. He just did his best to ignore it.
"I just like colour, and so do you," came his defense (along with a pair of fanned-out hands), "Tacky or not, colour's just my way to go."
You got up with a scoff, and made your way over to the shopping bags. As you pulled out a new tape player you recently bought, you requested, "Just shut up and pick a tape. A nice room needs some nice tunes- and there's no way for you to be tacky with that."
"Don't test me." he warned with an evil smirk.
Next, you pulled out a small stack of tapes you bought, "C'mon, dude, I've always trusted you with the music picks- don't blow it! Now, I think I might have a mix or two in my purse, but you've got mainly these to choose from."
Joe rolled over onto his stomach and gazed down at the array of tapes you scattered on the floor. He scrunched up his face in playful thought and concluded, "Well, these are all brand new- but I don't think you should break in a new player with a new tape. You gotta go old-fashioned, so I say pop in whatever mix you find first."
With an approving nod, you took off your hat, plopped it on the floor, and ran a hand through your hair to fluff it out a bit. You reached for your purse to drag it over and let your fingers scan around the inside until you came across the tape in question.
"What's this one called?" he asked once the tape was in sight.
" 'Same Old Tunes', since it's just the same songs I always wanna hear- but just a warning, you might hear yourself on this."
He wanted to look annoyed, but came off looking flattered instead. After you got the batteries and the tape inside the player, you pressed play and let the solid beat flow from the new speakers.
Joe's eyes lit up upon hearing the song, "Eddie Money? I expected no less from you."
"Please, the Money Man always seems to find his way on there somehow," you pointed at the player.
Not a second later, what sounded like two loud, separate, but consistent knocks sounded off from the other side of the room's door.
"Come in?" both you and Joe answered confusedly.
The door swung open, and Steve and Phil burst inside. Both ecstatic, they immediately started rambling off to you.
"Y/N we need you!" Phil sputtered first.
"We need you downstairs right now!" Steve urged next.
You turned to them, still sitting on your knees, and put your hands up, "Woah, woah, hold on- what are you two doing here?"
Joe didn't even move a muscle, as if he were used to this kind of thing. He added onto your interrogation, "Yeah, and how did you know we were here? We were just about to call you and-"
"Oh we got out and about; you two are easy to spot and follow," Phil shrugged, pushing the dilemma aside, "Now Y/N, we need you to do us a favor right now-"
"Why though?"
Steve butted in, "And we need you to do this for us with no questions asked. Alright? It's for a bet, we'll tell you that much, but there needs to be no questions from you. What we need you to do is we need you to walk downstairs with us, go out to the pool, and just jump in without a word."
Phil cut him off and held up a finger, "And we need you to pretend you don't know us."
Now utterly perplexed, you turned around and exchanged a look with Joe on the bed. He had nothing to say, but he did raise his eyebrows, pout, and shrug; the traditional expression and gesture of "might as well".
You looked back at the Twins and sighed, "Guess this outfit's safe to dunk... okay, okay, let's go."
They both quietly cheered as you stood up, and as Joe broke down laughing, rolling onto his back.
"Don't move until I get back!" is what you laughed at him as you threw all your change out of your pockets. You slipped your shawl off your shoulders, bunched it up, and threw it at Joe (who caught it with one hand).
"I'll be watching!" he called out just before the door shut. Just like that, he was alone- and alone with the music, no less.
"Got so high we had to pull to the side, we did some shakin' 'til the middle of the night!"
He sat himself up, sitting cross-legged, and gazed down at your shawl which he held in both of his hands. At this point, he realized his heart was pounding. The feeling of it confused him; it was the same sensation he experienced all day around you- the same sensation he felt when you took off your hat and ruffled up your hair, and the same sensation he felt when you took off your shawl and threw it at him.
Again, though, he tried to ignore it, and stood up to watch you fulfill the dare Steve and Phil put you up to.
He took slow steps outside onto the balcony, walking among the hat and the tapes you left on the floor.
"I got a little nervous..."
That's what this feeling was- nervousness. Why was he feeling so damn nervous around you all of a sudden?
"She took her coat off..."
The image of you taking your shawl off came to him suddenly, then it turned into the image of you taking your hat off as well. He saw the tan and white woven stripes being lifted up, the red ribbon flopping, your hair falling down as the pre-sunset sunlight beamed on you in an almost heavenly way, and your hand going up and messing up your locks just the right amount; it was all he could see. In his eyes, the sight of you was something like an earworm he couldn't tune out.
"She looked so pretty..."
Then, you were throwing your shawl at him again, and his mind repeated the song's line without thinking twice.
"She looked so pretty..."
Immediately, he caught himself, and time slowed down.
"Wait, wait, did I just call Y/N pretty?" his conscience nagged him.
"I'm always talkin', baby, talkin' too much-"
Joe looked out at the city bathed in the sunset. Everything was so slowed down and still for the first time that day, and his mind was now vulnerable. Right then and there, his thoughts started to tangle him in their own sort of intrusive web, and he tried to get out of it like his life depended on it.
"That's why you bought her the hat," one voice said, "You thought she looked so pretty in it."
It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it persisted. He questioned it and tried to reason with it.
"Do I think Y/N's pretty? Is that why I'm nervous around her?"
Another voice in his head droned on, "Duh, of course she's pretty, but it's just a platonic feeling. She is good-looking; gorgeous, even-"
His heart dropped into his stomach at the word "gorgeous"- it also wasn't what he wanted to hear. He was only making it worse.
So then why was he thinking it to begin with?
Again, though, Joe shook away the feeling altogether; he spotted Steve and Phil out on the pool patio several floors below, and they met up with two other guys he'd never seen before. The singer smiled to himself, wanting to see if all went according to plan. Sure enough, a few seconds later, he saw you walk outside, pick up speed, and then jump right into the water without hesitation.
Joe let himself laugh as the Terror Twins cheered, and as you popped to the surface of the water. You looked up at him from far below and waved, sporting a big grin.
Joe waved back as well, almost in a daze, then got sucked back into the web.
"See, that right there; why are you so fucking nervous around her all of a sudden? It's not like we've got any romantic tension with each other!"
Down below, Steve and Phil pulled you out of the pool, and you each gave them a sopping wet hug. Your laughter and their cheers of triumph echoed up to the balcony, and the acoustics of it all prickled a latent memory of Joe's. It was a memory of a different hotel, also in France, but with a certain song playing in the distance. The faint memory gave him the heart-pounding feeling as well; it had to be associated with you.
He gasped to himself, and suddenly the full memory flooded back to him.
"We kissed-!" he thought. "Valentine's Day, three years ago, we KISSED- how the hell could I forget something like that?!"
The fact reached his mouth, and he very quietly repeated it to himself out loud, in denial, "I kissed Y/N..."
He couldn't believe himself, but he liked the sound of the sentence. He hated that he liked the sound of it. It was almost like a sudden dream come true.
"Kissing Y/N was never a dream of mine though, was it? No, no, it couldnt've been..."
But then again, he recalled enjoying the kiss. He thought about it a lot the next day, and the next day after that. After the next next day, however, he just let it go. Why make trouble over something that would just ruin a good friendship? There was no use being hung up on it if he didn't have any feelings for you.
"I love that little girl, and I just can't get enough."
Again, his mind repeated the song without thinking twice.
"I love that little girl, and I just can't get enough."
Finally, his mind delivered the killing blow. He froze, and let it hit him.
"Wait, am I in love with Y/N...?"
For that second- that very long second- reality was put on hold. Joe remained frozen, and gazed off at the sight of Paris before him. The evening wind blew his hair back as it picked up some speed, and he shivered in the heat. If he thought that same thing at any other time that day, he would've dismissed it immediately. However, it seemed to hit him rather hard right then and there. He just couldn't understand why. It was only making the web pull him in more.
"Is that what I was feeling all day...?"
At that moment, Joe realized that the only way out of this web was to consult the others for advice. However, he knew he couldn't. Yes, they were closer than brothers to him, but you were also practically one of those brothers. Whatever he was feeling, he knew he shouldn't be feeling it about a fellow brother. This was the last thing he could tell anyone, and he knew it instantly. It was nothing but a mistake in the making.
Despite that, he still tried to picture what everyone else would say to him. Maybe doing so, he liked to think, would help himself get untangled.
Suddenly, Rick appeared next to him, and he asked, "Why are you thinking about Y/N so much right now?"
"I'm not trying to!" Joe pictured himself being defensive right off the bat, "I did spend the whole day with her..."
The vision of the drummer scoffed at him, "Hate to break it to you, mate, but you spend almost every day with her. Why is today the day that you're all tongue-tied?"
"The hell if I know, but it's not like she's the only thing on my mind..."
And with that, you were suddenly taking off your hat and ruffling your hair again, and then you were throwing your shawl at him and trotting out the door, and then you were sitting with all the tapes, and the sun was shining on you from the balcony. You were the only thing on his mind.
"You want to be what's on her mind, though," Sav suddenly chimed in, taking a seat on the bed, "Because you just can't spend enough time with her. You're always looking forward to being with her."
Rick pointed out, "And oh boy, did you soak up all the Y/N time today."
Sav leaned back and chuckled at the comment, "You really did, yeah."
As Joe looked between both of them, he didn't know what to say. Instead, he let his eyes drift over to the television. He blinked, and suddenly it was on, and you were on its screen, going through a stack of tapes you might buy. Rick walked over to it, changed the channel, now making it display you looking out at the Seine. He pressed it again, and then you were taking a picture of the singer at a crosswalk. Again, and you were trying on the red-ribboned hat in the accessories shop.
"Every moment from today that you're remembering," the bassist went on, softer this time, "Is a moment where you thought she looked pretty, right? Those were times where you just wanted to look at her. You do realize you could've looked at her all day, right?"
"Yeah... but I did..."
And he did. He couldn't deny.
"It takes a lonely night with nowhere to go..."
Joe turned back to the outside, and Steve was next to him on the balcony now.
He beckoned him to watch the scene on the patio more, "And look at her down there, making a good time happen with us. Times like these always happen when she's around, right? Don't you want times like these to last? You know that's only possible if she sticks around- and I mean for a long time."
"Just call Rosanna, it's a hell of a show!"
"Yeah... yeah, that's true..." Joe sighed.
Steve leaned on the railing, teasing him, "So you admit you want her around all the time?"
Joe scoffed at the guitarist who wasn't there, "Well, yeah, of course I do- she's wonderful! You like her too! We all do! It's not like I'm totally engrossed by her."
When he turned around and began to walk inside, he looked up, and Phil was suddenly in front of him.
"Then why are you still holding her shawl?"
Joe looked down at the garment in his grasp, and his heart sped up again- as if he were holding part you in his hands. He hadn't been aware that he was still holding it, but he couldn't let it go. He was stuck, and didn't know what to do with it. He looked up, desperate for more advice, but his band mates were gone.
"Shit," he breathed, fixing his gaze on the bunched-up fabric.
He slowly returned to the bed, and laid himself back down. His fingers were still tangled in your shawl, and he stared blankly ahead at the ceiling. Now, he was at a loss.
Sav appeared out of thin air again, and looked down at him, "Calm down, mate. You've just got a crush- it's nothing big!"
"If it's just a crush..." Joe tried to tell him, hating the word of choice, "Then why is it so... paralyzing?"
Sav straightened himself up and bit his lip, "Oh, that is a good point..."
Then Sav was gone, and a new song was playing.
"I do recall, those were the best times most of all..."
Rick was back as well.
"It's just a phase- you won't feel like this next week. Just wait it out, you know?"
"I've been feeling like this for weeks, Rick," Joe spoke up to the ceiling, "Maybe even months. I never knew it until now but- this nervousness, or whatever it is, it's been sticking around for a while. How long until it passes?"
"In the heat with a blue jean girl, burning love comes once in a lifetime..."
The drummer sighed and stood up, "Oh god, I can't tell you that..."
Then Rick was gone, and Steve and Phil were on either side of the bed.
Steve talked to him first, "If you're this paranoid of being in love with her-"
"Don't say that, mate!" Phil playfully barked at him, then leaned in close to whisper, "Joe doesn't like that word-!"
"What- 'love'? Well he better get used to it, because that's what it's looking like to me."
Joe covered his face with a hand, and kept the other on your shawl.
Steve went on, "Anyway, if you're this paranoid, how the hell are you gonna survive the night with her here?"
Phil made a small gasping noise, and looked down at Joe, "Oh my god, is that why you suggested getting a hotel for the night? You thought that that Valentine's Day kiss would have a part two?"
"No! No- I agreed with her- I wasn't the one who suggested it!"
"Then that's why you agreed. It was just an opportunity to spend more time with her," Phil reasoned.
"Okay, look," Joe sat up, and turned to Steve, "Maybe you were right in saying I want her around more often, and maybe I do think about her a lot, but I don't care about any of that right now. All I want is to define this feeling as something that's not serious. I just wanna hear that it's not real, and I want to believe that. I want to be satisfied with that. Okay?"
The Terror Twins fell silent and exchanged looks with each other. They really had no other choice but to tell him.
Steve patted Joe's shoulder and said, "But we're you, and we've told you a bunch of times that it's not real. You're still not satisfied. Maybe you better listen to that."
Then the younger of the two guitarists was gone. Joe stared at the empty space in front of him, and laid back down with a sigh of resignation. At this point, Phil got up and stood at the foot of the bed.
"I think you're gonna have to be on your own for this one, mate."
"Yeah, thanks for that."
He attempted to get through to the singer, "But why is the thought of this scaring you so much if it's not true?"
Joe didn't want to answer anymore; he'd had just about enough and was ready to accept defeat. His silence didn't stop his friend's voice from continuing, however.
"Oh... you're scared that it's becoming true..."
Joe met him with more silence.
"And you know that you can't love her, cos she's part of the crew. You think you shouldn't love her, cos' it's 'not right'..."
A breeze blew through the room again as Joe continued to stare at the mirage of the guitarist with quiet annoyance.
"You and Y/N have just been 'a little bit more than work pals' for a few years- and you're afraid anything else would just be... wrong..."
Joe's head tilted towards Phil, eyes creating a dark, fed-up expression, "Laying out the facts for me isn't helping at all."
"Well, then... I've got a proposal," Phil clapped his hands and pointed at him. He took a few slow steps towards the bed, and sat on the end of it.
"You do?" Joe sat up, looking hopeful, as if he might finally have a way out of this mess.
"I don't think you're in love with Y/N."
Joe's eyes lit up, and he gaped at his friend's sudden conclusion, "You don't?"
"No, no, of course not," Phil shook his head, "Too rushed."
"Oh, thank god. What a relief..." Joe closed his eyes and laid back down. Just like that, the web was gone, and he could go on with life normally as if this had never happened. Those words were all he needed to hear.
"'Too rushed'-" Joe thought to himself, "How simple a phrase, yet the relief it provides is overwhelming. Can't believe I didn't think of that sooner!"
Just when he thought he was in the clear, he realized Phil was still there, staring at him.
"You're not off the hook so easy, Joe." he frowned.
Joe scoffed at him, "Why not? You gave me what I needed- you can pop away now!"
Phil gave him a smile of sympathy- the slight smile someone puts on before telling bad news. That was all it took to make Joe's heart leap again.
"You aren't in love with her, but wow- are you falling pretty hard."
Then Phil was gone, and Joe was alone with the music again.
"Those summer nights are callin', stone in love..."
Then that was it. That was his death sentence: not in love, but falling pretty hard. Somehow, that was even worse than being fully in love with you.
Joe was still laying motionless on the bed with your shawl long after Phil had disappeared. His own words kept repeating themselves over and over again in his mind. Each thought was another seed that branched off and formed new interpretations of the same, fatal conclusion.
"I'm falling in love..." was what it always came to, though.
"I'm falling in love... with Y/N."
He didn't want to be thinking this- he knew it wasn't right at all. Being a lover- your lover- wasn't supposed to sound comforting to him at all. Maybe it felt inevitable, but it also felt wrong in some way. He knew he shouldn't let things come to this- but he couldn't help it. If he was falling, that didn't necessarily mean he was going to land. That's what made it scarier. How long would he be stuck like this for? He'd rather bury it deep in his mind and just forget he ever thought of any of it.
And yet, it was all he could see when he closed his eyes; the thought of being with you. It drove him mad.
"She looked so pretty..." one corner of his mind said freely again, now that all the damage was done and he could think with ease.
It kept replaying over and over again in his head; all of it- all of the moments from that day that he loved. It started with you smiling at him, you taking your hat off, you ruffling up your hair as the curtains blew behind you, you looking out at the city, you smiling, you taking your hat off, you ruffling up your hair as the curtains blew behind you, you smiling-
And then the door to the room suddenly opened, and Joe was brought back to reality. Time sped up to its normal speed again, and his eyes snapped out of their closed state.
You were now in the doorway, and soaking wet with a towel around your shoulders. Joe sat up without even thinking, dropping your shawl on the floor in the process. Just like that, all was back to normal.
"Well that was unexpected!" you laughed, walking over to him with excitement, "But it did us a lot of good-!"
He watched as you revealed a bottle of wine (very expensive wine- if that) from underneath your towel, and held it out for him to take.
Joe, still not having said a word, took the bottle, his jaw dropping as he stared at it.
"How the hell did you-?"
"It was part of the bet that those two idiots made- they gave me part of their share," you told him, smiling proudly.
"What kind of bet involved you- specifically you- jumping into the pool fully clothed?"
"Oh, I'll tell you in a bit- I'd rather get dried first," you began to dry off your hair and walk into the bathroom, "They ran the story by me real quick as we walked down there. It involves two idiots that aren't Steve or Phil, a golf ball, a lot of alcohol, and ten strangers."
"Sounds like a normal day for them if you ask me."
You laughed, "Oh, believe me, it's not the worst thing they've ever done. And they're not gonna skin us alive for flaking out on them for the night- so I call that a win."
Joe glanced at the bottle in his hands again and chuckled, "So now what do we do with this?"
"We drink?" came your reply.
"Sounds good enough to me- but what are those two doing now? Are we gonna run into them at all or...?"
You walked back out, holding a hair dryer in your hands, "I don't think so, but we may have to bail them out of jail tonight. I already told them we've never seen them before in our lives."
"Good call- but I still wanna hear this bet story-!"
You rolled your eyes, put the hair dryer down, and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. You threw it on your own bed and sat down, ready to tell him the tale as your tape kept playing on.
"Golden girl, I'll keep you forever..."
"So earlier today, those two went to a bar, and a golf ball bounced up and landed in Phil's drink..."
As you started off with the recounting of events, Joe took in the entire sight of you. He paid attention to every detail of your face, your voice, your hair- everything. As he did so, he could still hear the words he imagined Phil taunting him with:
"But wow- are you falling pretty hard..."
And maybe he was, but with you in front of him right then and there, he felt perfectly content with that. If that was the case, he figured he had no choice but to ride it out and watch it happen. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing after all. You seemed happy with the way things were, so things could only get better, right? Either way, Joe was falling in love, and he knew he'd let himself fall until he hit rock bottom.
"Can't help myself, I'm falling stone in love."
----
“Shakin” by Eddie Money
“Stone In Love” by Journey
(x)
#def leppard#def leppard fanfic#def leppard x reader#joe elliott x reader#original content#i wrote this last summer (2019) and decided it was finally time it saw the light of day#i wrote this before the valentine's day thing rpgmotmrtrhw#i just had a vague concept of that story and wrote it like 2 months after i finished this#this was at least 80% inspired by the song Shakin#I'm proud of this one bc I don't normally write something that has the whole plot as an internal conflict#but this was fun to write- especially all the visions of the guys#yes I drew that illustration at the very very very end#I once had someone actually buy a print of that from me uwu
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Sweetheart: Chapter Two
Note: I formally apologize for just how long it has takin me to complete this chapter, I hope you enjoy my loves! (Also I’m posting on mobile, so I apologize if the format is strange)
Feat: Yan! Billy Hargrove x Soft! Male reader
Warnings: N/A
Chapter rating: 16+
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The blaring of your alarm clock made you stir, the same obnoxious beeping following you in your nightmares. You look at the clock,11:00 am. Softly pressing the snooze button, you began to drift back into your dream lands. A sudden knock on the front door startled you. You stumbled from your bed and rushed down the stairs to open the door.
“Hey sleeping beauty,” Steve laughs.
“Shut up,” you said, annoyed, “You’re the one that kept me up all night.” You walked away from the door.
“Hey, I thought we were going to the mall,” He babbled, closing the door behind him as he entered your home. You and Steve had planned to go job hunting at the mall today, which you had forgotten
“Well do you want me to go like this,” you said quickly, as to cover up your forgetfulness, while gesturing to your ‘outfit’, which consisted of your grey pajama shorts, and one of Steve’s old basketball jerseys.
“Well go change then,” he huffed. He took a seat in the lounge while you ran upstairs. Closing the door of your room behind you, you plucked a pastel lilac top from your wardrobe and settled on a pair of light-wash jeans to pair it with. You popped on a pair of white high-tops before exiting the room, grabbing a baby blue windbreaker on your way out. You stumbled down the stairs, meeting Steve in the lounge.
“Ready?” he asked. You simply nodded and followed Steve towards the front door. He held the door agape for you to exit through. You mutter a quick thank you and approach Steve’s car, taking note of muddy boot prints scattering the foot-path. Your feet, in comparison to the prints, were much smaller. You wondered who the foot-prints might belong to. But your thoughts were soon interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.
“Let’s get going goldfish” Steve laughed.
“Hey! I am not a goldfish!” You pouted. whilst climbing into his car.
“Well you sure do have the attention span of one,” Steve joked.
“Hmm” you pouted once again now facing away from him.
The car ride was quiet, for about five minutes. For the remainder of the short trip, you and Steve talked about which jobs you might get.
“You should work at that ice cream place,” you teased.
“Ha! No. Have you seen the uniform? No way in hell I’d put that thing on!” He replied.
“Oh yeah, can’t let the hat ruin your glorious locks,” you teased further.
“Yeah, yeah, okay I get it. Your just jealous your hair isn’t as soft as mine,” he poked back.
“Oh definitely,” you giggled. Shortly after your conversation had ended, you arrived at the Starcourt mall. You quickly clamber out of the car, and out into the large parking lot. Steve soon joined you at the passenger side of his car, and you both silently walked towards the building. You slowed for a moment to glance at a puddle on the pavement. In its reflection you saw a blue Camaro.
Looking up you saw the car, very similar to the one that belonged to Billy. Your heart-rate quickened at the thought of Billy showing up at the mall. But you simply brushed it off and continued walking alongside Steve. Once you arrived at the doors, you held the door open for Steve with a short “ladies first.” He scoffed dramatically as he walked inside, you following behind him.
“Where to y/n?” Steve asked, waving his arm towards the multitudes of store-fronts. You took a moment to look over the stores before settling your eyes on the Scoops-Ahoy.
“We gotta apply there,” you pointed to the small ice cream shop.
“No way,” Steve quipped whilst turning to walk away. You swiftly grabbed his arm though.
“C’mon! It’ll be fun!” You said, practically dragging him towards the sailor themed store-front.
“Alright, alright,” he sped up as to meet your now quickened pace. The two of you walked past the benches in the center of the mall, in which a younger girl was seated, chatting with her friends.
You entered the store first, taking in the strong vanilla scent of the frozen desserts. Your mouth watered at the smell. You and Steve walked to the counter to ask for job applications.
“Hey, do you have any job applications?” Steve asked the girl behind the counter. She simply gestured vaguely to a small stack of paper and a cup of pens.
“Over there.”
You hopped over to the stack and grabbed two sheets of paper, and two pens. While Steve found a booth, too new to be comfortable, to sit at while you filled the sheets out. You shuffled the few steps over to the booth, sat across from Steve, and slid the paper and pen towards him.
He silently took the pen and paper and went to filling the sheet with his information, while you did the same. The words on the paper ran together in your mind, balling up in loops and knots. You soon pulled yourself out of your thoughts though, and untangled the words from your brain. After what seemed like a little too long, you and Steve had both completed the applications and handed them to the girl behind the counter.
An unsettling feeling filled your system. A feeling in which you briskly shoved aside, as you had many other jobs to apply for, and you were not in the mood to be ill.
After many pen scribbles and a few new applications later, you had applied to almost every store in the mall. Exhaustion washed over you, as you walked towards you final destination. On the way, Steve had announced that he needed to use the restroom. So you waited by the drinking fountain for him to return. As you waited, a soothingly rough voice filled your ears.
“Well hello there sweetheart~”
#im: sleep deprived#sweetheart#sweetheart chapter two#billy hargrove#yandere billy hargrove#yandere billy hargrove x male reader#yandere billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x male reader#billy hargrove x reader
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