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adorejungkook · 1 year

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Baby Got Back!!

CHAPTER 7

Synopsis; Jeon Jungkook has the fattest fucking crush on you meanwhile Jimin and Taehyung don’t find you too hard to look at either. Now Jungkook has to find a way to confess his feelings, maybe even show you, before the other two find their ways into your pants during your “staycation”.

Warnings; you guys said you'd be interested in longer chapters, so this is 5 pages long! We'll see how well it does :) happy reading lol

word count; 2k

chapter. 1 , 2, 3, 4 , 5 , 6, 7, 8

As soon as Jungkook opened the door, he was met with two pairs of eyes and two empty chipotle bowls.

Woah, they even paid for extra guac!

Ugh, they would do that while Jungkook wasn’t here.

“Oh!” Taehyung exclaimed, jumping out of his seat and pulling you into his chest like a soldier who hasn’t seen his spouse in seven years, “You brought my baby back~”

“Tae,” You giggled, playfully shoving him away.

Suddenly, Jungkook doesn’t feel as bad about stealing you away and not buying the guys food. He’d probably do it again.

“Stop touching her.” Jungkook said shortly, shoving his arm in between the two of you.

Taehyung stared into his eyes with a small smile on his face, though the look he was giving him wasn’t friendly. It was like he was challenging Jungkook, maybe even mocking him.

“Why?”

…SHIT.

Jungkook had just pushed himself in between the two of you and seemingly for no reason. He knew that the guys knew exactly why he was acting this way, but you might be more than a little shocked to find out how much his heart panged when you laugh so sweetly, and not because of him.

Plus, it would be a little more than humiliating to confess his crush this way and he had to go to bed with you tonight! He’d like to tackle one problem at a time.

“Um,” Jungkook mumbled out, eyes seemingly searching the floor for an answer before seemingly finding it in the smirk plastered on Jimin’s face.

“Because dickhead, you just had chipotle and she’s allergic to pinto beans!” He scoffed, shooting them both sharp looks with their faces both fell in realization.

“Fuckkkk,” Taehyung groaned, rushing away to clean up their leftover plates.

Jungkook had won.

“We really did forget babe,” Jimin frowns as he wipes the table down, giving an apologetic look, “Shoulda got Mcdonalds or some shit…”

“Oh, you’re good! Don’t worry about it,” You assure with a soft smile before turning to Jungkook.

“Hey, you wanna watch a movie later?”

This is the most Jungkopok has ever talked to you and it seems like you’re both enjoying it, even though he’s been acting a little off.

He wonders if you don’t mind or if you’re just used to it.

Either way, as long as you weren’t tired of him, he was going to keep trying his best to impress you.

“Oh yeah, do you want me to tell the guys too? I think Jimin knows where to pirate that new one coming out!” He giggled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh,”

You paused.

Well, Jungkook was done for! You finally realized that you were done talking to him. Was it something he said? Maybe Jimin was right and girls really didn’t like it when you explained pokemon storylines to them…

Or maybe you realized that he stole another one of your delicious cookies?

Either way, Jungkook fucked up.

“I mean, yeah! I was talking about when we go to bed, but you can ask them,” You said with a stale laugh before taking off to change into your pajamas.

Oh, you DON’T hate him and his pokemon lore! You want to spend more time with him, and maybe even find out about Squirtle’s origins! Jungkook couldn’t be happier right now.

Except for the fact that you just told him to ask the guys if they wanted to join.

Jungkook definitely didn’t want to do that, but at the same time he had already lied to you once a day and Taehyung would snitch on him as soon as he caught on to what he did earlier today.

At the same time though, you did say that he could invite them if he wanted to.

They would probably just come in if they heard the TV, but Jungkook didn’t want that either.

He knew exactly what to do.

He strutted into the kitchen, a man on a mission.

Both boys looked up from the dining table, seemingly having finished with their mini-cleaning session.

Jungkook took a deep breath before bowing his head.

“ (y/n) wanted me to ask you if you wanted to watch a movie with us but I really don’t want you to watch it with us so please please please don’t come to our room, I’ll pay you back,” Jungkook yapped out, hands clasped as he waited for his elders’ responses.

“Huh?” Taehyung chuckled out, looking at Jimin in disbelief, “See, you can’t tell me they’re not fucking!”

Jimin just rolls his eyes before tapping at Jungkook’s shoulder, “Fine, we’ll leave you alone for tonight, but if she’s not your girl by tomorrow then I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Man,” Tae groaned, resting his face in his hands, “She’s gonna look so hot in her little nightie dress-thing too..”

Jungkook’s gonna act like he didn’t hear that.

He giggles sweetly before rushing to his room to get ready for bed.

For your bed, which you were going to share and watch movies in.

:)))

Should he find a movie before you get done or let you pick? Did you want popcorn or like, some poptarts to snack on? A million thoughts a minute flashed through his head, including some mini panic when he came across the pair of panties that he practically (literally) stole from you while rummaging through his suitcase before pulling out exactly what he was looking for.

Grey sweatpants.

No undies.

Perfection.

He decided on not wearing a shirt either, partially because he wanted to impress you but also because he never wore shirts to sleep anyways.

After quickly changing and washing his face, he ran back into the kitchen while ignoring Taehyung’s eyes glaring at the back of his head.

Even though he wasn’t a baker like you, he was a certified snack master.

Jungkook grabs a bowl and fills it to the brim with popcorn, pretzels and chocolate candies before mixing it up and dusting a little salt over the top.

If this doesn’t make you fall for him, he honestly isn’t sure what will.

He carefully brings it back to your room, sitting it in the middle of the bed while he waits for you. He chuckles to himself when he hears you singing your favorite song from the bathroom, Wildflower he thinks it was called.

Okay, he knows that’s exactly what song it is.

He follows you on spotify, you’ve got a real gift for playlist-making.

“Okay, I’m ready!” You say as you walk out of the bathroom, putting the last bit of your hair up into the scrunchie you had on your head.

Jungkook’s eyes drag down your body, before falling back onto the scrunchie. He noticed that you had matched the color with your very sexy, almost princess-like nightgown . It fell just before the middle of your thighs and the lettuce-hem at the bottom only made it that much more enticing to focus on.

Jungkook was stronger than that, though.

Well, strong enough to wait until you were looking at him to stare, but strong nonetheless!

As you hop onto the bed, you place the snack bowl on Jungkook’s lap before scooting closer to him and putting the blanket over you both.

“Are you cold? I can grab another blanket,” Jungkook laughed nervously, paying more attention to your side pressing onto him than he needed to.

He could feel the blood rushing to the tips of his ears.

“Nah,” You said nonchalantly, plucking a pretzel and some m&ms from the bowl, before looking up at him, “You feel nice,”

You pick up the remote and start scrolling through movies while Jungkook prays to god than you can’t hear his heart trying to break out of his chest.

@yourbobaeyestell @coralmusicblaze @koikooky @jjkrinvgs @distinguisheddestiny @theladyblue @yopjm @jungkooksseuphoria @hollowtree10 @livorna @slutforwwh @hopewxride @namjoonimtheman2 @kooscameras @treethatswithpetra @canarystwin @idkreallys-blog @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @jalexd @emeraldjade23 @jaehyunsbreadbasket @thatfatbussy01 @bigbootyjoonie @jiimtaee @boys0verflowers @kooklovesu @petalsofink @tornparts @telepathytae @jkjeon9709 @uarmyhopelover @multilingual-kpop @swga-recs @straybangtan @taeisbae13 @such-a-wh0re @m00li55a @foulempathpsychicherring @tearyjjeon @www-interludeshadow-com @Sugaluvmyg @pamzn @sunghoonswh0re @milkxgukk @shxnz @kleirielk @sugaluvmyg

#jeon jk #jeon jeongkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #kpop smut #bts v #taehyung #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin smut #taehyung smut #bts fic #bangtan #kook.series #jk.bgb

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k-evans-reads · 1 year

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In Living Color

Chapter 4

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 6,292

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

April 2021

The shrill ringing of the phone echoed in Natalie’s ear as she rammed her shoulder against the rickety wooden door one last time, huffing out in frustration as it once again didn’t budge. She’d nearly forgotten about the dull ringing of the phone, resting a few feet away on a console table, until a low, warm voice answered, “Hello?”

She sighed, rattling the door handle hopelessly as she replied, “Hey Chris-”

But before she could get to the point, Chris suddenly laughed, his voice muffled as he said something – presumably to Scott – before he told her, “Nat, if you want any guac or salsa, you better get here fast because Scott is demolishing it.”

Nat deflated as she frowned, staring at the one thing keeping her from getting to Chris’ for their planned night in, with Scott, Chris, Nat, and later on Scott’s boyfriend hanging out at Chris’ home to watch the Mariners play the Red Sox. “Well it looks like you guys are going to get it all to yourself because I’m not going to be able to make it,” she informed him, her voice frustrated.

“Really? I thought you were free tonight?” Chris asked, and if it was at all possible, Nat felt even worse at the disappointment in his voice. “Dodger’s going to be pretty disappointed he doesn’t get to see you.”

As if he knew what Chris said, a faint bark carried through the phone. She smiled to herself at the sound and at Chris’ hushed voice as he whispered something to Scott, but soon explained to them, “I’d love to come see him if I wasn’t stuck like an idiot in my apartment.”

The other end of the call was quiet for a moment until Chris asked concernedly, “Are you locked out?”

“No, I’m locked in,” she corrected, shaking her head in disbelief as she picked up her phone and walked down the long hallway to the kitchen and living room. “My doorknob is jammed and of course none of my neighbors or landlord are home on a Saturday night so I’m stuck.”

“This could only happen to you,” Chris chuckled, but she barely paid it any mind as she dug around in her junk drawer for the screwdriver she knew – more so hoped – she’d put in here the last time she needed it.

“I thought about trying to climb out the window-”

“Natalie, you live on the second floor and with your luck you’ll fall and break both your legs,” Chris interrupted, almost chastising her. “Scott and I will come and get your door open.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing they’d likely only do the same things she’d done – sticking a bobby pin, expired credit card, and a variety of other things in between the door and the doorframe. “Oh yeah, because you two are clearly geniuses.”

“Alright smartass, would you rather be stuck in your apartment?”

Nat’s lips pursed as she made her way back down the hallway, tossing the phone onto the ground next to her as she lowered herself to the floor. She surveyed the scene in front of her, the bobby pins and broken cards scattered around her. “...See you in a little while,” she relented.

“That’s what I figured,” he chuckled. His voice was muffled as he said something to Scott before he returned to the call, adding, “We’ll be there soon.”

Knowing they only were driving from Chris’ home in Laurel Canyon, she knew it wouldn’t take them too long to arrive at her San Fernando apartment. Nat stayed in her spot on the Target rug, letting out occasional sounds of frustration as she persisted and just kept fiddling with the broken door knob, hoping she could somehow get it open but made no progress except in aggravating herself even further.

Eventually, she heard two sets of footsteps pause outside her door. “Hey Nat, we’re here,” Chris called, his voice muffled by the thick wooden door between them. With one last ditch effort, she rattled the door as she stuck a bobby pin near the lock, but she only succeeded by jamming it further. “Have you made any progress?”

“Well I got a bobby pin stuck in it which only jammed it more,” she sighed, slouching a bit as she stood up and studied the door.

Chris and Scott were each quiet for a moment, presumably speaking to each other and organizing a plan. After a minute or two, Chris spoke up, informing Nat, “I’m going to try to see if I can get it to open from this side.”

Nat took a few steps back from her door, making sure it wouldn’t hit her if Chris did succeed in getting it open but she ended up standing there and only saw the door slightly rattle, no matter the amount of grunting and loud slams of what no doubt was Chris’ shoulder as he rammed into it. She just kept sitting there, hoping to shortly see Chris’ face when he broke through the door but found herself still staring at the plain wood.

After a lengthy amount of time, and no progress being made, Chris announced they were coming around to her window so she went over to pull it open. Once she’d easily popped the screen out of place, Nat poked her head out, the wind running through her thick curls while she rested her forearms on the window sill and waited to see the two men, and within a few minutes Chris and a dirty blonde – who was very obviously his brother – rounded the corner, coming to a rest underneath her window.

Chris had a smirk on his face as he met Nat’s eye from fourteen feet below her, his voice dry as he told her, “I don’t know what the hell you did to that door, Nat, but it’s really jammed.”

“You’re telling me this like I don’t know?” She shot back, rolling her eyes. It was so laughably typical of Chris to be acting like this, when she was the one who’d been all but doing a work out for the last hour and a half, trying to bust herself out of her own apartment to drive down to his house. “Besides, I didn’t do anything to it! I literally just went to open the door to get a package and it was stuck!”

He rolled his eyes back, but the smirk and look in his eyes betrayed him as he answered, “A likely story.”

“You’re an asshole, just so you know,” she informed him before she turned her attention to the man next to him. “Also, hi Scott. It’s nice to finally meet you… even if it’s from two floors up.”

Scott had a shit-eating grin on his face as he laughed, telling Nat, “Just so you know, I like you already.”

Chris piped up, a smirk as Nat met his eyes and he mentioned, “At least I’m not the only Evans who had a memorable first meeting with Nat.”

“Okay are you going to help me or just make fun of me?” She finally asked, her hands flying in the air and wincing as one hit the window frame.

“I was planning on both,” Chris laughed, but his tone turned a little more serious as he called up to Nat, “But I think Scott’s going to lift me up and I’m going to see what I can do from that side.”

“Hold on, I don’t have pants on yet!” She called, moving away from the window quickly to head to her clean laundry basket on the kitchen counter, digging around for a pair of shorts.

She could practically see the smirk on Chris’ face when he yelled out a joking, “I don’t mind,” making her laugh and shake her head, not knowing just how true his words were. Nat quickly slid her shorts on and wrangled up her messy curls, allowing her to see easier before she poked her head back out of the window.

Chris and Scott weren’t even looking up at Nat when she returned, instead they were distracted by each other. “Okay, lift me up and I’ll climb in,” Scott finally said, gesturing up to the window she was hanging out of. Nat had to bite back a laugh when Chris looked outright insulted by the instruction, a deep frown on his face.

“Scott, are you kidding? If I lift you in, you’ll just end up sitting on the couch drinking beer with Nat. You’re going to lift me and I’ll actually get shit done,” he ordered his younger brother, shoving Scott’s shoulder lightly.

“We’ll see about that,” Scott huffed back, rolling his eyes in exasperation once he and Nat met each other’s eyes.

Nat just watched the brothers bicker for another minute before Chris finally took off his jacket, leaving him in a tight white tee shirt that had Nat drooling just from seeing those broad shoulders outlined so well. She’d never been blind to his appearance, but she’d definitely been preoccupied during the bulk of their interactions, focusing instead on the sketches in front of her and listening to Chris as he recorded his lines.

But now the only thing on her mind was her eyes tracing him, her attraction having only been intensified by the sudden proximity as he’d shifted work projects, their relationship having gone from purely work to friends. But what was stirring inside her wasn’t anything she felt just for friends, and that fact seemed to become more and more obvious with each interaction they had.

Her eyes were glued to him as he put his foot in Scott’s hands, lifting him up and boosting Chris up to where he could grab the windowsill, hoisting himself up and into the window as if it was the easiest exertion he’d ever made. It was a bit of an ordeal as Chris jammed himself through the open window and ended up tumbling onto the wood floor, causing Nat to burst out laughing, earning a shove to her shoulder when Chris got himself up and walked by her to the problematic door.

He bounced his shoulder against the door a few times for good measure until Scott called out that he was in the hall just on the other side of the door. The brothers messed around for a bit, with Scott pushing the door with his foot and shoulder as Chris all but tried to yank the doorknob towards himself and Nat.

Chris’ face was bright red with exasperation when they finally stopped trying to manually force it open, frustration evident in the scowl on his face. He turned to Nat, as he rolled his likely aching shoulders back and asked her, “Do you have any fuckin’ tools here?”

With a nod, she bit her lip, glancing around the apartment and telling Chris, “I think my dad left some when I moved in but I need to find them.”

“No wonder you got locked in,” he muttered, a slight chuckle bubbling out of him as she blindly threw a hand towards his chest before she made her way down the hall to look in a closet.

“Who’s the smartass now?” Nat called over her shoulder, smirking at the sound of his deep sigh.

Nat dug through the back of her closet, finding the bag of tools and brought it out to put on the coffee table. The sound of metal clunking echoed in the apartment when Chris looked through it, finding a hammer which he surveyed for a moment before nodding slightly and headed back to the door. She watched as he dug the back in between the door and the frame while he instructed Scott to push against the other side and after three hard shoves against it, the door finally swung free.

She let out a sigh of relief, immensely grateful to no longer be stuck inside the apartment hopelessly. Now that she was freed, she finally got the chance to properly meet Scott, the three of them chatting for a minute until she realized she was still left with a broken doorknob and no way to lock her apartment. Nat ran a hand through her hair, silently thinking if she could put the knob back on for the time being but before she could think any farther, Chris piped in telling her, “We’ll go get a new knob and Scott can stay here and watch your apartment.”

“No, it’s fine, I can stay and I’ll just call Mark or Jamie and see if they can go grab one and swing it by,” She brushed off his offer, but gratefully handed glasses of water to him and Scott.

But Chris rolled his eyes, his stubborn, hard-headed nature showing as he muttered, “Yeah, like I’d leave you here like this with no way to lock your apartment.”

Nat was quiet as she considered the offer, her eyes drifting to the hallway before they returned to Chris, biting her lower lip and asking him, “...Do I have to ride in your snobby Tesla?”

“Damn right,” he chuckled, shooting her a wink before she grabbed her purse. She told Scott he was welcome to anything in her fridge and where the remote for the television was before she and Chris headed out of the apartment and down to the parking lot.

They drove through the neighborhood as the evening started to grow dark but it wasn’t until Chris was standing in an aisle, surveying door knobs that she realized just how surreal the whole experience was. She wanted to laugh at the thought of telling someone this, that on a Saturday night she was in the middle of Lowe’s while Chris Evans found her a new doorknob for her apartment.

But she almost couldn’t believe it herself as she watched Chris study the different options, pointing out a few to her. She was thankful for the masks they both were wearing as it prevented him from seeing her practically drool over him.

Working with Chris hadn’t been the first time she’d worked with a famous actor or actress, and he wasn’t the first one she’d enjoyed. But each time it had been just that… a work relationship. They had worked together but when that was over, so was their relationship and she had assumed that Chris would be no exception but the opposite had come true. Now that Chris was onto his next project, they seemed to only get even closer; their text stream constant and long, Tuesday game nights becoming a regular fixture for them both, and Nat had begun to miss his presence whenever and wherever he was absent.

There was a lighthearted feeling that Chris seemed to always bring with him, making her feel happy but also so safe. The security he brought to her life was something she hadn’t expected, and the feeling of being wanted, that he truly wanted to be around her and actually enjoyed her just for who she was something she hadn’t felt in a long time, instead having been dealing with the deep rejection she felt from her broken engagement over the past year.

But the worst part of all of it was that she knew she couldn’t have him. She had seen his face on the covers of many websites over the previous years and knew who he had been with in the past, and the thought of being with him was purely laughable to her. Nat knew that she had to push these feelings to the side, and enjoy the growing friendship they had, but take it at just that… friendship and friendship only.

There was still a chill in the air in the late April evening, making Chris shiver for a moment, his thin tee shirt not doing much to keep him warm. He adjusted the hat on top of his head while he walked through the parking lot, thankful for the mask that was blocking his face and keeping anyone from recognizing him while he headed toward the bar.

He was full into filming The Gray Man but was thankful that most of the shooting took place during the day for the portion they were in LA, allowing many of his evenings to be filled with the presence of a curly headed animator and this evening was no different. A couple days ago, Nat had filled him in on the plans they had for Mark’s birthday, telling him they rented out a bar so that their friends and co-workers could come out and celebrate but felt a little tinge of victory when she had asked him to come. She hadn’t outright asked him to come with her as her plus one, especially since he knew Mark and was very friendly with him, but he felt like they both knew there was an underlying insinuation that came with the invitation that he happily accepted.

Chris headed into the bar, his blue eyes scanning the room sparsely filled with people enjoying the Friday night, but quickly stopped when they landed on a familiar frame. Nat was standing near the bar, having must have just come inside since she was pulling off her aviator sunglasses to slide into her purse. He found himself just watching while she animatedly spoke to someone he didn’t recognize while she wiggled her way awkwardly out of her denim jacket, leaving her in a cropped striped shirt and a pair of jeans that Chris noticed hugged her in all the right places.

He sent a friendly but wary smile at Mark from across the room as he tucked his mask into his back pocket, his eyes moving back to Nat. She clearly was enjoying the conversation with the other man, Chris struggling to place a name to his face as he watched them. Nat pointed a finger across the room, towards the wide open doors to Chris’ left leading to the patio of the bar. She nodded as he whispered something to her, then laughed when he added something else. Chris felt his jaw set as he watched the interaction, that flare of jealousy when he saw the way the man’s hand reached out to rub up and down Nat’s arm for a short moment.

Chris didn’t expect the intense feeling that seemed to burst inside of him. It wasn’t as if they were together, in fact he hadn’t even made a move on her yet, but seeing someone else being in the position he wanted to be with her, had him staring longer than he should have. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t realized Mark walked up to him until he felt a pat on his shoulder, “Hey, Chris I’m so glad you could make it.”

He nodded, swallowing as he gathered himself before he replied, “Yeah, me too, man.”

“I figured it’d be easy to persuade people to come with there’s alcohol involved,” Mark laughed, his hand coming to rest on Chris’ shoulder gently. “Have you got a drink yet?”

Chris shook his head, forcing himself to tear his eyes off of Nat as she laughed at a joke. “No, not yet,” he admitted with a grimace.

Mark nodded, looking at Chris carefully. “Can I get you something?” He asked.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I’ll go get one in a minute,” he assured the other man, but before Mark could step away he asked, “Hey Mark, who is that guy over there with Nat? He looks familiar but I can’t remember his name.”

“That’s Ryan, he works in character development,” Mark explained, Chris’ eyes trailing on the man – Ryan’s – face and remembering when he and Nat had run into him at the Commissary one day.

“Are he and Nat like, a thing?”

Mark was quiet for a few moments, long enough for Chris to shift his gaze over to him. “...You jealous, Evans?” The man asked, a knowing look on his face.

“More like… curious,” Chris admitted, but even he had to admit it was a weak excuse.

Mark nodded, his eyes following Chris’ to practically spy on Nat and Ryan. “Well I know Nat and I can already tell you that in about five minutes she’ll be done with that conversation,” Mark sighed, the knowing look remaining as he shook his head.

“Really? Why do you say that?”

“He’s a douche, kinda like Shane was. Ryan’s just smooth talking her and she’s going to figure that out in just a minute so just be patient,” Mark explained with a wave of his hand before he took a sip of his drink.

“Who’s Shane? Have I met him?”

“God I hope not,” he rushed to say, causing Chris to let out an unexpected laugh. “He’s her ex fiance but they ended things about a year ago. He lives in Europe now and is engaged to someone else.”

Chris pursed his lips as he listened to Mark’s abbreviated version of things. “Sounds like a dick,” he finally surmised, shrugging as Mark looked at him in slight surprise.

“He was,” Mark agreed with a chuckle. “But so is Ryan so like I said, give it about five minutes and she’ll be looking for a way to get away from him.”

Chris just nodded before he wished Mark a happy birthday before going to get a beer for himself, chatting with a few people while quietly lingering near Nat. He kept glancing over at her, seeing her and Ryan’s bodies getting closer together each time he looked. Chris couldn’t help but internally curse himself out for not making a move on her sooner, momentarily hating the logical side of his brain that had told him to take it slow.

But it only took another few minutes for Mark’s words to come to fruition, Nat slowly backing away from him as they kept talking. Chris wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying but could see from their body language that although Ryan wanted to keep the conversation going from the way his body was following her and how he kept reaching out to touch her but Nat’s feelings were becoming obvious with how she kept recoiling and wrapped her arms around her body loosely in a self-protective manner.

He was thankful he had kept his eyes on her, allowing him to see her looking around the room, trying to see a way to exit the conversation but when he saw her anxious eyes land on his, he could see the pleading look in them. Chris quickly excused himself from the few people he had been standing with and briskly walked over to where Nat was standing against the bar, putting his hand on her back when he finally stood next to her.

Her hip was leaning against the bar and she was running a hand through her curls when she nearly jumped at his touch, but soon settled when she saw it was him. “Hi Chris, I didn’t even see you come in,” she greeted, her tone a little too even and plain for Nat.

“I slipped in just a few minutes ago,” he informed her, smiling a bit to make her feel more comfortable and at ease. Once she’d nodded, relaxing a bit, he added, “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

She froze, her head tilting as she thought over his words. “It’s been two days,” she reminded him with a small laugh.

“Which is too long,” he told her, his hand shifting around to squeeze her hip before he stuck out his hand and turned his attention to the man across from them, who was befuddled at the interaction. “I don’t think I’ve had the chance to meet you yet.”

“We met one time, just for a minute, but I’m Ryan,” he greeted, jerkily shaking his hand.

“Hi Ryan, I’m Chris,” Chris cooly replied, his tone a little too friendly, and by the way Nat tensed a bit against him, he knew she recognized it as well. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

He nodded at Ryan, then turned his attention back to the brunette standing next to him. “Nat, are you feeling alright? You look like you could use some fresh air,” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

But Ryan interjected before Nat could even begin to answer, his voice practically grating Chris. “Or maybe you just need another drink. I can go get you one,” he unhelpfully offered, clearly not knowing where he wasn’t welcomed.

“No thanks,” Nat kindly rejected, her cool demeanor slipping before she sheepishly admitted, “But I could use some air, I think it’s just stuffy in here.”

Chris’ heart felt like it was aching when he looked at Nat and the way she seemed even smaller than normal, her arms wrapped around herself protectively as she leaned into the wood bar, trying to shrink away from her co-worker. The normal confidence that Nat carried with her was seemingly gone, replaced with her frazzled demeanor at the situation. He wrapped his thick arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his side and felt his heart flutter when he could feel Nat’s body relax against his before they walked out to the empty patio.

She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she nearly shuddered with the action. But she remained quiet as they reached a safe distance from the small get-together inside, and before long he cautiously asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” she brushed him off, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m serious, Nat. You can tell me,” he encouraged, but treaded carefully. Nat definitely hadn’t needed saving, but Ryan clearly wasn’t the type who’d go without a fight. And while Nat was more than capable of doing so, he couldn’t have stood by and watched her struggle to shake him off all night long, and he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if he refrained from stepping in and caused her further discomfort.

But she shook her head again, then hesitated a bit before she rambled, “I’m really okay, I just started feeling really uncomfortable. I don’t know why, he didn’t even do anything but-”

“No, you don’t need to justify it. If he made you uncomfortable, that’s the end of it,” Chris shrugged, and that truly was it. There was no further explanation or reasoning required, she needed an out and got it.

Nat was quiet as she stared at her heels, a deep frown on her lips as she was in deep thought. “Thanks for helping me,” she finally told him, slowly meeting his eyes.

He gave her a sheepish half-smile at her words as he shrugged, admitting, “You don’t need to thank me, I know you had it under control but I enjoy kicking a douchebag to the curb when I can.”

“Really? Because if it’s douchebags that get kicked to the curb, why haven’t I kicked you to the curb yet?”

He let out a sharp laugh, his nose scrunching as he grinned at her. “Well there’s no accounting for taste,” he shot back with a shrug.

“Yeah that mustache you have is a great example of it,” she retorted, smirking widely as his Nat came back, making an appearance for the first time that evening. “You seriously should have kept your mask on, then maybe you could have landed a girl here tonight.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m too busy coming to your rescue,” he shrugged, pursing his lips and suppressing a grin at her loud laughter.

Once she’d calmed down, she pointed a finger – and leaned in against his firm arm – and told him, “Well I’m going to be too busy outdrinking you.”

“Outdrinking a guy from Boston? Yeah I don’t think so. Besides, you’re like…” he paused, holding a hand up to his shoulder, “this big.”

But his teasing of her didn’t get a verbal response, only resulting in Nat practically dragging him toward the bar where they each got a drink which is where they stayed. It was over an hour later and they still hadn’t taken their eyes off of each other, a few empty glasses in front of them, and were both facing one another on their barstools, knees resting against each other while they animatedly talked.

He didn’t even know how long it had been since his hand had moved over to rest on her back, dropping down lower and lower until it had come to rest right above her jeans and thanks to her cropped tee shirt and how she was leaning, he felt her soft warm skin underneath his touch. Chris’ thumb was rubbing slow circles against her bare skin while Nat loudly laughed at one of his jokes, her hand resting on his toned thigh as she leaned in toward him, wanting nothing more than to be close to him.

Nat pushed her empty glass to the side as she finished her mojito with a sigh, shaking her head as the bartender silently offered another round. “I’ve got to hand it to you, you can certainly hold your drinks,” Chris smirked, his chin resting on his hand as he studied her, unable to hide the blatantly longing looks.

She chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she confessed, “It’s not my first go round.”

“I can see that,” Chris laughed, his thumb moving back and forth over the bare small of her back. He moved his chin off of his right hand, reaching to take the last sip from his beer before he admitted to her, “I have to say, I barely recognized you when I came in. I was looking for those crazy curls.”

“Every once in a while I can manage to actually tame them,” Nat rolled her eyes just as her hand landed on his denim-covered thigh again, just resting there as she smirked and winked at him.

“Well I like it when you let them loose,” he shrugged, looking at her through his long eyelashes, his fingers tapping against her bare skin rhythmically. “It’s very sexy.”

Nat raised a single eyebrow at him and Chris worried he went a little too far, but before he could work himself up, she retorted, “Sexy? Unlike that mustache of yours.”

He laughed to himself, adjusting himself on the stool so that his legs caged hers, and began rubbing her back again. “Really because I feel like you’re kind of into it…” He trailed off and raised an eyebrow, smirking at her as she took a bite from the giant soft pretzel resting between them on a plate.

“No way. The beard, yes. Mustache, no,” she mumbled, laughing along with him before she gratefully took a sip of the water that the bartender dropped off for them.

“I’ll make a mental note of that,” he nodded, unable to take his eyes off of her for even a millisecond. His right hand moved to run over his face as he tried to get a grip of himself, but he was too far gone by now. He was so utterly fucked, and he knew likely everyone could tell, but he was starting to not care about anything or anyone besides that brunette in front of him, who was dabbing bits of caramel sauce from her shirt.

Neither of them were even aware how much the party had died down until Jamie came over to interrupt them, asking for help in cleaning up. It almost felt painful for Chris to pull his hands off of her as they pushed themselves off the stools to help pick up from the party while the small group of people still lingered. He was busy stacking up a few glasses when Nat came over to him while pulling on her denim jacket, telling Chris, “I called an Uber so I’m headed out to wait for it.”

His face fell and he froze for a second, but reached for his own jacket – long since strewn over an empty table – and told her, “Let me say bye to Mark and Jamie and I’ll come wait with you.”

They made their way to the middle of the room, where Mark, Nick – his semi-new boyfriend, Jamie, and Lauren were. After saying goodnight to each other and wishing Mark a happy birthday for the last time, Nat and Chris made their way back outside and into the night together.

“Well you certainly surprised me tonight,” Chris began quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as they walked. “I would have pegged you for a lightweight.”

Nat smirked, and the way her eyes twinkled rivaled the stars in the sky. “We Hungarian women are tough,” she told him, biting her lower lip.

He looked at her in disbelief, almost incredulous as he asked, “Tough? Because I seem to remember you crying when I showed you that video of Dodger trying to play with a squirrel the other day.” He smiled as she laughed sheepishly, taking the chance to gently slide his hand out of his pocket and wrap his arm around her hip, landing his hand on the small of her back. But it only stayed momentarily as she reached for his hand and wound it fully around her waist, leaning into his side as he held onto her bare skin.

Without missing a beat, she countered, “Okay, Mr. `I cry at a song.’”

“Hey I’m sensitive and I own it,” he held his other hand up, enjoying the welcome weight of her against him as they made their way to the edge of the parking lot, just as she fished her phone out of her pocket to check on her Uber. He relished her not stepping out of his arms, instead huddling against him as the chilly night hit them. “I just didn’t expect to meet someone even more soft and sensitive than me.”

Nat didn’t even look up from her phone, instead snorting as she sent the driver a message, telling them where she was waiting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m a stone cold bitch,” she informed him with a shrug.

“I think you’re a fuckin’ liar,” he whispered in her ear, smirking to himself when he felt her freeze next to him. “Besides, I think you being sensitive is sexy as hell.”

As he slowly pulled away from her ear, Chris let his face linger near hers. He felt his whole body feel warm with his arm around her, holding Nat close against him but it wasn’t just the heat of her body that was making him warm. Chris just stayed right where he was, staring into her eyes as he looked for hints of her response but got an answer loud and clear when she stood up taller and pressed her lips firmly against his.

It didn’t take him more than a second to respond, kissing her right back in the dark evening. He wound his left arm around her waist, pulling her even closer to him as her arms moved to loop around his neck, a hand moving into his hair. It had been a long time since he’d – and he hated to admit this – was genuinely this excited about being with someone in this way, the anticipation almost as good as the actual release.

But Nat had made him feel that way since the very first day, in that tiny conference room in Burbank, one he’d always remember. He’d been hoping this was where their paths would lead them, but he almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure this wasn’t some fucked up dream he was having.

The sudden honk of a car horn from the surrounding traffic pulled them apart much sooner than he’d wanted and he hoped Nat’s frown showed she felt the same, but he still couldn’t bring himself to move his arms away from her. They were quiet – giddy, but quiet – as they stood there, practically holding each other until he tapped his fingers against the bare skin of her back and asked, “So… am I going to see you this weekend?”

Nat bit her lip, almost suppressing the grin that was threatening to split her lips as she told him, “I sure hope so.”

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her forehead again before a car pulled up along the curb, pausing just as Nat’s phone buzzed against her leg, signaling it was hers. “Your Uber is here,” he murmured, begrudgingly pulling his arms away. “Text me when you get home so I know you got there safe, okay?”

“I will,” she promised, not stepping out of his space quite yet. She looked at the car, almost regretfully, before she confirmed for one last time, “So I’ll see you this weekend.”

“You can count on it,” he assured her, matching grins on their faces.

Before she could step too far from him, he wrapped his arms around her one last time for a hug, squeezing her tightly. Then, just as impulsively, he pulled away from her, walking her to the Uber and willing himself to not give in, to play it smart.

But the struggle was worth it when he shut the door to her Uber, despite the slightly pained look on Nat’s face. And as he watched the Uber head towards the 405, he knew in his heart that whatever was going to happen tomorrow…. It’d be worth this and more. Because she was the best damn thing to happen to him in a long time, and he’d be stupid to let it through his fingers when it’d just barely begun.

A/N: We LOVE this chapter and cannot wait to hear your thoughts! As a quick disclaimer, we know that all the COVID restrictions and things like that aren’t 100% realistic but are changing a few things for the sake of the story! We’ll see you guys on MONDAY with part one of chapter five!

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whatthebodygraspsnot · 11 months

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🌿🌹 Garden Inspection 🌹🌿

i was deadheading my roses this morning and this happened. a small 1k drabble about married gallavich inspecting their plants after vacation and being cute. for the good vibes. [ now on archive of our own ]

The Chicago sun is shining nice and bright when Mickey steps down into their backyard, a pair of scissors in hand.

It took them half a day since coming back home from California - Ian insisting they unpack and throw a load of laundry in during a jet lag nap - but they’ve finally made it to the much-anticipated event.

Garden inspection.

And while Mickey is reasonably invested in all the rest of it - the veggies, the sunflowers, the strawberries that he’s pretty sure are gonna take over their yard, despite his husband’s further insistence - there’s one spot in particular that he’s keen on. The overseer.

“Alright you little fuckers, lets see the damage.”

Mickey plants his ass in the grass and pulls the small pot of miniature roses in front of himself, their blooms bouncing on healthy stalks.

And before you go casting aspersions like some kind of freak, Mickey knows it’s a sight to see. He knows he’s not a rose guy. Or at least, he wasn’t. Until a few months ago, when he woke up one morning after an absolutely shit night and walked into them sitting on their kitchen table, a stickynote with Ian��s handwriting laying next to it.

I’m happy you ~rose~ to greet the day today Mick. ~Leaf~ your troubles behind and come have coffee with me in the back ♡

And when he had opened the cabinets to grab a mug from the cupboard? Another note.

~water~ you doing baby I already have a cup ready for you outside

And he did. The sappy fucker.

So yeah. Call him soft all you want, but Mickey is gonna keep these little assholes alive, even if it kills him. Which seems to be the first task on their agenda today, judging from one look at the handful of dying flowerheads before him.

“How’s she lookin’...?”

Mickey makes a little grumble of a noise, Ian’s shadow passing over him for a second as he joins him out back, on track to the veggies. He tugs at one of the wilting flowers. Dramatic bitch. “Couldn’t wait to cause a scene, huh?”

“Mm. Kinda like someone I know.”

Mickey chooses to ignore that sentiment. He was actually very well-behaved on this trip. No scenes. (Even though that toddler on the beach was asking for it.) “Gotta do damage control.”

Further out in the garden, Ian inspects the bed where the tomatoes are, seemingly unphased by this. “Two weeks is a long time, Mick. Even with Gloria.”

And that’s…true. He guesses he can’t expect everything to be the same as when they left, even with Ian enlisting their old-ass neighbor’s help to come water while they were away. (She was thrilled to do this, to be clear. Way too excited.)

But still.

God damn.

Mickey grabs the scissors, starting in on the process of trimming all the dead, wilted stuff so the plant can use its energy on the stuff that’s still alive.

‘Deadhead’, apparently. Which he thinks is probably the most metal shit he’s ever heard, considering he’s got a face full of roses right now.

He carefully snags a crusty looking flower, its once soft red petals now dark purple and saggy.

Snip!

Another one, very close to the first. Dried out completely and shedding like goddamn Beauty and the Beast as Mickey pinches it between his fingers and gets the scissors in close.

Snip!

“Looks good over here,” comes his husband’s voice, just as he moves on to the next.

A small bud. Dead before it got to bloom.

There’s something poetic about that, ain’t there?

“Oh! We got a pepper!”

Snip!

Fuck, he got pricked.

“Mick, you hear me?” Ian’s turning his head toward him now, his voice clearer from where he’s sticking up out of the garden like one of the sunflowers, one eye squinted into the sun. “Pepper - jalapeño, I think.”

“Yeah that’s real great, man…” Stupid fucking thorns… “Toss it into some-a that guac you stole the recipe for.”

A beat. Probably rolling his eyes. “I didn’t steal it.”

“Damn near-”

“I asked her. Nicely-”

“Yeah, three fuckin’ times.” Mickey’s never seen his husband as unrelenting as his constant badgering of their server that second night. Using all his best manners. Buttering her up. “Good thing she was so sweet on your puppy dog ass.” Had her calling him mijo and shit.

“Hey, I got us free tequila shots, did I not?”

Mickey rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smirk that dances across his face at the memory.

That was the start of one criminally sexy night, god damn…

Snip!

“Fuck…”

Mickey’s smirk falls with the perfectly good rose that got caught in the way during his daydream, now landing in the palm of his hand. Damn it…

But just as quickly, his disappointment is washing away, Ian’s voice joining right in front of him.

“Can I help…?”

Mickey glances up at him. Eyes over the sunburn that’s left his cheeks and the tops of his shoulders nice and rosy.

“No,” he says. But when Ian squats to come eye-level with him, he goes with the flow, taking the perfect bloom and plopping it on top of his husband’s head.

“How do I look?”

Cute. “Gay.”

But it leaves his chest warm. His lungs light. Has his smile blooming when Ian says it, “Love you…” just as sweet.

And it’s like Mickey didn’t just spend two uninterrupted weeks with him, falling for his goofy ass all over again and in every single way, “Love you too…” because the need to touch is insane.

And the feeling must be mutual, because Ian’s grinning slyly, the flower falling from his head as he sneakily pulls the rose pot out from between them and then closes in on his knees - presses a kiss to Mickey’s lips - keeps pressing, until Mickey’s back hits the grass and he’s made himself comfortable over him.

The rest of the trimming can wait.

Time for a different kind of head.

#gallavich #shameless #i should drabble more #ray writes

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allandoflimbo · 1 year

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Take It Back: His Story (7)

Sequel to Take It Back

Previous Chapter

Summary: You and Bucky. It was supposed to be a happy ever after. Your story, home, and love was near perfect. After all, you had worked so hard and suffered so much to be where you finally were. But behind the scenes, Bucky had been dealing with more baggage from the past than he had been willing to publicly share. Steve was always the second best when it came to him and Bucky. From Nat, to you, and maybe now, even someone else. It’s been seven years since Ashlyn cheated on Bucky, but nine since she first fell in love with him. Two years after their public divorce and after starting therapy, she holds onto a dangerous mixture of jealousy and strength. With new friendships and new love on her side, she knows she should let Bucky go. But should is so hard to do when she loved as hard as she did.

WARNING:

This story will contain sex; oral, m/f penetration, anal sex, dry sex, rough sex, shower sex, masturbation, mutual masturbation, porn watching, and soft sex. Very strong language, strong adult content, use of drugs/alcohol, sensitive topics like marriage trouble, illnesses (both terminal and mental), one incident of almost non-con, college frat parties shenanigans, and emotional angst.

Rating: Rated R. 18+ ONLY. 🔞 no minors.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Masterpage for Take It Back: His Story

POV: Third Person

There were two things Bucky didn't like.

When Chipotle would forget to give him his extra guac and when Steve wouldn't shut up about work.

He was doing it more than usual, too.

When they were walking across the street? Work.

When Bucky was driving? Work.

When Bucky was trying to finish his chipotle bowl? Work.

Steve was starting to piss him off.

Suppressing a roll of his eyes, Bucky swallows a mouthful of food. He was just about to yell at Steve to please change the subject when a lady yelling after a kid catches Bucky's attention.

He grimaces as the little boy runs around the restaurant ignoring his mother. Bucky was always on the fence about how he felt about kids.

"And maybe you can try to like it..." Steve's voice is a low rumble in the distance as Bucky looks at the scene across the Chipotle. Bucky is ignoring Steve completely.

Sure, Bucky thought kids were cute and could be fun, but they were also a hassle. Just watching that mother yell after that kid made him cringe.

"...Even if you don't it won't hurt..."

A camel-colored coat catches his eye.

The glimpse of the girl's hair and neck sends him into a weird deja-vu stance and he finds himself not being able to look away.

Everything stops and everything tilts. He narrows his eyes, trying to remember where he saw the familiar figure before.

"Buck. Are you even listening to me?" Steve asks.

Bucky happens to finally get a good look at the girl's face when she turns to walk towards the door to leave.

"I'll be right back," Bucky says.

He pulls back immediately, noticing his mistake.

He can't deny the look of confusion and surprise on her face.

Something was happening in the air around him, or maybe it was in his chest when he finally sees the face behind that hair.

He can't seem to shake whatever it was that was nagging at him.

Familiarity? Had he met her before and didn't realize it?

Standing in front of him for the first time in her life suddenly didn't feel like it was the first time at all.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"Hey, sorry 'bout that." For some reason, his voice sounds disconnected from his body. It comes out on a will of its own as if his mind was elsewhere.

He knew where it was. Rewinding through his brain. Digging through memories. But they all came up blank.

He was losing his mind. He was sure of it.

He shakes whatever is nagging at him away and finally addresses the reason he stopped her in the first place.

"Are you Ashlyn's sister?"

She let out a sigh and after a roll of her eyes, a small smile clouds her face.

"You must be Bucky."

She knew who he was just by that and the conversation unraveled naturally. Ashlyn's little sister, Y/N was her name, was very sweet.

She seemed shy, a bit reserved and guarded, but kind and friendly. He invites her to come to Montauk with Ashlyn, his friends, and him. She accepts it, a bit reluctantly at first, but she does.

He watches her for an extra second as she walks out of the restaurant. He furrows his eyes, his brain still trying to search for something he wasn't sure was even really there.

"Who was that?" Steve asks.

"Y/N. Ashlyn's sister." Bucky answers, picking up his fork and going back in for some white rice.

"I didn't know she had a sister."

"Yeah, she's younger. I invited her to Montauk with us, if that's okay."

Steve nods.

"That's fine." Bucky nods and goes back to eating silently. He's thankful Steve doesn't bring up work anymore, "You have a weird look on your face."

Bucky chuckles.

"It's nothing. I just feel like I've seen her in person before."

"Where?"

"No idea. I'm probably just losing my mind."

Barnes Enterprises was usually the busiest around three in the afternoon.

Especially on the top floor. People were constantly walking back and forth trying to finish their day earlier so that the last hour before five was more relaxing than anything.

He and his right-hand men, on the other hand, worked twenty-four-seven. It was expected. They were dedicated by blood to his business. That's why he needed someone just as capable and dedicated to taking this place the moment he was no longer around.

He didn't trust Ben Harper, and Tony Stark buying them out was no damn option. Aside from settling for his son, he did have one other person in mind.

The handsome blonde walks towards the top floor's check-in desk. He takes a moment to look around, realizing he's only ever been up here once before.

He tries to hold in the smile as he remembers Harvard's Sophomore year.

Finally, he clears his throat.

Hilary, a black-haired girl, looks up from her computer. There's a bright smile on her face and her green eyes are a piercing combination.

"Steve." Her voice was sweet.

Hilary was always nice. She had been hired around the same time Bucky and Steve started at the company. The three had practically grown up together in the building.

Steve smiles politely at her.

"Hi, Hilary." He clears his throat again and shoves his hands in his pockets. He sways back and forth, "Uhm. George said he wanted to see me?" He can't shake the apprehension in his voice.

She doesn't realize she's staring at his sharp jaw until she finally looks away, her dazed smile slightly falling off her face.

"Oh, right. Let me take a look." She types some things away on her keyboard, "He just finished up another meeting, so the door is probably closed. You can knock and he should let you right in."

Steve nods.

"Thanks." He rolls his neck twice on the walk toward the large dark and sleek doors at the end of the hall.

He had the normal fear one has towards any boss. Sure, George was his best friend's father and he had technically known him since he was a little kid. Hell, George had once walked in on Steve practicing "kissing" with a four-by-four when he was eleven. They weren't close, but they were close enough to almost be considered family. Steve's father was absent a lot in his life, and George was always there for him.

Come college years, George became his boss, and there was a different kind of respect there.

Steve knows he got into Barnes Enterprises almost through literal nepotism if the Barnes family were to even be blood-related. But that doesn't mean he ever took his job here for granted. He loved working here. He progressed here and his friends were here. It was his second home.

Close or not, Steve's palms were sweating as he approached George's office.

He doesn't know why he's here. There are only two things it could be. One, he either is getting an extra assignment of some sort. Or two, he's fired. Either being a possibility makes his stomach twist into knots.

Steve takes in a deep breath and knocks on the door. It takes a few seconds for it to swing wide open.

George stands there in a silver suit and white tie, an equally bright smile occupying his face.

Steve takes in a deep breath.

"Mr. Barnes." Steve greets him.

"Come in, Steve." He lets Steve walk through, and then closes the door right behind him, "You can take a seat." He motions outward with his hand towards the center of the room.

Steve eyes one of the several black chairs and then the couch, not knowing which approach George wanted.

Was he overthinking this?

Steve finds himself walking over to one of the chairs in front of George's desk and takes a seat. George eventually finds his way to his chair and sits directly in front of him.

He gives Steve a small smirk before he folds his hands out in front of him and on the desk.

He can't help but chuckle at the tense and apprehensive look on Rogers' face. He had seen this look one too many times to know what it was. Mr. Barnes sighs.

"Don't worry, you're not being let go," George says.

A heavy weight is immediately lifted off Steve's shoulders and he finds them almost sagging.

He lets out a humorless laugh.

George gives him another look that Steve can't necessarily pinpoint, and then he sits back in his chair.

George nips on the corner of his bottom lip, bouncing his pen up and down, still eyeing up Steve thoughtfully.

"Quite the opposite." He adds.

Steve raises a brow at this.

"Opposite?" Steve asks.

George gets a pensive look on his face before he lets out a long but nearly silent sigh.

"You're one of our best lawyers, Steve. If not the best. You know that, right?"

Steve doesn't know what to say right away.

"I mean we have a lot of people here. You think I'm one of the best?" Steve chuckles and then licks his lips. He looks out the window, "I don't know about that."

"Well, you should know, because you are."

Steve turns to face George again, a serious look on his face.

"You're young, and you are better than most of the guys here who have thirty-plus years under their belt. But not just that," George lowers his voice dramatically and waves a finger in Steve's face, "You have great leadership qualities and great worth ethics. You're good at business. And you know what we do. You know what we believe here and you've only continued to prove that and follow that oath faithfully. You're good. Take the compliment." Steve's face relaxes. George sits back in his chair and sways, "You actually remind me of myself when I first started my position," George examines Steve's face for his reaction that will follow the end of his sentence, "as CEO."

Steve's in shock for just a minute before what his boss is saying starts to sink in.

He knows his eyes are almost wide, and his chest is blooming with equal pride as it is shocked.

He looks down at his lap, trying to find the right words to say.

It takes him a moment because while he feels pride and he is flattered, he also feels a pang of huge guilt.

"You don't have to give me an answer now," George says more quietly and in less of that professional tone.

Steve finds himself shaking his head slowly back and forth.

He licks his bottom lip.

"I—I don't understand. Bucky isn't next in line?" George's face falls just slightly, almost solemnly, "The way I always understood it is it would be him who would be next."

George bites at his bottom lip before he responds. He looks out the window and continues softly.

"You and James have always been best friends. And you being a great man with the loyalty you hold for our employees and also your friends doesn't shock me at all. It also doesn't shock me that that's your first concern. I expected it." Steve looks at him, waiting for him to continue, for him to at least address his question. George looks him dead in the eye, "Bucky doesn't want to be CEO. He doesn't want any of this," Mr. Barnes motions around the room, "He's never liked this kind of responsibility or lifestyle, let alone this career path. Yes, it would be very logical for him to be next, but he doesn't want it. And he's not good at it. He's said so himself. Doesn't it hurt that my son can't continue this? Of course. That's something that I've grown to see in my son for many years. He's a sweet boy who wants to be a lawyer and live in the city and that's it. I don't hate him for it. I also don't want to force it on him. Especially when there's someone better fit, and more capable. Someone who wants it. You're a very close second to my son. I practically raised you."

Steve is at a loss for words as he ponders everything George just told him.

He wasn't entirely wrong. Bucky never wanted to be CEO. But he couldn't do that to his best friend. But if it wasn't Steve who accepted it, who was the second runner after him?

"Can I give you an answer a week from now?"

MONTAUK

Caught in his thoughts from earlier, Bucky zips up his suitcase.

He looks over at Ashlyn and he feels like this is right. Picking her up at the train station felt symbolic to him. Like he would always be there to pick her up. He hadn't meant to offend Y/N when he had asked that question about her in the car.

He didn't. Most of all, he's worried he offended her with his little thing comment, and he knows how it sounded. But the thing is, he didn't mean it that way. It had nothing to do with her appearance that way.

He wasn't sure exactly why he kept teasing her that way. If maybe it was because in comparison to him, her personality reminded him of a kitten and he was a lion.

He couldn't describe it. Come to think of it, the more he racks his brain trying to trace the first time he said it and justify and explain it, it just kept sounding worst.

It was some kind of buried sentiment and feeling that he had yet to discover since that chipotle encounter.

His concern, though, was offending Ashlyn.

They had a great day at the pool but she had seemed a bit quiet.

He looks at her as she's pulling out clothes from her luggage and setting them up on the dresser in their guest bedroom.

Despite Steve's father always working and hardly ever being in town, he was always kind enough to open his home to Steve and his friends whenever they needed a break from city life.

Not many of the girls Bucky had dated had appreciated it that much, but Ashlyn did.

Her hair was in two braids and there was a tint of extra color on her cheeks from being out in the sun rays all day.

"You look beautiful." He tells her. His voice cuts through the room like a hot and searing steak knife.

She looks up and smiles at him.

"Stop." She says, looking away. A dark hue taints her cheeks.

Bucky chuckles.

"I'm serious." He looks down and rolls his suitcase into the closet. The wheel catches the edge of the wall and he curses under his breath, "Don't tell Steve I scuffed up the wall." He says under his breath.

Ashlyn continues to organize her clothes.

"It was nice of him to show her around the house. He seems very kind." Ashlyn says.

"Steve's the best." Once Bucky's suitcase is put away he makes his way over to Ashlyn and gently puts his hand in the nook of her elbow, stopping her movements, "hey, come here." He says.

There's a heat in his voice and a sparkly in his eye that he feels. She was so damn pretty.

Ashlyn drops the red bikini she was holding and turns around to face Bucky. He gently grabs the side sides of her face and he leans down and kisses her. Eventually, his kisses slow down to pecks and he pulls away.

She narrows her eyes as she watches a pensive look drift over his face.

"What?" She asks.

"Nothing," his eyes watch his fingers as they brush over her cheeks, "Nothing."

Not pulling her eyes away from his, she swallows hard.

It was already night time and the only light was not the one from the ceiling, but it didn't seem light enough right now. Bucky gulps as his eyes drift to the hills of her breasts. His right hand goes to her left one and then up onto her shoulder and then into the corner of the warm skin of her neck.

There's a dimple there.

He promised then he would always be protective of her. He'd never let anything hurt her and he would never hurt her.

"I love you." He whispers. He can feel her throat move under his thumb as she wallows.

He knows it feels a bit too soon to say it, but something compelled him to. It also brought them to this moment right here. This felt like the epitome of greatness in their relationship, despite them knowing there was more to come. This moment was inconceivable, it was beautiful. So while it did feel too soon, he couldn't have thought of a better time to say it.

He did love her.

She was precious in his eyes and he knew the troubles she was going through. Both from her past, her parent's death, helping take care of her little sister, and also how delicately emotional she was. He would protect her. He cared about her. What he felt, as he felt her body under his hand, and as he felt her body under his that night, was nothing short of love.

They try not to be too loud, and honestly, he doesn't even think they make a sound.

The only plausible one was the whimper that left her lips when a small tear leaked from her eye towards the end. He had wiped it away, promising he'd always wipe all her tears and pain away.

It takes a few minutes for Ashlyn to doze off. Bucky leans over her as she's faced down and he gently kisses her bare shoulder.

He pulls the comforter up a little higher up her back to keep her warm.

"I'll be back." He says quietly, knowing she most likely didn't even hear him.

He pulls on a clean pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt.

He makes sure not to close the door too loudly as he's leaving the room. He even keeps his footsteps light as he tiptoes through the hallways to not awaken anyone else either.

It's dark as the floor manages to creek a little under his feet. Walking down the steps and making a turn into the kitchen, he quickly halts.

"Oh shit. Sorry." It comes out before he even knows he's said anything.

It was late.

Worry fills him.

Y/N is standing there, crying.

He's frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do at this point. He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable.

She turns around to face him and the look on her face breaks his heart.

He knows how he looks, with hair disarray and the obvious evidence of what he had been doing all over his body.

But her, here crying and looking devastatingly heartbroken, felt more important of concern.

He asks you what's wrong and you tell him to leave the lights off. Eventually, you open up to him and you share a glass of beer.

It's talking to her about love and about being hopeful that she will one day find true love so that he realizes that Ashlyn isn't the only one who needs protecting.

He knew it wasn't his place, he barely knew Y/N, but he was a human being.

He'd work to be your friend, and being his girlfriend's sister, he was dedicated to keep going the extra mile to help you any way he could.

And, fuck, he means. Means it with all his heart when he tells her because he experienced it firsthand himself.

"I'm not just saying this because you're my girlfriend's little sister, but trust me. Some day, someone will love you for you."

It's when she looks down at her glass, running her finger around the rim, that Bucky catches the back of her head again, and that deja-vu comes crawling back. There's something about your voice that sets him on edge when you ask the next question.

"And did that happen for you?"

___

SAME DAY

New York City's clear skies were a rarity this early in May. Usually, there would be more thunderstorms lingering from the April showers.

Mr. Barnes was standing on his penthouse balcony, sipping his Macallan scotch when he hears a knock on his front door.

He takes one last look at the beautiful scenery with a deep sigh. Wiping a lonely tear off his cheek, he turns around, places his glass on a nearby table, and walks to his door.

Still tasting the heavy liquor on his tongue, he opens the door.

George smiles.

"Connor."

The pretty blue-eyed boy smiles back at him.

"How are you feeling?"

George gives him an added weak smile and a tilt of his head.

"Not the best. But it'll do."

Connor nods. George lets him inside, and he closes the door behind him. Already knowing his way, Connor walks over to the couch and sits down.

They sit there quietly for a few extra seconds. George leans his elbows on his knees and runs his hands through his hair.

"You decided to opt out of treatments?" Connor asks carefully.

There are a few extra minutes before George responds. Between then he looks outside again, then at the floor, and occasionally at his hands.

"Yeah."

"How've you been, regardless?"

Mr. Barnes clears his throat.

"I'm fine," George grabs an extra glass and pours the liquid amber inside of it. Connor thanks him when he's handed the glass, "Thanks for coming on such short notice. I wanted to make you an offer."

Connor raises one eyebrow.

"Offer?"

George nods and sits on the arm of the couch. He takes another sip of his drink and looks down into the glass, watching his reflection. He swirls it around as if doing that would make the liquid speak to him.

"I spoke to Steve," George says.

"He turned it down?"

"As expected. Such a shame."

"But Bucky doesn't want the job," Connor says.

George looks up at him.

"Exactly," George says with finality.

Connor knows that look. Pleading. Asking.

"George."

"I want him to want it," George says through clenched teeth, "I wish he did because he's my son, and he's the one I want to give it to. He's the one that should be up there once I'm gone," his voice breaks slightly, "It should be him. I would tell him straight up if I had to, but you know I don't want to keep forcing it onto him. But I'm going to have to speak to him. I'll do it kindly. Make him not so afraid. I'll train him." Connor nods, but knowing that wasn't the end of George's deep thoughts, "and if I still don't find him fit for it, you're going to take it from him. And if I'm not around to make that choice, you will do it."

He drinks the last of his scotch and puts the glass down in the middle of the obnoxiously large coffee table. Connor was across from him but it felt like miles away.

Connor's jaw twitches.

"I haven't spoken to him in so long, but he will always be my friend."

"This isn't about niceness. This is about business. You know you're a better fit and you know your own family is on the line too. It's in everyone's best interest, including Bucky. He won't take offense to it. I'm sure. He's a nice kid. But I get worried about him. I don't think he'll be able to handle it, and I want him to, because I want the best for him, and as much as he denies it, he knows deep down it is, too. That's why I want it so passionately for him." George can feel his teeth clenching so hard it practically burns his jawbone. It hurts Connor to see the desperation on his face. He was worried about Bucky, "He's my son. After his mother died, he's all I have."

Connor blinks quickly and looks away from him.

He feels a nagging in his head that tells him he needs to just say it. He knew it wasn't his place, but he had to know.

"There's something you should know." Connor eventually says. He can't look up to see George's reaction, but he'd bet his money that George was more than hesitant to want to hear what he had to say. "About four years ago, when Bucky had first found out about his mother, I was with him," Now he looks up and George's eyes are dark, "I was with him when he was told over the phone. All the details. Everything."

George swallows thickly and looks away.

"I can't imagine how hard that must've been for him."

Connor looks at his hands and nods.

"Yeah, it was. He took it very hard, as expected. Who wouldn't," Connor's voice is distant as he remembers that day, "It's not my place to say this, but you're his father, and I know you want only what is best for him. You should know."

"What is it?"

"When he found out," Connor clears his throat and leans his arms on his knees in front of him. He picks at his fingers as he remembers pulling the pill bottles out of Bucky's hands, "Bucky tried to kill himself."

Something happens to George at that moment. Something that shatters him, breaks him and makes him angry.

"What?" George's voice sounds foreign. Misplaced. Disassociated.

"If I hadn't been there, I don't know what would've..." Connor's voice trails off but both know he doesn't need to finish the sentence, "I'm sorry. I still think he can be very fit for what you want him to be, but you deserved to know as his father who loves him. He needs you. He needs us."

George's face is burning hot and his throat feels like pin needles.

"Thank you, Connor." His voice is hoarse, "Please consider what I said. I still would like to consider you." He reaches over and takes the drink out of Connor's hands, "I think you should go."

Connor nods and stands up.

Once he's out the door. George continues to stare at the golden amber in his hands.

How could he? How could he be that low and never tell him? How could he want to do that to himself? Did you want to die? Did he think that would fix anything? That nobody would've missed him? Including him, his father? Was that his only attempt?

Memories roll over him. Yankee games and visits to the circus and the aquarium. Kindergarten drawings and the smell of play-doh.

He doesn't realize he threw the glass across the room in an emotional rage until he sees the amber that was in his hands now splashed across his wall, dripping onto the floor.

"You know I had your mother work for me when we were dating. It brought us closer."

Mr. Barnes says as he tightens his son's tie around his neck. It was the night of the gala and the first night when Mr. Barnes felt that betrayal consume him.

"You think I should ask Ash to work for me?" Bucky asks deep in thought.

He wasn't too sure about that. Not only did Ashlyn not seem like the type to enjoy this kind of work environment, but Bucky also wanted to keep her away, too. After seeing what it had done to his mother, the cons side of course, and how George treated a majority of the females who worked here.

But maybe Bucky could keep her at arm's length from that experience?

George's eye twitches as he examines Bucky's reaction to his suggestion.

"Yeah. What do you think?"

___

"Like I said, if you don't feel comfortable, you don't have to do this. It's okay to say no." Bucky tells her, his hand squeezing hers.

"I want to be around you more, but it's really up to you, Bucky. If you don't want me here and there's a specific reason you feel I shouldn't do this, please tell me and I'll turn around right now." Ashlyn tells him.

Bucky is pensive as he watches her. He doesn't know what to say. Or maybe he does but doesn't know how. Or maybe there's no point in saying it because maybe he's being dramatic.

Bucky lets out a sigh and leans his forehead onto hers.

"There's nothing." He opens his eyes and looks into hers, "It's fine. Go ahead."

Ashlyn's nerves are at an all-time high the moment she walks into Mr. Barnes' office.

Maybe it's knowing how much power he has, or maybe it's the way his eyes are glued to her ass the second she steps into the room.

She feels bile running up her throat as she turns around the close the door and she hopes that she's imagining it.

Thankfully, the second she turns around to face him, he's looking at something on his computer.

He clicks a few things and finally stands. He buttons his suit blazer and makes his way closer to her.

She's thankful when she looks down to see him just extending a hand out to her.

There was something about his personality that was extremely domineering.

"You must be Ashlyn." He greets her.

She smiles back nervously.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

He only hums a response, his eyes going straight to her breasts and then back to her face.

"Pleasure is all mine," he spins around and points his hand out to one of the two chairs facing directly his desk, "Please take a seat, sweetheart."

Ashlyn feels a strange feeling once more in her chest.

She was uncomfortable.

Maybe Mr. Barnes was just really nice? She needed to stop being so negative. She's had it hard for so long now and things in her life were finally clicking into place. She was not going to let some bad feelings distract her from that.

She takes a seat and they go over her resume.

Mr. Barnes folds his hands on the desk and leans forward.

"You don't have much experience, but that's something we can train you on." He tells her. Ashlyn finds herself smiling at this. George clears his throat, "There is one more thing I'd like to discuss with you."

He walks to the corner of the room and pulls out a piece of paper, and on it is a doctor's name.

Ashlyn's stomach drops.

Why would this be an issue? What she went through was something many people through every day. It didn't define her character and it wasn't necessarily a bad thing either, it just became a part of her and something she learned to best control and deal with.

What was he getting at with this?

Her biggest fear was that he was about to make it seem like having depression or bipolar depression was something unnatural. Her biggest pet peeve, biggest fear, and biggest weakness. It wasn't true, but the second someone treats you like you're weaker because of it, it's so easy to be affected by words. Emotions.

It wasn't fair, no matter how strong she knew she was.

"You didn't have to keep this from us. Not me, especially my son, as I'm assuming he doesn't know. Is there a reason why you chose to not mention this?"

Maybe because half the population deals with it too? She wants to say.

He makes a sound that she can't tell what it means.

"Why," he taps the papers against his legs and walks around to sit in his big chair behind his desk, "did you keep your medical records a secret?"

Ashlyn swallowed nervously, her mouth opening but no sound coming out.

"Did you think this would stop me from hiring you?" Mr. Barnes wasn't yelling, but his voice was strong. Somehow, she felt controlled. When she doesn't say anything, he leans over his desk, drops the paper down, and with crossed hands continues, "look, you're a sweet girl. And I see a lot of potential in you. You have good qualities, you stick up for what you want regardless of if it's right or wrong-"

You barely know me.

She couldn't help it.

"I'm sorry, you got that from a fifteen-minute interview?"

Ashlyn chuckles nervously.

Mr. Barnes smiles.

"Trust me, I have good instinct. Anyway, am I wrong?" When Ashlyn doesn't respond, Mr. Barnes smirks, eyes drifting once more to her gorgeous legs, "bipolar, depression, anxiety, personality disorder, a manic episode-" Ashlyn flinches with each word thrown at her, she feels it eating away at her bones and most importantly - her dignity. He notices and his eyes soften, "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Many famous businessmen, celebrities, and big figures names—suffer from the same illnesses. It doesn't make you any less human or capable."

I never said I was ashamed of it. It's nothing to be ashamed of. She felt like words were being put in her mouth. She thinks that when she looks down and tries to think of a response that isn't too rude, it accidentally comes off looking like a nod.

George smirks.

"Come here, I want to show you something."

Something felt wrong about all of this to her.

She follows him out to the large window and stands next to her for a few minutes.

He knows she does this on purpose, because just like that she forgets his disgusting behavior and his insulting words. He almost seems nice again, and maybe he is coming from a good place but he has trouble putting it into words.

She looks at the New York City skyline and all she can think of at that moment is Bucky.

How can something so beautiful be so bad?

"You see this?" Ashlyn followed his gaze out into the city, the hundreds of people walking below in the streets, the famous buildings hanging high in the skies like goddamn trophies, "Barnes Enterprises owns about seventy-five percent of everything you're seeing. From the Hudson to the bay-" He turned slowly to Ashlyn and examined her face, "I see the way your eyes shine when you look at it."

She because of Bucky. Not you. She wants to say.

Ashlyn swallows as her eyes drift down, "It's all nice. Everything he's done for me so far, it's almost like he knows exactly what I need. It's like he's cured me."

She doesn't mean her struggles; she means her heart.

Because she's never felt so free and liberated as she did the last few months.

She trembled slightly under his heavy gaze and as his finger played with a strand of her that was on her shoulder.

It was unexpected and it made her blood run cold.

"And what is it that you need?"

Ashlyn thought about it- thought about it. The answer was simple, and it wasn't one that she had ever expected to be the answer to all her issues. She knew exactly what it was that she wanted.

"Everything."

If it included Bucky and all the love he had to offer, she would take the world for him.

Barnes bit his bottom lip and nodded, looking once more out the window.

"Perfect. Look I think you'll be perfect for this job more than you think. If anything I'm going to want your help, but it's something that can only stay between us. It will make you happy and it will help you."

He knew she'd break eventually, and so would his ungrateful son.

"Of course, anything."

Mr. Barnes sighed.

"Look, Bucky's a great kid, as I'm sure you know. But he's got some weaknesses. He thinks too much with his heart," this makes her frown, "I'm going to want you to work under my eye, and there are certain tasks you might have to do that at first won't make sense to you, but in the long run, you will see it pay off. That is if I choose you to stay."

She doesn't know exactly what he means.

"It will help me?" Her voice shook with uncertainty.

"Yes."

___

The flight was three hours delayed. They waited in the AMEX lounge, but still.

Ashlyn hated to fly, so an added three hours of stalling and having imaginary scenarios of the aircraft falling out of the sky did nothing to help soothe her.

She was excited about Paris. She had never been, but to add to her nerves about flying she had also been a bit worried about going alone with Mr. Barnes.

She still did not get the best of feelings from him. She was even more caught off guard when they finally began to board and a random guy came to sit next to them.

"You made it," George says.

Ashlyn looks up to meet a pair of pretty blue eyes. When they meet there's a slight pause on the guy's face, as if he was caught off guard.

"Ashlyn, this is Connor Taylor. Connor, Ashlyn."

"Nice to meet you, Ashlyn," Connor says with genuine kindness.

"Ashlyn here is new to the business, we're bringing her along to show her the ropes. She'll also work as my assistant." George says.

For a second there's a look of confusion on Connor's face, but then it quickly goes away and he nods.

"Understood. I just thought it would be us, but it's nice to have some added company. Makes the flight more fun, for sure." Connor says.

Ashlyn grimaces.

"I don't know about that."

"You don't like to fly?"

"I hate it."

"You'll be fine, I promise," Connor says.

"So we'll be meeting up with Hank and Stark, is what I hear?" Ashlyn asks, trying to get service on her phone for the umpteenth time. Something was happening to her wifi in this airport.

"Correct. They are our biggest partners, but we're trying to get a bigger share. Things aren't going to be looking too bright in the next few years, so we just want to be safe." Connor explains. Ashlyn nods.

"Well, we're about to board, you guys can chat more on the flight, huh? And guess what, your seats are right next to each other." George says, standing up and making his way to the gate.

Thankfully, after two drinks and a Benadryl, Ashlyn passes out. She ends up sleeping through the majority of the overnight flight, only waking up when the pilot finally announces their approaching descent.

"Looks like you made it, Ash." The sweet voice surprises her half-asleep state before she looks up to meet Connors' eyes. He's smiling at her, pulling his headphones out.

She looks away and sighs.

Made it, indeed.

She can't understand what he's doing or why he's doing it, but she's scared. She wants to run out of there and scream. She wants to grab her phone and call Bucky. She hates this. She hates how powerless she is against him because he's this prestigious figure, so they'd never believe her, let alone the shame.

She was shaking.

She should've gone with her gut. She knew something was going on, but she didn't listen to her gut.

The night started as the other two.

They went to meetings, then she'd come back and help return his emails or organize his schedule.

But this time when she had turned to go into her room, he had stopped her.

"Hi, Mr. Barnes. Was there something I missed?" She asked. There was something dark in his eyes when he looked away from her and shook his head. She watched as he slowly raised his hand and beckoned her with his finger.

She looks around the hallway to see it was empty. Even Connor had already gone to bed. She was unsure.

She hesitates as she feels his eyes take her in.

"You didn't miss anything, sweetheart. But I would like to speak to you for a bit," he walks a few more feet back until his hand is around the golden doorknob in his room. She gulps when he asks, "You coming in or what?"

Slowly, she meets him at his door. When they're inside, George is already making his way to the curtains at the far end. He closes them. She watches him unmoving, terrified.

He removes his suit jacket, tossing it on the bed, and then he unbuttons his shirt. Next, he goes to unbutton his pants.

She's never felt as powerless as she did right then.

She could simply turn around and run right now. But who would believe her? What if they didn't because she was just a girl and he was a world-famous lawyer/politician? What if Bucky left her? Hell, he'd leave her if she stayed, too. This was bad.

"I need you to come here," Mr. Barnes says sternly. He unzips his pants and looks her in the eye, "Now."

"Mr. Barnes. Please." Ashlyn could already feel the tears building in her throat.

"Lock the door." He says.

Her bottom lip trembles as she reaches her arm behind her to lock the door.

The hot tears that fill her eyes and the burning pain in her heartbreak tear her apart the second she sees him pull himself out.

Against her wishes and by the power of dominance and abuse of power, she was sexually assaulted that night for the first time by her millionaire boss. She would never tell anyone.

She sobbed when she ended up between his legs, his hands on her waist and how own hands in his hair.

They wouldn't listen to me. They wouldn't believe me.

She cried the entire time and George pretended like it wasn't even happening.

In the back of her head, she had that burning guilt of the remainder of her boyfriend whose heart she was indirectly breaking. He would never forgive her.

She ruined it.

When she couldn't breathe, she pushed George away.

"Mr. Barnes, this is wrong."

"Remember that test I was telling you about? This is it, Ashlyn. If you can do this, you can do anything. And you can have anything you want."

She wanted to be cured, she wanted to be okay again like when she was a child. She hated being sad, and despite this being terrible, absolutely horrible— she couldn't help but wonder if he was right. Bucky would never have to find out, and the only thing that seemed to make her better was what Mr. Barnes was offering her. Everything; because it reminded her of Bucky; her love.

He was right. Wasn't he?

She felt a heavy knot in her throat.

She loved him so much. This would break him.

"You can't tell Bucky."

"No. Never. That would ruin everything."

She took in his words and after a few more seconds succumbed to his 'test'.

To his fucking sexual assault.

"I can't do this. Please."

"Do it."

She'd gone down on him and she had felt disgusted with herself. When he was finished, she wanted to run out of that room and call Bucky, tell him she loved him. Because she did. She was filthy and disgusting for what she did but what the hell was she supposed to do?

The guilt ate away at her.

There was no turning back.

Her heart was shattered.

She turned away and wiped her mouth one more time on the back of her hand when that husky voice from behind her started again.

"Have you ever owned a five thousand dollar purse before?"

It was such an odd question to ask.

"No."

"It'd look good on you. I'll take you tomorrow to get one."

Her brows furrowed.

"I don't have five thousand dollars."

"Yes, yes you do."

The second he said it everything in her head finally clicked.

Anything she wanted really could be hers.

This man was slowly killing her, never had she thought she would be a victim of something like this, but at the same time, he was being so nice to her. Was this a trick? Was it a manipulation? Was this a way to make her think that what she was doing was okay?

It was wrong.

She could feel her stomach turning again and she looked away from him, sobbing silently.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't be that way."

"I need to go." She says quickly, running out of the room.

She cried uncontrollably as she ran into her room and slammed the door closed behind her. She slides down against it.

She wouldn't do it again. A stupid purse would do nothing. That's not the kind of woman she was.

Accept that she had already done it.

Heavy sobs rack through her chest as she slams her head and back against the door.

"I'm so sorry." She whimpered, wiping her nose behind her hand. She doesn't know how many minutes of her just crying pass by until a knock startles her.

"Ash?"

Connor.

[Little would she know that sometime later, she did get used to it. Maybe she became numb or broken enough, or maybe she did genuinely believe that the material made everything okay. Her happiness soon became bigger than the pain she felt for cheating on Bucky. Even if it was his father.]

Next Chapter

A/N: Trust me. We're just getting started. Also, this story won't just be flashbacks as you can tell. We will be in the present soon enough once the other sides are fully told. Bucky x Reader ARE Endgame, still. That doesn't mean you aren't at liberty, though, to ship whoever you want. Go wild. Go free! But, yes, trust the process if you're having different feelings right now. It will connect. By the way, despite Bucky X Reader always being endgame, I do have a special place in my heart for Bucky and Ashlyn in a way I hope some will learn to understand.

@rebloggingmyrecs @kjdara @angstsebfan @lethallyprotected @lilfuturescars @ccmarvelxx @thesneakylittleminx @empress-of-riva @death-unbecomes-you @sonicisnotsober @sebsgirl71479 @prettywhenicry4 @dhoruwolfie

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #bucky x you #marvel fanfic #fanfiction

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icanbeyourjedi-writes · 1 year

Text

Love, Wings and Football

Wing Bro/Mr. Ben x F!Reader

Summary: It's Super Bowl Sunday, a recent breakup and the lack of football knowledge leads to unexpected romance Words: 2356 A/N: Just a quick little one shot involving our beloved teacher Mr. Ben...you can't tell me that Wing Bro and Mr Ben aren't the same person. Anyways, there isn't a lot of football talk in this. If you didn't watch the game, that's ok you can still follow the story and have fun with it. There is also a little Easter Egg for those people who know some of Kenan Thompson's old work.... Thanks to @theewokingdead for the beta and texting with me during the game last night.

**Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. **

Two months, it had been two months since he had told me he loved me, to get me into bed, then break my heart. Telling me I wasn’t good enough, I was weak and worthless. I know I shouldn’t believe him. I had buried myself with work, putting in 50+ hour weeks. Anything to stay busy and not be reminded of his words. It was Sunday, laying on the Lazy-Boy in the most comfortable sweats and hoodie I had for as long as I can remember. Curling in to watch the latest horror movie with a bowl of popcorn.

“Get up loser, we’re going to a party” Julie your best friend and roommate grabs your bowl of popcorn

“Heeeeey, I don’t even like football. Let me just sit here and enjoy my movie. I’m gonna be so outta place” you reach for your bowl of popcorn

“Mmmm but there’s wings…and you do love wings” she retorts putting the bowl of popcorn in the kitchen island

“This is true, I do love wings” you nod your head and put your feet on the ground

It was Super Bowl Sunday and everyone you knew was having some kind of party. I’m really not that big of a football fan. I’d pretend to be interested, making Luke my dick of an ex happy by watching a game with him. I had no idea what two teams made it, and to be honest I didn’t really care. I thought the season ended weeks ago. My head hasn't been in the right place, and I stopped listening about the ‘home’ team when the only reason I cared wasn’t around.

“There’s something on your bed, throw in on and we’re going to Russ’. It’s a small get together” she says as you walk by

There’s a long sleeve yellow shirt, with a red jersey and the number 15 on the front and Mahomes on the back. She also left a red and yellow beanie next to it. It was 50° there was no need for the sleeves and beanie. I leave the yellow shirt and throw the red jersey over my head. A pair of black leggings and cute ankle boots. Grabbing the beanie I walk back towards the kitchen.

“Do I really have to wear this?” I pull on the jersey. It’s uncomfortable and I am already regretting the decision

“I know nothing about this team, or Mahomes. What if someone tries to talk to me?” I sigh watching Julieh put two bags of chips into a bag

“That’s the best part of a Super Bowl party, no one talks. You talk about the game you get hushed because the game is on. You can’t talk during commercials because it’s Super Bowl commercials…and then half time it’s reload on food and watch the music act” she turns me handing me two large bowls of guac “you’ll be fine. And maybe there’s a cute guy there to help break your funk”

“Thought you said there was no talking” you raise an eyebrow

“Shut up…let’s roll” she moves towards the door grabbing her car keys wearing a white version of the jersey I’m wearing. Taking a deep breath and praying this works I follow her to the car.

*******

She comes to a stop on the small porch before knocking on the door. She turns around to face me. My eyes looking down at the bowls to make sure I didn’t spill anything. She slides the bag she was carrying over her shoulder. Adjusting my hair, and sliding the beanie on top of my head, “stop…what are you doing?” I ask her annoyed

“Smile,” she says and I give her the best fake smile I’ve grown accustomed to being a server “a real one…and try to have some fun ok?” I nod as she turns to the door

A guy comes to the door, opening it excitedly yelling “the wings are….” Before stopping when he sees that it’s not the wings “Nevermind it’s just the girls” he sighs

“Just the girls? Really Russ you know I can turn around and take this guac you specifically asked for and go back home” she shoves him

“THE GIRLS ARE HERE…” he shouts with a bit more enthusiasm “thanks Cat Lady. You’re the best” he smiles giving her a hug

Russ and Julie have known eachother since they were kids. They played hockey together in Minnesota and stuck by one another to high school and college. Inside there were a dozen or so people, everyone in a football jersey. I walked towards the kitchen to set down the bowls Julie had given me when you heard a laugh coming from the other room. It’s a deep contagious laugh that makes me smile and want to know what he’s laughing about. I turn the corner towards the sound of the laughing and find what could only be described as the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I smile and watch him as he talks to some blonde women in a green jersey and another man in a white jersey. He catches me smiling at him, and grins. I look away quickly at being caught turning and running right into Russ and his large frame.

“Shit…sorry” I say regaining my balance with the help of Russ

“The TV and party are that way” he turns my body around and gently pushes me towards the handsome man who just caught me staring at him

He looks up and takes a swig of his beer as I walk behind him to what conveniently was the only spot that was left open. “Shit” I say under my breath. Julie brings in two bags of chips and the guac she had made, setting them on the coffee table in front of all of us. He’s even more handsome this close. The angles of his jaw, his strong nose and golden skin have him looking like a Greek God. The worst part, the sound of his voice, it’s the kind that he could read the phone book and it would be interesting.

Leaning forward and reaching for the bag of chips, his hand reaching for the same bag. Our hands brush, and I pull back quickly “sorry,” I say quietly

“Oh no…no ladies first” he smiles, and holy shit that smile…

Reaching my hand into the bag and pulling out a few chips I turn the bag back towards him, “thank you”. The conversation picking up about how long everyone thinks the National Anthem would take “well on average a country singer sings it about a minute and 40 seconds” I chime in and suddenly all eyes are on me “what?”

“Wanna put money on it?” Russ smiles

“Yeaaaaaaaah no. I’m good”

“I’ll take that bet, under two minutes…what’d ya say Russ $50 bucks?” the handsome stranger reaches into his back pocket pulling out his wallet and throwing some money on the table

“You sure you wanna do that Big Boy?” Russ chuckles, throwing some money on the table “First word to last word…”

It was the last commercial break before the game was set to begin. I wandered to the kitchen trying to find something other than beer to drink. Finally, I found a bottle of water in the back of the fridge and the doorbell rang. Big Boy as Russ called him ran to the door just as I was rounding a corner running directly into him with a loud oof. His arms wrapped around me holding me up so I didn’t fall over. I look up into a beautiful pair of brown eyes shining down at me “whoa there…” he chuckles

“Sorry…sorry” I duck my head down. Thanking him I walk quickly back to the living room trying to hide my rosy cheeks from him. Julie quickly sending me a text as I sat down

Jules: He’s cute…and single. Stop being weird. Talk to him

I read, shaking my head. Smiling to myself with my response you said no talking. You could see her eye roll at your text.

“The wings are here!” You hear from the front door, and he walks back in with three large buckets of wings

Setting the buckets down in the middle of the table and settling back on the couch just as the singer was to begin the National Anthem. He pulls out his phone and opens up a stopwatch, clicking the start button as soon as he belts out the first notes.

“Ha two minutes on the dot” he holds up his phone “I’ll be taking this…thank you very much”

He winks at me and I swear my heart stopped for a moment. Sliding the money into his wallet and grabbing a plate. Piling a few of each sun flavor onto his plate. I grab a few of the wings closer to me, a Caribbean Jerk flavor. As the game begins the conversations begin to die down. A few “oooooh” and “what a pass” the first possession of the game resulting in a touchdown for Russ’ team.

The trash talking was short lived by Russ and the game is quickly tied. The few people in red shirts giving Russ a hard time for getting excited so early in the game. I tried to focus on the game as much as I could, but my eyes kept drifting towards the man sitting near me. Him moving closer and closer to the edge of the seat. The wings all but devoured by the second quarter, beer bottles scattered among the table.

I was more than excited when half time had started, the game tied. The group of older men talking through some of the plays while the stage got set up, I stood up and ran to the bathroom. I didn’t want to miss a moment of the real reason I was actually there. After washing my hands I stood in front of the mirror, trying to give myself a pep talk to actually say something to the handsome guy. “Ok, you can do this. He’s just a guy, you can totally say hi…stop being weird” I sigh to myself.

Looking down at my phone while I walk back to the group, googling some kind of information about the team and the game so I can sound smart, I can hear; “anyone else want anything?” right before I get hit against the wall. A pair of large warm hands grabbing my waist, looking up I see him again

“You know, if we are gonna keep running into each other like this, I should at least know your name.” He chuckles, but still holding on to my waist “I’m Ben”

“Hi Ben,” and I told him my name. This close, I swear I know him from somewhere. Russ yelling from down the hall that its starting and telling Ben to hurry up with the beers. I smile at him, and watch as he runs to the fridge grabbing a handful of beers and making his way back to the group.

Singing and dancing in your chair to every hit song, the performance was over all too quickly and talk of the game started again. Russ’ team, dominating most of the quarter, Ben leaning back in his chair with the look of defeat much like the other fans in red. Russ looking gleeful and looking at Ben, “50 bucks, Eagles win the whole thing…Ben wanna take that bet?”

I was a betting person, but I also was doing some research while in the bathroom…odds making. So when Ben agreed with a ’double or nothing Taylor’ I felt the need to chime in and let Ben know exactly what he was getting into. “The team leading into the third quarter have a 77.3% chance of winning the whole thing”

“So you’re saying there's a chance” Ben looks at you

“A small chance, but yes mathematically speaking. There is a chance”

The fourth started, with a touch down from Ben’s team to tie the game. Everyone cheers, and Ben looks at me giving me a high five. His hand lingers for a brief moment and I swear there was a spark between us. He pulls his hand back, watching as the kicker scored an extra point.giving the team the lead for the first time.

Russ’ team didn’t score this time when they had the ball and had to give it back, giving Ben’s team another chance to score, and they did, giving them the lead once again. Ben gives you a huge smile, with just minutes left in the game Russ’ boys tie it up once again. Everyone stands and Russ is covering his face with his hands, you are standing shoulder to shoulder next to Ben and you feel his nervous excitement. A penalty review pauses the game, causing an argument to start on rather or the call should stand or not. When the ref makes his final call of holding Russ disagrees with disgust while Ben does a little fist bump knowing that this could be the play that gives him the win and the money.

With just seconds left in the game, the team kicks a field goal giving them a three point lead. Ben draps his arm over myshoulder when Russ' team gets the ball and throws a Hail Mary down the field when the clock hits zero. The ball hits the ground and Ben wraps his arms around me, giving me a hug and spinning me around with excitement. His hands linger, his eyes locking with mine. For a moment I think he is going to lean down and kiss me and someone claps him on the shoulder and his attention drifts towards them high-fiving them and grabbing the money from the table. “Thanks for the money Russ” he grins before looking back at me

He nods his head towards the kitchen, a hint for me to follow. I do “so, uhm…I think I owe someone a dinner. After all you did help with this” he smiles fanning the money “would you, like to go on a date with me?”

@littlemisspascal

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal Characters #Pedro Pascal Character Fanfic #Mr. Ben SNL #Wing Bro SNL #Christina Writes

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caracello · 11 months

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i love food pairing coding my ships hold on i haven't done that enough. i need to look at a picture of chips and guac and go omfg sooooooooo caracello.

#ineed ones for boonemos and ocepip. and for others but mostly those two.#boonemos is hard for me because boone is soooo water-coded to me. like a fresh drink of water in the desert heat etc.#so it has to be something refreshing. fruit maybe.#.txt

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chicgeekgirl89 · 8 months

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Chapter 3: Yachtie with a Body

Read on AO3

“So?” Nancy plops down next to T.K. on the deck, a bowl of something in one hand, a fork in the other. “What’s the deal with the new chef?”

T.K. groans. “What are you talking about?”

He’d come up to the bow of the boat to hide for a few minutes. They’re three days into this charter and the guests are being chaperoned on a shore excursion by Marjan and Paul, which means the rest of them are finally getting a little bit of a break. There are more bathrooms to be cleaned and the laundry has never looked worse, but T.K. had been enjoying a few minutes of peace and quiet before his boss found him.

“I mean what’s he like? He seems super nice. Like amazingly nice. He made me this.” She holds out the bowl of mango for T.K. to see. “Like I just walked through the galley and he asked me if I wanted mango and when I said yes he cut some up for me. There’s homemade coconut cream on here dude. Pearce would have murdered you with his eyes if you’d even thought about wanting mango in his presence.”

T.K. rolls his eyes because he doesn’t have any fond memories of their time together. He’d spent more of it with Pearce than most because they’d been cabin mates and if he never hears another rant about the importance of wiping down the shower after each and every use, it will be too soon.

“I think he’s nice,” T.K. tells her, leaning over and stealing a piece of fruit from her bowl. “At least, he seems to be. He hasn’t yelled at me about using the bathroom in the middle of the night like Pearce did.”

Nancy shakes her head. “That man. Only Pearce could believe it was possible to hear nature’s call and tell it to wait until a more sensible six am. Do you think he even has a soul? Or is it just like, a shriveled up little prune kind of thing?”

“He probably returned it to sender because it wasn’t up to code,” T.K. tells her, stealing another bite. The coconut cream is amazing.

“So definitely a step up in both the roommate and chef departments,” Nancy says. “Good pick Iris.”

It’s the truth. Carlos is a major step up. T.K. has noticed the little ways in which Carlos goes out of his way to keep morale high for the crew. There have been homemade chocolate chip cookies, still warm from the oven, tortillas and guac, brownies, he’d even made arroz con pollo the other day when Mateo mentioned missing his abuela’s cooking. He’s going above and beyond not just for the guests, but for the crew too. It’s incredibly sweet.

“Do you—“ T.K.’s question is interrupted by the sound of a loud splash that catches both of their attention. “Are the guests back?” T.K. asks, an icy bolt of panic going down his spine as he check to makes sure his radio is turned up and that he hasn’t missed anything.

“No they’re not supposed to be back for like another two hours,” Nancy says, standing up and looking over port the side. “The tender is still gone.”

T.K. pushes to his feet and jogs the few feet over to starboard. There’s nothing in the water on that side either. “Judd or Mateo doing something with the water toys?” T.K. asks.

“Mateo’s in his bunk and Judd was up on the bridge with Tommy when I came out here,” Nancy says.

They’re both walking now, eyes on either side of the boat as they move from the bow toward the stern. When they finally reach the back of the boat they stop dead in their tracks.

New chef Carlos Reyes is hoisting himself out of the cerulean waters of the Caribbean and onto the Nautibuoy platforms that extend off the boat’s stern. Time feels like it’s slowing and T.K.’s eyes go wide as he watches Carlos stand up, water cascading down over toned biceps and abs, his perfectly crafted thighs clad in only a dark pair of swim trunks that cling to him and leave very little to the imagination.

“Holy shit,” Nancy whispers next to him, her tone appropriately reverential for what they’re witnessing. “New chef is a yachtie with a body.”

T.K. can’t speak and wouldn’t know what to say if he could. Carlos pushes his sopping wet curls back out of his face and then he looks up and spots them, giving them a friendly wave as he reaches for a towel that’s hanging over the railing.

They both manage to wave back despite their surprise. “Okay,” Nancy says, her voice low, a smile plastered on her face as her hand continues to wave back and forth. “Somebody’s gotta hit that. And it should probably be you.”

“Me?!” T.K. stops waving and turns to her in shock. “Why me?”

“Are you saying you’re not interested?”

“No I—“ Oh god, he’s going to embarrass himself. “Why would you immediately jump to me? He’s Iris’ ex.”

“Which is exactly why it has to be you,” Nancy says pragmatically. “Judd’s got Grace back home, Captain’s got her preacher man on shore, Marjan needs somebody within her faith and culture, Paul is seeing Asha, Iris doesn’t want him anymore, so that leaves you.”

“Or you, or Mateo,” T.K. points out.

“Mateo and I have a thing,” she says.

Wow she is really full of surprises today. “You. And Mateo. Have a thing,” T.K. repeats.

She waves a hand. “It’s casual.”

He tries to wrap his mind around that and decides he’d rather not. “He dated Iris. Which makes him straight.”

Nancy looks at him, offended. “Bisexual people exist.”

“Fine. Okay, yes, they do, but I would never date someone Iris dated. It wouldn’t be cool.”

“Did you ask her if it would be cool?”

“Why would I ask her that?!”

Nancy shrugs. “Because he’s hot. And you clearly like him. You’re basically drooling dude.”

T.K. instinctively wipes at his mouth with his hand and glares at her when he doesn’t find anything. “He’s my roommate. And Iris’ ex. And probably straight. Any one of those things is enough of a reason for me to leave him alone.”

She makes a face. “What is the point of yachting if not to make stupid sexual decisions? I’m making some. And it’s a lot of fun.”

“I really don’t want to hear anymore thank you,” T.K. says. He’s pretty open about sex, but he doesn’t want to know what his boss and Mateo are doing with each other below deck.

“Just saying, it wouldn’t hurt either one of you to have a little fun. And if the Iris thing bothers you, then just ask her. You know she’ll tell it to you straight.” She pats him on the shoulder. “Also, did I mention you’re on carpet spot duty this afternoon?”

“Noooooo,” T.K. moans.

“The guests were drinking a lot of red wine last night. Make sure you get them all out!” Nancy sing songs as she heads back inside.

T.K. hangs his head and then slowly follows her. He makes a quick stop by his cabin to grab his phone and his earbuds (at least he can have Harry Styles for company as he scrubs) and nearly runs into Carlos. “Oh sorry,” he says.

“No problem,” Carlos says back.

He’s thrown a button-up on, thank god, so T.K. isn’t face to face with his incredible pecs, but he can still smell the saltwater on his skin, in his hair. “How was your swim?” T.K. asks.

“Great,” Carlos says. “I just needed to cool off for a few minutes and Captain said it was all right.”

“Yeah Tommy’s good like that,” T.K. says.

“Right, Tommy,” Carlos says sheepishly. “I forget you guys are kind of informal.”

“We’re a family,” T.K. says. “That’s why she was such a good fit when she came on as captain. It might not work on all boats, but it does on ours.”

Carlos snorts. “It definitely wouldn’t have worked on my last boat.”

There’s something bitter in his words even though he says them lightly and T.K. feels a flash of anger at whoever made him feel bad enough to put that tone in his voice. “Your last boat was tough?” he asks.

“You could say that.”

“Is that why you came here?” T.K. asks.

“I came because Iris called,” Carlos says and the mention of her name, of their relationship, sends a stab of pain through T.K. “But yes, also to get away.”

“Do you…want to talk about it?” T.K. offers.

Carlos shrugs. “I’m fine. I survived. We’ve all been on bad boats before.”

“Well we’re all glad you’re here,” T.K. tells him.

“I heard Pearce was…quite a guy to work with,” Carlos says, flashing him a grin that says the crew has definitely been telling tales of some of Pearce’s more infamous moments.

“Yeah you’re definitely an upgrade,” T.K. says, then winces at the blatant horniness of that statement.

“An upgrade huh?” Carlos’ smile changes, drops into something lazy and sensual. The way he leans on one arm against the top bunk feels flirty.

T.K. loves flirting. He loves flirting so. freaking. much. So it takes a lot of effort for him to wrench himself out of charm mode and back into boat colleague mode. “Honestly anyone would have been an upgrade from Pearce,” he says. “Did I tell you he used to time me in the bathroom? If I took more than five minutes in the morning he’d start to bang on the door and tell me to get out.”

“Yikes,” Carlos says, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off and, oh god, the abs are back and T.K. feels like he needs to avert his gaze, like he’s a gentleman from a Jane Austen novel trying to protect someone’s modesty. Which is ridiculous. Because he’s seen hundreds of naked chests before in all different contexts. But this chest, these abs…something about them calls to him.

“Sorry, he sounds like a nightmare,” Carlos says as he pulls on a white undershirt, effectively bringing T.K.’s lustful thoughts to an end.

“Nightmare is definitely the word,” T.K. agrees. “Ask Nancy about the pineapple disaster of week three. She still has the scars.”

He chuckles and T.K. feels a thrill at being able to affect him like that. “I will definitely ask,” Carlos says.

“Hey, T.K.!” Iris comes bopping down the hallway, slightly breathless. “Oh, hey Carlos,” she says when she spots him through the open door. She looks back and forth between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No.”

“Nope.”

They both speak a little too quickly, as if there’s something to hide, even though there’s not. They’re standing here with the door open, not sneaking around.

So why does T.K. feel guilty anyway?

Her eyes narrow suspiciously, but she doesn’t press it. “I can’t find those little disco balls we used a couple weeks ago. The rainbow colored ones.”

“I put them in the cabinet in the dining room,” T.K. says.

“You did not.”

He sighs. “Yes I did!”

It takes some searching but they find the missing disco balls (it turns out he did put them in the dining room cabinet, but Mateo took them back out again for some game they were playing with the guests). Then it’s onto red wine stain purgatory, armed only with a spray bottle of club soda, a white rag, and determination. By the time he’s done the carpet looks like it’s never seen a drop of wine in its life, and T.K.’s back and arms are sore.

He hauls himself to his feet and trudges to the galley to return the salt he’d borrowed in case the club soda wasn’t enough. Carlos is chopping up veggies for the crew dinner, several filets of salmon set to the side. He looks up when T.K. comes in and frowns. “You look like you just fell off a bucking bronco.”

“I’m banning red wine from the boat,” T.K. tells him, setting the salt shaker down onto the prep counter. “White wine only. No sangria. No merlot. Clear liquids and nothing else.”

“Good luck with that,” Carlos says, going back to his chopping.

“Thanks for the sympathy,” T.K. says sarcastically. “You have no idea the agony of scrubbing out carpet stains. Over and over and over. It never ends. It’s like some kind of polyester Groundhog Day nightmare. And definitely not my preferred way to get rug burn.”

Carlos bites his lip in amusement. “I didn’t know there was a good way to get rug burn.”

T.K. scoffs. “Then you’ve clearly never had sex with me.”

The words are out before he can stop them, a flirty reflex that he can’t contain. It often gets him what he wants, but right now he’d like to melt through the floor.

Carlos sets his knife down again, something shifting in his eyes. “Is that something you’re offering?”

It’s light, but there’s an undertone. Something more serious, something that makes T.K. want to go over there and show him exactly how much he’d like to offer sex.

“Carlos, Carlos, Nancy,” the radio squawks, breaking the moment.

Carlos picks it up. “This is Carlos.”

“The guests are heading back. If you could get their snicky snack ready that would be fabulous darling.”

“No problem.”

T.K. flees. It’s cowardly, it’s stupid, it’s extremely not cool, but he runs back to their shared cabin and locks the door behind him. He leans against it and exhales. Who the fuck does he think he is? It is not appropriate to proposition your cabin-mate-who-has-dated-your-co-worker for sex. It’s just not.

He lets his head thunk back against the door. What is he going to do?

#Tarlos #911 Lone Star #Come Sail Away #Yachting AU

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ctrlerrcr · 22 days

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event 001 | 4 julie ( @luckydrifts )

the wait for the carne asada fries had been worth it. the line to the foodtruck was longer than hell, but holy shit were these the best fries she had ever had. the fries were the perfect crispiness, the cheese, guac, crema, and pico de gallo were just the perfect pairing ... to say calliope was pretty much in heaven would have been an understatement. " julie, " she calls out to the first person she saw that she knew. " i need you to try these, they are heaven on earth and i cannot lie, you know this ! " calliope muses, not even once stopping to think that maybe it was the alcohol she had consumed that has the food tasting oh so good.

#if u want smthn else pls lmk !!! ily #. ˚ ◞ ♡ calliope mitchell ／ writings.#. ˚ ◞ ♡ calliope mitchell ／ event 001.#. ˚ ◞ ♡ calliope mitchell ／ ft. julie.

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lost-technology · 23 days

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Said in this household today, paraphrased, as I can't remember exactly what was said: My fiance / common law hubby talking about a Youtuber he was watching: *Describes the guy's background as a comic book shop owner* "Unfortunately, he's a Trumper - so there's...that, but he knows comics. Keeps his politics *mostly* out of things, but it comes up sometimes." *Talks about how the guy rants about how some of the film adaptations don't keep to source material.* Me and my guy: *Both agree on some stuff about how progressive storytelling is fine if it is not forced / tokenism.* (I'm very progressive...and female... but I really don't like stuff in media that is *obviously* only there as a token. One can tell the difference between organic storytelling and "rammed in for a buck." SOMEHOW this lead into a conversation about how the '90s X-Men comics had, in terms of gay characters, a pair of brothers "who were into each other" ??? (Not something I'm sure of, and not an anti-gay statement, just a bit of comics-trivia). Cue me going: "Okay, I have a RANT about Trigun-fandom!" My guy starts laughing. "Plantcest!" He's into Trigun, too, I got him into it, but he's not into the online creative fandom currently. (He wrote some fanfiction back in OG fandom back in the day, some of it gifts to me, but he doesn't have the time to do fanfiction anymore). I was *sigh* "It was always there, [mutual enemy] was into it for a bit," bringing back some bad memories that he might have forgotten because [mutual enemy] was more into and belligerent about another ship, but I said now, with Stampede? Given some of the weird metaphyscial stuff between Vash and Knives there? "Some fans are taking it as mutual. If you go to Archive of our Own, it's the second most popular ship. So many Explicit-rated fics and some of them are just... (beyond just incest) just... super weird." Cue me describing some...interesting fetish tags. And how I have read a few out of curiosity. It's wild. Sort of warning him off of most of Ao3 for the fandom because he's more kink-averse than I am (and I'm the one who actually openly identifies as an asexual!) I'm kind of going... "Oh, good lord, the Plantcest in this fandom!" *and how I have the tag blocked.* For those viewing this blog / post... I do warn, I am very against Plantcest / Twincest (at least as a mutual thing / kink). It's a gives me the heebie jeebies thing. I am not going to harass people over it or call people terrible for liking it. It's just... not my thing. I've got tags blocked on here. It's just... I get a little annoyed that I have to filter a lot on Ao3 to find stories I will like because it's the second most popular ship. My complaint isn't that it exists so much as it's like my complaint about how Mexican-American restaurants want to put guac on everything when we don't like guac and we have to specify "no guac."

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stupendousgardenunknown · 2 years

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Title: Blackmail & a Party

Pairing: Zeke x Reader

Warnings: drinking, blackmail

I KNOW I'M LATE! But this for @chaotic-nick's Zeke Weekly Countdown collab. I knowwww this may be a bit boring, but I did really like the concept. Enjoy some casual nothingness 🤗

“Put that down!” You yell, hopping between two football players whose names you can’t remember. One takes advantage of the opportunity and lightly taps your ass as you harshly turn after grabbing the vase they were playing catch with and swiftly land a punch on his stomach.

“Bitch! We were just playing around!” He winces, but your glare only hardens as you move behind the kitchen counter and place the vase under the sink for safe keeping.

“Play around in the backyard then!” You yell over the music, the football player’s friend comes around and rubs his shoulder and he says something you can’t quite hear. It must have been something in agreement because the one you punched flips you off before the two of them move to the backyard like you ask.

“What happened?” Sasha is at your side, and you think at first it’s because she can see your annoyance and she wants to be a good friend, but when you turn to look at her and she’s already halfway out the kitchen with a stolen bowl of chips and guac- you realize that maybe that was only half the reason- the other half because she’s Sasha and she will eat.

“Assholes were tossing around my dad’s vase that he would kill me if it was broken.” You point a thumb over in the direction the two men left in, and you huff when Connie walks in, stealing a chip from Sasha’s bowl ignoring her look of annoyance. If her other hand wasn’t full she probably would have stopped him.

“Who?” He asks, and you run a hand through your hair in frustration.

“Connie- did you invite the football team?” When tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum convinced you to host a party in your parent’s house just on the outskirts of campus, you only gave them two rules: nobody from the sports’ teams, and they had to help you clean up the morning after. Connie looks like he’s about to spit out the chip he just ate but he quickly recovers.

“Well- uh- Reiner is on the football team, and you know-” He glances at Sasha for assistance but she lets him flounder as revenge for stealing her chips. “Eren’s on the baseball team too.” He snaps his fingers and points at you wearing a bright smile like he just solved a famous mathematical equation but you look bored with him.

“So you invite the entire team?” You honestly should have known better. Rolling your eyes- you turn and pour yourself a shot of liquor from one of the several bottles sitting on your counter into a red solo cup and quickly take it. Connie and Sasha shrug at each other and start to try sneaking back off to the party.

“Stop!” You say with an authoritative voice. The twins-but-not-twins stop and give each other a look that says “if she comes after you first, I’m leaving you to save my own ass.”

“Remember to help me tomorrow. I don’t give a shit how hungover you are.” You say again while pouring a second shot.

“We wouldn’t hoe you like that!” Connie says brightly, a hand pushing Sasha out of the kitchen and into the living room just in time to see that Mikasa landed on Eren for a rousing game of spin the bottle. And there you are- alone in the kitchen of a house party that you decided to host in an attempt to “let loose” and “have fun”, at the whim of Connie and Sasha. A stupid decision considering Connie seemingly invited half the school body. Sasha viewed them all as competition for the party snacks. You take another shot from some cheap bottle of vodka- no doubt brought by one of the freshmen and your face scrunches at the burn it brings as it goes down.

“Disgusting.” You murmur to yourself as you try your best to clean as you go and throw some half used plates and empty mixer bottles into the trash, making extra sure to put them in the correct bins. You’re more than sure if your dad didn’t kill you for not hiding your tracks and giving him evidence that you did indeed throw a house party- he would kill you for not properly recycling, and therefore: killing the planet.

It’s been you and your Dad for as long as you can remember, and he was a gentle man. Patient, kind, wicked smart. Your mother decided being a mother wasn’t the path for her, and one thing you had to hand to your Dad was- he never blamed her. You were an accident after all, and despite everything, your mother thought she would be able to rise to the occasion. She failed of course, but your Dad simply said that she was on her journey, just like being an involved father was his. He was awesome like that. Eventually, he managed to make tenure track at Marley University, his research in DNA abnormalities gaining so much traction it wasn’t unusual for him to be published several times a month.

He was away giving some TedTalk when you decided to break the rules and have a house party. A kiss on the forehead and the ironic, “don’t throw any ragers while I’m gone, ‘kay kid?” followed by an unironic, “wouldn’t dream of it!”.

The one rule your Dad ever gave you and here you were breaking it.

Heading out into the living room, you give one look into the chaos that’s Jean landing on Eren in spin the bottle followed by an uproar of “Oh Shit!!”s and “Do it!”s and you decided it was time for some peace and quiet: your Dad’s study. It was a large office, but the piles of books and bookcases made it feel smaller than it was. You tried helping him clean it out once, but every file and paper you tried to throw away- he insisted that it was too important. Walking up the stairs, you hesitate- seeing a light already on from underneath the door. You stomp forward, trying to imagine the world of pain you’ll be in if you accidentally let a complete animal in your home who would think that it would be funny to mess with your Dad’s life’s work.

Heart racing, you open the door, pausing when you see a blonde man turn to face you. In his hands, one of your Dad’s latest publishings. It was a few pages in, he must have found his way in here not too long ago. He was taller than you, glasses reminding you of Harry Potter, and baggy clothes that seemed like he picked them right from Tumblr’s explore page from 2012.

“Do you mind closing the door?” It’s not really a question, more like a demand. Like you’re the TA and he’s the professor. He turns his attention back to the paper and you're appalled by his dismissiveness.

“Excuse me?!” You squeak out, hand gripping the doorknob. He turns to you again, a confused look on his face that has him trying to remember if he spoke English or German to you. As if this happens all the time.

“Do you mind closing the door?” He repeats. When there’s a beat and you don’t respond nor obey his orders he turns to you fully and adjusts his glasses.

“That party is loud as hell, it’s disrupting my concentration.” He points to the doorway, gesturing to the rager in your home.

“I know,” You state sharply. “It’s my party.” You furrow your brows at him and he does nothing but purse his lips. You can see him doing the math that this must have been someone’s house. And that someone must be you. He stumbles a bit, adjusting his glasses and then tries to pull it off like the news that you’re the daughter of the man who wrote the paper he’s so thoroughly engrossed in just a little bit ago- didn’t throw him for a loop.

“S-So- you’re-” He struggles, now aware that he’s fumbling and fumbling even more from nervousness. You sigh and step in, closing the door behind you. Walking swiftly over to the taller blonde, you grab the papers he was holding and ignoring his sharp hiss from the paper cut you gave him and take a glance at the research title. You remember this one, surprisingly. It took your Dad away from you for around 6 months, but he was very proud of this work. You even remember some of the other researchers from how much you were dragged to happy hours with them to boost morale. “The d-daughter of-” He clears his throat in an attempt to give him time to calm his racing thoughts. You hum and pass the paper back to him, talking over to your Dad’s desk and propping yourself on the old oakwood.

“Professor _____? Yeah, I am.” You cross your arms. The blond man looks at you, blinking, and you think you recognize him. He gives a satisfied look, shaking his head as he takes the research papers and places them on a random stack of books and makes his way to you. Slinking, really.

“And do you know who I am?” He’s smiling slyly now, like he knows a secret that you’re not keen on yet. Your brows furrow, wracking your brain for where you’ve seen his face before. For some reason Eren’s keeps popping up. Whenever they want to advertise one of Marley's many winning games and the University’s Social Media’s barrage of photos of the baseball team members in an attempt to garner attendance and support.

“I…” You look at him skeptically as he slowly makes his approach. “I don’t blame you, it may have been before your time.” He sounds so douch-ey when he words it like that. Unfortunately, it does jog something in your head. You remember seeing one of the more pushed posts, one of Eren and his older brother- what was it again? Zeke. Two Jaeger brothers played on the same team, one mentoring the other and the other striving to beat all of his older brother’s records. They loved it, you couldn’t hope for better content.

“You’re Eren’s brother!” You exclaim, realization dawning on you and Zeke does a shit job of hiding his satisfaction.

“Did Eren bring you?” You ask, from what you heard from Eren complaining about his brother-half-brother, Zeke was a stickler. Sure he was a prodigy at baseball but he was a hipster. More interested in studies and old foreign movies than getting laid. In fact, he was a staunch activist in the little capacity he could be- which wasn’t much. He was threatened with a game suspension over his vocal support for kicking a pro-religious group off campus when they were harassing a student chapter of Planned Parenthood. Zeke shrugs as if he’s not sure himself, like he just magically manifested in your Dad’s office.

“Oh so you just came by yourself?” You ask.

“Well, maybe not by myself.” Zeke chuckles, turning to view the bookcase again, perusing.

“I wanted to come and make sure my little brother didn’t get involved in anything too damaging.” He says, a title catching his eye.

“You know how Marley’s very concerned about the image of their players.” Zeke nods in your direction as if you’re had any idea on what it was like to be a star athlete.

“And that’s why you’re upstairs reading my Dad’s research papers instead of…?” You drift off, swinging a pointed hand to the door. A smile decorating your face that too be honest, Zeke doesn’t find half-bad.

“Instead of downstairs?” Zeke nods again, laughing softly. He plucks a book, and flips it over in his large hands.

“Doing a wonderful job of, uh, watching after him?” You say, uncrossing your arms.

“You know,” He sighs, placing the book back. He stuffs a hand in his pocket and turns his body. Jesus- he looks like a paperboy from the 1920’s. He’s wearing some high waisted tweed pants like he just nabbed them from some vintage store and a sweater vest pulled over a collared button down, even his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. He strolls towards you again, his fingers dragging along the spines of the books. “I didn’t even know he existed until I was pre-teen.”

This actually shocks you. Their relationship was always played up like they were close. Like they grew up taking baths in the same sink or something. Zeke wasn’t that much older than him, but now that he mentions it, there always seemed like some sort of longing on Eren’s part. Like he wished he had Zeke around when he was younger, like wanting to be closer to someone who was a stranger but you can’t take up for lost time like that. It seems strange that Eren had known Mikasa and Armin longer than his own blood-half-blood brother.

“He… He never mentioned that.” Zeke actually smiles at this. A sad one.

“I bet. His Mother was the other woman. I didn’t start living with them until my Mom passed.” Your jaw actually drops. You’ve seen Carla in pictures, in the Happy Mother’s Day posts that Eren would post religiously on his personal social media channels, not that he posted much. But it would pop up on your feed because of either Connie or Sasha commenting one of their polite “So cute!”s. Eren looks exactly like his mother, you wonder briefly what kind of effect that had on Zeke.

“I’m,” You blink. “So sorry for your…” It seems strange to be giving condolences to someone you met maybe ten minutes ago. Even worse is that it’s the brother of a friend of a friend. “Loss?” You squeak out and Zeke chuckles under his breath and you realize he’s within grabbing distance.

“I appreciate that.” He sucks his teeth and he finally pulls another book.

“You know,” He muses.

“I’m a big fan of your Dad’s work.” The subject change is so quick, you’re a little flabbergasted. It was good that Zeke was up here because he was a fan and not just because he was an absolute geek.

“Oh.” You say.

“You are?” He finally opens a book and shuffles through a few pages. He doesn’t look at you, seemingly enthralled by whatever book he plucked from your Dad’s collection.

“Do you know what your Dad has accomplished for the medical community?” He asks. It seems like a loaded question, but you answer anyway.

“Not really,” You stand, hands brushing on the oak of the desk. It’s cool under your warmed hands, now finally feeling the effects of the rounds of shots you took. Zeke takes notice, glancing at you before snapping the book shut and walking over to you. He’s inches away now, and he smells…. Nice. Oaky.

“You should.” He says and you jerk back from his tone. You always wished your Dad was maybe… cooler. When you were a child you wished he had a “cool” job like being a movie star or a musician. Being a top researcher seemed like a thankless job. But maybe he had his fans after all. And Zeke was one of them.

“I actually applied to be one of his junior researchers.” He admits, lifting a hand to scratch at his beard with his pointer finger. Okay. Weird.

“You know how far DNA research has come? Imagine being able to just clip-” He makes a scissoring motion, “that line of DNA code, right out of someone. That gene that causes violent tendencies. We could save an entire generation- generations of children from being abused.” He says, voice becoming impassioned.

“I-... I guess so?” You shrug. Your major was communications. Science and DNA and DNA research implications were the furthest thing from your mind. There’s another roar of laughter and yelling from downstairs, and you immediately move to go make sure the guests didn’t break something. You cry out from shock and you feel Zeke’s hand around your arm. His face is inches from yours, and you can see he has the clearest blue eyes you’ve ever seen on a man.

“Suggest me to your Dad.” He demands.

“What!?” You cry out. “No way!” You say, shoving Zeke’s hand off of yours and backing up against the door. He looks unaffected by your rejection.

“Suggest me or I tell your Dad about this party.” Eren’s brother was nuts. Bonkers. Crazy.

“Absolutely not!” You yell, hand already turning the doorknob. “And get the hell out of my Dad’s office!” You add, feeling extra warm. You knew you should have locked the office door. But you never expected a super fan to come in and blackmail you. Zeke sighs, striding over to you and holding his phone up. There’s something playing, but it’s out of focus and blurry. Or maybe that was just your vision. You squint and focus, it’s a video. It’s showing the party, you can see Jean and Eren playing beer pong using your kitchen table. Sasha, Connie, Marco and others playing flip cup. Thomas was asleep on the couch and Reiner was drawing on his face using permanent marker- a sick grin on his face. It’s a party. Your party. Caught on video. Evidence. You can feel the blood drain on your face, and Zeke must have seen it because he withdraws the phone and stuffs it into his pants pocket.

“Y-You wouldn’t!” You gasp out. Shocked. Zeke sighs, like he’s about to say some crap like “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” Bullshit. Fuck! Why did you ever decide to listen to the two idiots!? You knew better. You’ve seen the twins goof around on campus you should have known that no good decision ever came from them.

“It would be a shame. Seemed like a fun party. Would have been better if you got away with it.” Sociopathic fucker! He doesn’t seem the least bit sorry about it. You scoff at him, gripping onto the doorknob so tightly you’re the intricate detailing is going to leave marks on your palms. There’s another roar of laughter and it’s one too many for your nerves. Fuck it.

“Fine!” You huff, and turn to open the door but not before turning around a shaking a finger in Zeke’s stupid handsome face.

“I’ll recommend you- if you never mention this again.” You say, voice tight. Zeke’s lips curve into a small smile. Fucker. You take his silence as acceptance and turn to head down the stairs to start damage control.

…

Turns out, Sasha and Connie are just as useless as you would think. They’re at least entertaining.

While you ended up cleaning the whole house yourself, they do provide moral support and jokes in between their hungover naps and their attempts to rehydrate. You awoke with a slight headache and knowledge that you were definitely blackmailed by Eren’t older brother who left with poor passed out Eren in tow sometime between 3 and 4AM.

He even waved to you as he carefully packed Eren into his old Subaru.

When your Dad came home, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and you quickly settled into your old routine. One weekday night, he was at his laptop with you on the couch, carefully studying the screen and occasionally taking off his reading glasses to rub his tired eyes.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” You asked. He grunted, not sure if he should tell you what’s gotten your dear old Dad so stressed out but he decides to tell you anyway.

“Just trying to decide which PhD students to take.” Your ears perk. You try to not make it too obvious, that you’re just a little too invested.

“Need help?” You offer, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, flipping from channel to channel on the living room TV. Your Dad sighs again.

“The candidates are just all so good.” He says, gesturing towards the screen of his laptop and crumples on the couch like he’s falling apart internally. Which he probably was. You purse your lips.

“What about Zeke?” You pipe up, finally dragging your eyes off the TV and looking at your Dad.

“J-Jaegar?” You add. Your Dad looks at the computer screen again, eyes squinting.

“You know- him and Eren were like- the dynamic duo on the baseball team?” You force a smile to spread across your lips, and you can see the wheels turning in your Dad’s head as he comes to terms with the suggestion.

“A former student athlete might be nice…” He muses. That’s it Dad. Listen to your wise daughter. You bite your lip.

“I hear they’re… very determined in whatever they do.” You shrug. Your Dad doesn’t say anything, but the way he’s typing a hundred miles a minute makes you think that you’ve steered him in the right direction.

…

A few weeks later while you’re 6 pages deep in an essay, your phone buzzes on your desk. With a sigh and a click, exiting out of a window that does not meet the requirement for the sources you can use, you pick it up. Confusion spreads on your face as it’s from an unknown number.

Unknown: Thanks for the recommendation. I’m in.

It takes you a beat, mind reeling from being knee deep in research to the context of why someone would be texting you this.

Zeke.

Annoyance and relief washes over you as you text back- thinking if you ignore him he may be insulted and send your Dad the video after all.

You: Don’t mention it.

You place it down again, scratching your forehead and trying to get back into research mode before you think: I never gave him my number.

You: How did you get my #?

You can’t even imagine- he probably did something insane like hack into the school’s blackboard system to get it. After all- he somehow wormed his way into your home.

Zeke: I got it from Eren.

Zeke: Who got it from Sasha.

Fucking Sasha. You should have told her to keep your number away from maniacs like Zeke.

Zeke: Since we’ll be seeing more of each other, you should save my number.

You groan. He’s right. You will be seeing more of him. You set your phone down and when it pings again all you can think of what insanity he’s texting you now. When you look, it’s a photo of himself. A selfie. Recent. Maybe it won’t be so bad, you think to yourself as you stare at the photo. He’s attractive after all. In a… hipster sort of way.

And you do; you save his number and even add a little 🐒 to the name.

#zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke x reader #fluff #modernAU #collegeAU #attack on titan #collab

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