#deep fried blue fuck is such a nice phrase
Note
Hi moot! Hope you're doing well! <:)
Can i request about pilot harvey meeting the farmer (GN) ? (Those HCs about the bachelors archieving their dreams is living rent free in my head for a while )
Maybe harvey taking a break from aviation after an accident and spending some time in pelican town to rest ? 👀
It could be HCs or a little oneshot, whatever you're comfortable with!
(If Anything just sorry in advance)
Hey moot! This one was a monster, and it took me fucking ages(sorry abt that), but I hope you like it all the same!!
Bachelor/ettes Achieving Their Dreams is here.
3296 words, mentions of scarring, burns, fire, some swearing, and Pierre's relationship with Abigail is pretty... not nice. GN!Farmer, Pilot!Harvey. Half edited, so excuse any awkward phrasing or typos. I tried my best. :') This one is pretty lengthy, so it gets a cut. Enjoy!
When the creatures of the valley are sleeping, and the streetlights lining the town square still glow faintly, Harvey wakes up and starts his day.
Like clockwork, he rolls out of bed to wash the sleep out of his eyes and shock his body awake with a shower. It’s a routine he picked up in the early years of his career, when he was lowest in seniority and always stuck with the longest and earliest flights. Sixteen years later and he still does it, even though there’s no reason to wake up early anymore.
Hopping out of the shower at half past five, he wrings the water out of his curls with a towel, and plucks his glasses from where he left them folded neatly on a washcloth. He wipes vapor off of the lenses with it, holds them up to the light to make sure they’re dry, and then settles them on his nose.
The world turns clear, and a flash of pearly white at the front of his bangs catches his attention. Harvey frowns.
He’s lucky his hairline isn’t receding just yet, but he scowls at how his age is starting to show in the streaks of white, in sharp contrast against the rest of his chocolate brown hair. He flicks a dangling curl away from his brow, and leans in close to the mirror, eyeing his jawline in disappointment. He runs a palm over the curve of his cheek, and sighs.
He needs to shave again.
Well, need is a strong word, because he doesn’t—not anymore, anyway. But old habits die hard.
That takes at least ten minutes, and he’s been shaving every other day for half of his life, but he’s still nursing a nick under his jaw as he walks into the kitchenette. The apartment is cool compared to the sauna he’s made of the bathroom, and his skin blooms with goosebumps when he opens the fridge.
He drags out the almost empty carton of eggs from the back of the top shelf, and pulls a pack of bread from the other side. There are two slices left, not counting the ends. He sighs, and knows he’ll have to pick up groceries from Pierre’s in a few hours when the shop opens. Harvey digs the last of his coffee grounds out of the cabinet above the stove. He’ll need to pick up another bag of those as well, and his head twinges at the thought. His grocery list is getting longer the more he thinks about it.
He shakes the thoughts away. Coffee and food first, before everything else.
He fries up the last of the eggs, toasts and lightly butters the bread, and sits at his tiny dining table with a full mug. The window beside him is closed and the curtains are pulled, but the cloth is sheer enough that he can look outside and see the world slowly start to wake up. There are chittering finches in the tree branches, a brown rabbit hopping through the underbrush of Jodi’s backyard, and if he straightens up enough, he can see pure white gulls gliding over the deep stretch of blue beyond Pelican Town’s beaches.
He eats slowly, gazing out the window as the sun finally rises above the mountains and bathes the valley in soft yellow light.
Harvey smiles and pulls the curtains back. It’s still too cold to slide the window open—the valley is just three weeks out of winter, and you’d have to be a madman to subject yourself to the early morning chill—but the warmth of the sun should reach him through the glass just fine. He picks up his mug and takes a swig, settling in for his breakfast overlooking Pelican Town.
The peace is short-lived, however. By half past 8, his dishes are empty and clean in the rack adjacent to the sink, and his computer is on the table, open to a 3-day-old email from Steph, his coworker. He scrolls up to the beginning of the message and skims over it again.
Hey Harv, just checking in again. How are you doing these days? How are your arms? Has your back healed? I’m sure you’re following doctor’s orders, but I wanted to check in to be sure. By the way, I talked to Ricky yesterday, and he says he’s doing good, but he hasn’t heard from you in months. I don’t mean to pry, and you know I don’t mind the radio silence, but he’s your best friend, Harv... Reach out to him, will you? He misses you. We all do. Even the trainees have been asking about you (I think they just miss getting drinks on your dime though). Take care of yourself, maybe go outside for a bit, you old fart. I’ve heard the weather in the south is lovely this time of year. Send me some pictures, okay? Talk soon.
Harvey sighs and runs an exasperated hand over his face.
How is he doing?
His back still aches occasionally, but Caroline’s aerobics class helps with the worst of the pain, and the burns on his arms healed a long time ago. The scars are a nasty reminder, sure, but his skin doesn’t feel tender to the touch anymore.
Point is, he could schedule a physical tomorrow, and his doctor would clear him for flight by the end of next week—but that’s kind of the problem.
Harvey looks at his coat closet. In the farthest corner, hidden under his uniforms, his model kits collect dust. He threw everything in there when he first arrived in the valley, and he’s pretty sure he’d have to lean all of his weight back just to get the door open. He goes tense when he hears an engine in the sky, but he doesn’t look up anymore.
Harvey pauses.
When did he stop?
He glances at the time, and closes his computer with a sigh. His chair makes an awful screech against the tile as he stands, and he beelines for his dresser, yanking the top drawer open to grab the first barely presentable thing he sees. An old university t-shirt; one of the few with no holes.
He tosses it on his bed, swipes the top pair of jeans out of his hamper, and unravels his robe.
Harvey gets dressed quickly and only spares himself a quick glance in the mirror to check that everything is sitting fine. It’s certainly not the picture of professionalism expected by his employers, but they’re not here, so as long as he doesn’t look like he’s just rolled out of bed, that’s good enough.
Harvey slips on his most comfortable pair of shoes, shoves his wallet and keys in his pocket, and steps outside.
The sun assaults his pupils as he makes his way down the stairs, and he squints against the glare until his eyes adjust. It’s nicer out now, and he breathes in the sweet smell of tulips—Evelyn’s flowers of choice this year for the planters lining the square. The dogwood trees are also blooming, leaving the cobblestone littered with white and pink petals. Harvey closes his eyes and inhales slowly, feeling peaceful.
“Shit!—”
Harvey jumps, his eyes flying open in surprise at the sound of wood thunking against glass, heavy like a gong. A few birds leap from their perches in the trees, and a squirrel dives under a bush. He turns to Pierre’s, searching for the source of the sound, and finds a stranger with a giant crate in their arms, fighting to balance it as they reach for the doors.
Harvey realizes that it is not one, but two crates.
Stacked on top of each other.
One of them is starting to tip over.
“Woah, woah!” They yelp, and Harvey moves without thinking.
The grit of the wood presses against his palms as he heaves the top crate out of their arms, and he looks at the stranger with a smile.
“Uh, hello,” Harvey says. They blink, perfectly silent, and he grimaces. “Sorry, you looked like you were going to lose it.”
It’s not as smooth as he’d like, but it does snap them out of whatever trance they were in.
“Oh, no! Thank you for saving it, it would’ve been bad if I lost that one. It’s, uh.” They smile, and there’s an anxious edge to their voice. “That one’s full of eggs.”
Harvey blinks down at the crate, and then the pavement. “I can’t imagine the mess that would’ve made.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Pierre would ever buy from me again.” They wince. “He probably wouldn’t let me near his shop at all, actually.”
“That man does know how to hold a grudge.” Harvey glances at the doors, the glass glinting and reflecting the bright morning sun directly in his eyes. He blinks hard, willing the after images away. “I’m just here to pick up some groceries, but would you like some help bringing these in?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to, but I’d be very grateful if you did, stranger.” They smile. Something warm settles in his gut at the invitation.
“My name is Harvey,” He says sheepishly.
“It’s nice to meet you, Harvey. I’m the new farmer.” Harvey doesn’t bother mentioning he never met the old one. They nod at the dirt path leading to the bus stop, and he glances over his shoulder. “I moved into the farmhouse down the road a few weeks ago.”
His eyebrows wrinkle a bit. “You moved in a few weeks ago and I’ve only just met you?”
“I’ve been pretty busy. The farm wasn’t in the best shape, so I’ve been clearing the land, and trying to raise enough money to restore the farmhouse.” The Farmer lifts the crate in their arms a bit. “Hence the crates.”
Harvey looks down at the crate in his arms. “How many chickens do you even have? There’s like fifty eggs in here.”
“I started off with two, but I’ve got eight now. They make a lot.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Harvey readjusts the crate, a burn building in his arms. He’s surprised it took so long, though. Maybe the aerobics class is doing more for him than just fixing the back pain.
Harvey nearly topples backward as the front doors swing open, but rights himself at the last moment. The crate of eggs remains safe in his arms, even though the glare that Abigail fixes him with makes his knees weak, and the sword strapped to her hip doesn’t help, either.
“Harvey,” she grits out, and he thinks it might be a greeting?
He doesn’t have the opportunity to reply, though, because she levels the farmer with an even nastier scowl, and storms off toward Marnie’s. Pierre appears just then, keys in hand and a matching scowl on his face. Harvey doesn’t have to wonder where Abigail got it from.
“Fucking brat,” Pierre spits, jamming the keys into the front doors to unlock them as Harvey and the Farmer share an awkward look.
“Uh, rough morning, Pierre?” The Farmer asks.
“That would be the understatement of the fucking century, Farmer.” Pierre waves them in, and Harvey follows dutifully. The general store is always warmer than it is outside, and in the winter that’s a boon, but right now Harvey can already feel sweat clinging to the nape of his neck. He rolls his shoulders back, and that helps only marginally. “What have you got for me today?”
“One crate of eggs, one of produce.”
“Good. Set them both on the counter. I’ll get my scale and ring you up.”
“Yes sir,” The farmer heaves their crate onto the counter beside Pierre’s register, and Harvey sets the eggs beside it as gently as he can. When he looks up, the door to Pierre’s home is swinging shut.
“Wow. This spat must’ve been really bad if Pierre is cursing,” The Farmer muses, crossing their arms and leaning against the counter.
“I've never seen him this angry.” Harvey heaves a breath. “I wonder what happened this time.”
“I'm not close with either of them, so I couldn’t guess.” The Farmer shrugs.
“I didn’t think you were,” Harvey whistles. “Certainly not Abigail, with the way she looked at you. What did you even do?”
The Farmer sighs. “Lewis thinks it’s because she wanted to buy the deed to the old farm, and is pissed that I got it through birth.”
“And what do you think?” Harvey asks.
They shrug again. “I’m not about to hunt her down to find out.”
“She’d probably cut you down if you did,” Harvey says grimly, shuddering at the memory of the sword gleaming on her hip. The Farmer chuckles.
“She could certainly try.” The Farmer rolls their eyes, a smug smile playing on their lips, and Harvey suddenly gets the sense that he is very, very out of his depth. They look at him curiously after the silence stretches for a few moments longer than necessary, and Harvey swallows hard.
“Groceries.” He says intelligently, and the Farmer’s eyes slowly crinkle at the edges.
“That is what you originally came here for.”
“I should go do that.”
“You should.” The Farmer nods, their smile unmoving, and Harvey stiffly makes his way to the end of the first aisle.
He can feel the Farmer’s eyes on him the whole way, his eyes skimming the shelf as he tries very hard to ignore the prickling heat climbing up his neck. He slips out of sight, rubs the back of his neck as the feeling disappears, and starts looking for his coffee.
The door in the far corner of the shop swings open again, and Pierre waltzes back into the store with an easy smile on his face. Harvey really should be used to the mood swings by now, but when Pierre’s entire personality changes with the breeze, the whiplash is enough to leave everything spinning.
“Sorry for the wait, Farmer. My scale wasn’t where I left it.”
“Oh, no worries, Pierre. I’m in no rush.”
“No offense, but I don’t believe you,” Pierre jokes. “You’re always in a rush.”
“Not today, thankfully. I’m spending the rest of the day at the beach.”
Harvey hears Pierre clunk his scale on the counter. “The beach? It’s still a bit too cold to take a dip, isn’t it?”
“Oh no, I’m not going swimming, I’m fishing.”
Harvey’s never been the type to eavesdrop, but the store is small and they’re not even ten feet away, so he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter, does he?
He frowns. It’s a poor excuse and he knows it.
He refocuses on the bags in front of him, and sighs. Pierre has a small selection of coffee, and it’s expensive, but it’s better than Joja. Harvey shudders. He would rather pour hot wax on his own tongue than buy coffee from Joja.
Harvey grabs two bags of beans, stands up, and plucks one loaf of plain white bread from the top shelf. He glances down at everything in his arms. He probably should’ve grabbed a basket.
“Alright, that's the last of it!”
“Thank you, Pierre, I appreciate it.” Harvey perks up.
“Oh no, it’s no trouble at all. Your farm is already doing a lot of good for the local economy, even with that cursed Joja Mart across the river.” Harvey nearly snorts. No one in town is as vocal about their hatred for the big blue building as Pierre.
“Give it time, Pierre. It’ll close down eventually.”
“In a perfect world, it never would’ve opened in the first place.”
“Have a good day, Pierre,” The Farmer calls over their shoulder, and Harvey tenses when he realizes the sound of their steps is getting closer. Harvey looks up, and the Farmer is smiling at him, half concealed by the rack as they peer around the corner. “Hey.”
“Uh, hi again.” Harvey manages a tiny wave past everything in his arms, and the Farmer’s smile widens.
“Just wanted to thank you again for the help,” The Farmer says warmly. Harvey opens his mouth to reply, wanting to say something about it being no trouble, but they’re already dipping out of sight. Regret sours in his throat.
But then they’re reappearing a moment later, still leaning past the corner of the aisle like they’re in some goofy movie poster, with a basket hanging from their hand. “Need a basket?”
Harvey wonders if the twitch of his lips is visible under the fluff of his mustache, and walks up to them. “I do, thank you.”
“I think this is the least I can do, considering.” The Farmer holds it out to him, keeping the handles out of his way as he dumps the bags of coffee and bread into the basket. “I would’ve lost a lot of income if you hadn’t lent me a hand when you did, so thank you.”
“It wasn’t any trouble.”
“Maybe not, but I appreciate you all the same. It’s nice being out here, surrounded by people who actually give a damn about each other.” Harvey stares at them in surprise. “Even the nicest people in Zuzu wouldn’t have given me a second glance.”
“You’re from the city?”
They nod. “Not by birth, but yeah. I was living in Zuzu for a few years until now.”
Harvey takes in their sunkissed skin, and the sturdiness of their arms. They look like they’ve been in the fields for years. “I never would’ve guessed.”
“That’s probably a good thing.” They hold his basket out again, and Harvey takes it.
“Thank you, Farmer.”
They smile, and the flecks of dirt on their face catch his eyes like diamonds. “You’re welcome. Have a good day, Harvey. It was nice meeting you.”
“You too,” Harvey mumbles as they finally leave, the bell above the doors cheerily punctuating their departure.
It takes him a long time to shake himself out of it, but he manages eventually. Harvey plucks a few extra things off the shelves, and when his basket is appropriately heavy, he makes his way to the counter where Pierre is busy separating eggs into cartons.
“Morning, Harvey,” Pierre greets him familiarly, and Harvey nods his head.
“Morning, Pierre.” Harvey clunks his basket on the counter. “Can I get two cartons of eggs too, please?”
Pierre checks him out quickly, and Harvey is out of there two minutes later with his arms full and his wallet a little lighter.
He climbs up the steps to his apartment, and pauses at his door. He looks up toward the bus stop; squints hard to see past it. The trees block most of his view, but he can still make out the hint of open farmland between the branches. Harvey blinks and turns to his door, his keys jingling obnoxiously between his fingertips as he unlocks it and steps inside. He’s being weird.
He sets his bags on the kitchen counter and starts unloading his groceries.
Later, just past noon, Harvey is sitting in front of his computer, once again failing to type up a worthwhile reply to Steph. He gets a sentence down, maybe two, and then he’s grumbling to himself and deleting everything again. And again. And again.
And again.
Harvey thunks his head against the tabletop in defeat, and groans loudly.
“This isn’t working,” Harvey mumbles, as if the world needed any confirmation.
He sits up, his forehead aching faintly, and looks out the window. Beyond the square, beyond the thick line of trees, he can see the ocean glittering under the sun, deep blue and endless.
All it takes is a tug in his chest, and Harvey gets up, puts his shoes on, and walks out the door.
34 notes
·
View notes
Note
My eyes is twitching BECAUSE WHO IN THE DEEP FRIED BLUE FUCK WOULD STEAL AN ENTIRE SERIES….to aim it towards South Park fan😨😭?
LIKE AT LEAST MAKE IT BTS OR SMTHN 🫤 if it was jungkook as jaemin at least i would be looking thru the plagiarism like 🥰🤭🤬 instead of ⁉️😟🤬
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
feelings are fatal (20/24)
pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader
word count: 4,030
summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.
chapter warnings: swearing, violence, fluffiness
masterlist
a/n: I really hope
There was something to be said about how much Bucky Barnes cared for the people in his life that he considered his friends, his family.
Hell, he’d jumped out of many, many aircrafts for Sam, even though he wouldn’t admit it was for him.
He sent his therapist flowers and a gift for her birthday, despite the fact that more than half the time, they just annoyed the shit out of each other.
The amount of times he’d pulled you out of a funk was… Well, there was a lot.
However, there was also something to be said about how overboard Bucky Barnes could go when someone he loved had gotten hurt.
Or kidnapped by a Nazi terrorist organization and almost shot in front of him.
“Alright, you’re all tucked in,” he muttered under his breath, even as he went around the bed once again, his hands carefully tucking in your comforter all over again. “There we go… Are you comfortable? Too warm? Not warm enough?”
He’d been hovering the past four days since you’d gotten out of the medbay, and the five days before that when you’d been in and out of unconsciousness.
God, the feelings that had washed over you when you’d woken up again and found that he was back and your Soldat was gone. It was so bittersweet. You loved both of them, even if it was in different ways. Different shades, different tones of love.
You just kept telling yourself that the Soldat was right.
It was time for him to rest. Your time together was over.
But that in itself meant that it was time for something new to begin.
If only you could find a way to tell Bucky how you truly felt.
You watched him with your eyelids half closed, a drowsiness slurring your words as you laid there. “Jamie… Can you stop for a moment?” You don’t even think about how your words might make him feel, how they might sound.
“Oh… Right. Sorry if I’m annoying you,” he said, his voice dropping to where it was almost inaudible. He started to head for the door, having set down the water bottle in his hands.
“What?! No!” You said, quickly sitting up. You still felt like absolute shit, but you couldn’t let him leave. “I’m sorry. That’s not the words I wanted to come out. I… I just want you to relax for a moment. I’m okay.” Pulling your arm out of the warmth of your blankets, you patted the spot next to you. “Can we just… lay down and watch a movie for a bit?”
Bucky’s baby blues softened immediately, and he nodded, toeing off his sneakers. “Of course. I’m sorry… I’ve been…”
“Helicopter parenting?”
His cheeks flamed fire engine red as he slipped into the bed beside you, hesitating before pulling the blankets over him. “I don’t know if I like the parenting aspect of that,” he muttered, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. “FRI, can you turn on a movie?”
“Legally Blonde,” you added without a second thought, grinning at the confused look that painted his face. “Have you never seen Legally Blonde?”
“What? No? What the fuck is a Legally Blonde?” He asked. And, okay, yeah, he could gather from the context that it was a movie, most likely a girly one based on the title, but he loved the way you looked so aghast and the way you laughed at his old man tendencies.
“Only the greatest early 2000s chick flick of all time!” You squealed, playfully smacking his chest.
A wave of contentment, of happiness, washed over you as you laid half on his chest to watch the movie. His fingers were absentmindedly running up and down your spine, his breath tickling your forehead.
And it hit you that you could have this for the rest of your life. You could have this happiness, this peace, for the rest of your life with the man that was holding you.
Once again, you just needed to figure out how to tell him how you felt.
“Wait… So he broke up with her because she wasn’t… serious enough?” Bucky asked, his brows furrowed. “Or because she was too pretty and girly?”
“Both,” you said, glancing up at his face. “He sucks.”
“Yeah, he fucking does.”
When the movie ended, you sat up, risking a glance at Bucky’s face. “Well? What did you think?”
He couldn’t help but shake his head, groaning dramatically. “If Sam finds out that I’m a fan of early 2000s chick flicks, he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
Oh, this was good. So, so good.
“Jamie, I’ve watched Legally Blonde and other chick flicks with Sam. He loves them,” you revealed, watching the way his eyes lit up.
“There’s more?!”
You took it upon yourself to show him the best of the late 90s and early 2000s, finding that when he was distracted with tales of cheesy romance and girl power triumphing, he wasn’t so worried about your health.
But he did have a few problems with Clueless. “Let me get this straight,” he said with a scowl as he held you close in between his legs. “She’s… still in high school. Sixteen, right?”
“Mmhmm.”
“And he was her step-brother?”
“Yes.”
“And… he is still treated like her step-brother by her father?”
“Yeah.”
He blinked owlishly at the television that hung up on your wall, his mouth hanging open in an astonished ‘o.’ “And people just…”
“Decide to ignore that bit? Yup,” you supplied, turning your head to look up at him.
He frowned, tightening his hold around you. “I really don’t know how to feel about that. It’s a good movie. But…” His head then slightly cocked to the side. “Her step-brother looks like that one guy that helped us at the fight in Germany… You know, the one at the airport?”
“You don’t even remember Scott’s name?!” You asked, snorting. “You really are an old man.”
His fingers flew to your sides, tickling you mercilessly. “Yeah?! And what about it?! Huh? Huh?” When he finally stopped and your laughter had died out, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and took in a deep breath. “I missed you… when you were gone… Sometimes I forget just how integral you are to my life, but that… Being without you reminded me of how desolate my days were when we were separated before.”
Heart clenching, you squeezed his flesh arm with both of yours, resolving yourself to not move the rest of the day. You’d quickly come to the conclusion that cuddling with James Barnes could be considered one of the great pleasures in life. “Well, we’ll never have to be apart again,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “What if… What if we took some time away? And we went on a little… vacation or something?”
“A vacation?” He said, and you could feel his heart rate speed up underneath your head. A vibranium hand smoothed over your hair. “Where do you wanna go?”
“I don’t know…,” you admitted with a snort, shaking your head. “Just… away. Give us time to relax and really… I don’t know. Process?” Your eyes fluttered shut at his soothing touch. “Maybe we could go up to the cabin for a few days… maybe a week…”
“Yeah? You wanna stay a whole week with just me for company?” He asked playfully, even though he felt like his spirit was soaring.
Biting your lip, you pulled your knees up to your chest until your entire body was pressed against his chest. “Could spend my whole life with just you for company, Jamie.”
He’d understand, right? He’d understand that you meant ‘I love you.’ He’d understand the words that you were trying to say but were too nervous to get out, that your throat closed up and your eyes burned because the last person you said those words to in that way had demolished your heart, your soul?
But then again, he’d been the one to teach you what those words meant in the first place. Well, the Soldat had.
Bucky’s entire face was pink, all the way to the tips of his ears, and he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Me, too, malen’kaya.”
You reached up to run your fingers through his hair. It had grown out since his last haircut, and it was getting to be about ear length. “You know who you look like right now kinda?” You asked, an impish smile on your lips.
“Who?” He was clearly already anticipating the worst, even though he was letting his head tip forward to let you continue playing with his hair.
“Prince Kit or whatever his name is.” You were preening as your foreheads pressed together, his breathing even as you massaged his scalp. “From the new live action Cinderella.”
You can hear the smile, even though you can’t see his face. “You think I look like a prince?”
“Don’t get cocky on me now,” you shot back. But, in truth… You liked this side of Bucky. You had caught little glimpses of it when you were on the run with Steve, Sam, and Natasha. But this felt like the real him, and you loved it.
And as far as you were concerned, he could be as cocky as he wanted to be.
“Let me check with your doctors and get their opinion on when they think you’ll be okay to travel,” he said, his lips pressing to your hair. “And then I’ll talk to Pepper about letting us steal the cabin for a bit…”
A huff escapes your lips as you tug on his hair in retaliation. “Do you really think Pepper isn’t gonna let us stay there for a bit?”
You missed the way his breathing had hitched and his heart had skipped a beat, and he nuzzled into your hair to hide himself even more. “No, but it’s still nice to ask, you heathen.”
“Soldat, where are we going?” You asked curiously as you were led out of your ballet class, your hair still pulled back into a tight bun. “What’s going on?”
“No time to talk. We have a mission,” he said sternly, his voice deep and gravelly.
A mission?
You’d never been on a mission.
“Wait, are we leaving the Red Room?” You asked, glancing at the handlers that flanked the both of you. “Where are we going?”
“Do you understand the phrase ‘no time to talk?’” The Soldat asked with a snort, shooting you a glare.
Something was off.
The Soldat and you had been training together for over two years now, almost three, and you’d never gone on a mission.
Also, he never spoke so harshly unless there was something wrong or there were others present, and the handlers around you weren’t important enough for him to put up the mean teacher facade. No, there was something else going on.
Two hulking doors were waiting at the end of the hallway, leading to the outside world. Snow was swirling outside, frost painting the windows.
And you were still in just your leotard and tights. Fuck.
Of course, they weren’t gonna give you time to change.
You hadn’t even been outside of the Red Room since you were a toddler. Hell, you didn’t even own any cold weather clothes.
The doors opened, and you let out a sharp gasp as the icy cold wind hit you. In your peripheral, you could see the Soldat look at you and immediately move to take off his jacket, before remembering who was around and stopping himself.
It was a nice thought, knowing that if he could, he’d warm you.
Maybe you could daydream about him scooping you up, holding you in his lap… He’d run his fingers over your hair, his other hand smoothing up and down your back. That deep, gravelly voice you loved so much would murmur sweet things to you, his lips tickling your ear…
God, your little crush was getting out of hand.
Snow covered your hair as you were led out to a van that was waiting for you, smoke coming out of the exhaust pipe as the headlights shone through the dense white landscape. One of the handlers shoved your head down as you were pushed into the back seat, the Soldat following right after. A thich, kevlar covered thigh pressed against yours as you settled in. Pretending to not be cold was becoming a lot harder than you thought it would be.
“So… What exactly are we doing?” You asked tentatively after about ten minutes of terse silence.
“You’re our bait,” one of the men said simply, cocking his gun.
Ice cold water ran down your spine as you blinked at him. “Bait? What… What do you mean?” You could feel the Soldat’s thigh tense beside you, and you realized that he had known.
That’s why he’d been so cold, even beyond the fact that there were others present.
“It means you’re going to be bait,” another man said with an eye roll.
“Well, I mean… When you say bait, do you mean like bait that can be reused so you keep it alive or bait like a worm that ends up dead on a hook?” You said, your arms crossed over your chest. Being sarcastic probably wasn’t the best thing you could do at the moment, but whatever. If you were gonna die, you might as well die with a few good one-liners.
Beside you, the Soldat’s chest jolted, his lips pressed together as though he was trying to stifle a laugh.
See, you knew he’d get your humor immediately.
“Guess we’ll just have to see how well you behave,” the first man snapped, his voice threatening.
When you finally arrived at your location, it was several hours later, and you’d passed out, your head lolling back against the seat. You jolted awake when the van stopped, realizing that the sun had set. “Where are we?”
No answer.
“Great talk.” One of the handlers yanks you out of the van, pulling you over the Soldat’s lap and almost dislocating your shoulder in the process. “Fuck! You didn’t have to manhandle me, you asshole!” You’re not shocked when his hand meets your cheek, though you do have to take a moment to take a breath. “Can you just tell me what I have to do so I can do it and we can leave?”
The mission is simple enough, at least on your end. Apparently, there were a few vigilantes running around that Hydra needed gone.
And what vigilante doesn’t love a young damsel in distress?
It’s over before you realize, and you’re hit with a deep realization.
You had wanted the vigilantes to win, just for a second or two. You had wanted them to win and maybe you’d get to go somewhere where you weren’t almost killed everyday, where you were handcuffed to your bed each night, and where most meals consisted of protein shakes.
But only if it meant the Soldat could be rescued with you.
“We’re not going back tonight?” You asked in surprise when the van pulled up to a seedy motel.
“No,” one of the men said with an eye roll. “Don’t feel like driving.”
You were left alone in the car with the Soldat as the men went to get a room, but you didn’t mind. “Are you okay?” You asked softly, eyes flickering up to meet his.
The man grunted, his lips pressed into a thin line as he kept his face forward, watching for the men to come back. But his hand slowly moved down his thigh until you felt cool metal, and his pinky linked around yours.
It stays there until the men come back, and he lets go at the right second, as the van door is starting to open.
“Come on,” one of the men grumbled, leading you two down the length of the motel. “This is where you two will be staying,” he said as he opened up a door.
Brows furrowing, you looked up at him. “What? Alone?” They trusted you like that? You were going to be staying the night with your crush in a room alone?
“Just don’t get her pregnant. She won’t go through graduation for another few months,” another one taunted, letting out a loud, obnoxious laugh. They all looked the same, and sounded the same. Like Hydra had created a bunch of clones. “And you know what to do if she tries to escape, Soldat.”
There was a rock in the pit of your stomach as you walked into the room.
The men had left you alone with the Soldat because they thought he’d have sex with you.
They thought he’d already had sex with you, despite the fact that you were just seventeen.
And your Soldat wasn’t like that. Despite the fact that you were (admittedly) in love with him, and despite the fact that you’d heard of the other Soldats having… pleasure women, you knew that he’d never touch you.
Not like that.
That was the only thing that relaxed you as you walked into the room and the door shut behind the hulking man, a dim yellow light casting shadows all around the room.
“I’m not—”
“I know,” you said as you turned to him, cutting him off. “I know you’re not going to… do that. I trust you.”
He slowly nodded, a weak smile spreading over his lips, and it occurred to you that it was possible that no one had ever told him that they trusted him.
At least there were two beds, because you didn’t think your little heart could handle sleeping so close to him. God forbid you wake up cuddling him. You’d be absolutely mortified.
“I’m gonna grab a shower,” you said, pointing to the bathroom. You didn’t wait for a response before speeding over and shutting and locking the door. Fuck. You were gonna have to sleep in your leotard since you didn’t have any other clothing with you.
The shampoo and conditioner the motel provided smelled like nothing, and the body wash and face wash were the same. Even so, you took your time lathering and scrubbing and washing, taking a shower that was longer than five minutes or so for the first time.
It had been over an hour by the time you got out, every inch of your body scrubbed and then scrubbed again. It probably wasn’t good for your hair, but you washed it twice, just because you could.
What you were most surprised by was the few suitcases that were on the bed closest to the inside wall when you got out, redressed in your leotard.
“What is this?” You asked the Soldat, who had stripped out of his leather and kevlar and was just wearing his cargo pants and a white shirt.
“You didn’t have clothes,” he said bluntly, glancing over at you as he sharpened his knife on the cheap chair.
“Where did you get these?”
“Lost and found. I just grabbed a few in case one didn’t have what you needed.”
Sometimes you forgot just how caring he could be in little ways.
“Thank you,” you said with a grateful smile as you moved to dig through them, eventually moving to the bathroom to change into a fresh pair of underwear and a huge t-shirt and shorts. “How do I look?” You asked as you came out, striking a dramatic pose.
The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he looked up at you. “Radiant,” he said after a moment, having thought of the perfect word. “You always are.”
Why the hell did he have to say such things when you knew you couldn’t be with him? You were too young, and the likelihood of Madame B allowing you to be together was… zero.
He motioned for you to get in the bed farthest away from the window. “You need rest, malen’kaya. I will keep watch.” After watching you crawl under the blankets and cuddle up to your pillows, he moved to sit on the bed, caressing your cheek. “Sleep… I will be here when you wake…”
“Sometimes I forget just how fucking beautiful it is out here,” Bucky said with a breathy laugh as he pulled up the long drive to the Stark Cabin. The sun was glittering out on the lake, the leaves just beginning to turn shades of ruby and gold. He threw the car into park and rushed around to your side to open the door and help you out before you could even blink.
The look you gave him didn’t do much as you placed your hand in his. It had only been a few days since he’d even let you get out of bed on your own and walk around.
As much as you loved him carrying you around like a blushing bride, it became a bit much when he was carrying you to the bathroom because you had to pee.
“It feels like so long ago… last time we were here,” you said as you watched him grab your bags.
He barely let you walk, there was no way in hell he’d let you carry your own duffel bag.
“What are you feeling for dinner?” He asked as he led you inside, setting your bags on the couch for the time being. “I was thinking maybe I could whip up some of that creamy chive chicken I made the other week? You liked that, right?” Bucky seemed to have a nervous energy running through him as he moved to the kitchen and began to figure out what they had. “I’ll need to have some groceries delivered…”
“Anything’s good with me,” you said faintly as you watched him, leaning against the doorway. “I’m really glad we decided to do this… It feels nice… getting away from everything for a little bit…” Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at the ground, arms crossing over your chest. “I mean… I love our family. You know I do. But—”
“It can get loud and crowded,” he finished, a kind smile on his face. “I get it.”
There’s a light inside your chest as you move further into the kitchen, giggling as his hands immediately go to your waist and lift you up onto the counter. “I knew you would.”
Bucky glanced up from his phone, having put in the grocery order faster than you expected. His vibranium hand rested on your thigh, and he gave a gentle squeeze. “You in the mood for a drink while we wait on dinner supplies?”
“Depends, bartender. What are you making?” You asked, letting your legs kick back and forth. You had to do something to prevent yourself from wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him close.
Would he ravish you like in the dreams you sometimes occasionally but totally-not-often had?
“Baby doll, I can make whatever magic potion you want,” he said, winking. His lips found a place on your cheek, letting it linger before he left your side, his hand leaving behind a warm spot on your thigh that felt empty without it. The way he moved around the cabin, so confidently, was such a far cry from when you’d been spending a few days in the guest rooms after the final battle.
It was fucking hot.
You were barely paying attention as he listed off cocktails and various concoctions.
“Malen’kaya? You there?” He called out, though you didn’t really hear him as he said your name.
It wasn’t until a floorboard creaked under his weight that you focused back in on the present. “Huh? Just… whatever you think I’ll like. I trust you,” you said, rubbing your hands nervously on your thighs.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” you said as your tongue wetted your lower lip.
“Okay, if you say so,” he said as he glanced back at you with a fond smile, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “And… I agree.”
Your head tilted to the side. “Agree about what?”
“I’m really glad we decided to do this.”
329 notes
·
View notes
Note
ahhh grats on the milestone!! also holy shit youve got 500 prompts stored away somewhere??? im gonna go with my favourite number combo..... 317 👀 im super excited to see what you come up with!! 💖 -bbsitterpng
@babysitterpng
Thank you so much!!! And yes, 500 goddamn prompts, all carefully curated, only the best for my beloved mutuals and followers!!
I got SO ELATED when I saw that you sent me a mystery prompt request!!!! ❤️💕
I would have finished it yesterday, but I got uhhh distracted 😏😏😏
317. “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again and again and again; I knew exactly what I wanted to write for this immediately, and while I worry the exposition seems too rushed, I am very satisfied with the rest, all near 4k words!
So please, enjoy~
-
Today has been a long day that started when the sun had barely found its place in the sky.
Neil was beating at his bedroom door, asking why it’s locked, threatening to kick it down, demanding that Billy get up right now to mow the lawn, just to complain about what a shitty job he did after, shouting about how he has to do everything himself.
Billy would beat his pillows, lift weights till his muscles hurt, and smoke like a chimney, all to alleviate stress in one way or another.
At 12 Max was leaving to go play DnD with her little loser friends, ready to skate her way over there, but Billy needed to get out of the house, have a valid excuse, and it doesn’t get better than “watching out for his little sister.”
They’re on good terms now, after they had gotten in an intense fight and she screamed at him to just leave her and her friends alone, and after not spending every waking hour hating and antagonizing her, she’s not as annoying anymore, and Billy thinks that perhaps his anger was the issue here, not her being a little shit.
That realisation helped him a lot in general. It’s around that time he “apologised” to Harrington the best he could, but when Steve was nice and understanding of his issues, it only made him angry again. Billy doesn’t believe he deserves to be forgiven so easily, no, Harrington should have hit him, defended himself, gotten pissed and told Billy to fuck off.
Instead they wound up at Benny’s diner, sharing a giant plate of fries and a milkshake each.
“My treat,” Steve insisted.
And that’s when old issues resurfaced; the same exact issues that meant they had to leave California. The same exact issues that brought Billy’s wrath upon this pretty boy. The same exact issues that led one thing to another, and now Billy knows the route from his house to the Harrington Mansion like the back of his hand; could drive it with his eyes closed now.
But he doesn’t want to seem needy or clingy. Doesn’t want to be what he is - the way he is.
So after dropping Max off at the Wheeler’s house, the fiery redhead even going as far as to offer him a bit of a smile, he didn’t go home. Didn’t drive to Steve’s house either no matter how much he wanted to.
Don’t be needy, don’t be clingy. You’ll see him later.
So for four hours he drove around town, smoked by the quarry, got admired at a gas station when he refilled, passed Steve’s street far too many times, went to the empty pool that’s closed for the year and sat with his feet over the edge and smoked some more, restlessly kicking the tiling. Over the course of this time he checked his watch at least a billion times.
When it was finally 4pm, he drove to pick up his sister and El - the gang having managed to convince both Steve and Billy to take them to the movies to watch the last screening of The Neverending Story, which doesn’t exactly sound like something he wants to watch, but knowing Steve will be there, he agreed all too readily.
And as he pulls back up to the Wheeler’s again, he sees the brown BMW, Steve leaning against the door as he waits for the boys to pile into his car. Billy’s heart is beating like a painful drum in his aching chest, and when Steve sees him sitting and waiting for the girls, he smiles at him and waves.
Billy is as always astounded and breathless by the way Steve smiles, the way Steve looks at him now, like he’s happy to see him. He can’t smile back, he wants to, but his face feels dull and incapacitated. He wants to just kick open his car door, stomp up to Steve and fucking kiss him. Instead he simply waves back.
Then Max breaks the trance as she pulls open the door and crawls in to sit in the back with El.
“What the hell took you guys so long, I’m starving,” Billy complains as he looks over his shoulder at them.
Max is smart and doesn’t answer, and Billy is smart and doesn’t ask again. No he remains quiet as they follow the beemer, Max and El laughing loud and joyous behind him like girls their age do, talking about shit he doesn’t care for, just focuses on the car in front as they drive to Benny’s diner for early dinner before going to wolf down popcorn at the cinema.
-
The gang is eager and excited, like kids should be, running to the diner as they talk all too frantically about whatever it is kids talk about, Billy is really not paying attention, when Steve is right there.
“Find a booth where we can all sit!” Steve shouts after them, and Billy’s not sure if they heard him at all. “Hey Hargrove, got a smoke?” his voice kinder and friendly, too friendly, as he addresses Billy.
Steve leans against the hood of the camaro, smiling all too wide. He’s dressed in high waisted jeans and a red crop top that shows just enough of a midriff for it to be too much for Billy.
He takes up a spot next to Steve, just far away enough for it to not be suspicious, but absolutely too far away for it to not be enough, yet even from here he can smell the floral soap and honey shampoo. Can’t help but think of how soft Steve’s skin is, how silky his hair is, all newly washed and clean of him. Wonders if the purple hickeys are still visible across his chest, up his thighs.
Even though Steve is trying his best to meet Billy’s gaze, he refuses to look at him just in case it would be too obvious what he’s thinking about, as he unwraps a fresh pack of Marlboro and offers one up.
When Billy ignites his lighter and reaches forth, Steve touches his hand, holds it steady as he leans in to bring his cigarette to the flame. There’s a burning sensation where his pale, soft hand connects them, and when Steve dares rub Billy’s wrist with his fingers, there’s a pain shooting through his heart, a sharp wanting for more. No, a need for more. He’s caught staring at those pretty, pink lips when Steve pulls away and exhales a cloud.
“What’s wrong?” he asks with a wry smile, clearly aware.
“You know damn well ‘what’s wrong’,” Billy snaps a bit harsher than intended as he continues to force himself to look away.
Thankfully Steve takes it well and huffs a laugh filled with smoke.
They end up in silence after that; the comfortable kind that comes from being at peace together, easy and relaxed and pleasant, one where they don’t need words because there’s no longer any doubt between them. Perhaps that’s what love is, as cheesy and gross as that may be, Billy ponders. To be able to just exist together without it being awkward or stilted. Perhaps he’s fallen a bit in love with his ex-rival. Or perhaps he’s just in love with how he feels when he’s with Steve, both physical and not.
It isn’t till Steve finishes his cigarette, drops it on the asphalt and stomps it out, that he speaks,
“Oh, I almost forgot, I wanted to tell you something.” He’s smiling like the cat that got the cream, licking his lips a bit too slowly as he goes to whisper in Billy’s ear, “I think you’ll be happy to know I’m not wearing any underwear.”
Billy’s heart skips several beats at that, before then going too fast - rapidly pumping blood through him, and there’s a certain rush of it going straight to his dick. He stares too long into those deep, dark eyes, mischievous and satisfied with the response as Billy short circuits.
“What?”
Steve shrugs and tips his head to the side a bit, acting all innocent and oblivious, lips drawn tight in a smile that goes from ear to ear. He opens his mouth and takes a long inhale, insinuating that he’s about to say something, then simply turns around, hands in his pockets as he walks towards the diner.
Leaving Billy behind, baffled, astonished, dumbfounded.
-
The next two hours feels like days.
They sit in the diner, Billy and Steve across from one another.
The kids are still as energetic as before, their voices a jumble of words and phrases and retellings of DnD from today’s session. Steve chews on his straw as he tries to follow along with whatever they’re talking about, laughing when they laugh, nodding on occasions. Whenever he looks over at Billy, blue eyes flee to stare out the window instead, finding great interest in the pattern of how one street light flickers.
Before the movie starts, they go to let out water by the urinals of the cinema, Billy standing right next to Steve, having hoped to catch a glimpse, see if he’s telling the truth, the urge near irresistible to just take a quick look, but the other men around them might not take too kindly to something like that.
And during the movie they sit together at the end of the row.
Steve, Billy, Max, El, Mike, Will, Dustin, Lucas.
He didn’t care for the movie before, only going along as a sign of friendliness and to have an excuse to not be home, but now. Now he’s almost hating having to sit here, next to Steve, shoulders nearly touching, shoes pressed together on the dark floor, only an armrest between them.
For the first twenty arduous minutes, Steve doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, showing no sign of registering how near they are, just watches the movie in silence with a smile, while Billy is sat next to him, burning up despite his shirt being unbuttoned as always, mind racing with thoughts and images of Steve Steve Steve.
So distracted by all of that, that he nearly jumps when Steve touches his hand. Same softness and tenderness from earlier on the parking lot, the way Steve always touches him with just a hint of hesitance when they’re not completely alone.
But the cinema is dark, the kids are entranced, and there’s barely a handful of people besides them, so maybe it’s safe enough.
Billy raises his fingers into the touch, thinking that Steve wants to hold hands, intertwine them, any of that stupid romantic shit that he loves and Billy pretends to only barely tolerate, but the touch moves past that, a feather across the back of his hand, up to gently and carefully grab him by the wrist.
At that, Billy finally looks down, keeps facing the big screen but pays acute attention to what Steve is doing, where he’s leading his hand, placing it on his knee, Billy’s fingers in between spread legs. He continues to guide the hand further up, towards the heat of where his thighs meet, effectively sending Billy’s heart rate sky high.
When he finally turns his head, he finds Steve staring right back, a small and restrained smile, and in that moment, Billy feels like he can read Steve’s thoughts, knows exactly what’s on his mind, never doubts it for a second, and is proved right when Steve stands up and climbs over the seat to walk along the empty row behind them.
Billy whips around to Max, and hisses out, “We’re going for a smoke, don’t fucking go anywhere.”
“Yeah yeah,” she groans all indifferent and waves him away, eyes big and caught in the movie.
-
The bathroom at the Hawk is as clean as it ever gets, and perhaps not too shockingly, empty. Movies are running and people are seated.
Steve stands looking at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair, not that it looks any different to Billy now than before.
He takes heavy steps towards the brunette, announcing himself and catches Steve’s eyes in the mirror, watching as Billy approaches and steps behind him. Billy leans in to run his nose up Steve’s neck, inhaling deeply and humming out pleasantly, blinking slowly as he keeps pressing his face into the crook there, not quite kissing yet.
Eyes dart back to the mirror where heavenly blue meets chocolate brown, a feverish intensity there as Steve stares back. Gently, but with no hesitation, Billy snakes his arms around Steve’s waist, past the belt and up to touch where skin shows between jeans and the top.
When there’s no ‘stop’, he keeps going, curls his fingers around the red fabric and lifts up, exposing Steve’s chest to the both of them in the mirror. Bitten and marked, purple and red, Billy eyes his masterwork with an appreciative gaze, and with one hand keeping the shirt away, he moves the other up to graze his fingers across each little bruise his lips left just two days ago.
Steve hums a bit, erotic and turned on, and if more were to happen now, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d found their way together in public. And perhaps that thought strikes Steve just as it does Billy, for he pushes back into him, rubbing his soft ass against where he finds a slight bulge already.
“Fuck, Stevie…” Billy huffs and breathes against Steve’s neck, eyes closed as he relishes in the slow friction, kissing sloppy and half-minded against pale skin. “You really wanna do this here? Where the kids could just walk in any moment?”
“I would have maybe pushed you into a stall first,” Steve laughs, a slight stutter to it. “But I was thinking your car? The movie is like two hours, we could find an alley, park there, let me ride your cock?”
A growl escapes by the enchantment of those words, and Billy bites into Steve’s neck, earning him an illicit little hiss and smirk.
“How am I supposed to say no when you put it like that?”
-
Neither of them feel particularly bad for just abandoning the gang like that, but they’ll be quick, hidden in this alleyway, not too far away from the theatre, a bit of fun while the others gawk and gape at the magic of movies.
But it’s hard to be remorseful, when Steve is moaning like this, Billy two fingers deep in him in the driver's seat of the camaro.
Steve didn't lie about going commando today; told Billy, “When I found out you were tagging along, I hoped I’d get to have you alone like this.”
It took Steve less than two seconds to start getting undressed when Billy turned off the engine, whereafter he crawled right onto his lap, hard and bottomless, knees over Billy’s shoulders, feet locked behind the headrest, back against the steering wheel.
“Ah-h, mmh, fuck, Billy-” he whines, hands placed firm on Billy’s legs for support as he lifts and angles his ass to allow Billy access with lubed up fingers.
His other hand squeezes Steve’s leaking prick, using the precum to slick up the flesh, keeping him hard and crying like that. His own lonesome cock aches where it lies full against his stomach; the button down having been opened completely to avoid staining it, and giving Steve something to admire.
“Billy, please, just- oh- just fuck me already!” Steve’s voice pitched high with lust and impatience, brows drawn together, his arms shaking underneath his own weight.
“Just don’t wanna hurt you, baby,” Billy purrs.
He watches with great interest as he pumps two fingers in and out of Steve’s wet hole, making a scissoring motion to stretch him properly.
“Mmh, we don’t exactly have time for that, and I need you so bad,” Steve says with the sweetest, most alluring tone he can.
And God if that doesn’t go straight to Billy’s twitching dick.
“You sure?” He wants to double check anyways.
“Yes- yes! Just- get a condom, I don’t wanna ruin my favourite pants.”
Billy chuckles lightly at that thought as he leans to reach for the glovebox, absolutely turned on by the idea of Steve walking around brimming with him, his cum dripping out and running down his thighs. Perhaps another time.
The condom rolls on with ease, Billy having become quite the expert with one through time, but he has been getting a lot of practice lately what with Steve and his more adventurous side, and wearing a rubber when fucking in public makes for an easy and quick cleanup. He gives himself a few good strokes to lube up good and nice, ensuring that Steve gets a smooth ride as he aligns himself with the hole that flutters eagerly to suck him in.
Greedy, starved, zealous, Steve sits himself on that veiny dick, ass fully flush with Billy’s hips, breathlessly gasping and cursing around his name, “Fuck Billy…”
“Mmmh,” Billy hums and licks his lips, staring down with adoration at how he’s buried deep inside of Steve’s ass, tight with lack of preparation, but- “You feel so good baby, taking my cock so well.”
He brings his hands to grab Steve by the hips and guide him in a circular motion, muscles clenching around him that can only be described as beautiful, eliciting groans and causing him to dig in his nails.
Steve’s panting, bangs sticking to his forehead from sweat, the windows fogged up, telling anyone that would walk by exactly what was going on, and when he lifts up to fuck himself on Billy’s fat erection, they shake the entire car with his fervor; each time he sinks down he moans more; moans with less and less self control.
“Take off your shirt, pretty boy,” Billy drawls out and swipes his tongue across shiny and sharp teeth. “Wanna see you.”
It’s a hurried motion that takes less than three seconds for Steve to yank off the crop top and grab on to Billy’s knees again, refusing to wait even one moment in the haze of his neediness.
Billy, however, faced with marks of his own making, takes time to appreciate how perfectly purple suits Steve’s pale skin, blooming across his pecs, his tits, near nipples that strut now, begging to be touched. And who is he not to oblige. Hands travel up from hips, past the waist, to Steve’s chest - the brunette seemingly lost in chasing his own high, that he doesn’t notice where Billy is going till he presses hard against the sensitive buds.
“A-ah! Fuck, Billy!” And he throws his head back.
Steve’s entire body tenses at that, each muscle flexing and twitching, contracting around Billy’s steely cock, and he can’t help himself but to thrust into the clenching hole, the rim taking a chokehold on the base of his prick. Steve has to bring up a hand against the roof of the car to keep himself from hitting his head, while also giving him the ideal leverage to push down hard, bodies colliding, skin slapping together in a lascivious and erotic rhythm.
“God, you’re such a little slut for my cock, huh baby?” Billy growls like a ravenous wolf as he pounds into Steve, forcing out every little cry and moan, telling him that he’s hitting just the right spot.
“Billy- Billy, ah-a, fuck- fuck-” Steve whimpers and looks down to watch one hand on his hip that pulls him down, another rubbing hard against his nipple.
“Yeah, harrh, listen to yourself,” and Billy pauses to listen to how Steve mewls, revelling in the fact that he’s the cause of that. “So loud and lewd, baby, calling out my name like that.”
“Billy.”
He’s a confident guy, Keg King and lady killer, and while shit like emotions and feelings stuns him, this brings him alive, lust coiling in his gut, burning hot and white, ramping up to a fever pitch as he fucks with wild abandon into Steve’s wet cunt.
Billy hasn’t bothered masturbating in a good while, no, he saves all of that pent up energy for Steve, to fill him up; desire blinding him to anyone else but his princess.
“Mmhnn- ahh, fuck, Stevie, can’t wait to get you alone tonight,” he says, voice fucked out and perverted, Steve looking at him as he speaks, “Drop off all the little shits and then fuck you into your mattress till you’re a mess, pump you full of my cum.”
Steve’s eyes screws shut tight, mouth wide open as he moans, “Yes, oh God, Billy-”
“Yeah? You want that?”
“Yes! Please! Fuck-” He nods the best he can, hair bouncing.
“You’re such a good little whore for me, princess, so needy for my cock.”
“Billy- Billy please,” Steve croons, all pathetic and close.
“Anything,” Billy responds with fast devotion, a promise that he gladly lives up to, knowing well what it is Steve is begging for, wants to hear him say it anyways.
“Touch me, please, ah-h- I’m so so close, fuck…”
Billy grins wide, so self satisfied it’s nearly disgusting, and he closes his fingers firm around Steve’s slick erection; he gets so fucking wet, leaking profusely, swears it only happens when he’s with Billy like this.
“Just like that, yes! Oh fuck, I’m- ah-”
“Yeah, cum for me baby, wanna watch you- show me what I do to you.”
Billy jerks him off quick and crude, knows how Steve likes it, how he needs it; loves being manhandled, talks about that whenever he’s with Billy he feels small and light.
And Steve cums with a loud and unadulterated moan, stilling his entire body in a tense pose as Billy fucks him fast; slamming quickly against his prostate, hand milking him good till he’s emptied out on his own chest.
It is a glorious thing to watch, a masterpiece of performance only for him, a grand show for a one man audience that Billy gets to relive again and again and again. Steve’s jaw drops as he continues to cry out like he’s a goddamn porn star, overstimulated and loving it.
Billy’s own orgasm is far less showy; a few shallow, brutish thrusts, grunting through gritted teeth, he shoves Steve down onto him hard as his hips stutter through completion, waves of impossible heat pouring out and leaving him a puddle of bliss and euphoria.
Time is lost to them, as they sit like that; Steve’s one leg having fallen between the seats as he went limp with exhaustion, still firmly planted in Billy’s lap, who’s soft and complacent and fucking tired, both of them breathing heavy.
“We should… we should go back…” Steve mumbles with closed eyes.
Billy’s watching the way Steve’s cum slowly slips down his chest, running over his abs and nearing his pubic hair.
“Do we have to?” he eventually manages to ask.
And Steve chuckles at that, the vibrations through his body clenching around Billy’s spent cock and he can’t help the sore “ooh”s and “ahh”s as he tries to pull away from it.
“Sadly we do. Can’t have the kids walk home alone in the dark, besides…” Steve grinds his ass onto Billy’s lap, making him wince in not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but definitely too much. “Think you promised to… fuck me into my mattress?”
#Harringrove#My Writing#Lemon#Mystery Prompt#500 followers#Babysitterpng#hope it was as good for you as it was for me sweets#😌#Anonymous
117 notes
·
View notes
Text
Paper Games
This is a stupid thing that I wrote today instead of doing anything productive. I might end up writing more if people like it. It was fun, anyhow.
**
They’re the only ones on the beach: Nora’s watching the fire and Martha is waiting for the rest of her do-jack-shit day (as designated by the chore chart) to be over. She’s impatient: time passes more slowly without the routine tasks that she and the others have come to depend on to structure their days and conversation with the others feels somehow more difficult without the bond of sweat and stubbed toes that usually provides a conversational lubricant.
(Leah had used the phrase conversational lubricant with a straight face on Day Three and Fatin had laughed so hard she’d had to sit down.)
She plops down on the log beside Nora and then immediately regrets it: now she’s sat down, she’s either going to have to find a believable pretext for getting up again immediately or wait around for long enough that getting up won’t seem rude.
(This is one of the things that she’d like to be able to complain to Toni about later and yet definitely won’t; Toni would never be able to understand.
Martha had once tried to explain to her how the agony of getting up to make the long solo trek across the cafeteria in the first few awkward weeks of high school far outweighed the benefit of ketchup packets for her fries. Toni had looked at her as if she was speaking Latin and rolled her eyes.
“It’s a few steps across a room Marty.”
“Yeah but-”
She’d given up. Toni never could, never would be able to understand, which Martha thinks, is probably a good thing. Toni has been judged too many times too harshly by too many people for self consciousness to have endured long- not caring is the only weapon in her arsenal against everything the world has to throw at her.
Even so, after that conversation, Toni always brings extra ketchup packets back to their table when she collects her own lunch.)
Nora glances up as Martha sits, with the little quirk of her lips that passes for a greeting and may or may not be a smile and goes back to her journal without a word.
Great.
Now she’s disturbing Nora’s peace and making herself uncomfortable for nothing and she can’t even think of anything to say.
If she was Shelby, she’d have something nice to say, some compliment to break the ice. She’d smile and draw Nora out of herself and everything would be fine.
(If she was Leah, she’d be too deep in her own thoughts to even notice Nora next to her.)
If she was Fatin, she’d talk too- not to make the other person feel warm and welcomed like Shelby would. It would be because she’d feel like talking, and fuck them if they didn’t like it, do you have something more interesting to say bitch?
(She’d flinched slightly the first time Fatin had applied the epithet to her, and then waited anxiously for two days, waiting and hoping for her to do it again, the minute that she realised it was what Fatin called everybody.)
If she was Toni or Dot or Rachel, she’d have no problem sitting in stubborn, stoic silence unless there was something real to say….
But she isn’t Toni. She isn’t any of them.
But she isn’t stubborn. She isn’t stoic. She likes to think she’s friendly, but she lacks the imperviousness that makes Shelby such a force of nature.
Rejection stings her enough to make her reluctant to make overtures that she’s sure won’t be returned; it makes her tongue tied and anxious when she’d like to be bright and breezy.
(Toni once compared her to a hedgehog.
“Why?”
They’re eating the lunches Bernice packed for them under a tree, and it would be nice, if it was just them.
She doesn’t really care: she’s too humiliated, after having spent the whole morning of the first day of day camp- Charity Camp, Toni kept calling it, until a counsellor made her stop- in flushed-cheeked silence when her bright “Hi!” to the girls at the same table had been met with a flurry of giggles and whispered comments.
Toni had held her hand under the desk until morning break and then calmly and systematically shredded each of the girls freshly tye-dyed tshirts while Martha was in the bathroom.
“You’re all cute and friendly and then something spooks you and you’re like-” Toni makes her hand into a clenched fist. “Into a ball.”
She gives Toni a shove.
“I’m not spiky though!”
“Nah,” Toni admits, unruffled. “Maybe you’re like the ones you have on your slippers. Soft spines. You still do the curling-up thing though.”
She sticks out her tongue.
It’s true but still.)
She’s not even, now she thinks about, sure that she’d be able to hold Nora’s attention if she did think of something to say: Nora is quiet but clever in a way that’s slightly intimidating, and her lack of expression means that it’s not easy to pick up cues from her. What if Martha starts talking and it just confirms Nora’s view that she’s a complete idiot and really annoying?
Which- she isn’t. She knows that. But she doesn’t know it enough to stop her from caring whether or not other people think she is.
The silence is making her twitchy. Sitting down was a mistake, she knows it, she’s hopelessly dull and-
Nora nudges her knee with the notebook and Martha sees her own face, rendered in blue biro.
“Oh!” She isn’t quite sure what her response is meant to be. “That’s amazing! It’s really neat- it…”
She’s babbling. She stops herself, and then takes the notebook to examine the picture more clearly.
Nora offers her the pen too and she takes it, before realising she has not the faintest clue what to do with it. Any sort of drawing she could do- even the best putting-in-effort sort- would look stupid next to Nora’s talent.
She draws a line. Then another. She makes a grid and makes an x in the upper left hand corner.
Then she offers both pen and notebook back, not quite daring to look in case Nora is raising an eyebrow.
(She’d really like Toni to come back and break the tension about now.)
Eventually, after an excruciating pause, notebook and pen slide from her hands and are almost immediately returned, except now there’s an O in the middle of the grid.
When she looks up, Nora’s looking at her with the little quirk of the lips.
(It’s definitely a smile. And honestly, Martha isn’t sure how she ever doubted it.)
16 notes
·
View notes
Note
I was thinking of Loki being the little shit he is and stealing readers food just to see her get worked up and at one point maybe saying she looks cute when she’s angry just to piss her off?? I love you!!!!!
FINALLY WROTE THIS SHEESH
this was tough stuff right here but i like it and i hope you do too! big thanks to @avenging-blackwidow for beta-ing m w a h
part 13 of loki’s happy ending, and as always, masterlist in my bio!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
You’re turning out to be quite a pest of a human.
First with all the attempts to kill him when really, he’d made it perfectly clear when he’d have liked that, and now pestering him about the whole Chitauri ordeal…Loki would be lying if he hadn’t considered a muzzle.
You’re an extreme liability, and he knows. You’ve seen too much and definitely seen too much of him - not that getting a few ogles in the midst of dying was particularly detrimental to the whole operation.
Actually, it might’ve been…nice. But you didn’t hear that from him.
Breaking up the accidental relationship was a smart move. The best move, by far. The only remaining problem happens to be you, though.
You still…remain.
You still walk around the tower with your arms full of papers, heels clicking annoyingly along the vinyl floors, turning up your nose whenever you stride past his office.
He has a nicer office than you. By far.
Loki gets a window.
Most of the time, when you happen to have to walk down his hall, he leans against the open window and gazes out at the city as you walk by—a smug little grin on his flawless, fake jawline, knowing that the breeze ruffling his strawberry blond hair serves so kindly to piss you the hell off.
The one time you’d realised he’s doing it on purpose, you’d stepped into his office, smiled sweetly over to him at the window, and dumped your coffee on his precious floor.
And then you ran, cause he flipped back to Loki in a split second and lunged at you, snarling like a rabid animal as you shrieked and sprinted down the hall.
So…things aren’t exactly good between the two of you.
Which, of course, is why you’ve been avoiding him for the past couple weeks, sighing dramatically and saying “I’m just not ready to talk about it” when people ask why the two of you broke up.
You’ve been trying to avoid break rooms altogether. They’re just a hive for questioning, and you never know if you might run into him some accidental Thursday when you don’t have witty comebacks pre-prepared.
In other news, your bagels keep disappearing.
This is day four. The bagel is in your hand when you walk through the door, you set it on your desk, turn to set your bags down, and it’s gone.
Something tells you by day four that you’re not hallucinating carrying bagels into work with you just because you’re tired, so today you’re trying a set up.
You’ve got a hunch.
Sure enough, on day five, you don’t turn around to put your bag on the chair, and you watch your bagel seemingly melt into the desk.
“Get your ass out here, Loki.”
There’s a stack of green sticky-notes next to your computer, and a word being scrawled onto the paper catches your eye.
No.
You rip off the paper, crumple it into a ball, and throw it in the trash.
“Stop taking my food,” you hiss in the empty room.
Again, the loopy handwriting appears on the next sticky-note.
You assume so much.
“Oh, sorry,” you snap, glancing at the door to make sure no one sees you about to scream at a sticky-note, “I don’t know any other magicians. Give me back my bagel.”
I’m enjoying it.
“You fucking dick - oh, hey, Nadine.”
You give a sheepish grin and wave at your coworker, setting down your scissors with a nervous laugh as she walks by.
The moment she’s out of sight, though, you take the scissors right through the stack of notes—and Loki, ever the saint, sends a spurt of black ink from the paper like some kind of inky blood, a muffled scream coming from the little stack of green sticky-notes.
“What the—”
“You wound me, darling.”
One leg thrown haphazardly over the arm of his chair, Loki grins and waves his fingers at you across the desk.
Ink drips down your arms.
Loki takes a slow bite of your bagel.
“Mmm…”
“Oh, fuck you,” you scowl, grabbing an eraser off your desk and chucking it at his face. “You owe me five days worth of breakfast, asshole.”
“Mm, no, I don’t think I do,” he hums, taking another bite. Then he decides to let out a very unsuitable for work groan, throwing his head back as he swallows.
You quickly blink and look away.
“At least you’re enjoying it,” you grumble and flop down in your chair. Fishing some napkins out from a desk drawer, you try to sop up the ink staining your arms, Loki’s gaze burning into your skin as you scrub furiously at the stains.
“That’s a lovely colour on you.”
“Shut it.”
The ink stains, but you at least get the liquid wiped away, fuming at the splotches that ruined your shirt, too—Loki and your clothes don’t seem to get along; first the coffee, now this?
He’s licking his fingers when you toss the napkins in the trash and glare back up at him.
His middle finger leaves his mouth with a pop.
“You’re quite…enchanting when you’re angry.”
“Fuck off,” you groan, and he just laughs, licking slowly along his thumb.
“One might even say…” he pauses, thumb on his lip, gaze floating to the ceiling in thought. “Cute.”
You stand up and walk to the door, holding it open without another word to the god smirking at you from your desk. “Get out.”
“Or what?”
“Or I taser you into oblivion again,” you frown, pointing out the door. “I enjoyed it the first time. I think I might get off on it the second time.”
Loki almost laughs—you catch the twitch of his mouth before he fizzles back into Dr. Laing—probably a good idea, considering you’re holding the door wide open.
“Banter,” he sighs, leaning back in the chair and draping a dramatic arm over his eyes. “Look at us, all this tension. Why did we break up again?”
“Because you were using me? You…keep threatening me and treating me like shit for trying to help you, that’s why—”
“Is that what you’re telling yourself?” He chuckles, and your forehead hits the door with a groan.
“That’s the truth, Loki. Please, get out.”
His arm lifts, just enough for him to peek out from under his elbow at you. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, goody.”
“You pose a terrible threat to me,” he continues, ignoring your implying waves out the door. “And in the best interest of myself, I should avoid you at all costs.”
“Which is why you’re in my office.” You gesture at his lazed form, spreading across your chair. “Right.”
“Precisely.” He gives you a curt nod. “But…well, you have a phrase that puts it quite nicely—keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”
He lifts a hand towards you, lips curling.
“I can’t let you out of my sight.”
Perfect. Just what you needed, more clinging from the deranged—well, whatever the hell he is, cause at this point, you’re just confused—godly criminal.
“Look,” you sigh, leaning against the door, “I haven’t told anyone anything. I’ve lied for you, I pretended to date you, I haven’t brought up anything about your scars—”
“Oh, but you just did.”
“I—no, hold on—”
“See what I mean, darling? You can’t be trusted. That little mouth of yours tends to run whether you like it or not, and either I silence you once and for all, or you learn to control this little pity problem you seem to have.”
“Don’t,” you growl, grip tightening on the doorknob. “Don’t call me that.”
“Mm. How would you feel about having your memories altered?”
Loki stands up, wiping long fingers off on his thighs.
The air seems to drop twenty degrees and you gulp, stepping backwards into the hallway—better to at least be out of the office when you’re brainwashed by a god. Maybe, just maybe, Iron Man will happen down this hallway before your brain is fried.
Something tells you not to hold onto that hope too tightly.
“Just a quick little tweak of the mind,” Loki continues, slowly making his way towards you, hands clasped behind him. “In the interest of solely protecting myself. It’s not personal, I hold nothing against you.”
“That sounds pretty personal.”
“Oh, darling, I wouldn’t waste my precious feelings on the likes of you. You were simply in the wrong place…at the wrong time. You weren’t supposed to see anything in the first place.”
“Is this really about those cuts on your back? I haven’t - oop, h-hey.” Your back hits the far wall of the hallway.
“How cliché,” Loki hums, a small grin on his lips. “The tall, dark villain has you up against the wall.”
“I haven’t told anyone,” you remind him, hands coming up between the two of you—just in case. “You’re just scared of the possibility, right? Can’t we, um, make a deal or something instead?”
“Deals with the devil never end well.”
“I thought you were a god.”
Whoops.
Loki goes stiff, leering down at you as that patronising little smile turns cold, frozen.
His fingers press against your forehead in a matter of milliseconds.
“I don’t know what I am,” he whispers sharply, a hand slipping up to cover your mouth when you start writhing, muffled shouts for help falling short behind his hand. “And don’t pretend like you do.”
“Mmf—no, ‘oki, stop—”
“You know I can see in your mind. Do I make you feel better about yourself? Is that it?”
Your heart plummets when his eyes go red, flashing deep crimson for a split second before the hand covering your mouth starts glowing, the same golden hue that surrounded his body that fateful day he showered at your place.
Head furiously shaking no, you try to think an apology to him - not that you know what to even apologise for.
Helping him? Seeing that at some point in his recent past, someone lashed him to pieces?
Your mind does feel funny, almost…fuzzy. It’s a warm kind of fuzzy and you want to give into it, but his hand over your mouth and blue-green eyes boring into yours—
“Stop apologising,” he hisses, eyes narrowing as he presses his fingers harder to your forehead.
You fight it a moment longer.
I’m sorry, your thoughts plead, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry no one’s listening, I’m sorry you don’t know—
“I don’t want your pity.”
Your eyes widen above his hand. He heard you, that actually worked.
I’m sorry you’re hurting, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I saw, I’m sorry I tried to help—
“Stop that.” Teeth bared, his hand tightens around your mouth. “You have to stop that.”
You can trust me, I swear on my life, I won’t tell anyone anything about you, you have to trust me—
Then just like that, he pulls his hands away.
You gasp for breath and stumble away from him as quickly as you can, not noticing how he clutches his hand to his chest, eyes glistening.
“Just trust me,” you cough. “Just trust me, you don’t have to kill me o-or wipe my memory—”
“No,” he snaps, raking a still-slightly gold hand through his hair. “No, no, I don’t—I can’t do that.”
“I promise, Loki, seriously, you don’t have to—”
Footsteps down the hallway make your words fall dead in your throat. Loki immediately switches to Laing, grabbing you by the arm and hoisting you to your feet, a finger to his lips and a silent threat in his eye.
It’s Tony, sprinting, flanked by a small group of armed guards, and they come to a stop right in front of the two of you.
“What’s going on??”
“Loki,” Tony pants, bending to rest his hands on his knees for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “Decoy, clone, it’s a double in the cell, he’s—he’s out—”
Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach.
“Are you sure?”
Laing’s fingers curl around your wrist and squeeze hard.
“Yes, for sure, he just flickered for a good two seconds, it was a dead give-away to Thor. Now c’mon, we’re moving you to a safer location—”
“What??”
Laing still won’t let go, jaw clenched so hard it looks painful.
“We know you’re one of his targets,” Tony says with an exasperated sigh, waving you after him. “Move, we’ve gotta move, the son-of-a-bitch is a god, we don’t know how much time we have!”
One of his targets.
The feeling of his palm over your mouth is still as present as it was not even two minutes ago.
His red eyes, those fingers rifling through your mind.
You wrench your hand from Laing’s grip and run after Tony Stark without a thought of looking back.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
feel free to send me ideas!!
if you enjoyed…what if i linked my venmo…haha no i jest…no obligations….just in case….u don’t have to ha ha…….unless… ??
~ masterlist link in my bio ~
loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo @tonakings @shinisenko @tinchentitri @nildespirandum @thefallenbibliophilequote @vodka-and-some-sass @highfunctioningfangirl19 @sadwaywardkid @lokioneshot
#loki x reader#loki imagine#loki enemies to lovers#loki fake dating#loki slowburn#loki reader insert#pre-dating idiots
757 notes
·
View notes
Link
Rating: General Audiences
Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III & Vax'ildan, Vax'ildan & Vex'ahlia (Critical Role)
Characters: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Vex'ahlia (Critical Role), Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Trinket (Critical Role)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern AU
Series: Part 4 of thursday nights and friday mornings
Summary:
Is there something worse than waking up with a massive hangover?
How about doing it in the flat of the girl you've been crushing on, hard, for the past two weeks?
Things can't get anymore awkward between Percy and Vex now. (Not that Vax isn't willing to help.)
Notes: You really need to read the previous parts of this series to understand anything.
Sorry, I should've made it into chapters, but I messed up first time round and don't know how to fix it now.
[Part 1]
[Part 2]
[Part 3]
Percy woke up to what he could only describe as the weirdest mixture of overstimulating sensations a hungover person could expect. A few moments of blinking, and he was able to at least make out most of them. There was a harsh light shining straight into his eyes, coming from the completely uncovered light bulb hanging from the ceiling. There was loud music blaring somewhere from the right, metallic and shrill from an old radio, accentuated by horribly off-tune whistling from someone. A softer rushing sound of water coming from the left, muffled by walls, and a warmth coming from that direction that seemed to fill the room with thick, dewey air. There was pain in his neck and legs from lying on a couch that was obviously too small and too short for his size.
And amongst all these horrible things to feel and see and hear, there was the wonderful smell of coffee and bacon and eggs. It was enough to make him sit up quick – far too quick for his head, he noticed with a little groan while covering his face with his hands to calm the pounding headache now coming in. He could hear someone walking over and lean on the back of the couch.
When he opened his eyes again, a cup of coffee was hovering in front of him.
„Morning, Freddy. You need some coffee.“
He couldn't agree more and grabbed it quickly. The face that showed up in his vision now was oddly familiar, and without his glasses he almost assumed it to be Vex at first – God knows he'd been seeing her face when it wasn't actually there a lot, lately. And he vaguely remembered seeing her face yesterday night, but that might as well have been a nice, alcohol-induced dream.
A quick squint at the face in front of him made it very clear that it was not her, though, unless she had a bad case of morning stubble, and even the Vex in his imagination most certainly wouldn't have that.
„I'm Vax.“ was all the explanation he got for his confused stare.
„There's two of you?“ His voice was croaky, and it hurt his throat just as much as the loud laughter from Vax hurt his head.
„I promise you I'm nowhere near as bad as my sister. Unless you bother her. Then I'm worse.“ It was phrased like a joke. It sounded entirely too serious.
Percy took a sip of the strongest coffee he'd ever tasted and hesitated, unsure what to say next.
„...My glasses?“
„Table on your left.“ Vax got up from leaning on the couch and sauntered back to the tiny kitchenette right behind it. „Once you're actually awake, there's bacon and scrambled eggs. Sorry, no fried eggs, I always fuck those up. Not that a hungry hungover man like you should complain about free food anyway.“
It took Percy quite a while and a full cup of immensely strong but delicious coffee to get his mind in order again, which was not helped by Vax continuing his awful whistling. By the time he could think clearly, something from the last ten minutes stuck out, and it was not the question where he was or how he got there or why cruel fate had decided it had to be Vex and her brother who found him in that state yesterday. It was something far more simple, yet equally terrifying to him.
„Did you just call me Freddy?“
Vax laughed again. Percy's head was still not liking it.
„Would you rather be awoken with your full title, milord?“ A plate of bacon and eggs appeared over the back of the sofa and softened the very mocking tone.
„How- how did you find out-“
Vax plopped himself down next to Percy on the couch with his own breakfast.
„Don't worry your pretty head, Freddy, Vex still doesn't know. It'll be our little secret.“
„How did you find out.“ He repeated, a bit more sternly.
„Ah, does it really matter? What's much more interesting for me to know – why aren't you using that ridiculous name all the time to throw some weight around? All I've ever heard of you is 'Mr. De Rolo' or 'Percival'. Surely there's some influence hiding behind three surnames that could get you respect.“
„None I deserved.“ He murmured, but Vax still caught it. They continued eating breakfast in awkward silence.
He should probably be concerned about his current situation, Percy thought while picking up a fork full of egg. Hungover and even still somewhat drunk in a random flat, sitting next to the brother of one of his students – of that girl – and pretending like that was a completely normal thing, sharing breakfast with a guy you didn't even know existed until a few moments prior. His mind couldn't focus on the panic his subconscious was already preparing – apart from the headache and sore throat and wonderful food, the humid air coming from the door on their left filled the room with a far too familiar scent that had his mind racing somewhere completely different.
„Where's Vex?“ Percy asked once he'd finished his plate. Vax, his mouth still full, pointed his fork towards the door.
„Bthrm.“ He swallowed. „Bathroom. Not like she'd want to get caught by you in her PJ's and her hair all messed up.“
Percy tried not to imagine it. To be fair, he didn't try very hard.
„Maybe I should leave before she comes out?“ He asked more to himself.
„Oh yeah, because just dissappearing from the flat into which you were graciously invited while being drunk out of your ass without at least thanking your hosts is such a classy exit.“
„It'd certainly be more classy than the bumbling awkwardness that's about to happen if I don't leave.“
„Freddy, my boy, I assume anything you and Vex do is filled with bumbling awkwardness.“ Vax's grin was something only an older brother could have on his face.
Percy wanted to think up a witty retort, but his mind just went completely blank when Vex stepped out of the bathroom at that very second. While not in her pajamas, she was clearly still dressed for comfort, and her usually braided hair hung open and still damp over her shoulders.
„Oh, you're up! Good morning!“ Her voice was chipper, yet somewhat off.
„Yes. I mean. Good morning.“ Percy put down his fork onto the empty plate in front of him. „I really should be getting going, though. Sorry to bother you both so much. Thank you for, uhm, for taking me in.“ The words rushed out faster than he could think. Vax snickering quietly beside him as he stood up to put the dishes away did not help in stopping the bumbling awkwardness he'd predicted.
„Oh. Ok. You don't have to run off immediately, you know.“ Vex gestured behind her. „Bathroom's free, anyway, if you want.“
„No, it's, it's fine, I'll just... I'll go home and get some more sleep, I think.“
„Alright. Your coat's by the door-“
His coat was not by the door, which he noticed when Vex's voice trailed off looking at that direction. It took him longer to notice where exactly his coat had gone – it's difficult to see even a large piece of clothing under 140 pounds of fluffy dog.
„Trinket!“ Vex darted over to the giant Newfoundland dog happily sprawled out in a corner, a piece of blue fabric barely sticking out under his paws. „Bad, Trinket! Don't pull jackets of the coatrack! Get up. Trinket, get up!“
Trinket was not getting up. He licked his jowels, looked up at Vex for a second, then immediately put his head back down and gave a short growl.
„Percival, I'm so sorry.“
„No, it's fine.“ After a morning of full of grumpy hangover facial expressions, the slight smirk on Percy's face felt almost strange. „It's not that cold outside anyway. I'll just...“ He waved his hand towards the front door. „You can bring the coat to next class, I don't mind.“
„Are you sure?“ Vex was still trying to shift the unmoving mass of dog, only eliciting another growling.
„Absolutely. I've got my keys and phone.“ He quickly patted the backpocket of his jeans. „I'll be fine. Don't bother yourself on my behalf.“
„He's not usually this misbehaved.“ Vex's hand ruffled between Trinket's ears. Vax's short laughter from the kitchen made it clear that was a lie, and that he was still very much listening in.
After a few more awkward moments of good byes and promises to bring the coat – cleaned, of course! - to class next week, the door closed behind Percy. Vax sidled up to his sister, almost leaning his head on her shoulder, and whispered.
„Told you his phone was in his pockets.“
The punch to his stomach caused a bacon-scented burp to come up.
Percy stood outside the door for a second, across the railing and steps that led down to the parking lot of the apartment complex. His tense exhale turned into a slight mist in front of him.
„It's not that cold outside.“ He mockingly imitated himself before pushing his hands deep into his pockets and walking off. The cold air was a welcome change for his still pounding head, and to be fair, he would've done or said pretty much anything to get out of this situation as fast as possible.
A few paces down the road, and his partially cleared mind was already racing with regrets. God damn it, he thought, she's seen the worst of it now, there's no way to salvage this. Was there ever a way to salvage their giant mess of interactions before this anyway? He'd hoped, just barely, to make up for the first bumbles somehow, to joke his way past it in the coming weeks, to get them to a point where not every situation was weird and tense and awkward.
After this, though? After her having to carry his drunken ass to her flat, after seeing him in probably the worst state he could be in, after the incredibly ridiculous exit he'd just made?
There was no way, he scolded himself, no way in hell that she'd even consider looking at him as anything other than a complete fuck up.
Or was there?
(other fanfics: -non-AU-)
Percy being a wreck about having babies
Percy being a wreck about protecting his new baby
Proof that his kids are doing just fine with him as a dad
#Perc'ahlia#Percy#Vex'ahlia#Critical Role#Crit Role#Vox Machina#Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III#Modern AU#Modern Setting#Fanfic#My fanfics#my writing
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
PerheTale - Little Date At The MTT Resort
Takes Place After: Emotional Rollercoaster
Takes Place Before: Morning Talk
Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Sans went to Callie room. He was about to knock but he stopped in front of the door. He was feeling so stupid. So nervous. That was ridiculous, he was just going to eat with a friend, right? Right?? Or maybe… Maybe not really…? Why was he feeling so weird around Callie lately? That was so… so… Ugh!! He took a deep breath, trying to calm down and knocked on the door. Callie opened right away (wait, was she waiting behind the door??) and Sans eyes grew wide. He wasn’t prepared for this! She had untied her hairs, letting them falling loosely on her shoulders, and oh boy was she beautiful like that. And like if it wasn’t enough, she was wearing a blue dress which was highlighting her whole body, making Sans blushing deeply. And… She was as tall as him? He quickly looked down to see that she was wearing heels. She looked as surprised as he was (she probably wasn’t expecting him to show up in a tuxedo…) and her face was bright red.
“H... Hey..! Wow, I wasn’t expecting… You’re gorgeous.” He managed to mumble
“Thanks, uh… You’re quite good looking too.”
“Ah, uh… I hadn’t really planned to but… You know, Paps… Well, I guess it’s not a bad thing, since you’re so… I mean… I would have looked so lame beside you…”
“What? No! No you’re… never… lame…” she said awkwardly “Though… You might be a bit… Late.”
“Aaah, yeah…” he laughed nervously “Sorry. Like I said, paps… He kinda decided it was the best moment for laundry”
“Well 10pm is obviously the best laundry time” she laughed softly
Sans smiled. She seemed to feel a bit less awkward, good. Next step: stopping himself for being awkward and nervous.
“Well… Let’s go then, I guess? After you, my lady” he said, showing her the way with his hand.
She smiled and started to walk toward the restaurant, but tripped. Sans caught her before she felt. He blushed when he realized he was holding her in his arms and helped her get back on her feet.
“Sorry!” she said, her cheeks getting red again “I… The kids offered these to me today and I’m… I’m so not used to these…”
“Well… Hold on to me then. I’ll help you walk without tripping” He winked at her, trying to hide how nervous he was
She grabbed his arm and they started walking together toward the restaurant. For a moment, it seemed like Callie may be holding his arm a bit tighter than needed, but he wiped that idea away. When they reached the restaurant, the monster at the entrance smiled at Sans and told him he could take his usual table. He helped Callie sit down - despite how much he would have love to keep her holding onto him - and then sat in front of her. The waiter came right away to gave them the menu, and Sans had to restrain him from groaning. Of course it had to be Burgerpants tonight. Why does that little shit had to work extra hours at the restaurant… When he arrived at their table, Burgerpants barely looked at Sans while giving him the menu, and apparently his mind wasn’t working correctly because he didn’t even said anything, while staring insistently at Callie. Damn it, not again…
“Well yeah, go ahead BP, keep staring at her like that, obviously there’s nothing awkward here, right?” Sans said harshly
Burgerpants quickly gave her the menu and started leaving, embarrassed.
“And do not ask us what we wanna drink, yeah, best waiter in the Underground BP, great job here.”
Callie laughed softly as Burgerpant came back, apologizing.
“I’ll take an orange juice for now” she said
“A bottle of ketchup will be fine for me”
Burgerpants rolled his eyes with a smirk and left. They both started looking at the menu and Sans sighed. He usually took the Mettaton Burger - because fancy food was not really his thing and it was the only normal meal from the menu - but with the tuxedo it would probably not be the brightest idea. So… What could he take then? He looked discreetly at Callie over the menu. She was focused on her own menu, playing with a strand of hair nervously, and it was one of the cutest thing he had seen her doing ever. He hoped she would let her hair untied more often… He started blushing when he realizes he was staring and get back to his menu. Ugh. What was wrong with him damn it.
“Thank you Sans, by the way”
“Uh? Why?”
“For coming. I mean, I had just planned to talk a bit to you, and you… You came. Here. In the middle of the night!”
“Oh. That’s nothing, honestly. I just couldn’t leave you alone while you were feeling so down…”
“Well that mean a lot to me. Really. I’m… I’m really glad to have you.” She blushed “As... As a friend, I mean…”
Sans forced himself to smile. Yes, yes, her friend, of course… Why was that sounding so wrong…?
Burgerpants came back a few minutes later with the drinks, and took their order in the same time. Sans asked for roasted duck with fries, and Callie for caramelized salmon. Burgerpants started staring again and Sans hit his leg with his foot from under the table. He left making an obscene gesture toward Sans.
“What is wrong with this guy?” Callie asked
“I have no idea and I don’t give a fuck”
“You’re lucky the kids aren’t here Mister Skeleton”
“You have to admit, not having to think about everything you say is nice from time to time”
“Indeed” she said laughing
“Well, anyway… To a nice night, with a wonderful woman!” Sans said, clinking his ketchup bottle on Callie glass. She blushed and laughed awkwardly.
“And to an awesome skeleton” she added
They both started drinking and Burgerpants went back with the plates.
“Well, that was fast”
“I might be a bit privileged here” Sans winked
Callie smiled and they both started to eat. After a few minutes, since Burgerpants was still there, Sans rolled his eyes, but Callie was faster than him to talk.
“Okay, listen, this is getting really awkward now.”
“Uuh, yes, yes, sorry” he mumbled, leaving
“Well, bone appetite” Sans winked
While Burgerpants was leaving, Callie stared at her plate. Damn it, the cat had kinda broke her good mood with all his awkward staring and stuff. His sole presence was reminding him of her family because of his bad catch up phrase from that afternoon. And not only her blood family, but also the kids. And how each one of them had died countless time since their arrival. She loved the Underground but damn…
“Cal? You’re okay?”
She jumped at the sound of Sans voice. She sighed, realizing she had been lost in her thought again. That happened way too often lately…
“Sorry, I was… thinking.”
“You know you can tell me everything, right?”
“Well…” she bit her lips. Could she really told Sans about Kyo? “You’re probably going to think I’m crazy or something”
“I won’t. I promise” He said, taking her hand “You can trust me”
“Okay…” she sighed “Quite quickly after we felt in the Underground, we’ve discovered that Kyo had… Well… She can do… things? I don’t know how to explain that… She can… Take us back in time, if something… bad… happen…”
“The resets!” Sans said, his eyes growing wide “Oh my god. It’s Kyo? Kyo is responsible for the resets?!”
“Wait, you… Know about that? I thought… I thought monsters couldn’t remember them…?”
“They can’t. But for some reason, I can. So, all those resets, it was Kyo’s doing?” Sans said, his voice getting colder
“Yes…? Oh my god if you were aware of those, it must have been so… so… Weird…”
“Weird? Weird?? Callie do you have any idea how it feels to live the same thing over and over again, without anybody noticing?” Sans asked harshly “Why would you even do that damn it?”
“What? Wait, you think we did that on purpose? That we were, what, making it for fun? We died Sans!”
“You… What?”
“We died! Countless time! And it was so painful, oh my god… Not only dying, but seeing the kids die, and being too weak to protect them. If… If Kyo hadn’t been able to load… Oh my god…”
Callie started crying, overwhelmed by her emotion. She shouldn’t have told Sans. Now he was mad at her, and it was definitely not what she wanted.
“Oh my god, Cal…”
He got up and came to her, pulling her against him, wrapping his hand around her.
“I had no idea… Oh god, you died… You died… I had sworn to protect you and you died! I’m so sorry Callie, I’m so sorry, oh my god…”
Callie shoved her head against his chest, crying in his arms. She held on tight against him, forgetting to restrain herself, but at that moment, she just needed him. She needed to feel him against her, to breath his smell, to forget everything else around her. She just needed him. She’ll start pretending to be just a friend later, but for now she needed that…
She died. Callie. His Callie. She died. Multiple times. And she had to see her kids die too. And he nearly shouted at her because of the resets, not knowing what she was going through. And now… Now he was feeling so bad. He was so angry at the monsters who killed them. So angry at himself, for failing to protect her, to protect them. So angry to have gone mad when she needed his help. And so desperate. She died! She had ceased to exist. Without Kyo, he would have lost her. And that idea was terrifying. Losing her was terrifying. It’s only now that he was realizing how he needed her in his life. Despite how suspicious he had been toward them at first, he had grew fond of them. He might even love Callie way more that he wanted to admit it. And he had hoped so much that he was wrong in the end, that they had nothing to do with all the resets… But not only was he right, but they fucking died. He was so busy worrying about the reset that he never thought that maybe he wasn’t the one suffering the worst from them...
“I’m so sorry I got mad… Really…”
What could he tell… She would be so hurt if he admitted that he had been studying them. That he had been secretly taking notes about them for as long as he had knew them. How could he possibly admit that… But he had to do something… He had to make up for it. There had to be something he could do!
“It hurt so much Sans… I don’t want to die again…” she sobbed “And… And I don’t want the kids to die anymore… That’s why… That’s why I was feeling to bad today because… I really thought I was going to go through this again…”
Sans took her head in his hand, making her look at him.
“Come back to me” he said. Seeing her cheeks getting red, he realized what he’d just said and started to blush too “I mean… with me. Come back with me. You and the kids. At least for a few days? So I could find a way to… avoid you and the kids getting killed again… And you would all be safe during that time.”
“I don’t know Sans” she bit her lips “The kids would probably not be okay with that… They are so eager to leave… And we are… So close… Don’t get me wrong, I would love to come back with you. But… I don’t want the kids to be mad at me…”
“You’re only protecting them. And it would be only for a few days. Beside, they have promised a date to Paps.”
“I guess I could try to talk to them tomorrow…”
“You’re doing that for their own sake. Now. How about we go back to eat before the plate get cold?” He winked
She nodded and gave him a small smile. At least, now he knew what was happening. He could be there if that happened again. He still had no idea how to help them though… Near the middle of the meal, the show ended and was replaced by music. It was kinda nice, not too loud. Sans knew nearly all of them since he spent so much time here. When they were done, Burgerpants came back to take back their plate and take the order for their desserts. Sans took a green tea ice cream and Callie a crème brûlée. When Burgerpants brought the desserts, Sans looked at his ice cream and then at Callie with a huge grin. She smiled.
“Go ahead. Obviously something tickled your funny bone”
“Well you have to admit that it’s an ice way to end a diner”
“Yeah. The coolest”
Oh boy, how was she so perfect… He was about to dip his spoon into the ice when Callie spoon crashed into his cup. She gave him a mischievous smile and his eyes grew wide as she took the spoon back and ate a part of his dessert.
“Did you just steal me a spoon of ice cream?!”
“Who? Me? Nah. Must be Burgerpants”
“He’s too busy staring at you for that”
“What?!”
Callie turned back to check what Burgerpants was doing, and Sans took a spoon of her crème brûlée. When she turned back to him, he smiled.
“Or maybe he just stole a bit of your crème brûlée too”
“Oh, you want to play it like that, uh?” she asked with a smile
She tried to get another spoon of his ice cream, but he used his own spoon to stop her. They tried to steal a bite of each others plate like that for a few minutes, and then started laughing so much that they couldn’t do it properly anymore.
“And I keep telling the kids to not do that kind of stuff. If they could see me now…”
“They would probably find that really funny”
“Definitely”
They finished their dessert, smiling. The restaurant was empty now, and it was getting a bit late, but he knew he could push a bit and stay longer (they weren’t eating anymore anyway, so that was not really a problem for the kitchen). And beside he did not really care about keeping Burgerpants longer. The guy from the entrance put the music volume a bit higher. He smiled when he recognized the song playing and looked at Callie.
Maybe… He could ask her to dance? Friends dance too, right? Asking her to dance wasn’t meaning anything. He got up and went near her, scratching the back of his skull awkwardly and blushing, but offering her a hand.
“So, uh… Wanna dance? We’re nearly alone, beside for BP, and I don’t really mind keeping him here a bit more, but, well… We don’t have to end the date here”
Oookay maybe date wasn’t the word he should have used. But she smiled at him and grabbed her hand, getting back on her feet.
“Oh. Wait.” She sat back and removed her shoes, before getting back up on her bare feet “I’d rather not break an ankle while dancing with you” she giggled
(MOOD SONG)
They walked away from the table, going somewhere with a bit more space. Callie wrapped her arms around his shoulder and he gulped, placing his hands on her waist. Okay now was not the time to start being nervous again. He started moving and she followed him, smiling, her cheeks red. And then… Nothing else mattered. He could have stayed like that for his whole life. Just keeping Callie against him and dancing with her, the world disappearing around them. He could have spent his whole life looking at her smiling like that. He pushed her hairs behind her ear so see her face better, losing himself in her eyes.
(MOOD SONG)
When the song changed, the magic of the moment broke though, as Callie suddenly removed her arms from his neck and started looking around her, a frown on her face. Sans looked at her, a bit concerned, but then realized. Someone was laughing.
“Oh my god I’m gonna kill them”
She headed toward the laugh and suddenly, Ellyne and Mina got out of behind the stage, running away from her. Aw, damn it kids… Sans walked to her, grabbing her hand to keep her here.
“Wait! They’re heading to their room anyway. You can still ground them tomorrow but… How about we don’t end tonight on a bad note, uh? Maybe… Another dance? The last one. Like that... It’s a better ending, no?”
She sighed, but smiled to him.
“Fine. But only because I can’t say no to you. And it’s nice dancing with you.”
(MOOD SONG)
When the next song started, Sans put his hands back on Callie’s waist and she wrapped her arms around her neck again. She relaxed quickly in his arms and he dared holding her a bit tighter - who knows if he could ever dance with her like that again… At least he had gained a few more days with her. He bonked his head against hers with a soft smile.
“I hope you had a nice night”
“Yeah… Thanks you again for coming Sans, really. I’m sorry I bothered you like that”
“You didn’t. You never bother me. Call me, anytime. I’ll be here.”
“You’re the best, Sans…”
She kissed his cheek as the song ended, and Sans went blue. How? How was she so lovely and adorable… How was she so wonderful… She went to get her shoes back and Sans shook his head, trying to get his thought together. Sans went to the reception and paid the bill, not letting Callie a chance to say anything about that. When they got back to the room, the kids were sleeping (or pretending to sleep?) so she did not bother them then - but they would have to give some explanation the next day.
“Thank you Sans. It had really been a wonderful night.”
“You’re welcome. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
She blushed and sans wrapped himself in blue magic, falling directly onto his bed. Oh boy, what a night…
The second Sans left, Callie rushed to her bed, shoving her head to the pillow to muffle her scream. Oh god, did that really happen…?
art by @minakatana
art by @cosmicalsansation
2 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
alanaknobel99
Beyond I-Celebrities
sevensevenffive
SevenSevenFFive
yosisblog
paopao
sicapermata
My Footprints
luna-del-deserto
بدر الصحراء