star-struck-universe - Oh, would you look there.
Oh, would you look there.

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Star-struck-universe - Oh, Would You Look There. - Tumblr Blog

10 months ago
Yall Dont Wanna Know What I Would Let This Man Do To Me.

Y’all don’t wanna know what I would let this man do to me.

11 months ago

Awww

Ride- s.r. x reader

totally didn't spend an hour sobbing to Ride by Lana Del Rey in my car. Either way, I made this for y'all

It was late—later than you had intended to stay at the BAU. The bullpen was eerily quiet, most of the team having left hours ago. You had just finished up your paperwork, filing away the last report of the day. Glancing at the clock on your computer, you realized with a sigh that dawn was closer than the sunset. You mentally prepared yourself for the drive home, downing the cold coffee in your mug. 

As you gathered your things, you noticed Spencer lingering near his desk, seemingly engrossed in a book. He was the only other person still there, apart from you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but every so often, you noticed his eyes flicking up to check the time or perhaps to glance around the empty office.

You hesitated for a moment. You’d never really had a chance to talk to Spencer one-on-one outside of work, and despite being part of the same team, you’d never been alone with him before. But something about the way he was lingering made you wonder if he was in the same situation as you—stuck with no easy way to get home.

Clearing your throat softly, you stepped over to his desk. “Hey, Spencer.”

He looked up, surprised, as if he hadn’t noticed you were still there. “Oh, hi,” he said, closing his book and setting it down. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Yeah, just wrapping up,” you said with a small smile. “It’s pretty late, though. I was about to head out, and I was wondering if you needed a ride home.”

Spencer blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. “A ride home? Are you sure? I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him, waving off his concern. “I’d feel better knowing you got home safely. It’s pretty late, after all.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding slowly. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction that you’d offered. “Great. Let’s get out of here, then.”

The two of you walked to the parking garage together, the silence between you comfortable but charged with a sense of unfamiliarity. You couldn’t help but notice how Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax as he fell into step beside you. He was always so focused, so intense at work, that it was almost strange to see him in a more casual setting.

Once you reached your car, you unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat, waiting as Spencer settled in beside you. The car was filled with the soft hum of the engine as you started it up, and you turned to him with a small smile.

“Where to?”

Spencer gave you his address, and you nodded, pulling out of the garage and onto the quiet streets. The night was calm, the usual hustle and bustle of the city muted at this late hour. You drove in comfortable silence for a while, the soft strains of music playing through the radio.

After a few minutes, Spencer spoke up. “Thank you again for the ride. I didn’t mean to keep you so late.”

“It’s really no problem,” you replied, glancing at him briefly before returning your eyes to the road. “I’m glad I could help. It’s nice to have some company for the drive.”

You fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, listening to a radio commercial play softly. The city lights streamed past the windows as you navigated through the streets. Spencer shifted in his seat, setting his bag between his feet and leaning back slightly.

“You know,” he began, his voice cutting through the quiet, “I’ve noticed you’ve never really gone out with the team after work. We usually head to a bar nearby, but I don’t think I’ve seen you join us.”

You smiled, keeping your eyes on the road. “Yeah, bars aren’t really my thing. I don’t mind a drink every now and then, but the whole bar scene just doesn’t appeal to me.”

He nodded, seeming to understand. “So, what do you usually do after work?”

“Honestly?” you said with a small chuckle. “I like to drive around. I’ll just pick a direction and see where it takes me. Sometimes I find a new café or a bookstore. Other times, I just enjoy the drive, listening to music or thinking about the day.”

Spencer’s interest was piqued. “That sounds… peaceful. Do you do it often?”

“Pretty often,” you admitted, glancing at him with a smile. “It’s a good way to unwind. Clears my head.”

A moment passed before you felt a burst of spontaneity. “If you’re not in a hurry to get home, I could take you out for a bit. Show you how I spend my evenings.”

Spencer’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but a small smile curved his lips. “Sure. I’d like that.”

You grinned, feeling a bit of excitement at the prospect of showing him your side of the city. Reaching over, you rolled the windows down a little, letting the cool night air flow into the car. The breeze brushed against your skin, and you sighed, feeling the tension of the day start to melt away.

With Spencer agreeing to your impromptu adventure, you relaxed into the drive, cruising through the city with no particular destination in mind. The streets were quieter now, the typical bustle of the day giving way to a more serene atmosphere. The city lights flickered like stars on the pavement, casting a gentle glow that made everything seem a little more magical.

Spencer leaned back in his seat, seeming to unwind as well. “So, where are we headed?” he asked, his tone lighter than before.

“Anywhere we want,” you replied, smiling. “That’s the beauty of it. No plan, no rush… just enjoying the night.”

He chuckled softly. “I could get used to this.”

You drove through the winding streets, taking turns here and there without much thought, simply following the flow of the city. You passed by a few late-night diners, a couple of bookstores with their lights still on, and a park that looked inviting in the moonlight.

After a while, you found yourself near the waterfront, where the city’s lights reflected off the gently rippling water. You slowed down, rolling the windows down even further to let in the cool breeze from the bay. The sound of the water lapping against the shore was calming, and you could feel the tension in the air dissipate completely.

Spencer turned to look at you, his expression relaxed. “This is really nice,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might disturb the peace.

“I’m glad you think so,” you replied, parking the car and turning off the engine. “I end up here a lot.” 

You both sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the view. The city skyline was a dazzling array of lights, and the water below reflected them like a mirror. There was something so serene about the moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Spencer said softly, breaking the silence. 

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore filled the silence between you and Spencer as you wandered down the path by the waterfront. You hadn’t planned on stopping, but when you spotted a large log near the water's edge, something about it seemed inviting.

Without a word, you reached out and took Spencer's hand, pulling him gently toward it. His hand was warm in yours, and you felt a slight tingle run up your spine at the simple contact. He followed you without hesitation, his eyes curious as you approached the log.

When you reached it, you nudged it with your foot, testing its stability. Satisfied that it was sturdy enough, you gave him a small smile before sitting down. He joined you, and the two of you settled in, side by side, the night sky stretching endlessly above you.

The silence that fell between you was comfortable, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was as if the world had quieted down just for the two of you, leaving only the distant hum of the city and the gentle rustling of the leaves in the breeze.

And then, as naturally as the night turned into day, you began to talk.

There was no rush, no pressure to say anything in particular. The conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything and nothing all at once. You found yourself sharing things you hadn’t told anyone before, stories from your past, hopes for the future, small secrets that had always felt too personal to share. But here, in the quiet of the night, with Spencer beside you, it felt right.

He listened intently, his gaze soft and attentive. Occasionally, he would share something in return, and you felt a deep sense of connection growing between you. There was something comforting in the way he opened up to you, revealing parts of himself that you had never seen before. It was as if the night had stripped away the barriers between you, leaving only honesty and vulnerability in its wake.

Time seemed to slip away unnoticed as you continued to talk, the darkness of the night gradually giving way to the first hint of dawn. The sky began to lighten, a soft blush of pink and orange spreading across the horizon. You noticed the change in the light, the way the world around you was beginning to wake up, but neither of you made any move to leave.

Eventually, though, as the sun began its slow ascent, you both fell into a companionable silence. The words had all been spoken, and now, there was only the quiet understanding that had formed between you.

You glanced at Spencer, noticing the way the early morning light caught the edges of his hair, giving him a soft, almost ethereal glow. His expression was peaceful, a small, contented smile playing on his lips as he looked out over the water.

Reluctantly, you shifted, breaking the spell that had held you together throughout the night. Spencer turned to you, his gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, it felt as though the world stood still. There was an unspoken understanding in that look, a recognition of the bond that had formed between you.

Without a word, you both rose from the log, your hands brushing together briefly before you stepped away.

The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a gentle glow over everything. Spencer turned to you, his eyes reflecting the soft morning light, and he gave you a small, genuine smile.

“That was nice,” he said quietly, his voice almost reverent in the stillness of the early morning. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

You smiled back at him, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “Anytime,” you replied, standing up and brushing off your clothes. The simplicity of your response carried all the unspoken things you wanted to say.

Together, you began walking back to the car, the world around you slowly waking up. The grass was cool and damp beneath your feet, the earth soft from the dew. As you walked, your mind was still wrapped up in the serenity of the night, lost in thought.

Suddenly, your foot caught on a lump in the grass, and you stumbled slightly. Before you could fully regain your balance, Spencer’s hand was there, steadying you with a gentle yet firm touch on your lower back. The contact sent a sudden jolt up your spine, a spark that made your heart skip a beat.

You glanced up at him, a little surprised by how much the small gesture affected you. His hand lingered for a moment, warm against your back, before he slowly let it fall away.

“Careful,” he said softly, his voice laced with concern.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice a bit breathless as you regained your footing.

The walk to the car continued in a comfortable silence, but the simple touch seemed to hum in the space between you. It was a small moment, yet it felt significant, like an unspoken promise that whatever had started between you tonight was just beginning.

11 months ago

🤣🤣

heyy! ━ im not sure if you requests currently because its totally fine if you dont.

but how about hot bombshell bau!reader where she looks extra fine today [like its warm and she wears a dress] and spencer cant info dump like he usually does? ━ feel free to add anything to the story!

love your writing and page, <3

ty for requesting ♡ fem!reader

Texas gets hot. Unbearable, suffocating heat, arid air that feels as though it's baking you alive paired with the unforgiving beat of the sun on your shoulders. Sorry, Hotch, but you have to wear a dress. 

It's a little black thing with respectable sleeves and a less respectable hemline. There's no cleavage on show. Honestly, you could wear it to the courthouse if you needed to, and that's what counts. 

"Well, hi, mama," Morgan greets as you drift into the hotel lobby. 

"Unprofessional?" you ask, holding the hem in your two hands and pulling it down a touch. 

"On you? Absolutely." Morgan's wearing his usual attitude, but even he had the sense to wear a light grey shirt. "Where've you been hiding that one?" 

"I'm prepared for anything, Derek, you know that." 

Hotch raises his eyebrows when he sees you. 

"Too much?" you ask cautiously. 

"No. You look nice, Y/N. It's not you I'm thinking about." He suffers in his suit jacket, but you can't imagine he'll wear it much longer. He's a stickler for formality but he's not insane. "Speaking of, where's Reid?" 

"We're here!" JJ assures, leading the rest of your team from the breakfast hall. "We were following the air-conditioning. Hey, nice dress. I wish I packed something cooler." 

"It has to be hitting one ten," Emily whines. 

Spencer follows behind her, not quite looking at you as he begins, "It's an even one hundred farenheit today, it just feels hot because the aridity of the air is…" 

Spencer stares at you, his voice fading thin as the edge of a flower petal. He makes a very gentlemanly and extremely entertaining attempt to restrain himself, but his eyes pitch downward to your thighs, your legs as a whole, pupils dragging and catching on the slopes of them. 

His gaze shoots back to your eyes. "The air?" you ask softly. 

You can feel Hotch's disapproval in the same way you could predict today's heat. Spencer glances at him, and, because he isn't totally socially unable, he steadies himself and says, "You look nice." 

"Spencer!" you cheer, your happiness nearly smothering a mixture of sighs and laughs. "Thank you so much, that's so sweet!" You close the distance between you to clasp his arm gently. "You look nice too. I see you've foregone a sweater in the heat. Have you ever thought about wearing a v-neck shirt like Morgan does? You'd look really good, especially your arms." 

Speechless, Spencer shakes his head. You pat his shoulder as Hotch shepherd's you out of the hotel and into the sunshine, the agony of a land without air-conditioning distracting your audience. With slightly more privacy, you lean into Spencer's side. 

"I know it's not quite right to wear to work but my pencil skirts are all too tight after the last wash. Do you think it's alright?" 

A bead of sweat collects at his hairline. "I think it's fine." 

"Yeah? I just couldn't stand to be hot again like we were yesterday, even my knee caps felt sweaty. If it gets any hotter I'll have to solve the case in my underwear." 

Spencer makes a quiet, strange sound, like a pant or a gasp being choked on. You'd love to say you attribute it to the heat, but you're not that humble. 

"We'd still get the job done, wouldn't we?" you ask. 

"I don't know what to tell you," Spencer says. 

Hotch puts you and Spencer in separate SUVs.

Nothing fucks with my baby

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Simon Riley x wife reader

Summary: Simon is the Earth orbiting your sun and he'll do anything to keep you safe and happy, even if that means resorting to bloody means.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: attempted non-con (not by Simon)

@ghosts-cyphera for you pookie, hope you enjoy!

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Eight months. It’s been eight long, tortuous months since Simon saw you in person. Eight months of living off brief Skype calls interrupted by work schedules and shitty internet cutting out mid-call, an age since he’s touched you. Since he’s breathed in your scent and cradled you against his muscular chest, since he’s tasted you. Pictures of you weren’t enough, even if you’d gifted him a set of delectable Polaroids showcasing your gorgeous body decorated with black and white lingerie.  

Long deployments had never bothered him, not until you’d become the central part of his life. Simon was the Earth, orbiting your sun reverently and fervently. He’d worship you on his knees for eternity if that’s what you desired.

His appetite for you has always been ravenous, but his need for you has been greatly nourished after months of no contact. The door to your shared home swings open with a bang, the anticipation coursing through his veins diminishing his control in a way he knows you’ll scold him for. His bag is dropped carelessly in the foyer as he stalks through the space, a man on a mission to find you. Not even the weary exhaustion after months of shit sleep and shared communal spaces would deter him from his mission. 

You’re not in your home office or the bedroom and Simon’s frustration simmers under his skin as he marches straight back out the door. It’s only the knowledge that you’ll be devastated to have missed his surprise homecoming that tempers his annoyance. 

Ghost is beyond irritated by the time he arrives at your work, not necessarily at you, he knows how seriously you take your career, it’s one of the reasons he was so drawn to you. Once some lowly private had made a snide remark about you being the breadwinner, scoffing at Simon for letting his wife ‘emasculate’ him like that. It was only Price playing damage control that kept him from a dishonourable discharge that day. He had no regrets, especially after the incident taught people to keep your name out of their mouths. 

It’s late, well past working business hours when he keys into the building using the code you’d given specially for him. So it shouldn’t surprise him how empty it is, most of the lights turned off as he made his way to your office, but Simon hadn’t survived over a decade in the military without learning to trust his gut. A distinct uneasiness settles in his body, narrowed eyes surveying the space for anything out of the ordinary as he increases his pace to get to you. 

The light in your office is on, the door is left open carelessly and gives Simon a clear view of the sight of you bent over your desk trying not to cry as a man holds a gun to your head and fumbles with your sleek dress pants. Simon thought he knew rage, but any anger he’s ever felt is drowned in comparison to the sheer righteous fury that alights his veins. 

He closes the gap in record time, red filtering out the corners of his vision and spraying over his knuckles as he rips the interloper away and viciously lays into him. Any slurred words pleading for mercy are ignored and shut down as Simon’s fist renders the man’s mouth an inoperable bloody mess. 

His arm aches furiously by the time he pulls back, chest heaving with breaths that have long since been silenced from the scumbag that now lay dead on the floor of your office. It’s the sound of your shaky sobs that pulls Simon back from the brink, immediately darting towards you, shaky hands stained with blood cradling you against his bulk gently. 

He’s vibrating with an explosive cocktail of fury, fear, outrage and relief. You press yourself tighter against his chest like you’re trying to burrow into the safety of his ribcage. Simon can’t bring himself to speak, mouth dry and tongue heavy as he buries his face into the top of your head. The silence is broken by the shaky inhales of your rattling breaths and sobs. 

All too soon you’re pulling away, even when he fights to keep you safe and sound against his chest. “Simon? What… what’s going to happen with-” You try and turn your gaze towards the corpse staining your carpet but Simon prevents you with a hand grasping your jaw, preventing you from getting a glimpse at the carnage. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head darling, I’ll take care of it. But first, let's get you home yeah?” He walks you from the building to your car with a supportive arm wrapped around your shoulders, tucking you against his side before sliding you into the passenger seat of your car. It’s a testament to how shaken you are that you don’t protest, remaining silent and clutching the hand that grasps your thigh like a lifeline. 

It doesn’t take long to tuck you into bed, wrapping you tightly in the blanket like it will protect you from the horrors of the outside world. The adrenaline had faded from your body making way for the exhaustion. Simon doesn’t leave your side until he’s sure the clutches of sleep have pulled you under, and even then, it's with extreme hesitation that he stands and leaves the bedroom, reaching for his phone to make a call. 

Luckily, you don’t wake even once in the hours that follow as he waits for news of the cleanup. He spends that time alternating between checking in on you, watching you breathe peacefully and pacing the linoleum floors that you’d insisted on. 

A single knock on the front door pulls him from the spiral of thoughts that threatened to pull him further and further into darkness. He opens the door to an unimpressed Price, who pushes his way in with Gaz and Soap trailing after. Expectantly he stares at them, watching as Price lights a cigar and takes a long drag. 

“It’s done. Did you have to make such a mess though son?” It’s an innocuous enough comment but one that raises Ghost’s hackles anyway and he shoots a venomous glare at his captain that would never have been acceptable in any other circumstances. His shoulders tense and it takes everything in him to keep his voice somewhat level. 

“That fucker laid his hands on my wife!” He inhaled shakily as he remembered what he’d almost been too slow to prevent, unable to prevent the rise of volume as he yelled at his captain, “My wife! He’s lucky I didn’t paint the room with his insides!” The baritone of his booming snarl is loud enough that even Soap flinches slightly with widened eyes. 

There’s a tense silence but his captain nods, something like approval in his gaze before his eyes slide towards the right and Simon turns just in time to witness you call his name, voice hoarse with sleep and eyes red from tears. 

He crosses the space and curls you against him in record time, nonchalantly throwing a dismissive wave towards his team who simply nod in understanding and file back outside. “Were those the boys? You didn’t have to kick them out” you murmured though Simon was already hushing you, leading you back to bed with a firm hand on the small of your back. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout them lovie, they were leavin’ anyway” he waved away your concerns, finally kicking off his shoes, trapping you in his arms and pulling you down onto the mattress. You squeak at his actions, giggling as his stubble tickles the skin of your neck. 

Despite how pent-up and desperate for your touch he is, Simon makes no move to escalate the situation, settling you in his arms and simply breathing you in. Neither of you speak about the earlier incident, not willing to shatter the peace. Though Simon lets out the occasional hum when your hands trace gentle circles over his heart, focusing on the steady beat of his pulse beneath your palm. 

Inevitably the lingering emotions of the day would have to be dealt with, but not yet, Simon would allow himself to relish in the peace just a little longer.

The taskforce 141 reactions to your display of jealousy

a/n: I’ve seen a fair amount of fics and writings that show them being jealous, but what if we are the ones that get jealous then? ;) 

In this fic, the reader is more like in denial sort of jealousy + first time feeling jealous kind of thing. I decided to do a mix of displays from reader, Price and Ghost are subtle, Soap and Gaz are more direct!

I might do another one where it's more action-based and possessive like reader beating the strangers up or something

also the relationship between reader and tf141 is not exactly publicly known :)  Notes:

dividers drawn by @gomzdraws (click for better resolution!)

reader's texts are in purple

Tags: xgn!reader, established relationship(basically already dating), incorrect military terms, implied nsfw but its sfw I swear, cursing

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Captain John Price

The Taskforce 141 Reactions To Your Display Of Jealousy

Captain Price has been going around giving meetings and distributing tasks as you follow along and help him carry the essential documents all day. In the last meeting, he will meet one of the operators to explain the upcoming missions. You decide to wait on the other side of the room as you watch the captain carry out his duty. 

Everything was fine as the conversation went on. You may be standing at a distance, but you can faintly hear the discussion. You can tell he is quite impressed with the soldier’s skill, and the exchange was beginning to be less serious as they started talking about things that were out of topic. You watch from the corner of your eyes as the person starts leaning closer, even cracking jokes as they pat John’s shoulder.

Well, whoever that is, they sure know how to butter the captain up.

You thought for a moment before internal cursing as you shook your head.

Get a grip; he is the captain; surely he knows what he’s do-

Your thoughts stop as you watch the person lean in and whisper something to John’s ears, and you notice how the Captain shifted slightly and cleared his throat. The soldier proceeded to shuffle something into his back pants pocket before leaving, even winking at him before the door was closed. 

What the fuck? 

You furrow your brows as you watch Captain sigh, walk back to his desk, and take his seat. You waited until he gestured for you to come to him with his hand, and you decided to act naturally as you organised the messy papers and reports on his table. 

This is not something you should be worried about in the first place, so don’t even bring it up. You say this to yourself internally as you take a seat next to him and read through the documents. But your mind keeps racing, and there's a burning feeling inside you, clouding your thoughts as you tap your finger softly on the table repeatedly.

"Y/N", the Captain said as he lifted your chin up. You followed his hand and slowly glanced up and stared at him with a hint of embarrassment. Did he find out what I was thinking already?

Yes, sir?

You answer back with the most steady voice you can muster at the moment. You watch as he softens his gaze and brushes your hair away. You recognise that look.

You’re not talking to the captain now; you’re talking to John.

He doesn't say a word as he takes out the paper from his back pocket and places it on the table. You try to maintain your composure and remain as calm as you can when you see a number scribbled on the paper, but you can't help but let out a cold glare at the paper for a second.

That piece of shi-

He taps your chin twice lightly as he grabs your attention again before running his hand down to your neck and resting it there. You know this signal, so you promptly hold out his favourite lighter that you carry around and light up his cigar. He hums appreciatively as he takes a drag and puffs out the smoke. 

He looks back at you, silently telling you to keep your eyes on his as he takes the cigar out of his lips, twisting it between his fingers before he rolls and holds the cigar vertically, the evenly burned red-orange cherry side at the end facing downward. You follow curiously before watching him plant it firmly on the paper, twisting it until a hole appears as he smiles and kisses your cheek.

"You know I’ll only look at you, sweetheart," he whispers with his deep, husky tone as you blush and glance away. 

You knew? You say it softly as he leans in and brushes your neck in slow circles as he nods and chuckles. 

"Course I do, I know everything about you," he said before taking another drag from his cigar as he smirked and leaned in closer.

"You look like you were about to punch that person in the face; it’s pretty hot, actually," he says as he watches you shake your head and roll your eyes lightly. 

Hot? Woah, who knew you liked me being violent? 

You joke back as he kisses your ears softly, feeling his beard tickling you as you sigh. He gives you a dark look, dipping his voice another octave lower as he moves his hand from your neck slowly down to your hip.

Oh, I love it when you get all rowdy and rough, especially if you’re doing it because of me, like last night, hm?

That instantly makes you go red as you give a nervous laugh and squirm in your seat at the memory. He gives you an amused look as he puts his hand on your waist and pulls you in closer. 

Well, it looks like tonight will be the same.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

John Soap MacTavish

The Taskforce 141 Reactions To Your Display Of Jealousy

You were idling around the base after just finishing healing from a previous mission. Technically,  you’re not supposed to move around so much, but you were already getting bored as you stared up at the same ceiling for days. You know Soap has been helping you out immensely by practically moving into your room and keeping you company. But he went on a mission and won’t return until today, so you decided to sneak out of the room and brew yourself a cup of tea. You hum as you take in the smell and sigh. 

This is certainly better than water, that’s for sure

you think to yourself before deciding to walk around and explore the base. Well,  just glancing around to see if there’s anything new that has happened. That’s when you spotted a few jeeps with a group of people and a few regular faces you recognised: Ghost, Gaz, Price, and your boyfriend Soap getting down from the vehicle. You wanted to wave and call out to Soap before noticing someone else beside him, but what really caught your attention was the jacket the person was wearing; it was his jacket. Your favourite jacket of his. 

You stop dead in your tracks from a distance as your grip on the tea mug tightens. You observe as Soap and the gang talk and laugh, you know like they always do post-mission, and yet something just doesn’t seem right for you as you fixate your gaze on the person that has been clinging to Soap, wrapping their hands around his arm as they also joke along. You can see Soap politely patting their arms away as he bumps their shoulder.

Right, he’s doing something about it. You thought to yourself before you quickly went back to your room. You knew Soap wouldn't do anything that would upset you, but yet you couldn’t shake that thought away—the thought of someone else whirling him away. You hate it; whatever it is that you’re feeling, it feels wrong, even toxic, but you just can’t help it. You know it's not his fault, and you’re well aware that he can’t control everyone’s actions. You decided to lie on your bed and pull the blanket over yourself as you tried to sleep it away.

Not long after, Soap knocks gently at your door and enters your room. He notices how you are facing the wall and bundled in a blanket, breathing normally, which indicates that you aren't sleeping despite your eyes being closed.

Heeeeeyyyy, how’s ma favourite cutie feeling, hm?

He asked in his usual light tone as he sat on your bed and petted your blanket. He stared at you as he leaned in and kissed your shoulder softly.

Ya awrite? 

He asked as he noticed how you were quieter than usual. Your heart broke slightly as you noted how his tone became worried, so you turned around and gently brushed his cheek as you shook your head.

I'm okay, dear. Just tired. You lied as you smiled and watched as he took your hand and cupped his own face. “Anything ah can do for ye?”,  He asks again with puppy eyes as you chuckle, pulls his face close to you, and kiss his lips softly. Cuddles. You whisper softly as he smiles and hugs you close. Ayeee, then it's cuddles you're gettin’

He says as he lays down beside you, nuzzles his neck on your shoulder, and pulls you close to him. You sigh happily as you let the jealous thoughts slowly dissolve away, but that doesn’t mean you forget about the incident.

A few days later, when you were doing laundry, you spotted his jacket again—the one that fuc—you mean, the other person—was wearing that time. You stared at it as you lifted it up from the basket, and instantly a whiff of perfume or cologne that you did not recognise got picked up by your nose. You frowned and glared at the jacket for a moment, seething in anger as you decided to toss it into the washer. After washing and drying it, you had an idea and opted to wear and keep it. Naw, this is my jacket now. You thought to yourself as you walked around the base with the jacket, a proud look clearly showing on your face as the jacket had a clearly huge "Soap" behind it.

Soap notices as he smirks and walks towards you, crossing his arm as he stands beside you. “Oi? Is that ma jacket?”, he says as he takes a good look at you, grinning ear to ear as he glances you up and down. He won’t lie, he never knew how good you looked wearing his stuff.

Your jacket? I have no idea what you’re talking about; it's mine now.

You replied back nonchalantly when you noticed that same person who was with Soap the other day staring at you from across the hall. You gave them a death glare as you turned and pulled Soap down by his collar, making him jolt forward as he gasped slightly at the sudden motion. You kept eye contact as you whispered to Soap.

Not only the jacket, but you’re mine as well

Your lips barely brush his ears slightly as Soap blushes and gives out a surprised laugh.

Well, well, well.

He replied back in a shocked tone as he watched the direction you were looking at before he gave an "ah" sound as he made the connection. He giggled as he stared back at you with a loving stare. “Hmm, didnae take yer a jealous one”, he says before holding you closer to him by the waist and kissing your forehead. Mmm, you give a grunt as you feign annoyance and glance away. He laughs as he nuzzles you close and gives you a hug. “Aw~ dun get mad at me, yer know I love ya, and only ya”, he kisses you on the neck softly to tickle you as you drop your frown and giggle at him to push him away playfully,

Oh fuck off, don't go all sappy on me now. 

You roll your eyes as you try to wiggle your way out. “Nuh uh, I will show yer how much I love ya”, he says before he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder. You let out a yelp as you move around and let out a whine. MacTavish! Put me down this instant!  You say it with a laugh as he smacks your ass and shakes his head as he walks towards his room.

“Nope, ah won't, you're going to get all the love you missed.”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Kyle Gaz Garrick

The Taskforce 141 Reactions To Your Display Of Jealousy

You wake up early after preparing yourself, walking slowly to the kitchen to carry out your routine. You like to start your day off with coffee, and on the other hand, Kyle likes to have tea in the morning. Jasmine tea with two teaspoons of sugar and some milk, just the way he likes it. So every morning for the past few months of dating, you always make sure to brew him his tea as well when you make coffee. You shuffle around the shelves as you look for his mug, being confused when you don't see it at the usual spot. You glance around before you hear Kyle speaking to someone on the other side of the place. You follow the voices and take a peek behind a wall as you watch him talk to someone with his mug in his hands already.

Hm, so he brewed it himself today? That’s odd, maybe because he woke up earlier.

You didn’t think much of it as you went back to the kitchen to make yourself a coffee and go on with your day.

The next day, you walk to the kitchen and find his mug, only to find it not there again. You frown as you try to rationalise your thoughts.

Okay, maybe he was in a hurry.

You think again as you shake those thoughts away and carry out your duties. But then it starts to bother you when the same thing happens again the next day and again for the following two days.

He never brought it up and neither one of you talked about it. You assume maybe you messed up the way you make his tea or maybe he changed his preference. But it still confuses you, and it hurts a little too; he could’ve told you if that's the case. However, something else is notable: he has been getting more headaches recently, and you’ve asked him about it.

Are you sure it's not something serious? How about going to the medical bay to check if everything’s alright?

No, no, it's fine; it's just stress.

You decided enough was enough as you woke up extra early today to question him in the kitchen about why he started making tea for himself. But then that's when you saw it—a figure that opened the top shelf and took his mug out. You recognise that person; it was one of the recruits Kyle has been speaking to lately. You immediately stepped forward and grabbed their hand as you spoke calmly.

What do you think you’re doing?

“Huh?”, The person gets caught off guard as they glance back at you, a frown forming on their face as they continue; it's almost as if they’re annoyed that they were stopped by you.

Erm, making coffee for my superior? Why? Because I can? So you’ve been doing this for the past few days? Yeah.

The recruit replied back with a proud look as they rested their hands on their hips, not hiding the fact that they were doing Gaz this favour for obvious reasons when the blush on their cheeks was prominent.

That’s when it clicked: he hasn’t been making tea himself, and the source of his headaches is because of this dumbass. Kyle can’t hold his caffeine; it always gives him a splitting headache. You also know how he has trouble rejecting kindness from others and has always kept silent about his actions. You sigh as you take the mug from the person.

Hey! What’s your problem? Give it ba-

You watch your tone.

Your sharp voice cuts through the air as you turn and stare down at them, leaning closer to the recruit as venom seeps out of your mouth.

Sergeant Gaz doesn’t take coffee; if you wanted to flirt with someone, at least be smart about it. Oh, wait, never mind about that... (You trail off as you firmly press your hand on their shoulder, gazing down as the recruit gulps and shivers nervously under your scrutiny.) You probably don’t even know he’s taken already; poor you. How did you end up here with such an empty head anyway? I thought everyone here was smart and observant; clearly, you’re not.

The recruit gasps as tears prick up in their corner, and they immediately falter and shamefully run away as you sigh.

Okay, maybe that was too far.

You mumbled before hearing something shuffling behind you. You felt your back warm up as Kyle hugged your shoulder from behind. You smile as you kiss his arm and stare up at him.

“I'm sorry; I should’ve told you about it.” His voice is a low whisper as you softly caress his arm soothingly. You know, you could’ve poured the coffee away or let me drink it. You speak gently as you slowly turn around to face him.

“I know, but I didn’t want to waste it or deny the coffee when someone had made it for me.” You sigh as you brush your hand on his cheek and continue.

Well, they won’t anymore, and only I will be the one making you tea from this day on. You give a smile when Kyle chuckles and kisses your forehead. “I’ll have to admit that watching you speak like that was pretty cool”, He said it with a smirk as you shook your head. Ah, so I wasn’t cool before? You tease him back as he quickly shakes his head and kisses your hands. “I didn’t say that.” He giggles as he sighs and rests his head on your shoulder. “Can you make me tea again? Just the way I like it?”, He whispers with a smile as you nod and kiss his cheek.

Always.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Simon Ghost Riley

The Taskforce 141 Reactions To Your Display Of Jealousy

It was one of the sparring sessions where Ghost and Soap were tasked with providing training and demonstrations to the new recruits. You decided to join and watch from the side and provide any needed assistance, but truthfully, you just wanted to watch Ghost. It's moments like these where you get to see him roll up his sleeves and flex his muscles. Sure,  you get to see all of him whenever you’re in his bedroom, but watching him display himself confidently in public? That’s a different kind of look you will never get tired of.

The session went on normally, and most recruits were obedient and managed to replicate what Ghost and Soap have been demonstrating, with just a few slower soldiers that require more attention, which they supervise and guide on a one-to-one basis.

And there was this one recruit that Ghost has been teaching for some time now. You note how the recruit was standing slightly closer to him, and the way they looked at Ghost made you uneasy—not in a way that you think that person is going to hurt him, but in a way that you feel that the person has an ulterior motive. You don't miss the way the recruit brushed their hand across his arm, or how they were pressing their body against his in a way that was definitely unnecessary in the training, or how they deliberately messed up a step and let out that annoying giggle-

I'm overthinking. 

You thought to yourself when you realised you were frowning and your hands were balled into a fist. You decided to step outside and take a breather as you tried to calm yourself. You sat on the bench alone as you breathed out and ran through your mind again.

Stop overthinking. They’re just training; Ghost is literally an adult. I don't have to fret over something like this, do I? Okay, what was that question? Of course I don't. Right, but why the hell did they stick so close anyway-

You drown in your own inner monologue as your eyebrows furrow, and you sigh again as you rest your head on your knees, all the while Ghost has been watching you at the corner.

He saw and noticed when you were staring just now. Well, you always do stare, and he likes it, but this time he felt your gaze was different, and from the way you stand with that tense shoulder and the way your hands were forming a fist, It didn't sit right with him, so he told Soap to take over the recruit, not even answering the "why" from the person as he quickly followed you when you left.

"Love…?" Ghost said as he cautiously stood behind you and looked down with a concerned expression, he watched as you glanced up and smiled at him.

That’s not a smile he knows.

Oh, hey Ghost! I'm just resting, don’t mind me.

"No, you’re not; I can see you thinking." Ghost replies back instantly as he takes a seat next to you and rubs your hands, softening his gaze as he leans in and rests his forehead on yours. "What is it, love?", Ghost asks as he takes in your demeanour. He watches as you clench your jaw and hold your breath, then glances away as you sigh, and then you look back at him again as you frown. He always likes observing you, and he can tell that you’re contemplating, so he gave your hand a squeeze to urge you to continue.

I just… I just didn't like how the recruit was acting around you; I don't know why.

You finally spit it out as you nervously grab his fingers and fiddle with them as you try to calm down. After saying it out loud, you do feel a little childish, and you don't know what his response will be either.

Ghost remained silent for a moment as he processed your words and thought back about the training. He did find the recruit slightly annoying because they’ve been deliberately repeating the same mistake over and over again, but he has not realised why they did so. Until now.

Oh

His thoughts click as he tilts his head slightly and looks back at you, now with a smirk growing as his mask shifts slightly.

"You’re jea-" No.

You cut him off as you turn away from him and face your back at him. He watches as redness forms at the tip of your ear. He chuckles as he leans in and rests his head on your head, kissing your hair slightly as he watches your pout which makes your cheeks get puffy.

Cute. So this is what you’re like when you’re jealous. He thought to himself before he raised his hand and pulled your cheek, causing you to gasp as you thrashed around.

What the-hey! Get off!

You complain back angrily as he does not stop and squishes your face after he pulls it a few more times. You protest more as you grab his hand until you can't help but giggle at him when you know he won’t stop.

Stop it! You’re going to make me have wrinkles!

He gives a soft huff of air as he shakes his head and grabs your right cheek with his thumb and index finger and bites it gently, 

“I don't mind wrinkles”, he whispers as you let out a "hmph", grabbing his sleeve as you glare at him. He laughs again as he plants a kiss on the cheek he bit earlier.

I hate you.

I love you too.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

a/n: this is for all the Ghostie lovers out there to make up for the last fic <3 Im a firm believer that Ghost is silly in relationships, like come on man was putting out puns and jokes during the mission in the game! also bonus from my friends' reactions to Gaz's part:

The Taskforce 141 Reactions To Your Display Of Jealousy

Likes, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated Have a good day/night! :D

Vulnerable pt.2

A/N: Due to everyone's love for the first installment, here's a continuation! It's not full NS/FW to "completion", however, a third post will finish up the little mini-series if part two does well enough. Summary: After getting Ghost to release his tensions after a harsh mission, you're surprised to see how far things go. Ghost is just as shocked. TW's: sexual content NS/FW 18+ ONLY, fem reader, cursing, sexual thoughts, intimacy, not proofread. If I missed something... let me know.

Read Part One Here

Vulnerable Pt.2
Vulnerable Pt.2

Ghost’s eyes flicker in the dim light with something you’ve never seen before. It’s similar to the pain you’ve seen on his face when trying to nurse a stab or gunshot wound. Tinged around the edges with a panic and cracked lines of desperation. For such a strong and self-proclaimed heartless man, his eyes show so much deeper a story. One that calls out happily at the idea of keeping you close to him like this. Interested. Much more than he’d ever felt before.

“If you want to, we could lay down?” You suggest gently, looking at the bed and then back to him. “I’ll keep going.”

Those silently expressive eyes shift all over again. “Yes.”

You stay still, allowing him to choose the pace and tone of this. Wanting him comfortable and feeling safe with you. All of it could stop the second he made it clear, but for some reason, you really couldn’t understand why the Lieutenant was letting you in. And it wasn’t because you were massaging his back. Twisting his lower half onto the bed, Ghost shifted until settled down on the bed on his back, totally open to you. In his relaxed position, you can feel how the invisible magnets between you shift from pushing forces to pulling ones. Body heat radiating off of him and his steady breaths almost acted like a sleeping pill for you as you laid down next to him, careful not to edge into his personal space.

“How would you like to lay?” His eyes wander over your face softly as you question him; head leaning to the side to get a full look at you resting next to him with your messy hair and t-shirt with little holes dotting alone the stretched-out collar. Ghost couldn’t help but realize how pretty you looked right now with your little smile and glowing skin illuminated in the yellow light. It doesn’t take a lot of thought before he gives a very quick and confident answer.

“Facing you.” His dark eyes study you for a response.

One he fears will be hesitation or discomfort. Fuck, maybe even fear. You’d seen him do things even hell would shudder at, yet you always came to him bearing a trusting and happy disposition. Being covered in blood, sand, sweat or mud never deterred you from walking right up to him like some lost little puppy hoping someone would find it cute enough to take home. Genuinely it bothered him. Why do you overlook the danger he presented. How you could be so fucking pleasant and calm in almost every situation you were thrown into. Something he’d been angrily dismissing as nothing more than a passing trend until you really got to know him as well as others had. Yet nothing changed. In fact, you appeared almost excited at the prospect and wiggled yourself into what he assumed was a more comfortable position on your side with one arm propped up under your head.

Ghost shifts himself onto his side with a small grunt, getting into an equally comfortable position that closes a bit more distance between you both. If you had mentioned it, his excuse would’ve fallen somewhere along the lines of you having short arms and that he was only accommodating your size. Nothing could pry the truth that he just liked being close to you out of his mouth. Days in the desert hadn’t nearly touched you. Sure you were a little rough around the edges without time to redo your hair or do any of the other small things… But damn you still looked pretty. With so little space between you, he could smell how sweet you were too. Not that fake shit women always put too much of on. You smelled right. Like a woman ought to. Natural, and… maybe a little on the salty side. It meant you’d been busting your ass in the field, and that thought alone gave Ghost a bit of a shiver as he inhaled deeply.

Face-to-mask with just a little more than a couple inches between you, the closeness felt comforting, reassuring. Ghost at ease, getting to take his time admiring all of the small things he’d never thought to appreciate, while you revel in such a strange yet lucky opportunity to watch him practically melt into the bed all because of your touches and soft words. Perhaps it’s because of all his walls coming crashing down that you’re able to begin trailing your fingertips over his arm. You worked from his wrist to his bicep then over and down onto his ribs, feeling the texture of burns and scars and the small raised edges of tattoos sunk into his skin.

Ghost lets out a low, soft, moan as your hands glide over his stomach. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks directly at you, blinking innocently like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s so eager yet nervous for any sort of attention, and while you have no intention of stopping, you’re careful to not move too quickly. His breath increasing under your hand is a good enough indication that he was feeling something, and strongly, at that.

“More,” he breathes out, nearly panting with his one hand fisting at the sheets under him.

He’s starting to shake inside. Tingling on every surface you touch and fighting back the desperate urge to just make an observed amount of noise with just how much he likes this. It’s been so long since anyone had touched him so intimately. The overstimulation was nearly enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. Yet he swallowed thickly, willing himself to act as normally as possible. For fuck’s sake you hadn’t done anything that should reduce him to such a pathetic excuse of a man on the edge of anticipation waiting to see where you’d touch him next. You made it even harder when you looked up at him with a smile and raised eyebrows.

“Can I try something?”

He can’t nod quick enough, watching those eyes of yours light up. He shivers as your attention moves upwards to the hem of his mask, toying with it a little before tracing long lines from the base of his throat all the way up to his jaw. Working to trace out the shapes and planes of his face under the thin material. It makes him quiver and tighten his fist around the sheets in his hand. Without thinking, he moves his other arm to wrap around your waist tightly and pulls you the rest of the way against him with a small growl of lost patience. Ghost wanted you close, but god you were just too sweet to do it on your own. And with your body heat scalding against his bare skin, he gives a pinched sigh, eyes fluttering closed with you still rubbing his face.

“This okay?” He whispers lowly, his arm still wrapped around you and his hand pressed flat against the deep sway of your lower back; thumb rubbing over your belt loop absentmindedly. Hearing your soft sigh pours over his mind like thick honey in tea.

“Of course, it is,” Your hand curls around the edge of his jaw reassuringly. “You can touch me back if you’d like to.” You offer, reaching behind him to trace a line up his spine. Ghost’s eyes open at your invitation, his gaze -heavy- but fixed on you. His body tenses ever so slightly as you ask. Then, he closes them again and a small hidden smile crosses his lips.

“Yeah…” He answers at a mere whisper.

He moves his hand from its resting place and moves it to the swell of your hip, running it over your waist, fingers lazily catching the edge of your shirt and rolling it up enough that his fingertips brush against your bare skin in a soft gesture. You sense his nervousness in the slight shake of his hands, unsure of where to go, but fighting with the desire to touch everything at least once. Like he’s terrified he won’t get another chance but doesn’t want to scare you away from him either. His arm moves upwards, his hand coming to the side of your face; fingers smoothing back a couple of stray hairs and running across your head. Mentally you stutter for a moment, your arm draped over his side and your hand on his back stilling. Enraptured with Ghost’s rough hand touching you carefully. Treating you no differently than a bomb ready to go off at the slightest wrong move. So gently his thumb brushes over your cheekbone, hearing a tender sigh from under his mask.

“That feels good,” You whisper, lips brushing against the edge of his palm.

An answer doesn’t come, but you can see him nod his head. You can almost picture his smile as his fingers continue to run through your hair, twisting the strands around his fingers and pulling slightly before repeating the motion over again. Lacing his hand closer and closer to you with every soft touch. Ghost can’t help himself from tracing down the curve of your back again. Absorbing the comfort of your breath fanning over his chest and his hands getting to truly feel every inch of you he never even thought about touching, let alone actually laying next to you this close and feeling your smooth skin under his calloused palms. Experience in this kind of thing was as foreign to Ghost as the idea of working a nine-to-five at some office building typing on a computer or attending one o’clock meetings for a budget report. While that sounded mind-numbing enough to blast his own brains out…. he still felt like he’d have a better grip on living a life like that more so than he did lying next to you…

So fucking pretty always smiling like that.

He feels you lean even closer, resting your head against his bare chest and sinking deeper into the bed. Allowing him total freedom to do what he wished. If you could purr, he imagined you’d sound no different than a little kitten tucked inside someone’s shirt, kneading its paws into your skin. Ghost did smile widely this time, moving just enough to unbind his other arm out from under himself and curl it around your head to toy with the extremely soft strands right at the nape of your neck while the other rubbed at the dimples he felt in the small of your back.

You moan softly when his strong fingers squeeze at the back of your neck, rubbing in circles just at the back of your head to mimic the same technique you used on him earlier. Ghost was a quick study, but having large enough hands to practically scruff you with only one made it easier. Muffled in his chest, it didn’t come out nearly as deep and unrestrained as you’d actually been, yet you didn’t miss the slight shake of Ghost’s chest as he chuckled darkly. Proud that he’d elicited such a response, and already moving his hands more confidently to try and find somewhere else he could touch to make you repeat the noise.

“Does that feel good?” His voice pours over your ears like the bourbon he drinks, flooding your mind with a hazy and warm feeling.

Nodding your head to answer, his thumb runs lightly over your jaw again, this time squeezing affectionately. The Lieutenant on the other hand is relying far too much on his mask to keep his mounting excitement under control. Biting back an instinct to be rougher and see what other sounds you could make for him. Wrestling against the want to fully remove your shirt to see if you felt this soft everywhere. Suddenly hungry and hardly masking it. When you feel him suck in a harsh breath, you look up to see his eyes resting firmly on yours. A silent question lingers in the inch or two gap between your faces. His chest rises and falls quickly, anticipatory.

Swallowing the fucking childish nervousness clawing at his throat he finally speaks. “Should I?”

“I’d like if you did.” You whisper back, looking between his eyes and the painted teeth of his mask where you’ve pictured his lips being. Hoping. Praying. Fucking begging whatever beings could be in the sky above that you’d understood what he was asking for. That he’d give you so much more than you ever expected or dreamed of.

The Lieutenant’s eyes lock onto your mouth, and you can actually hear the thick swallow and deep breath he takes. A moment of anticipation that he couldn’t help but close his eyes for, bringing his masked face closer and closer. No more than a breath away, he can smell your hair and it makes him freeze. Quickly overwhelmed and unsure of how to move forward. So in the depth of his own mind, the presence of his mask still covering his whole lower face escapes his attention. You’re calm enough to help him, reaching between you and lifting the hem of his mask just enough to uncover his lips; Carefully resting the mask on the wide bridge of his nose.

You see deep scars -old and new- all over his lower face. Two of them cut over his lips in wide slashes that differed in color from the rest of his beautiful skin. It made your heart squeeze with sadness. Seeing the first real proof of just why Ghost was so closed off and afraid of letting anyone in. The first-hand experience left him always marching on a fine line between professional collaboration and a real, deep emotional connection to those he protected and those who wanted more than anything to protect him too.

Care about him.

It’s the one thought that brought you to press your lips to Ghost’s. Firm and sure of yourself but still sweet as sugar against his mouth. It takes him far longer than he thought to respond in any meaningful way. The sensation is so different, saccharine and syrupy. His. breath increases in pace, and you can feel his tongue teasing at your bottom lip in curiosity. It’s anxious yet bold. Even his hands are still shaking, they’re already wandering under the hem of your shirt much further than before. Grazing the bottom edge of your bra just like his tongue messily begged for more.

When you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, Ghost feels his inhibitions falling away. Opening his mouth with a low groan and pushing himself deeper, licking against your tongue greedily and tightening his grasp around you to begin rumbling for the hooks on your bra.

He’s nearly panting when he pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours with the hooks of your bra undone without even remembering when he’d done it. The sensation is sending heatwaves through your stomach, flooding your body with heat that rests on your cheeks.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbles, pulling at your shirt slowly and guiding it up over your head with care not to let it catch on anything.

Your heart thumps furiously as he kisses you, his tongue grazing against your own, softly and sweetly. His teeth tug on your lower lip, and his hands explore your back, feeling the smoothness of your skin. The warmth of his lips feels wonderful, his tongue exploring you as his movements become more frantic.

You feel his hands leave your back and move to your breasts, running lightly against the plush flesh before squeezing softly. Teasing his thumbs over your hardened nipples, giving you a darkened look when a small whimper slips from you. Ghost's eyes flick down, catching the image of your topless body before him and the almost pinched look of pleasure suddenly shocking your body. He smiles at you, his lips parting slightly as he does so feeling a new sense of accomplishment than ever before.

Hurting people felt natural to him after so many years alone and fighting to survive in every moment that came to pass. Rhythm and attention to the enemy's detailed reactions made him a lethal weapon against anyone his talents were directed at. With you in his hands though, the act of fighting was similar yet so very polar opposite. He watched and listened to every pretty little sound you made, but instead of that unending desire for retribution, he was being satiated with the knowledge that he could make you melt with nothing more than his mouth and hands.

Fuck, that thought almost ended Ghost. He couldn’t imagine just how many sounds he could rip out of you if he could use his hands or mouth somewhere else. God, if he ever had the chance to give you his cock, there’d really be no way of going back. He looks you in the eyes for a moment, then back to your lips, before kissing you again, his tongue exploring you as his hands run up and down your body.

He's so fucking eager now, and it shows, his excitement building in every movement of his hips beginning to roll up against yours. He's making you feel so hot and desperately needy for anything that could be given to you, and that's all he wants. Make you feel everything possible… all under his hands. His body, his touch. Only him. It couldn’t be anyone else now that he’d been given a taste of you.

The stone-cold Lieutenant Ghost is ready to give you everything all in the pursuit of making you feel absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure.

Vulnerable Pt.2

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated

Vulnerable pt.1?

A/N: A not-so-little thing I've had for a few weeks, and wanted to see if a part two was something anyone would be interested in reading. If so, please let me know. Summary: You try and get Ghost to relax after a harsh mission and find a bit of a quiet moment. T/W: not proofread :)

Vulnerable Pt.1?
Vulnerable Pt.1?

Bad intel led to you and your Lieutenant being nearly hunted down and killed by a not-so-small group of arms dealers who caught on quickly to the pair of foreigners lingering just a little bit too close to their sheltered storage garage right in the middle of a market district in the South East. The task force assumed sending in an entire squad would be overkill just for some simple recon information and decided that you and Ghost would be the perfect pair for the job. ‘In and Out…’ Price had said quite offhandedly, sliding the prepared information in two files across the table to you. Only Price’s sources hadn’t double-checked if the area was secure enough for them to enter without full backup on standby. Not necessarily a lethal kind of mistake when bringing you and the Lieutenant into the equation, but there were too many close calls and stray bullets that were clearly heard for either of you to feel super confident in getting away unscathed.

Your only savior was a small farmhouse that had been recently abandoned due to the illegal and dangerous activity that had been surrounding the small city. Modest in size with two bedrooms and running water. Perfect for a makeshift safe house to keep the trackers off your asses until an extraction could be arranged and put into motion. Contrary to belief, the 141 didn’t have the bottomless pit of resources everyone believed they had at their disposal. Which included access to evac and trained air-support teams. This wasn’t a big mission that had a lot of working parts and multiple organizations involved that had enough liquidated funds to through out for a helo and heavy gunners to rescue two operators from the middle of who-the-fuck-knows-where.

That means with busted equipment, inoperable comms, hardly enough ammunition to fight out of a wet paper bag, and zero way of knowing when and if you’d be rescued, there was nothing left to do but try and relax in one of the most difficult predicaments. It left you searching through cabinets for maybe some kind of food to keep the both of you while Ghost did one of his favorite things. Pacing the house from window to window looking for the slightest bit of movement. The trouble being, there wasn’t anything for at least two miles in any direction. The people who owned this place were farmers of some sort, and had placed their home right in the middle of crop fields that gave a very advantageous sightline. While that information gave you quite a bit of comfort, it was not effecting Ghost positively in the slightest.

Your relationship with the Lieutenant was complex, to say the least. When you were first introduced it was for a succession of short co-op missions that were nothing if not brief and very impersonal leaving you with more questions than answers about the man who stayed hidden under the mask. Through some talks that you hadn’t been privy to being in the room for, John Price decided that your skills would be more useful to Task Force 141 than for the U.S. Division of Clandestine Service and offered you a position that you couldn’t possibly decline.

By day-in and day-out contact with Ghost, you got a lot more comfortable with him and learned much of his little idiosyncratic behaviors. Maybe a little too well…. He didn’t particularly act much differently towards you in the grand scheme of things, but something in you felt like trust had been developed to where he could depend on you when the situation called for it.

“Go hit the rack, I’ll take first watch.” He called gruffly from the living room where he had moved a chair from the kitchen to sit facing the front door head on with his MP5 resting lazily on his chest.

You couldn’t help but notice just how damn tired he looked under all that gear and through the black smeared around his eyes. He couldn’t be carrying less than one hundred pounds on him right now; even sitting in that chair with it wasn’t a good enough solution. Let you take a moment or two for yourself, stripping out of your tac vest and heavily weighted gear to drop it on top of the kitchen counter with a little grunt. Two days ago you both got the luxury of sleeping, and since then it’s been nothing but being on the run.

This would be the safest place for you that wasn’t in the belly of an evac bird, and the thought of Ghost not taking the time to sleep sat in your mind like a lead sinker. Leaning against the doorway and watching him for a long moment, you start having thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Ones that normally wouldn’t surface if you’d been able to separate working with Ghost from the more personal aspect of literally sharing almost every part of your life with him. Thoughts about how you could make him feel better… even if just for the night. That no one was around for miles and whatever happened could safely stay between the pair of you.

By utter carelessness of your position with the team or lack of fear about how the Lieutenant might respond, you walk into the living room and kneel down right in front of him with your fingers reaching out to unlace his dusty boots. Off instinct alone, you expected and watched as his foot flinched away from you. His whole body jumps and stiffens at the contact and sight of you kneeling on the floor. He quickly pauses and collects himself, taking several moments before his gravelly voice breaks the silence.

“What’re you doin’ Sergeant?” His eyes grew heavy and showed more expression than the rest of his massive body as they flashed with confusion and a little swell of anger. That aloofness didn’t hide that slight guardedness of something that made him uncomfortable in one way or another.

“I’m perfectly capable of takin’ care of my fuckin’ self.” He adds with zero discernible sign of either offense or gratitude. You can’t help but smile tiredly, feeling like you’re attempting to soothe a feral wolf into letting you pull it’s paw out of trap.

“I never said you couldn’t L.T.,” You reply gently, reaching back to start unhooking the laces from their claws on his left foot. “Just thought you couldn’t use some affection.” Smirking to yourself, you can’t help but think something this small being considered ‘affection’ didn’t fit anyone save for Ghost. He was just too hard to approach. Walls so thick and tall that it would take someone with patience beyond that of a human to break through and see what rested behind all of that brash posturing and icy disposition.

“You know affection is something I’m averse to,” he utters, watching yet making no effort to stop you. “What you’re doin’ is unnecessary.” A small sound close to a growl escapes from behind the mask when my hand reaches to the back of his leg to help aid my effort of pulling his boot off.

Chuckling softly and sitting the boot down at your side you respond, “I know you don’t like affection,” You’re already working on the other one, purposefully moving slowly as not to overwhelm or spook him. “That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it, L.T..” You can’t help but look up at him almost exhaustedly yet still trying to be reassuring.

“M’fine without it.” He spits out quickly, looking away from your face back down to your progress on the laces, his masked face otherwise unreadable. “Didn’t ask you for this shit, Sergeant.” Tinged with an undercurrent of irritation his deep voice sounds near the bridge of turning to anger.

“Mothering me isn’t in your best interest.” He growls low and threateningly in your face as he bends down to grab the boot sitting next to you and giving it a quick look of observation before sitting it back down closer to him. You just finish taking off his other boot and sit it down next to the other without much more of a verbal fight and put a hand on his thigh to steady your sore legs as you get back up to your feet.

“I’m younger than you Ghost, I can’t mother you.” You reply, holding out your hand for him.

He doesn’t make note or stop you from using him to help yourself up, however, Ghost follows your movements carefully… closely. He’s doing everything in his power to hide his emotions, but there’s still a faint twitch of his lips when he looks down at his boots sitting at his side. You’d done something very unusual, and he knew berating you was what he should’ve done. Yet a flinch of a smile was what really moved Ghost’s mouth. It’s gone before it even surfaces, pushed down by the sight. of you holding out your little hand in front of him. The sounds of his deep breathing fill the quiet house as you both sit there unflinching of each other. The Lieutenant shifts in his chair, readjusting his rifle on his chest.

“Go to bed. It’s late.” His repeated command felt softer now. Wavering a bit with you hand still held out and your fingers wiggling a little.

“Come on,” You hold steady and patient.

Reward comes in the form of feeling Ghost’s heavy and large hand falling into yours and gripping just hard enough to allow you the phantom sensation that you’re actually helping him up from the chair, hearing a short grunt as his back straightens up. Without explanation, you lead the Lieutenant through the small house back towards the only bedroom in the house with an actual bed left behind by the owners, pulling him to the center of the room and turning around to face him.

“Put your arms up for me.”

“Excuse me?” Ghost’s frown can be heard from behind the mask. Despite his apparent bewilderment, he hesitantly obeys, extending his arms above his head with an exhale of a tense breath, looking down at you with dark and questioning eyes. “What are you doing now?”

You just smile and hum to yourself softly, reaching out to begin unclipping and unzipping the sections of his tac vest holding it on his upper body and the multiple ammo belts. Carefully draping them over you shoulder as you release his body from them one by one. Seeing the way Ghost’s body sinks into itself with the weight being pulled off after days without rest. You feel his eyes scan over you, over your hands finding ways to take off his gear for the first time in your life, feeling your way through sunch an unusual yet careful act.

“Bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous…” He growls, covering up the feelings of not being so concealed by barking at you a little.

“Shhh.” Your hush does enough to stop his quiet and brooding complaints.

Long enough for you to kneel back down at his feet and work at the thigh straps over his pants and even remove the ankle holster you’d left alone while taking off his boots. He doesn’t resist this part, just watching you undress him bit by bit with half a mind questioning just what had happened for you to start acting so strangely. You’d always been sweet. Much nicer than your job allowed for. Yet even this was quite off the edge of the character Ghost had built for you over the years. This felt downright intimate for just two operators to be doing.

Then again your shared situation wasn’t exactly one of professionalism at this point. You’d been improvising for nearly a full day just trying to stay alive. Once back on your feet, you take hold of his hand again, this time with a little less caution since you’d already touched him there, and begin pulling at the fingertips to slide his sand and dirt-cakes gloves off. Even seeing his bare skin under his gloves be seen in the dim lamplight of the house, Ghost doesn’t do more than flex his fingers once you’ve rid him of the stiff material.

Purposefully avoiding his mask, you get Ghost down to nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, even with his help at certain parts without him growling more or acting like you were irritating him. While he still gave off a feeling of all-around grumpiness and more than a little confused as hell, you paid it no mind as you led him towards the edge of the bed and pointed to it with a short yet polite command for him to ’sit’. Right away you noticed his hesitation and the way that his shoulders and arms tensed, his attention solely on you, flashing between your eyes and mouth like he was trying to reassure himself that he’d heard you correctly. But with one small tug on his hand, he turns around and sits on the bed with his feet resting on the floor and his arms braced on both sides of him a little stiffly.

“Now what?” His voice held a bit of rasp to it as he tracked your movement from his side, seeing you climb up into the bed and position yourself on your knees behind him. The close proximity didn’t go unnoticed by the Lieutenant as he cleared his throat, once again interrupting the calm silence in the house. His tension filled the small space between you, heating the gap of air, almost electrifying it.

“Just relax Ghost.” Easily touching his shoulders, you begin working your palms flat against the slopes of his muscled neck.

Purposefully but gently rubbing at the stiff cords of muscle and introducing the sensation to him as easily as possible in the case that it was a bit too overwhelming for him all at once. You knew you’d pushed the boundaries with him much further past anything you’d expected to achieve in one night. But now that he was sitting here in front of you, it was hard not to smile brightly that he was trusting you so much. Allowing your hands to be on him. Accepting that you had positioned the both of you in a very vulnerable position that could lead to a lot more violent options than affectionate ones. Torture and nightmares had given more than a fair share to Ghost, yet he was patiently staving off his own clear hesitation so that you could play out whatever this was turning out to be.

Your command went unacknowledged just like all of Ghost’s from earlier had; His breathing steadily slowing down into a deep and rich, relaxed sort of rhythm. Power of your hands and calming attitude worked faster than you anticipated, leaving the massive man sitting between your thighs begin to release. Tension falling out of his body not only under your hands but by sight of his jaw loosening. You’re even lucky enough to spot him trying to take glances at you from the corner of his eye, only to look back ahead since you were in quite the blindspot. Taking your thumbs in a sweeping motion from the edges of his shoulders inward, you apply pressure on the back of his neck and experimentally reach higher up under the hem of his mask. A dangerous game to play. Rumbling sounds of appreciation filling your ears are better than any sort of medal you could earn or bet you’d ever cash in. His head rolls back slightly with each small circle of your thumbs and fingers, pushing against you. Silently asking for more pressure.

“Feel good?” You ask at just a whisper, not wanting to disturb the warm sort of feeling the room has right now by speaking too loud.

Under the safety of his mask, Ghost’s mouth curves into a smile hearing you. He rolls his head back again, arching slightly to accommodate your small hands struggling to find good purchase to keep working at the intensity he’d been hinting at. A much less controllable sound escapes his mouth when you begin working at a very sore spot he didn’t even know was present right at the base of his skull.

“Keep going,” His sleepy-sounding mutter makes your chest ache.

Grinning at the feeling of his harsh accent and sudden domestication you work away diligently down his back carefully and methodically so as to not miss a single thing. And while it’s not necessarily going to help him much, you go ahead and use your fingernails to gently scratch up and down. It’s then a groan interrupts your focus and you see Ghost shift on the edge of the bed. Believing you’d found the end of your time, you leaned back on your heels and expected him to get up and leave you in the bedroom alone. Watching him tug at his t-shirt and pull it over his head to toss it somewhere across the room was how you were told that Ghost did indeed want more. Only his shirt was getting in the way of something he wasn’t getting.

Hearing him give a deep sigh when your fingertips returned to his now bared skin gave you a rush of adrenaline and nearly caused you to wiggle happily that you’d been able to share this with Ghost. He leans back into you a little more, letting your hands and arms take more of the weight as he groans out;

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, but not for a long time.” You answer, eyes smoothing over the muscles rippling as your hands work at them.

“You’re good,” He grunts, closing his eyes and zeroing in on how to focus his attention between your small hands working so efficiently and the conversation he’d begun. “How’d you get so good at it?” His head turns a little, trying to get at least one good look at you. He keeps shifting now, allowing him to keep you just in the edge of his periphery.

“Had a good teacher for a few years,” You answer, working in tight circles over a large ball of muscle fibers all collected just at the edge of his shoulder blade, earning another growling sound from the Lieutenant.

“Teacher? When?” He asks, giving a slow release of a deep breath giving a short indication that the muscle you’d been working to release was getting a bit uncomfortable. Pulling back for a moment just to give him and your hands a break, you hear him make a noise then lean back a little further, pressing his back against you almost like a dog wanting to be pet more.

“Don’t stop.” He requests in a husky tone. You chuckle aloud, returning your hands and taking a less aggressive approach by smoothing your palms over him in less-than-planned patterns, just enjoying feeling his tattooed and scarred skin under your hands as you think about how to answer him.

“A woman in London taught me,” you start, using your nails again on his skin softly. “In the year or so between my U.S. military discharge and acceptance into the task force with you.” You see the effect of your touch on Ghost as it takes him longer to respond and the way he keeps leaning more and more weight back into you, unable to keep himself from subconsciously trying to get closer. Wanting more whether he’d ever admit it or not. There’s no mistaking it between either of you, he’s enjoying this.

“I assume she was special to you.”

It was your neighbor just across the hallway from you. An older woman named Sarah. Eccentric in modern times, you’d always believed she must’ve been a force to be reckoned with when she wasn’t hindered by an aging body and an even more ailing mind. A massage therapist by trade, and a pianist by heart there wasn’t much that Sarah could accomplish without someone helping her once she became limited in movement living on the eighth floor of the apartment building you shared. Back then you didn’t have much in the way of contacts after leaving the country, and it led to a friendship with the old woman living across from you. Sharing stories, eating dinner together, grocery shopping together when she felt like going out, and trading some skills between each other. After telling Ghost this much with your fingers tracing out letters and shapes over his back, you can sense he’s listening carefully. And Ghost is feeling a slight fuzzy sensation building in the back of his brain, spreading out in a warm wave down to his fingertips and toes.

“She taught me massage since at the time I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my life.” Your head falls to the side, examining how the lamplight shines on ghost and deepens the already significant definition in his physique.

Ghost falls against you even more, and this time he lets his head fall back against you. Trying to counterbalance his weight and keep both of you from falling backwards with just him limp he’s becoming, you wrap on arm around his neck and hold his head in the bend of your arm. He gives another sigh, and settles against you heavily. He. looks at you in silence out of the corner of his eye listening to your explanation.

“Why was she your only friend?” You can’t help but chuckle at his question, resting your chin on his opposite shoulder and bringing your other arm under his to begin scratching and rubbing at his chest, feeling deep and puckered scars littering nearly every inch of him.

“I didn’t know anyone else. And you know me well enough to know that I’m not exactly extroverted.” You smile, tracing lightly up and down his well-defined arm. Ghost couldn’t be more comfortable laid against you.

“Sorry to hear that.” His voice low and husky with his mouth so close to your ear. “She must call or ask about you…”

You shake your head. “No. She died just before I joined you all. Her mind was… failing her. And there was some kind of accident in the middle of the night The police told me she was likely trying to get to the bathroom and fell. She apparently died on impact… they didn’t say what, but I think her head hit something.” You explain quietly. “And you and I both know that means lights out. So she didn’t suffer.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he answers as softly as he can manage after hearing the darker part of your happy memories. “How did it become… intimate, like this?” He asks, nodding to the way you were leaned up against his back with your hand tracing over every inch of him that you could reach. The longer you’ve both let this go, the more boundaries get pushed further out of reach, making it hard for either of you to really know where it could end.

You smile with a blush creeping up your neck onto your cheeks, thankful you’re somewhat hidden out of sight. “This isn’t really what she taught me,” You mutter a bit quiet. “When i was massaging you… yes. That I got taught. But this, it’s… just me.”

Out of your sight Ghost’s face flushes slightly as well, his cheeks a warm rose-color. You’re touching him in a way that he’d never expected. But hearing that you’re not just doing it for… relaxation, it’s a heavy but welcome thought. And Ghost can’t help that his body reacts to it with chills raising all over his skin despite the house being perfectly warm. He lets out a deep breath focusing on your words, repeating him over just to ensure that you’re not saying it one way and him interpreting it differently due to your hands being all over him, making him feel so good. Mind racing, heart pounding, he truly realizes just how vulnerable he is under you at this moment.

“I can stop if you’d like?” You offer, preparing to move away from him.

“No,” His hoarse voice gives away his sudden dry mouth. No matter how much your touch is affecting his body, he’s not willing to stop you right now. You’ve crossed into a level of trust that he can’t think to make you abide by anymore. It’s a foreign feeling for him, but he wants to push through it. Hoping he can feel more of you if he just holds on a little longer to this.

“Don’t stop."

Vulnerable Pt.1?

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated <3

Gaz: So why do you do your paper work in the gym? Y/N, sipping iced coffee whilst watching Ghost do hip thrusts: For the aesthetic? I dunno

star-struck-universe - Oh, would you look there.

reference

star-struck-universe - Oh, would you look there.
A/N - Some More Action This Time Around. I Don't Write Too Many Of Those Types Of Scenes, So With Any

A/N - Some more action this time around. I don't write too many of those types of scenes, so with any luck they are as thrilling as I hope them to be! Please enjoy, and thank you for your continued support through my Sam Coe Hoe Era &lt;3

WARNINGS: Strong language from reader, space battles.

A/N - Some More Action This Time Around. I Don't Write Too Many Of Those Types Of Scenes, So With Any

With the grav drive activated, the threads of space and time shot by in an inspiring painting of bright lights. Distant stars and planets, shooting by as if they were inches apart instead of lightyears. You’d dimmed the interior lights to get the full effect, the silence a fitting backdrop for the show in display. Times like this, you’d often wonder how anyone could go their entire lives not traveling the expanse of space like this. What a view they were missing out on…

Lounged in your cockpit to wait out the travel time to the next system, your eyes watched the black sea fold before the ship as you traveled forward. Cora had stayed up to watch the sight a few hours previously, jabbering on about anything space-related she’d read in her most recent books, but now both her and her father were asleep in the living quarters one deck below. Good. After the non-stop missions you’d run searching for artifacts, they both deserved the rest.

Barrett and Gideon were likely in the rec room just down the way from the sleeping quarters, shooting the shit while you traveled your course to your destination. There was little for them to do while the grav drive was engaged, but you felt it necessary to keep to the day and night shift rotations, if only not to butcher any sort of routine sleep schedule for your crew. Better that than to be unprepared in the case of an ambush from Spacers or, even worse, the Crimson Fleet.

Vasco, of course, didn’t sleep. But you’d set him to cataloguing and organizing the ship’s cargo after your latest expedition dealing with Spacers who’d taken over an abandoned mining facility. To the victor went the spoils, as Sam always liked to say. Better that those damned pirates had less equipment to work with, anyway. Like vultures, they’d eventually flock back to where their dead fell, collecting any supplies left behind and likely picking up where they left off. At the very least, selling off their armaments was an acceptable repayment for the inconvenience of having to deal with them almost everywhere you landed.

Drifting away with your thoughts, three rapid beeps drew your gaze to the navigational projection screen in the cockpit of the Razorleaf. The final stretch of your journey was nearly finished. Sitting up straighter in your chair, you stretch your shoulders and neck, letting out a sigh at the relief it brought.

You press the button to intercom only to the rec room—so as not to wake your two sleeping companions. “Approaching the Sagan system, ETA 20 minutes. Prepare for grav drive disengagement.”

There’s no immediate indication that anyone had heard you, mostly because there was no need to scramble to stations with this much prior warning. Out of habit, you glance over the system statuses. All nominal, nothing of note to be concerned about. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of boots on the rungs of a ladder, and Barrett is the first to speak as he takes his place somewhere behind you.

“Evening, Captain.” His deep, naturally-booming voice sounds all the louder in the small cockpit. You can hear his smile without having to look at it.

“Barrett.” You greet with a small twist in your chair and a nod. Then, a thought occurs to you, and a grin plants itself on your face. “So, who won?”

“I did!” A voice calls from just below the ladder, and Gideon is next to emerge from the below deck. His smiling face says all as he straightens from the rungs. “Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

“If I recall, it was a stalemate.” The dark-skinned man retorted with a chuckle as he took his seat. “But if it helps you sleep at night, we’ll say you win this time.”

“Stalemate? Hardly.” Gideon took his place at the opposite crew station, turning in his chair to point at his board game opponent. “I was a few turns away from capturing your FOB, and your production facility was surrounded.”

“I think you mean to say ‘strategically positioned,’ my friend.”

You turn back to the command console as they continue debating who in fact had come out victorious this round of Star Frontiers—if memory served right, Barrett was still up 4 to 2 with Gideon—and begin settling in place for entering the system. There were still several minutes to go, so you sat and relaxed as the ship counted down the necessary time left.

Eventually, another beep from the ship’s console alerted you the the immediate, impending disengagement of the grav drives. With a loose grip on the throttle and another on the steering mechanism—it wouldn’t be the first time you’d damaged the hull because of some asteroid field suddenly manifesting into existence in front of you—you watch as the grav drive’s timer ticked down to zero.

As it disengaged, you felt that familiar pull of gravity deep in the pit of your stomach. The ship didn’t falter or shudder, but the painting of lights and lines as you’d traversed through the fold slowly lengthened and morphed until you caught a view of the star system of Sagan. All this in the blink of an eye.

So fast, in fact, it took you a solid two seconds to adjust to the change and notice the fleet of ships now pinging your proximity scanner. Too far away for a solid visual quite yet, but you preferred to be overly cautious in known Crimson Fleet territory.

Gideon’s concerned voice floated over to you. He must have noticed too. “Uh, Captain-?”

“I see them.” You say, eyes narrowing out into the endless black, speckled sea of space. You just manage to see the tail-end of their thrusters against the darkness. With one touch of a screen, you initiate a data scan of the ships. Before the report even comes through, your communication array is already pinging with an incoming transmission. In the distance, you see the group move to face your direction.

You hesitate before accepting it. The voice on the other end is…predictably malicious. “We’re going to make this real simple for you. Let us board and you might all live, or die to the vacuum of space as we blow your ship to bits.”

Probabilities are running through your head, but apparently the silence in those precious few seconds isn’t what he was wanting to hear. “You have until my ship gets within missile range to respond.”

“Barrett how fast can the grav drive re-engage?”

“We’d need about 10 minutes for the fuel tanks to be refilled. Vasco!” He commed directly to his robot companion from his station. “Whatever you’re doing right now, drop it and get us refueled as soon as you can. We’re about to have trouble.”

“Acknowledged.” Is the robotic, tinny response.

Too long on the refuel. The Crimson Fleet ships would be upon you by then. You bite your lip, cursing this whole situation. The math wasn’t in your favor, either in engaging in combat or attempting a retreat. That left you with little choice…

Leaning forward, you tap the button to transmit your own message. “This is Captain Y/N of the Razorleaf. We…will prepare to be boarded.”

You could hear Gideon make an astonished sound behind you, but ignore it in favor of listening to the pirate’s response. “Wise choice.” The transmission cut off with a blip, and the cockpit is silent for all of one second.

“Captain, how-“

“I’m not letting them onboard this ship, Gideon.” You reassure with a firm voice, any and all relaxation leaving your shoulders as you straighten in your chair and strap yourself in. “They’ll find that out soon enough. Redirect some power from the grav drive to shields and engines while Vasco refuels.” You’d sooner die than have them anywhere near the inquisitive young girl you had onboard.

Speaking of…remembering that your two other companions were still sound asleep below deck, you hit the full-ship intercom to wake them. “Sam and Cora, strap into something down there and brace for evasive maneuvers. Five Crimson Fleet ships inbound. Repeat, Crimson Fleet ships inbound.”

Once again, there’s no signal to tell you that they heard your com, but you trusted that Sam had woken up at the very least and sprung to action. The group of ships had continued their way towards you, their hulls painted with the signature skull motif growing more visible as the distance between shortened.

With one slow inhale, and carefully controlled exhale, your hands take control of the steering and thruster throttles. The odds weren’t exactly in your favor here, but with any luck, the element of surprise will give you enough of an edge to make it through.

You weren’t about to let Cora die a gruesome death in space. You weren’t about to let Cora die at all. Fuck that and fuck these pirates.

The fleet of ships drifted closer, their speed now slowing in preparation to connect to your docking bay. Crimson Fleet ships were always designed to intimidate, and you had to admit, they were doing their job. Large guns and missile mounts alongside their hulls made for quite a threatening picture. Had this been a merchant or exploration vessel, you doubt you would have had any chance at all.

Gideon says something, but in your concentration, you don’t hear him. A few more seconds…they drift closer. You swallow, anticipation and trepidation in equal parts buzzing just under your skin.

There’s no signal or sign to cause you to engage the engines at full thrust with your boost enabled. It came out of nowhere, and the Razorleaf shoots forward out from the group of ships that had been preparing to box you in. You’re pressed back into your chair, the pressure grounding you as you spin the Razorleaf on a tilt, the distant stars shifting in your cockpit’s view.

Gideon half cursed and praised the sudden change in velocity, but otherwise remained quiet and focused at his station. Barrett was unusually silent, but you were thankful for his lack of interruption or witty quip that was so typical of him. Now wasn’t the time as you began your flight away from the pirates.

Another incoming transmission pinged on your communication array, but you simply denied it, not bothering to give the pirate anymore of your attention.

It would be too much to ask to cleanly get away from the fleet without them firing a single shot. It’s less than a minute before you see the first of the laser fire shoot past your ship and out into the space beyond. With a flick of your wrist, the Razorleaf banks and plummets below their firing line, sending them to chase you through the emptiness of the black sea.

Having Sam around had definitely improved your overall piloting ability. The man was a wonder behind a command console, and you silently thanked him for all of the skill and knowledge he’d seen fit to impart upon you on your travels together. You maneuvered the ship with ease, so familiar with its ability that it felt no more than an extension of yourself, in a way.

Your console blared to life an angry red, alerts coming at you full force. ‘Enemy Missile Locked-On’ it spat at you, and you cursed.

“Shields at 86 percent.” Barrett reported, then because he figured you’d ask, “Vasco, how long before we’re topped up?”

“Should current velocity conditions persist, refueling will take an approximate 16 minutes, 39 seconds. Recommendation: stabilize current flight trajectory to decrease time required for completion.”

You feel the rumble and impact of the missile against the ship’s shielding, but your tight grip on the steering mechanism means you barely tilt off your current course at all, weaving around empty space to throw off their targeting as best you could. 

“Shields?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“49 percent. Those things ain’t no joke.” Barrett mentioned.

“Another one of those is gonna put us in a bad spot.” Gideon mentions with worry in his tone. He’s right, though, and you know it.

With few options at your disposal, you make the realization that evading was only going to last you so long. The Razorleaf had superior shields, but under the onslaught of 5 ships’ weapons systems firing upon you at the same time, they would melt away in minutes just the same as any other ship.

Offensive action was now required.

“Gideon, divert all power from the grav drive to main weapons. Keep shields and engines at their current level.” You order, settling as best you can in your chair. “Looks like fighting is our only way out of this now.”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

She knows what she’s doing.” Barrett chipped in, just as your weapons all clicked online. “Don’t start doubting her now.”

You release a steadying breath, focusing on nothing but the impending fire fight. The throttle seems to hum in reassurance beneath your fingers, and with a resolute prayer to protect those you loved most in the deck below, you activated the boost and shot forward.

4 seconds, then 5, passed as you gained ground in front of the chasing ships. Then, right at the end of your boost, you addressed Gideon. “Cut all engine power.”

Thankfully, he didn’t voice his confusion this time, and simply followed orders. Just as the engines cut off, you jerked the throttle to the side, spinning the. Razorleaf in a free-floating turn to face your attackers. For all of 7 or 8 seconds you continued drifting forward, but space shifted in your cockpit view. This was a risky maneuver, but one that you had successfully employed before.

And then the pursuers came into view as you finished your 180 degree turn. Seeing the ships coming closer with the lasers still firing your direction, you shout once more. “Engines full power!”

The Razorleaf burst to life, the velocity once more shoving you back into the seat and propelling you forward. With a direct line on the first of the approaching ships, trigger finger clamps down on the gear like a vise, shooting the lasers from your upgraded main guns straight into those of the Crimson Fleet vessel.

“Enemy guns down.” Barrett reported proudly, but you’re already onto the one behind it by the time he finishes his sentence, managing to get a lock-on to the ship. A well-placed EM shot took down their shields, and your follow up laser blast no doubt damaged some parts of their hull on the port side.

At your current speed, you shot past them with a tilt of your steering mechanism. The whole thing lasted barely 12 seconds, but it had slowed down to what felt like a lifetime. Barrett, shields?”

“41 percent. Looks like you disabled the second ship. Only 4 more to go.” He reassured with something akin to pride in his voice. You manage a small grin, but don’t let your attention up from the stars before you.

More laser shots hit your shield and past it off into the black sea. More evasive maneuvers puts you in a better position to return fire, though it’s little more than a dogfight. Time passes strangely; what feels like an eternity is mere seconds and the span of a breath, and in the moments of breathless waiting you swear it happened in an instant.

The second ships sparks and explodes in a shower of metal debris in similar fashion to the first, your EM weapon making quick work of the shields, only to be followed up with a barrage of laser fire. Only 3 ships remained, and your shields had so far held steady at 37 percent.

Another missile lock-on warning blares across your screen, sending the adrenaline up a notch. Another boost and you’re suddenly out of range of the enemy’s targeting. Really, tangible hope begins to blossom in your chest as the third ship falls. Your wing grazes some of the debris, and you grit your teeth against the reverberation it sends through the ship.

“Fuck!” You shout, nearly colliding with one of the remaining Crimson Fleet ships as you attempt another evasive roll and bank to get away from his companion’s laser fire. Something loud bangs as you pass, and Barrett cursed under his breath just loud enough for you to hear. “Status?”

“Shields at 9 percent, Captain.” His sentence is punctuated by more laser fire, and he shakes his head at his screen. “Make that 6 percent.”

“These fuckers…” You mutter, angry that they’d been laying here in wait to begin with. Angry that the Crimson Fleet even existed. Maybe once all this artifact business was done, you’d reconsider the SYSDEF’s offer after all. At this point, you’d do anything to see them all wiped from the universe.

Another swift roll of the ship and you shoot forward through the bits of debris through one of the already destroyed ships, making sure to avoid the biggest parts just in case. Your shields wouldn’t hold up much longer, and especially not with the 2 remaining ships still firing at you. Luckily, one comes into view in your cockpit, and your EM weapon was ready to dole out its deadly effects.

This one doesn’t take out the shields, rather the engine. Just as well, you think, leaving the ship to stall out in empty space as you continue on with the last ship in pursuit. Another angry beeping sound alerts and diverts your attention.

“We’ve lost shields.” Barrett warns.

“Now or never.” You tell yourself, bracing for a risky move yet again. “Gideon, cut engines!”

Once more, you feel the Razorleaf lose momentum just as you pull up sharply on the throttle. The view of space tilts in your cockpit as you circle around to face the final working ship. You feel and hear as your ship takes damage, but you can’t focus on that until later. With another sharp order, your engines are back online and your weapons are full-blasting in the direction of the enemy ship.

Amongst the beeping on your console and the the celebration of Barrett and Gideon as the Crimson Fleet ship suffers an explosion—one of your lasers must have hit something vital—you can barely hear anything at all. Your ears ring, what from no one knows. But you sit there, adrenaline still coursing through you as you slow the ship to a more gentle velocity.

The command console still blares, but you shakily reach for the com. “Vasco, damage report.”

“Shield generator and port-side KE-42 Cannon sustained moderate damage. Left wing sustained minimal contact damage. All other ship systems nominal.”

“Any damage below deck?”

“Habitation units sustained no damage.” Then, as if he predicted what exactly you were trying to get at, he added, “Life signs for Sam Coe and Cora Coe are nominal.”

“Thank god.” You whisper to yourself, finally leaning back and unstrapping yourself from the pilot seat. “Vasco, please resume refueling the grav drive. Gideon, reroute power from weapons back to the drive, and Barrett, do an extensive scan of the area to make sure there aren’t any other ships coming to back up those ones.”

You received a smattering of affirmatives from your crew, before slumping forward in your seat. Your legs felt like jelly and the rest of you buzzed with the unused adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Barrett must have noticed your sorry state, because you feel his hand on your shoulder after a moment. When you look up, he’s smiling at you. “That was some damn good piloting.”

“Thanks.”

He gestures to the rest of the ship behind him. “Go on and have yourself a rest, Captain. Gideon and I will handle it from here.”

“But-“

“If we need you, we’ll let you know.” He implies, not giving you the option to refuse. And truthfully, in your shaken-up state, you’re in no position to either. Nodding your acceptance, you somehow manage to stand and make your way towards the ladder to the deck down below. After all of the rolling and moving, it feels strange standing and walking on a static deck. The space seems to sway around you.

However, your head spins before you make it all the way. Dizziness overtakes you, and you sink down onto your cot just feet away. The bed is firm beneath you, but it’s enough to get your bearings on. You plant your face in your hands and exhale a shaky breath, elbows propping you up on your knees.

You’d nearly lost everything. You’d nearly lost your crew. You’d nearly lost Sam and Cora. That scared you more than any number of Crimson Fleet ships baring down on you. It had been too damn close. Too fucking close for your comfort.

Another shuddering breath escapes you, ears still ringing and hollow after such an ordeal. The weight of responsibility, to protect the ones you love most, presses ever downward on your shoulders and back. It would crush you if you let it.

Instead, a gentle hand is upon your back and a gentle voice draws your thoughts from spiraling downward. “Hey. You hangin’ in there?”

It feels like too much to lift your head and look Sam in the eyes. Instead, you simply allow your muscles to shake and shudder as the last of the adrenaline leaves you in a rush. You can’t speak, words failing uselessly at the tip of your tongue. But Sam seems to understand, and simply sits beside you, rubbing smooth circles into your back.

“C’mere.” He says, pulling your arms easily until you’ve buried your face in his leather jacket and wrapped your arms around his back. Maybe he knows where your anxiety was originating, because he whispers all the reassurances he can into your ear. “We’re alright. Cora’s alright. A little motion sickness maybe, but we’re still breathin’, darlin’.”

A deep breath fills your nose with his scent. Familiar and safe and just like home. Hearing him speak, feeling his warmth and the beat of his heart underneath the layers of his clothes…you slowly begin to use them to ground yourself back to the present, away from a possible reality where you all floated lifelessly through the dark empty void of space for eternity. No, Cora was alive. Sweet Cora and her father that you held so dear.

You feel the rumble of the grav drive come to life somewhere on the ship. Vasco must have finished the refueling. That revelation does ease some of your nerves. You lift your face away just enough to speak. “It was so close, Sam.”

“Yeah, but no cigar.” You feel Sam prop his chin on your head and pull you in just that little bit closer. “Five ships…Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“More like crazy…”

“A bit of that too, maybe.” You can practically feel the smile when he presses a kiss against your head. “But hey…Any day we aren’t space debris is a win, right?”

You sigh, deciding to let the man comfort you for once, letting go of some of the stubborn guilt that tried eating away at you. It was warm and comfortable, and right now, nothing sounded better than a nap. “Right.”

“Get some sleep, ok?” He encourages, pulling away so he can finally look you in the eyes. Pride and warmth swims behind them, and you can’t look away. Eventually you nod, and he flashes a wider smile, bringing your head closer to place another kiss, this time to your temple.

“We’ll all be here when you wake up.” Is his promise. One you know he would always keep.

Maybe, maybe

WIP Wednesday is now Work Is Posted Wednesday :) Finished the one-shot I was working on, so a little rarity of posts two days in a row!

This one takes place during the UC Vanguard mission, so some small spoilers for dialogs gotten that are companion-dependent, mentions of some of the tasks but no major spoilers. Just our two mutually pining idiots in love finally figuring it out 😍 maybe this is my sub-niche genre: love realizations/confessions potentially tied to hurt/comfort scenarios.

Fandom: Starfield Characters: Sam Coe x f!spacefarer Tags: canon-typical violence, first kiss, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, romantic tension, vanguard quest line on AO3 here.

(Game grab is from the day after this fic takes place)

Maybe, Maybe

You leave the meeting feeling elated: somehow, you managed to talk Ambassador Radcliff into giving you the Freestar Collective's code to the Armistice Archives.

Having Sam with you helped, just like you'd hoped it might. Approaching her as a Freestar settler yourself and arriving with one of the FC's most famous sons made it almost easy to convince her. Sam's impassioned plea that she imagine an attack like this on Akila City, or Neon, really felt like the turning point in the conversation.

Carefully pocketing the printed-out code, you pump your fist and skip a couple of steps.

"I can't believe that went so well," you turn to Sam, grinning, slowly walking backwards, hands gesturing animatedly while you talk.

"I could just kiss you, Sam!" the words pop out before you realize your brain sent the signal to your mouth, but even as the flush is racing to your cheeks, he stuns you.

"Maybe you should," the surprise on Sam's face is quickly replaced by a playful smirk.

For a moment, you aren't sure how to react. You've had your flirty moments on your outings together and you can say with confidence that you're friends. You've shared many hushed conversations over the hum of the grav drive, trying to keep your voices and snickering down so you don't wake up Cora or the rest of the crew.

"It’d be better thanks than credits," Sam adds, and he has the nerve to say it with a wink.

Something shifts, deep in your stomach. Something warm, wanting, and full of hopeful possibility.

"Maybe I will," you finally find your voice, though you fail to hit the nonchalant tone you were hoping for. Turning back around and continuing to walk normally toward the House Va'Ruun embassy, you can feel his eyes on your back.

"Maybe," he murmurs behind you, a smile in his voice. Always has to have the last word.

You're thankful for the cool breeze calming the fire on your face a little.

---

The robot has drawn its arm back and is about to bring it down on you again when a single shotgun blast sounds, propelling it backwards. The LEDs of its processors flicker and then fade out before it collapses to the floor.

"You ok?" Sam is around the desk a moment later, concern in his eyes, quickly setting your dropped shotgun onto the table beside you.

You swallow and choke out an uncertain yeah; the thing had come out of nowhere, a black robot suddenly appearing from the inky darkness. Bringing a hand up, you touch your cheek, wincing and gasping. You don't think you've ever been punched in the face before, and certainly not by a robot.

"May I?" Sam's hand appears in the corner of your vision and you let yours drop, giving him one quick affirmative nod. He tenderly touches your chin, gently tilting your face toward the light. His eyes are on your rapidly swelling cheek and you take the opportunity to study his face.

Your gaze traces the soft crow's feet and smile lines, then down, to the little areas below his mouth where his beard doesn't grow in. You idly wonder how it would feel to run your fingers over those spots before your eyes wander up, focusing in on the way he's gently worrying his full lower lip between his teeth. He abruptly stops and when you look up into the pale blue of his eyes, you realize you've been caught.

Sam swallows, again recovering from his surprise faster than you do from your fluster. At least he probably can't see your fierce blush in the backup-powered emergency lighting.

"Might have a shiner in a couple hours," his voice has dropped to a whisper since he's so close and since you don't want to draw any attention to yourselves and get more robot visitors. The corner of his mouth turns up and you know he's about to mess with you. Again.

"Maybe you owe me two, now," his voice is husky as he slowly and lightly runs his thumb along your jaw. Sam's lips just barely turn up in a pleased smile at your widened eyes and sharp intake of breath at the touch before he lets go and steps back.

Your eyes narrow, as much as you can with the pain. Handsome jerk. He knows exactly what he's doing to you.

"Maybe I do," you clear your throat and rise to a full stand, picking up and racking your shotgun to eject the empty and get a new shell ready for the next robot you encounter.

You almost don't hear his soft, "Maybe," behind you, huffing a laugh and shaking your head before moving on to check out the next room.

---

Back at the lodge, you're still too keyed up from all the events of the day to sleep even though you really do want to squeeze in some recovery time before going to meet Hadrian on Mars tomorrow. You shuffle down the hall in your pajamas and cuddleosaur slippers to find Sam behind the bar. Great minds, you think to yourself.

When he sees you, he starts like he's just remembered something, stooping to grab a clean towel from a shelf built into the bar and scooping some crushed ice into a plastic bag. He wraps the bag with the towel and offers it once you reach the bar, an ice pack for your swollen and bruised face.

"That bad, huh," you gratefully accept the bag and gingerly hold it to your cheek and eye. You still haven't looked into a mirror, not really caring to see the damage. Your stomach for gore is much weaker than one might think given the things you've seen and done.

"Not the worst I've seen, but it's going to take a few days for that to go away," he turns to grab a rocks glass and your favorite whiskey out of Cydonia. Sam sets the glass of Red Planet Rye in front of you and you murmur a thanks, deeply taking in the smoky and spicy aroma.

"So," Sam pours himself two fingers of Akila City's finest scotch before coming around the bar to join you.

"A UC citizen, huh?"

Ah, there it is. You were wondering when he was going to say something about it.

"Apparently," you simply shrug, not having much more to add. It's almost unthinkable to most in the FC, and having been a settler, you're well aware of the tensions that remain post-colony war. You don't feel as strongly about it as many do, simply acting for whatever seems right according to your own moral compass.

Joining Constellation has been the closest you can really get to your own sense of near-neutrality. Signing on with both the Rangers and the Vanguard, while strange and more stumbled into than deliberately done, has been an excellent way to more broadly serve good as you see it.  You've also gained access to information and resources you otherwise wouldn't have.

Easygoing and amiable as you are, you're also pragmatic.

The quiet that settles over the bar isn't tense, Sam simply respecting and leaving it at that. He already had some words for you about doing the Rangers' dirty work, and further expressed his hopes that you'd get back to Constellation business. It stung a little, but you've made a point since to remind him when your errand monkey status has brought you new information or been doable along the way to said Constellation business.

Besides, Vladimir might easily toss you both right out the air lock, one of you with each arm, if you sat around on the Eye waiting for him to locate more artifacts.

"I can respect that the super secret meeting has to remain super secret," he says, and you smile. Sam's pretty good at holding his cards close, but you can read the man decently well by now. You know he’s been dying to know more since you were separated at the security door.

"I don't think it's the kind of secret that's going to stay that way," you take another sip of your rye, taking advantage of the ice pack to hide your eyes from his view. You feel incredibly guilty keeping it quiet, but also know yourself well enough to recognize it will probably slip out of you at some point, especially working with Hadrian. The whole thing does leave a very sour taste in your mouth, to know the UC is holding a state secret of this magnitude; the worst anyone in the FC might think of them would feel wholly validated if they knew.

“Alright, fair enough. I will wait with bated breath, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

You chuckle, opting to not try to answer his question. He always teases when you’re overly literal and respond earnestly to hypotheticals.

Draining the last of your rye a moment after he finishes his scotch, you simultaneously tap your glasses twice against the bar before giving each other faux-serious nods and dissolving into laughter. It's one of many little quirks you've both adopted, just for each other, that make people around you give you weird looks or roll their eyes.

"So, tomorrow," he smoothly changes the subject.

"Mars," you nod. "Full restock on Red Planet Rye time," you turn to grin at him.

"And next steps for exterminating the galaxy's nastiest pest," Sam's smile has an edge to it, like he's very much looking forward to taking this creature out once and for all.

"20 credits says we're going to get sent on some kind of goose chase," your eyebrow raises, hoping he'll take the bait.

"That's practically a rigged bet, you know we will," he chuckles, finger idly circling the top of his glass. "We need something more specific."

You think for a moment, pursing your lips and humming. "Alright, 20 credits says we'll have to go give Kaiser a ride. It'll take at least four stops to get information, three attempts at extortion, and when we find him, he'll have been abducted by pirates."

Sam faux-thoughtfully nods, rubbing his beard. "Alright, that's specific enough, I accept that wager," he extends his hand and you take it, giving each other one firm shake of agreement. "But if you really think a pirate hostage situation is involved, you should probably take Barrett with you."

There's something in his voice just then that you can't quite put your finger on. It's almost as if Sam Coe, last of his name, is fishing for something. You decide to give it to him.

"Nah, I'm starting to like having you around, pardner," you nudge him with your elbow before sliding off the stool and rising to a stand, gently tugging the brim of his hat downward. He's playfully scoffing, an exaggerated hey now at touching his hat, but you're certain you see a light blush on his face and it's not from the booze.

"Walk you to your room?" Sam gallantly extends his arm and you snort a laugh but hook your elbow against his anyway.

"It's definitely not like I'm just on your way or anything," you can't resist teasing him more.

You arrive at your room very quickly, it's the second door on the right, after all. "My hero," you say in a creaky voice and you're both laughing again.

"You make it hard to be a gentleman," his face abruptly shifts from teasing to slightly embarrassed the second you both recognize the possible double meaning.

When you bring a hand up to your mouth to stifle the almost bark of a laugh threatening to escape, you drop the ice pack and it hits the carpet with a muted crunch.

"Aw, shit," your laugh is cut off and Sam smoothly bends, picking it up for you and offering it once he's standing. Your fingers touch when you accept it again, lingering, the air around you quickly becoming charged.

"Is that three?" The lines by his eyes deepen with his smile and you notice that even though you unhooked arms, neither of you have moved to put space back between you and you're close. Close enough to let your hand rest on his jacket, close enough for his hands to gently rest on your waist.

You abruptly realize your heart never had a chance. Since the moment you laid eyes on him you've been falling; slowly, at first, and now all at once.

"Are you going to just keep counting and never collect?" You tilt your chin up, challenging, inviting, angling just a little bit closer.

"Maybe," he murmurs, but leans down anyway. You smile, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, breath going shallow and heart racing.

You're about to start worrying that he's still teasing you, about to open your eyes to check, when his lips finally touch yours, feather-light.

Oh.

He's trying to be careful, gentle, given your injury. So you take the lead, leaning forward to apply more pressure, reveling in the light scratchiness of his facial hair, the softness of his lips. Your fingers curl, grasping the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer to you.

You both ignore the ice pack hitting the floor again, your freed hand threading into his jacket, arm wrapping around him.

When his hands begin to move, feeling the soft flannel of your pajamas and lightly kneading into the sore muscles of your back, you arch into him and deepen the kiss.

His soft groan when you reach one hand up to cup his neck, to thread your fingers through his hair, makes your stomach flutter and you smile against his lips. Apparently you have the same effect on him.

You just barely pull apart when he smiles, too, noses lightly touching, looking into each other's eyes.

"Two," you decide to tease him and his eyes playfully narrow.

"I'll just have to do more nice things for you," his fingers trace a line down your back and your eyes briefly close, enjoying his touch.

"Maybe," you gently pull him back in for another kiss.

This one, you won't count. Maybe.

Cause I'm Yours

Summary: Soulmate AU where each set of soulmates has a song that only they know that kind of explains their love story! What happens when you and Steve start living yours?

Warnings: nothing that I can think of aside from slight angst!

Word Count: 9251

a/n: another fic idea that came to me while listening to music on the way home from work :) The song I used is Secret Love Song by Little Mix! I just ignored the parts about being in love with someone who's already in a relationship anymore lol. Also, we're ignoring the accords and everything that came after in favor of Bucky and everyone living happily together in the tower. I kind of hate this, but I spent so long writing it so here it is.

Masterlist

Cause I'm Yours

In pre-school, you were obsessed with the song in your head. Your parents told you it was a secret song that only you and your soulmate knew the words to. Even just the idea of having someone out there who would love you no matter what sounded magical, let alone this song that connected you.

When you started high school, you found out what the song actually meant. Not only were the words known only by you and your soulmate, but they explained your love story. Or at least, a part of it. There's no telling what aspect of- or time within- your relationship the song is about.

Given the lyrics of your song, you were immensely nervous about meeting your soulmate. So much so, in fact, you refused to tell anyone the lyrics to your song, claiming it was meant for you and your soulmate to share together.

Now, as an adult, the song almost never crossed your mind. You had gotten tired of trying to spin it in a more positive light. You have never met anyone else who had a song that was as angsty as yours. We got a love that is hopeless and it'll never be enough just don't scream happy ending. As a teen, you convinced yourself it was just a hurdle you and your soulmate would have to overcome. But with time came experience, and your life experiences definitely weighed down that opinion.

Plus, you were heading into your late twenties and still had no clue who your soulmate could even be. Almost everyone you'd gone to high school and college with already found there perfect person. So, you chose not to think about it. If you ignored it, you could pretend it didn't matter.

-

From the minute he understood soulmate songs, Steve Rogers hated them. Bucky was the only one who ever understood why. Granted, Bucky was the only one Steve ever told about not having a soulmate song. To Steve's surprise, Bucky confessed he also didn't have a soulmate song. It only made their friendship stronger to both be missing something everyone else seemed to have.

When Bucky fell from the train, Steve figured that must be why he didn't have a soulmate song. So when it came time, and he needed to crash the jet into the ocean, he didn't think twice. It was easier to believe that was why he never had a song. He was destined to die in order to save others. Nobody should be put through losing their soulmate like that. It was better that he didn't have one.

Seventy years later, he woke up. And he had a song.

-

Meeting the Avengers was definitely a life altering moment for you. The six of them had just saved New York from an alien invasion and now you were working with them. Your experience in public relations made it easy for Pepper Potts and Tony Stark to hire you to manage the public image of the team.

Thankfully, they generally made it easy for you to help them. There was a lot of mess to sweep up, but the whole team was willing to put in the work to help. You became like family to them, always willing to be on call since some of the press you had to handle were in different time zones.

Eventually, Tony offered you a room in the tower. It just made sense to avoid the commute since you spent so much time there anyway. Plus, Tony thoroughly enjoyed being able to tell you to "go to your room" once the workday ended.

That's how you ended up spending so much time with Steve Rogers. Captain America was quite the public figure in the 40s, but the media circus had grown pretty exponentially during his time in the ice. Once he managed to understand you weren't asking him to be a dancing monkey, he actually appreciated all the work you put in to make their lives easier.

Your friendship continued to grow as you spent more time together. Every movie night, you'd sit a little closer together until, eventually, you were cuddled up under the same blanket. You'd invite Steve for lunch during the week, and he'd always bring you to brunch after his Sunday morning runs.

Six months later, Steve officially asked you out. With Wanda's help, he managed to make a completely charming picnic for the two of you in a park near the Brooklyn Bridge. You couldn't remember the last time you smiled so much in a single day. Steve felt exactly the same, feeling for the first time like he was actually beginning to fit into the modern age. Everything was so perfect, you scolded yourself for not seeing the other shoe until after it dropped.

Every website or news channel you looked at had a story of Steve Rogers dating the Avengers' PR rep. Although the two of you had done nothing wrong, the entire country seemed to turn it into some big scandal. Everyone wanted to know if Captain America found his soulmate or just someone to keep his bed warm. The only reason it faded so quickly from the public eye was the emergence of the Winter Soldier.

Steve Rogers being on the run from SHIELD definitely trumped his picnic date in the eyes of the media. The entirety of the weeks events left you a mess in terms of PR, but thankfully everything worked out. Hydra was stopped, and Steve got his best friend back.

Your own relationship with Steve faltered a bit in the months after Bucky's return, but you couldn't bring yourself to be upset with Steve. The situation, sure, but not Steve. He had so much going on with trying to help Bucky remove the trigger words. It took weeks to even find someone who thought they could do it, and that ended up taking the two super soldiers across the world.

He updated the team every few days, but he was so focused on helping Bucky, he didn't actually have much time to talk. Despite the abundance of technology in Wakanda, you'd never felt less connected to Steve.

Your entire schedule was thrown off. You no longer had a go to lunch buddy or Sunday brunch plans. Movie nights got just a bit colder without the body heat from your favorite super soldier. Everything just felt a little bit off.

After seven long months, Steve and Bucky returned to the tower. Unfortunately, your relationship didn't pick up where it left off. Bucky needed time to get acclimated to his new life, and Steve was always willing to be there for him.

Again, you didn't fault Steve for his behavior. How could you? He spent nearly every waking moment trying to help Bucky feel more at home in the tower, but also in the new century they found themselves in.

Just seeing Steve in passing was enough to get your heart racing these days. When you heard the sound of his voice coming from the kitchen, it was like your body involuntarily chose to stop and listen. You were so focused on just hearing him talk that it took a few minutes to actually understand the words.

"You have a song now?" The question gave no indication of how he was feeling in the moment.

"Yeah..." Bucky sheepishly replied. "I don't know when it started. Just, showed up one day, I guess." His tone of voice got lighter with each word he spoke about the song, going so far as to sign a few words. "Be my summer in a winter day, love... You still don't have one?" Despite not knowing him that well, you could hear the hesitation in his voice when he asked the question.

"I... No," Steve sighed. "I guess it just wasn't meant to be."

Everything they said after that went in one ear and out the other. You may not like your song per se, but at least you had one. You had never heard of someone not having a soulmate song before. The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. Everyone had a song...

"Y/N? Are you okay?" Suddenly, Steve and Bucky were in front of you. They must have finished whatever they were doing in the kitchen without you realizing.

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah. Just lost in thought I guess," you laughed.

"Are you sure?" Steve questioned further, looking at you with concern.

"Yeah. I'm good," you smiled, nodding your head as if that would convince him. Before you could turn to walk away, Steve lightly grabbed your hand. Bucky was convincing him to say something, but you had missed the silent glares and nudges in your efforts to pretend you weren't eavesdropping.

"Hey, are you busy later?" he smiled nervously, thumb rubbing across your wrist.

"I don't think so. My last meeting just ended, so it's just wrapping up a few loose ends, and I'm done for the weekend."

"Would you maybe want to have dinner with me?" Steve seemed to notice the shock on your face before you could even comprehend his question. "To catch up, ya know? We haven't been talking much, and I just thought maybe dinner would be nice," he rambled.

"Dinner would be great, Steve." Suddenly, the memory of the media circus that was your last date crossed your mind. Again, Steve must have seen your thoughts on your face.

"I figured we could do something small. Movie night?" Again, his smile betrayed his nerves.

"That's perfect. The usual time?" He nodded his confirmation, his slightly awkward wave goodbye making you smile.

And just like that, it was like things hadn't changed at all... sort of. You and Steve were back to your routine before your date. Movie nights, lunches, Sunday brunch. Sometimes Bucky would tagalong as well. Before long, the two of you were nearly as close as you and Steve.

If anything, seeing Steve with Bucky made you like him more. He just seemed more himself in a way, like having an anchor to his past made it that much easier for him to exist in the present. You were thinking about exactly that when Steve came knocking on your door.

"What's up?" You leaned against the open door, gesturing that he was welcome to come inside. When he took you up on that offer, you swung the door closed and followed him over to your bed. You were a little thrown off by his silence.

"Are you okay?" you asked. He looked at you briefly before averting his gaze, nervously twisting his fingers together. "Steve?" you asked, your concern showing through. You sat next to him, taking one of his fidgeting hands in your own. Your other hand brushed against his cheek, turning him to face you. "What is it?" Your heart was beating so fast, you thought you might explode.

He scoffed at himself, the self deprecation easily showing through. "I don't know why this is so hard for me," he spoke, taking your hand from his cheek in his free one. You wanted to ask what he was talking about, but you didn't want to push. You had a pretty good idea of it already, and it was terrifying.

"Steve..." you said his name with so much affection, he closed his eyes and let it wash over him.

"Y/N..." he returned the sentiment. "I... Would you like to date me?" You stared wide eyed, caught off guard by how straight to the point he was. Steve was a rambler when he spoke about his feelings. His own eyes widened, as if shocked the statement actually came from his lips.

"Dammit! I'm sorry. I had a whole thing planned." He had begun pacing back and forth in front of your bed, leaving you to watch him move back and forth." I was going to tell you how I feel, not just blurt it out. Why can't I ever get one thing-"

"Yes," you answered, cutting off his rambling with a soft smile. His eyes snapped back to yours, a disbelieving look on his face.

"Yes?" he questioned. You nodded in response, letting him come to terms with everything not going as planned, but turning out just as he'd hoped. "Yes," he finally smiled- a wide grin- before walking back to you. In no time at all, he had you wrapped in his arms, spinning around your room.

"Steve!" you shouted, unprepared for the lack of ground beneath your feet. He placed you delicately back on the bed, kissing each of your hands before rising.

"Dinner tomorrow?" Once again, you nodded at his question. "I'll pick you up at 7."

You were both smiling as he backed out of your room, only cutting off eye contact when he nearly tripped over an ottoman. "Tomorrow," you said wistfully.

"Tomorrow." Steve confirmed, his own tone matching yours.

The second you could no longer hear his footsteps retreating down the hall, you face planted into your pillow and squealed. You felt giddy. Your relationship with Steve was a long time coming and you couldn't put into words just how excited you were. Sleep did not come easily after that.

-

The next day passed in a blur. You could barely pay attention to your work as thoughts of Steve ran through your head. You were so excited to go out with him again, but your nerves grew as you remembered what happened last time you made a public appearance.

It was definitely not ideal for the PR manager to be splashed across the headlines. Even if it was only tabloids. You didn't have much time to think about it, however, because by mid-afternoon you were whisked away from your desk.

Nat and Wanda pulled you through the tower, eagerly leading you back to your room. It seems news of your date had travelled, and the two of them were beyond excited to help you get ready- despite your protests that it was a work day and four hours seemed a bit too much time.

"Nonsense. You and Steve have been towing this line for ages." Wanda grinned at you. "We won't let it go wrong because of a few work hours. Tony will understand."

You nodded, nervously biting your lip as the potential headlines flashed through your mind again. Would Tony understand his PR manager being the talk of the town? Would Pepper?

Before you could voice your concerns, Natasha was pushing you into the bathroom to try on the outfit they laid out. You were surprised to see your favorite ripped jeans waiting for you, but you put them on nonetheless. They had paired the jeans with a black shirt and a black denim jacket you had never seen before. Parts of the denim had been removed, replaced with a flowery mesh.

The second you were out of the bathroom, Nat and Wanda were pushing accessories and shoes into your hands. "I have to admit, this is not the vibe I thought you'd go for," you questioned them with a raised brow as you finished putting on your combat boots.

"Steve may or may not have given us a heads up." Wanda smirked. You looked between her and Nat, rolling your eyes that they knew where you were going when you didn't. You would have questioned them about it, but a knock on your door cut you off.

You were surprised to see it was already 7, and Steve was waiting for you on the other side of the door. You let your worries slip away, knowing they would only serve to upset your evening. With one final steadying breath, you opened the door.

You and Steve simply stared at each other, neither making a move. It was as if you were both frozen, simply taking in the other person. As Steve eyes roamed your outfit, you couldn't help but take in his own outfit.

You had to admit, he looked incredible. Seeing him in the familiar leather jacket was normal, but it never failed to make you swoon. The blue henley, however, couldn't help but spark thoughts of Bucky helping him choose what to wear. You let out a disbelieving chuckle at the idea of both of your friends dressing you.

The noise seemed to startle Steve into motion. He gestured for you to join him in the hallway, both of you ignoring the snickering coming from the two women in your room. He gently placed his hand on your lower back, the textured flowers pressing lightly into your back through the thin material of your shirt.

"You look incredible," Steve glanced at you. "I don't think I've ever seen this jacket before," he grinned, likely having the same thought you just had.

"It is new," you confirmed. "You look handsome as ever. I have to say, the blue henley really brings out your eyes." His laugh was like music to your ears.

"I'll have to tell Bucky you approve." The faint blush that dotted his cheeks had you even more giddy than before.

"I'll convey the same message to Nat and Wanda," you winked, again earning a chuckle. It was as if all the nerves had left your body and you were simply spending the evening with your best friend. All of the worrying and anxiety seemed pointless now that you were actually with him.

Unsurprisingly, Steve lead you to his motorcycle. You had never mentioned to him how much you loved riding with him, but you suspected he had some sort of idea. Or maybe he enjoyed it as much as you. Either way, you climbed on behind him, wrapping your arms around his narrow waist and stretching your neck to place your chin on his shoulder.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the familiar feeling. It had been far too long since the last time you rode together. You pressed a light kiss to his cheek as he pulled out of the parking garage before leaning slightly back to enjoy the feeling of the wind on your skin.

Steve took you to a tiny diner in Brooklyn, somewhere the two of you had been before. It felt so natural, you nearly forgot the outing was an actual date. It was so easy to talk with Steve, you found yourself pestering him with questions about Wakanda, answering his own questions about your time apart as well. You spent hours in the diner, just talking like you used to.

"I've missed this," he spoke suddenly as the two of you were leaving the restaurant, making your way back to Steve's bike.

"I know, they have the best french toast," you goaded, grinning even more when he rolled his eyes.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Steve spun you around, his hands on your hips pressing you slightly into his bike from his proximity. "I've missed you. Our lunches and weekly brunch. The snuggling during movie night. Just being together," he whispered, leaning closer to you with each word.

Your throat was suddenly dry, your voice raspy as you replied. "I've missed you too." As if on their own accord, your hands had wrapped themselves around Steve's neck, pulling him even closer.

You both felt the pull as you leaned in, your lips barely brushing when the sound of tires screeching across the road startled you. Steve spun you behind him, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger. He relaxed when he realized it was just a car slamming on their brakes to avoid running a stop sign and hitting another car.

He let out a deep sigh, turning back to you with an apologetic look. "It's okay," you smiled reassuringly before pressing a kiss against his cheek. "Let's go home."

Steve nodded, quickly kissing your forehead before getting on the bike and signalling for you to do the same. You were pretty sure you heard him grumbling something about people learning how to drive, but you kept your giggling silent. Of course, being pressed up against Steve on the motorcycle did little to cool you down after the near steamy moment.

The night had gotten cooler as the sun set, encouraging you to squeeze closer to Steve. You hands tucked themselves in between his shirt and his jacket. The warmth radiating from him quickly warmed up your cold fingers, leaving you to feel the way his abs tightened when your hands shifted.

The ride back to the tower ended far too quickly for your taste. You would have spent the next hours pressed to Steve's warm back if he had let you. Instead, you found yourself standing next to him in the parking garage watching as he put the helmets away.

"I'll walk you to your room?" His offer received a nod from you, eager to spend any additional amount of time with him. His hand on the small of your back felt electrifying, even more so than earlier in the evening. You relished in the touch, eager to relive the moment from earlier.

When you reached your room, you paused with your hand on the door. Biting your lip, you turned around to look at Steve. He was closer than you expected, his eyes taking in the way you tugged your lip between your teeth. Once again, your throat was dry. You couldn't stop the raspiness in your voice when you spoke.

"I had fun tonight," you whispered, not missing the way his eyes flickered to your lips again.

"Me too," he whispered in return, not wanting to break the moment. He stepped closer, your bodies nearly touching when your hand fell from the door knob as you turned completely to face him. You both leaned in at the same time, your lips meeting briefly before returning with more pressure.

Your left hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as your right hand pulled him in by his jacket. Steve pulled you to him as well, one hand tangled in your hair and one squeezing your hip. The two of you were as close as possible and yet it was still not close enough.

Your not sure how long you stood there, back pressed against the door to your room, but eventually the two of you needed air. Your each parted just enough to breath, your foreheads still pressed together as you tried to calm your racing heart. When you finally caught your breath, and managed to meet Steve's eye, you were certain you were about to go another round when the sound of a throat clearing jolted you apart.

Tony stood at the other end of the hallway, a smirk playing on his lips. Before either of you could tell him off, Tony held up a hand. "It's a public hallway." Tony defended himself as he walked closer.

"In the middle of the night..." you countered eyes wide in confusion. Why would he interrupt you for no reason?

"Tony, why are you here?" Steve sighed, one hand reaching to take your own as if the idea of not touching you was too much for him to handle at the moment.

"Bad news I'm afraid. I thought you'd want to see it as soon as possible." The look Tony was giving you set you on edge. Although he was answering Steve, it felt like he was talking to you.

"A mission?" Steve questioned, his thumb now rubbing circles on your hand.

"Not exactly." He produced a tablet from behind his back, gesturing for you to take it. You reached for it with your free hand, looking at Steve in confusion. The two of you looked down at the screen together, your mind running wild the second you saw the picture.

You didn't know how to feel. It wasn't anything bad per say, but it wasn't ideal for the whole world to see it. However, you liked the picture. It reminded you of the evening you just shared with Steve, and honestly, you were kind of grateful for the feeling being captured in a photo.

You were leaning slightly against Steve's bike with him standing directly in front of you. His hands had found purchase on your hips, your own wrapped around his neck. Your lips weren't quite touching, but it was obvious that's where it was headed. Or at least, where it would've been headed if not for the screeching car.

The gratefulness didn't last long as you realized the implications of Tony having the picture. "How bad is it?" You squeezed Steve's hand, finding comfort in his presence next to you. Last time this happened it was brushed under the rug by the Winter Soldier. However convenient that was for PR, it was a nightmare to live through. Something told you nothing like that would save you this time.

Tony gave you a comforting smile before responding. "From what I can tell, only the one photo was taken." you breathed a sigh of relief, although it was minor. One photo was bad enough. "Thankfully, the photographer knew he could get more money from me than any media outlet."

The meaning of his words sunk in slowly, but when it fully registered you had to lean into Steve because of the relief.

"Tony... I... Thank you," you whispered. You felt horrible for putting Tony in such a position, especially when it was your job to prevent any scandalous Avengers themed headlines. "Oh my god, it's the middle of the night! Tony, I'm so sorry! After what happened with our picnic I should've known not to-"

"Don't beat yourself up about it. Just be more careful next time." He winked at you before departing, calling out one last time before he was gone, "and have fun!"

You could feel the blush even before you made eye contact with Steve. Of course, the feeling only multiplied afterward. Steve looked just as bashful as you.

"Do you want to talk?" You gestured to your door, offering a safe haven from the "public hallway". Thankfully, Steve nodded. You watched him as he made his way into your room, awkwardly standing in the middle. You sat on your bed, gesturing for him to join you, but he declined.

"Steve? What's wrong?" you asked carefully, honestly a bit scared of the answer. He was quiet for a moment, staring at a spot on the floor. You were about to ask him again when he finally spoke.

"What should you have known not to do?" he mumbled, only increasing your confusion.

"What?" you asked, not understanding the question.

"You told Tony you should've known not to. Not to what? Not to go out with me again?" His voice was wavering, as if he was struggling to reconcile the time you had just spent together with your attitude about the picture.

"Of course not! I'm so, so glad we went out." You could feel the tears burning in your eyes. It felt dramatic, and you were annoyed by them, but it made sense. It was a lot to process. You stood to meet his eye, trying to convey just how much you believed what you were saying. "Steve, that was single handedly the best date I've ever been on. I just should've known to be more careful about what a stranger could see."

"Oh..." He glanced at you, seeing the sincerity in your eyes. You could tell your answer has sparked some thoughts for Steve, so you waited for him with a patient smile. "So a secret relationship?"

You smiled nervously. A secret relationship was never something you thought you'd be part of, but for Steve it would be worth it. "Just a secret from the public, not from the team."

He nodded at your words, seeming deep in thought. It was nerve wracking to watch him ponder the idea of having a relationship with you. The longer you waited, the more your anxiety built. Maybe your job just made this too difficult for him. Starting a relationship is already so stressful, having to add the secret part on top of that just makes it that much harder.

"I've never been one for PDA anyway." Steve's words tore you from your negative thoughts. The two of you stared at each other, smiling like children when Steve spoke again. "So, would you like to be my secret girlfriend?" Despite you just saying Steve took you on the best date of your life, he still looked nervous to ask you.

"I would love to be your secret girlfriend, so long as you want to be my secret boyfriend?" you replied, an eager smile on your face.

Steve forewent a verbal reply, choosing to answer your question with a kiss. He poured all of his emotions into it, holding you as close as he could.

You returned the kiss with just as much excitement. It wasn't until the two of you needed to breathe that you separated.

"In case it was unclear, that was a yes." Steve joked, his cheeks betraying his blush.

"Oh good, otherwise you really would've been sending the wrong message," you joked back. Your smile only grew when he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, you're trouble." Steve pressed a quick kiss to your lips before backing away.

"Yeah, but you already knew that," you said with a smirk. Steve simply laughed in response. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course. We have our weekly lunches to uphold." Steve kissed you one more time before leaving.

You called a quick goodnight as you shut the door, nearly squealing when you were sure he was out of earshot. Tonight may have had a minor issue, but it was still one of the best nights of your life. After all the problems you and Steve have faced with being separated, finally being able to be together was all you wanted.

How hard could a secret relationship be?

-

You and Steve kept to your normal routine of eating lunch together and going out on Sundays. It was frustrating not even being able to hold his hand, but the fun outweighed the annoyance. Stealing kisses when nobody was around or texting each other dirty things made the beginning of your relationship interesting.

Plus, you could always spend time together in the residential area of the tower. You still had movie nights, albeit with some kisses thrown in, but you spent even more time with Steve. Whether it was making dinner together, or forcing Sam and Bucky to play a board game with you, the two of you could almost always be found together after work hours. The lack of affectionate time spent outside of the tower didn't bother you because you could spend so much time together inside.

Your life, although not what you pictured, felt perfectly balanced. You didn't realize just how easily that balance could be upended until Tony took over your surprise party for Steve's birthday.

"Y/N, how excited are you for tomorrow?" Wanda burst into your room, two dress bags in her hands.

"I'm excited, Wan. I still think Steve would prefer something small, but small isn't really in Tony's wheelhouse. I should've planned the whole thing and surprised both of them." You both laughed, knowing Tony was never one to turn down a party.

"I need your help." Wanda showed the two dresses she bought, one a long emerald v-neck with long sleeves, the other a black leather mini dress with cap sleeves. "Which one?"

You pictured her in both dresses, imaging the hair style and accessories she'd wear with each. "I like the green."

"Me too! I think Vis will like that one more too." Wanda spoke quickly as she zipped the bags back up. If she wasn't so quick to say "thanks for the help! I have to go find my accessories now" and leave, she might've noticed the shift in your mood. She might've noticed the tie you picked out for Steve sitting on your dresser. She might've noticed when you realized you couldn't actually go to your boyfriend's surprise party with your boyfriend because of one key detail. Secret.

-

After Wanda left, you only gave yourself five minutes to be upset. You and Steve agreed to keep your relationship private from the public for a reason. It wouldn't do to dwell on what can't happen. For you and Steve to tell the public you were together, he would have to admit he didn't have a soulmate song, and you would have to admit you were ignoring yours.

Ever since he came out of the ice, Steve Roger's soulmate has been the question people ask. Was it Peggy? If not Peggy, was it someone else from his time? Would he ever know who it was?

You know the truth. It's clear why Steve never talks about it. Especially if Bucky has a song and didn't used to. Talking about it would only serve to hurt him. You didn't mind ignoring your soulmate song. The familiar lyric of hopeless love was all it took to cast it from your mind.

So instead, you focused on Steve. You were ready for the party 3 hours before it began, not hesitating to help set up any decorations or equipment that still needed setting up. You were there to greet everyone who arrived before Steve, scolding Tony when guests arrived before him.

You were there when Steve walked in with Bucky. His eyes seemed to scan the room, stopping only when they found you. Turns out you didn't need to give him a tie. He already picked one out in the perfect shade of blue to compliment his eyes. The exact shade of blue you chose to wear for that very reason.

His eyes roamed your body, only being drawn away when the entire room shouted "surprise!" His reaction appeared to happen in slow motion, the confusion slowly giving way to understanding and appreciation.

He was making his way toward you, greeting and thanking anyone who stopped him to talk. At this rate, it would take the entire party for him to find you. Just before you could walk to him, a group of agents cornered him.

They were young, fit, excited about the world agents. The questions came faster than Steve could answer. You both knew it would be too suspicious for him to abandon the conversation simply to greet you. Instead, you gave him an encouraging smile and turned toward the bar.

Three drinks in, Steve found you.

"Hi," you greeted him with a warm smile, but he could see the disappointment in your eyes. You could see the regret in his, speaking up before he got the chance. "Don't you dare apologize. We signed up for this."

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "We did. I guess I'll just have to wait until we're alone to tell you how beautiful you are." His words caused a giddy smile to erupt on your face. Even after months of being together, Steve never failed to give you butterflies.

"Are you enjoying your party?" you asked, eager to change the subject for fear of doing something reckless.

"I am, it's wonderful." It was clear he believed the words, but you could tell it wasn't what he wanted to say. One look from you and he was spilling the truth. "If I'm honest something smaller would've been fine."

You sighed, having expected just the same. If it was a smaller party, you and Steve could have attended together. "That's what I told Tony, but you know how he gets. Bigger is better, and his friends deserve the best." You both laughed, enjoying the brief moment together.

"Dance with me?" Steve interrupts the silence. Seeing the look on your face, he continues, "Just one dance? Nobody will say anything about one dance with the birthday boy."

Rolling your eyes, you can't stop yourself from smiling. "Fine, one-" Before you can even finish the statement, Steve is whisking you to the dance floor. Just as you made it to the edge of the dance floor, the music shifted. The modern party music was left behind for some classic 40s.

You couldn't help but laugh as you and Steve spun around the dance floor, the words to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy echoing in your ears. By the time the song was fading out, you were nearly out of breath. The combination of Steve swinging you around the room and the never ending laughter had you in stitches.

"And here I thought you couldn't dance?" you teased, laughing even more when Steve had the audacity to look shocked.

"I have no idea what you mean. One more?" he asked. You knew you were toast. You couldn't say no to those eyes.

"You're lucky it's your birthday," you huffed, already putting your hand back on his shoulder in preparation for the next song. Steve gripped your waist as the familiar opening lyrics to Dream a Little Dream of Me sounded through the room. It wasn't the slowest song in the world, but everyone was taking advantage of the break to just sway together.

You shifted your grip, placing both hands behind his neck. It took everything in you to not rest your head on his shoulder. Instead, you looked into his eyes, hoping you could convey everything you wanted to say with just your eyes.

You could feel the distance between you decreasing as the song continued, but you didn't have the willpower to do anything about it. You wanted to be close to him, and he wanted you close. It wasn't until the song tapered out and Bucky was asking to cut in that you realized just how close you were to blowing your secret.

"Happy birthday Steve," you whispered, chancing one more look at his face. His expression mirrored your own. A sense of longing mixed with resignation. There was nothing you could say as Bucky whisked you back onto the dance floor as an upbeat song you didn't recognize began to play.

-

Eventually, the party died down, leaving only residents of the tower in the room. Steve dragged you back onto the dance floor, swaying with you despite the upbeat melody. He held you close, and you relished the feeling. For the first time in years, a lyric from your soulmate song popped into your head.

Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor?

You quickly brushed the thought aside. There was no use thinking about it when you knew Steve didn't have one. You're happy with Steve. There's no point focusing on what will only cause you both pain.

You stayed on the dance floor for a few more songs until you heard the tell tale signs of trouble brewing. Tony was dragging the karaoke machine over to the lounge area, ranting about how nobody has been using it.

"I spent $1,000 on this, and we are going to use it dammit!" he ranted. Even mildly drunk, Tony could set up a simple karaoke machine. You could hear everyone telling Tony that $1,000 is nothing to him, but he wasn't hearing it. "Everyone is singing! That includes you two!" Without lifting your head from Steve's chest you knew he was talking about you.

"Come on, let's just appease him," you said to Steve, pulling him over to the lounge. You graciously accepted the drink Nat handed you. "I'm gonna need this if Tony really forces us all to sing."

And force you to sing he did. Tony started things off with a rousing rendition of Back in Black surprising absolutely nobody with his choice of song.

Thor was so eager to participate in another "Midgardian activity" he let Tony choose his song. You all laughed and drank as he belted out the words to Bonnie Tyler's Holding out for a Hero.

Thor set a dangerous precedent, giving Tony the idea that he could choose everyone's songs. Wanda sang Baby One More Time, Bruce We Didn't Start the Fire. Clint joyfully sang Fancy Like, having Nat record it so he could send it to his kids. Sam somehow managed to convince Tony to let him sing Marvin Gaye. Nat forcefully moved Tony out of the way, choosing abcdefu to keep the party going.

Everyone was drinking and laughing, actually enjoying themselves now that the rest of the guests had left. Bucky glared the whole time he sang, but he and Steve managed to stutter their way through Alive by One Direction and Cold as Ice by Foreigner, respectively.

By the time it was your turn, everyone was wasted. It wasn't often the whole team got to relax like this, so it was nice to see everyone cutting loose. Tony pulled you up to the machine, overestimating the force required or underestimating his strength. Either way, the two of you crashed into the karaoke machine, knocking it over the railing.

You briefly looked over the edge, wincing at the various pieces that machine was now in. Tony, in his drunken state, looked devastated. You assumed he was upset about the broken machine, but he quickly showed what was upsetting him.

"You still have to sing!" Your eyes widened at his volume, but you didn't have much time to protest. Suddenly the whole room was agreeing, various statements about how "it's only fair" or "everyone else did."

"Okay, okay!" you shouted over everyone else. "I'll do it." You were far too drunk to regret any of your decisions, so you just started singing the first song that popped into your head. Everyone else was too busy cheering, they didn't realize none of them actually knew the song. Well, none but one.

When you hold me in the street And you kiss me on the dancefloor I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? Cause I'm yours

We keep behind closed doors Every time I see you I die a little more Stolen moments that we steal as the curtain falls It'll never be enough

It's obvious you're meant for me Every piece of you, it just fits perfectly

You didn't notice as the mood died down, to caught up in pouring your heart out to even realize you were singing your soulmate song. Everyone was enjoying the song, albeit they assumed you chose it because of your secret relationship with Steve.

Why can't you hold me in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor? I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? Cause I'm yours

Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops I wish that it could be like that Why can't we be like that? Cause I'm yours

You finished the song to more cheering, although Steve remained motionless. Even after it was over, you didn't realize what had happened. You were so relieved to have let go of the feelings you were holding in that you did the one thing you swore you would never do.

"I've never heard that song before, Y/N! Who sings it?" Wanda asked, jolting you back into reality. Everyone was looking at you expectantly, but you didn't have an answer. You didn't want to tell them it was your soulmate song. You already killed the mood with the song, no reason to dampen it even further by admitting the truth.

"I don't remember!" You knew you sounded crazy, but you were hopeful the alcohol would make everyone forget. "I'm pretty tired, so I'm gonna head to bed. Happy Birthday!" You pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek on the way out, unable to even look him in the eye. He simply stared as you left, having a hard time believing what he just heard.

-

You had fallen asleep as soon as you laid down, and when you woke up last night felt like a dream- or more accurately, a nightmare. Your only hope was to pretend like it never happened and pray everyone else was too drunk to remember. Unfortunately, your bubble of hope was popped almost immediately after you woke up.

"Y/N!" Wanda excitedly ran to you when you entered the kitchen, "please tell me you know who sings that song!" You panicked as everyone turned toward you.

"What song?" you questioned, looking confused as you took a seat. If hope wouldn't do, pretending you forgot was your best bet.

"The one you sang last night," Nat answered for her, eyeing you suspiciously.

"Oh, um... who sings that song..." You pretended to be thinking, all the while considering moving to Albania and starting a new life. You glanced at Steve, but couldn't keep your eyes on him.

"Do you at least know what it's called?" Wanda smiled hopefully, only adding to your guilt.

"Secret Love Song," you answered with no hesitation, eyes widening when you realized she was going to google it. In high school, during your "it's only an obstacle we'll have to work through" phase, you started calling it your secret love song.

"That's weird. I can't find it online." Wanda pouted just as the subtlest of smirks formed on Nat's lips. You couldn't take it. There was no way to hide this from them. Of course it's not online, only two people in the world know the song- and it doesn't even really have a name! You dropped your face into your hands, mumbling under your breath in an effort to avoid the embarrassment this would cause.

"Oh my god!" Thor suddenly exclaimed, feeling as though he figured something out. "You wrote it, didn't you? You are very talented Lady Y/N!"

Your head snapped in his direction, wondering how good of an out that would be. It was clear from everyone else's expressions they knew the truth, though. "I didn't write it, but thank you for believing in me Thor." With a deep sigh, you rose from your seat at the island. "It's my soulmate song."

It was clear nobody knew what to say, so you saved them the trouble. "I know it's pretty sad for a soulmate song, but I got over it a long time ago. No need to feel bad for me." You shuffled toward the exit, still talking so nobody could express their sorrow for you. "I'm just gonna go... do something."

With a wave of your hand, you practically ran from the room. You knew they would want to talk to you about it, but you didn't have it in you. Of course these people are practically your family, but that would only make their pity feel even worse.

Maximizing your efforts to avoid the impending conversations, you packed a bag and messaged Tony that you needed to cash in some days off. Just a week and you'd be back. The team could manage not to cause any major PR problems for that long, right? Your only real problem was Steve.

You knew it wouldn't be fair to him to just leave, but the idea of talking to him after singing your soulmate song while knowing he doesn't have one sounds like the eighth circle of hell. You could write him a note, but it felt too impersonal. You struggled with your decision, ultimately deciding to pack the car and then figure out what to do. Of course, nothing works out like it's planned.

You opened your door to leave, but froze in place at the sight of the man who has your heart. Steve's fist was raised as if he was about to knock. You both stared, neither knowing just what to say in the moment. Then, Steve's eyes shifted from your face to the duffle bag over your shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his face adorably scrunched in confusion.

"Oh, um... I need a few days off. I'll be back next weekend," you muttered, looking anywhere but his face.

"Were you going to say goodbye?" He sounded so hurt, it only made you feel even more guilty.

"I... I don't know. I was going to put this in the car and then decide," you feebly replied gesturing to the bag. "Steve, I'm so sorry." You still refused to look him in the eye, too afraid of the sadness you might see in his baby blues.

"I'm so, so sorry. I feel horrible. I never meant to do that to you. I... I overheard you talking to Bucky before you asked me to dinner. I know you don't have a soulmate." You could tell just by the way his stance shifted that he had something to say, but you barreled through with your ramblings. "I have never told anyone the lyrics to my song before. You can probably see why." You words were accompanied by a resigned laughter.

"To sing that song and remind you that there's someone out there who's meant for me- even if it might be a difficult relationship- knowing you don't have a song was so awful of me. I should've known better. I know we were drinking, but that's no excuse." Try as you might, you couldn't stop the tears you felt building. Your throat burned. Your vision went blurry. "I... I'm sorry."

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your breathing. The sound of your blood pumping in your veins echoed in your ears. You had no idea if Steve was even still standing in front of you.

"Y/N..." He took your hands in his, surprising you enough that your eyes flew open. "I do have a song," he said softly. He looked just as upset as you, albeit his tears were merely welling in his eyes at this point.

"Wha- what? But... but you told Bucky..." you sputtered, the confusion you were feeling increased as Steve slowly slid the bag off your shoulder. He guided you further into your own room, gently encouraging you to sit on your bed. He kneeled in front of you, wiping your tears as they fell.

"I told Bucky I didn't have a song because his was so happy. I didn't want to weigh down his mood with my song." He moved to hold your hands in his, gently rubbing his thumbs over the backs of your hands.

"You have a sad song too?" You hated to admit it, but somewhere deep inside of you, a flicker of hope started growing. He nodded, drawing a small notebook from his pocket. You watched as he opened to a specific page and handed you the book.

"This is from last year. I... I wanted to take you out because there was this new movie showing, and I just knew you would love it. But I couldn't. We're only a couple in the confines of this tower, and even that can be interrupted. So I saw it with Bucky and I wrote down all the parts I thought would make you laugh."

Your tears renewed themselves, although this time from the overwhelming love you were feeling. He flipped the page slowly, showing another entry.

"This one is from when that new tapas restaurant opened around your birthday. I wanted to take you there and celebrate. So, I dragged Bucky out with me and wrote down all the things I thought you would want to try."

He flipped through the pages, various date activities he wanted to do with you outlined in the book. They ranged from all day activities like ice skating and looking at the holiday decorations to little things like being able to hold your hand when you got coffee together. Eventually, he landed on the last page of the book.

"This one is from a few days ago. Tony said he was having a fourth of July party, and I wanted nothing more than to ask you what color you were wearing so we could match. So we could actually do something together around other people." He shook his head as a light laugh escaped his lips. "I guess the matching part worked out anyway." You nodded your reply, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak.

"When Bucky stole you away on the dancefloor at the party... all I could think about was my song. I spent the rest of the night wondering if you were thinking the same thing... and then you sang it right to me."

You were still crying, far too emotional to even try to contain the tears, but now your smile was shining through. A smile that definitely told Steve how exstatic you were at hearing his confession.

"I tried to tell you last night, but you fell asleep so quickly. And this morning I didn't want to just blurt it out over breakfast. And then you admitted it to everyone, and I was trying to leave to come tell you, but they kept saying you probably wanted space! It took me this long to realize I could just tell them I was going for a run and come up here instead-"

You cut off his rambling with a kiss. Steve, who was still kneeling in front of you, fell backward with the force of your embrace, pulling you down to the floor with him. The two of you were laughing and crying and kissing and far too engrossed in each other to realize the rest of the team had come to check on you after Tony asked what your message was about.

"I love you," you whispered between kisses, still laying on top of Steve on the floor.

"I love you too... soulmate," Steve whispered right back. Everyone else backed away as Nat slowly pulled the door shut. The two of you deserved your privacy.

"Soulmate... that's so much better than secret boyfriend," you beamed. You couldn't hold your smile back long enough to kiss Steve, so you buried your face between his neck and his shoulder.

"Definitely better than secret girlfriend," he confirmed, a slight nervousness to his voice. You pushed away from him to ask, but the words were already escaping him. "Does that mean we're secret soulmates now?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a mixture of joy and love escaping as you rapidly shook your head no. "No! It was only a secret because the whole world would crucify us for being together if we weren't soulmates. I mean, there will still be a story, but it will definitely be positive now. We could come right out and tell everyone, or just go about our lives and let them figure it out. Oh! We could-"

It was Steve's turn to cut you off with a kiss. He held you close, not really needing to do much as gravity was still holding you to him. "Let's not talk about work right now. I just want to be with you without all of this weighing us down." You agreed, pressing a quick kiss before surprising him by getting up. "Where are you going?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I didn't eat breakfast." You grabbed your bag from where Steve dropped it, removing the essential things you would need for the day. "Would my soulmate like to accompany me to a breakfast... " you paused dramatically, "in public... with hand holding?"

Steve jumped up from the ground, spinning you around in a very similar fashion to the day he asked you to date him. "I would love nothing more."

Everything: @averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @strawberryspence @andrwgxrfield @jswessie187 @ellobruv @alohastitch0626

Marvel:

@leyannrae @livstilinski @oceaniamaddness @justreadingficsdontmindme @ladydmalfoy @freyathehuntress

The Riddle

The Riddle

Pairing: Bucky x F Reader 

Summary: [SOULMATE AU] Things you lose start to appear at your soulmates side – most of the time if they’re in need of it. Easy, right? It would be if the existence of Soulmates were still common knowledge. And so you and Bucky can’t figure out who plays this prank on you and why the both of you lose stuff all the time. 

Word Count: ~3.2k 

Warnings: swearing, blood and stabbing of someone (it’s a bad guy), knives and the use of it, kind of matchmaking Avengers 

A/N: I wrote this soulmate prompt once for a HP character, but I really do like it, so I felt the need to give Bucky a soulmate 

The coffee machine was brewing your drink loudly and you turned towards the fridge to get something to eat. Once you decided on something and placed it on the counter, turned around to get your drink – your mug was gone. “Huh?” A glance around the kitchen made you realise that your mug had been stolen from no other than Bucky Barnes. 

“You could have just asked me if I would made you one,” you said. No reaction. “Barnes!” you repeated louder and the man in question finally looked up from his phone. 

“What?” he asked and you almost fell for his confused look. 

“You could have asked for a coffee, you didn’t have to steal mine,” you said and pointed at the mug in front of him. 

“I didn’t steal,” he started but stopped once he saw the ridiculous mug that was yours. He even asked you what it meant once he noticed the mug with the cat that held out their middle fingers and said fluff you, you fluffin fluff. “How?” he asked instead. 

You put a boring mug under the coffee machine and switched the mugs once it was full. “Next time just ask,” you said before you left the room. 

The Riddle

“I’m so sorry! I will bring in my paperwork tomorrow, I had it right there and then,” you started your excuse when you reached the office. 

“Your report has already been handed in,” the accountant said with a bored voice. 

“What do you mean it’s already here?” She tipped the top of a folder to show you it was already there. 

“Mr. Barnes brought it in with his own. He’s a gentleman, right? And handsome too,” she didn’t sound as bored as before and even winked at you. You just nodded and with a last glance on the folder left the office. How did he even get it? You finished writing it and then went to the bathroom. He must have taken it before you came back. It was kind of nice of him – if he had even told you that he would take it and you didn’t have to walk all that way. 

“Thanks for taking my folder too,” you said once you spotted the Winter Soldier with his head in the cupboard. The was a noise and you could have sworn you had startled him and he just hit his head. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he said and let out a sigh. 

“What are you searching for?” you asked and grabbed yourself a water. 

“I could have sworn there had been Oreos stored here.” 

“Yeah, Sam ate them. As always. You have to be quicker than that,” you answered after taking a sip of your cool drink. 

“I noticed,” he grumbled and tried to get his long hair behind his ears, but it always fell forward again. Just to your left laid the scrunchie that Barnes always carried around in the tower. It was pink with unicorns on it and not even Sam teased him about it, because you all had been there when he got it. 

You had been outside, it was a windy day and Tony held a speech that you weren’t listening to. You saw Bucky struggling with his hair as it always flew in his face and once it flew in his open mouth a young girl came forward. She walked up to the barrier and pointed at Bucky. You nudged his side until he noticed and walked towards the girl. The both of them talked shortly and then you saw her handing a bright pink scrunchie – and the once feared Winter Solider putting it in his hair. The glee on the girl's face caused Bucky to smile brightly too and it made you and your friends smile too. 

Just before Bucky accepted his hair tie, he looked confused at his wrist, but you shrugged and walked to another cupboard and took out your hidden package of Oreos before handing them to him too. “You owe me,” you said and left a confused Bucky. 

The Riddle

On your shelf in your bedroom was an empty space which caused your eyebrow to rose as you couldn’t explain why the item wasn’t there. It wasn’t new or anything, you had owed it for a few years. 

The plush tiger was a remembrance of your first visit to a zoo. You were so amazed by the tigers and lions that you got a plushie that used to be your companion for a few years. Afraid that it would break one day it wandered from your bed to your shelf. Until now that is. It didn’t fall down and you didn't take it. Why wasn't it there though? The search took you a while and you were frustrated when you couldn’t find it. You even asked around, but everyone promised they hadn’t taken it. You had to continue with your days, but the lost tiger was still on the back of your mind. 

On your way to the training ground, you stopped when you heard the familiar voices of Bucky and Sam. Whoever thought it was a good idea to send these two on a mission was clearly mental as you could hear their bickering over the grass. 

“Hey guys. How was – What is that, James?” you suddenly stopped your question, your expression saying that you weren’t joking around anymore and Bucky looked more than confused as you were calling him James. 

“What?” he asked confused, but you had already crossed the three steps towards him and opened the duffel bag that was hanging over his shoulder. A small piece of a tiger's tail had found its way out of the bag and you suddenly held the plushie that was missing in your hand. “Why is he with you? Do you think it's funny to just take stuff from other people? I’ve searched for it for days!” 

Bucky looked puzzled at you. “I didn’t take it. It was suddenly there on my bed on the second night,” he defended himself and somehow you believed him. Which only meant one thing. 

“These pranks need to stop, Sam. It isn’t funny anymore!” 

Sam looked as bewildered at you. “Why are you telling me? I didn’t do anything,” he defended himself, but he had been smiling before that so you didn’t believe him.  

“I need to get to training,” you said with your plushie under your arm. “I’m watching you,” you made the motion with your fingers before you walked further to your appointment. A smell invaded your nose, you took a sniff on your tiger and sure it smelled like... Bucky. Did he actually sleep with it? 

The Riddle

“Hey Buck, we want to grab something to eat. You want to come with us?” Steve asked him when you walked past him with Sam and Natasha on your way towards the diner you all liked so much. 

“No, thanks. Can you bring me something though?” Bucky didn’t look up and you could hear the faint noise of a page being turned over. 

“What are you reading that has you so invested?” Sam asked and tried to get a glimpse at the cover of the book that kept Buckys whole attention. 

“Oh, it’s a thriller and I’m almost at the end and we’ll figure out who the murderer is. Although it has been pretty clear from the beginning. Sloppy work. There was a murder in a house with all the relatives there and,” he said and finally looked up. 

“What’s the name of the book? I just read something like that but lost it in the train before I could finish it,” you asked. 

“Why were you even in the train in the first place?” Natasha asked, but you didn’t answer her as Bucky held up the book and you could see the cover. 

“That’s exactly the book I’ve been reading. Where are you? Did they already find the weapon? I bet it was placed under a loose floorboard.” 

“No way! There is a secret passage in the house that not everybody knows off. You can see small hints here and there. The wind that let the tapestry move although the windows were closed?” 

You took a seat next to the man. “No, but they mentioned the floor one too many times. It must have been there,” you said and the two of you started to share your thoughts on the books. You didn’t even notice that the others bid you goodbye and when they came back they found the two of you hunched over the same book while both of you were reading the last pages together. Steve just left the food next to you and you and Bucky thanked him before you continued reading. Steve shared a grin with Sam and they left you alone again. 

The Riddle

“This room is safe,” you exclaimed when Steve closed the door and you had checked behind the shelves. “Which is good, because I’m out of ammo and I lost the only knife I had.” You patted down the pants to see if you didn’t forget something, but no, you were out of weapons. 

Steve and you had been separated from the rest of the group. “Let me see,” Steve started but stopped once he heard a movement. His stopping made you aware of something behind you and then went to throw your elbow behind you, you noticed a weight in your hand that hadn’t been there before. Your instinct told you to grab it harder and it was that that saved your life. Your eyes didn’t know where to focus. On the man now in front of you or the knife in your hand with a red colour dripping from it. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked and was at your side a few seconds later. “I thought it was safe?” 

“I was,” you said slowly. Steve took the knife carefully from your grip. “This is Bucky’s,” he murmured. He had seen it in his best friend's hands so often he would always recognise it. “When did he give it to you?” 

“I thought so too,” you stammered. 

“And I thought you were out of knives?” He bent down and checked the pulse of the guy on the floor. 

“He didn’t. It just... appeared,” you said still not so sure about what had just happened. The rest of the mission was more of a blur and you were aware that Steve shielded your most of the time until you were safe in the jet. The next thing you knew was that you were sitting in a chair that lacked some kind of comfort and you could hear Steve’s voice in the background. 

“Hey, you okay? Are you hurt?” This time it was Buckys voice that you were hearing and he was squatted down in front of you. 

In response you only held out your hand which was still holding the weapon. You heard some rustling and before he could ask how you’d get it you told him it had just appeared out of nowhere. “I don’t understand it!” 

“Me neither, but we’ll figure it out. You’re in shock, but I need to know if you’re hurt,” his voice soothed you. 

“I think I’m okay,” you mumbled. 

“Okay, that’s good.” Bucky took the knife from your hands and you heard a clang as if he discarded it without a care, before he took the seat next to you. Your hands didn’t know what to do and so he put his hand in yours and your fingers fumbled with the metal in his hand. 

The Riddle

The Whiteboard looked like a mess. The green pencil in your hand just made a bow towards Bucky’s name when he scribbled hat with his blue marker. 

“What hat? Bucky, are you blushing?” you asked confused and put the cap on your pen so it wouldn’t dry out. 

“Your hat turned up with me,” he mumbled. 

“What hat?” you asked even more confused. 

“Your birthday hat. You know the pink one Natasha made you? The cowboy hat with Birthday Princess on it?” You nodded and pressed you lips together so you wouldn’t snicker. “It turned up while I was showering.” 

There was no stopping you now. Your laugh was loud and you were joined by Sam and even Steve who were also in the room trying to solve the riddle that left you sleepless for a few nights since the mission. 

“Did it appear on your head or elsewhere?” Sam asked between laughs and you’ve never seen Buckys head getting more red. 

“Yes, it did appear on my head!” Bucky proclaimed and the arrow he made aggressively towards his name and the squeaking noise made you shut your eyes as if you wouldn’t hear it anymore. 

“Okay, okay. Back to the topic.” You tipped the marker against your lips. “Well, you know how you were searching for your red Henley?” you asked. 

“No way!” Bucky exclaimed and the red left his face slowly. “You’re the thief? I thought it was Sam the whole time!” 

“I’m no thief!” you exclaimed while Sam complained that you always thought he was the one stealing stuff. “It just laid on my bed when I was really cold and I might have kept it because it’s really comfortable. I know why you keep it,” you admitted.  

Suddenly the door opened and Tony came in. “Hey Cap, our time advisor is here,” he announced and you could see Wong standing behind him who waved. 

“Oh, you’re doing a soulmate chart? Looks like fun,” he said and followed Tony who walked towards another conference room. Bucky and you shared a look before you pushed yourself past Steve and run out of the room. 

“A what?” you exclaimed and run up to Wong who stopped walking once he heard your voice. 

“Huh?” he asked confused. 

“What did you say in the room?” you asked again and were aware of Bucky suddenly standing next to you. 

“The soulmate chart?” He asked and the look in both of your faces made him to continue. ”You know the person you’re destined with? Share a deep connection with? Not ringing any bells?” He sighed and opened a small portal and conjured a book out of it. “I will lend it to you, but I need it back!” he held it out of reach until you and Bucky promised to be very careful with the old book. 

“How comes we have never heard about it?” you asked once Bucky had taken the book. 

“People stopped believing in magic, fairy tales and stuff like that. They turned a blind eye and you would be surprised how many things are forgotten now. That doesn’t make them less real,” he sighed and looked at the time. “I hope they have good snacks,” he finally said and followed into the room where Tony had already went in a few minutes ago. 

Bucky cleared his throat. “Well, we better check this out then.” 

Almost three days you spent with Bucky in the conference room. Old mugs and plates were stashed at one side of the table and you and Bucky occupied the other side with one person at the whiteboard scribbling down what the other person told them. 

“Okay, enough!” Sam walked into the room and you and Bucky looked at him in shock. Except for the two of you you hadn’t really talked to the others. “You go shower, you stink. And dress in something other than sweats and a hoodie. You’ll finally have a dinner with us.” 

“I showered this morning,” you protested, but Sam made loud noises so he wouldn’t hear you. 

“Go,” he said again. 

“Fine,” you huffed. “But only because I’m hungry.” 

“You too, Barnes,” Sam said again and you didn’t stay to watch if Bucky followed Sam's order. 

It didn’t take long for you to find your way to the dining room. You were wearing something comfortable, but at least no sweats, so Sam couldn’t complain. You were stunned when you saw Bucky sitting in a fitting black shirt at the table with plates for two, roses and candles on them. He shrugged as if to tell you he didn’t know either. Suddenly two hands grabbed your shoulders and pushed you towards the table. 

“The two of you are missing the point with your whole research. Soulmates aren’t science. It’s a person who you have a deep connection with. And how will the two of you know about that if the only thing you do is stare at a book? You had three days to figure it out your way, now you’ll try mine. You have the room to yourself – but please remember that FRIDAY is everywhere – and Wanda made you dinner, that will be served shortly. Please thank me later because Steve was very persisted to help and wanted to cook, so please thank him for the good choices of drinks. Enjoy your evening,” Sam had pushed you into the chair and left the room. 

“What is happening?” you asked confused. 

“I have no clue!” Bucky and you stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” you said after a while. “Tell me something that no one else knows.” 

It took a while before he replied. “I don’t like plums.” 

“Huh?” 

He shrugged. “You eat some once and suddenly everyone assumes it’s your favourite thing. And suddenly all you get is plums – jam, pie, even shower gel. I like them fine, but not all the time.” 

“You know that Sam and I were shopping for ages until he found the plum jam, he was so sure you liked so much when he pulled your name for Christmas?” you snorted and Steve walked into the room to bring your drinks and some salad. 

“You cleaned up fine,” you told him. 

“Eyes up here,” Steve said totally serious and pointed at Bucky, which caused you to lose it all and Bucky to start howling in laughter. “Okay, I don’t know why I said that,” Steve finally admitted and laughed also. 

“Why can’t we just all eat together?” you asked and looked at Bucky who nodded. 

“Yeah, Steve this is awkward. Just gather everyone hiding in the kitchen and we eat together.” 

“So, you don’t want to go on a date together?” Steve asked defeated. 

“Oh, I want to. But like on our own terms?” Bucky asked more in your direction. 

“Yup, I could take you out tomorrow,” you smirked at him. 

“Sounds good, doll,” Bucky agreed and Steve seemed more relieved. “So should I tell the others?” Steve asked, but Sam and Wanda stood already in the entry with plates in their hand. 

“Just ourselves, my ass,” you huffed. You shared a glance with Bucky before the others filled the table and the talks started. 

“Want to get out of here? We could get some ice-cream,” you suggested to Bucky when the rest of the team was in the middle of a heated discussion where Sam was almost in Natashas face. 

“Yeah okay, but please no...”  

“...plum,” you ended the sentence for him and accepted his outstretched hand and the two of you left the room quietly. “I know that now. So, maybe plain old vanilla?” you offered instead. 

“Come on, that might be Steve’s favourite flavour, but I’m not that boring.” He looked almost offended, but you saw the twinkle in his eyes. 

“Well see about that,” you teased and followed him outside. 

The Riddle

Just because I can:

The Riddle

Masterlist | Library Blog

divider by @fireflygraphics

Hey, I hope you’re having a good day! I had an idea, Marvel cast flirting with y/n for x minutes?

Hey, I Hope Youre Having A Good Day! I Had An Idea, Marvel Cast Flirting With Y/n For X Minutes?

. . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT!

Coming home from an extremely long and stressful day/week was unfortunately something very familiar to you—so familiar that you and your best friend (your not famous best friend who was your pilar through all the chaos fame brought) had created a little routine; she’d send you various videos and links to movies and online books she knew would relax and amuse you.

So, cuddled up in your bed with your pyjamas and your star lights on (a true child at heart, always) you opened up your chats with them and eagerly swiped to see that they’d sent.

‘Marvel Cast Flirting with Y/N Y/L/N For 10 Minutes Straight!’ was the video for tonight.

Immediately you cackled to yourself, hurriedly sending your best friend thanks in the form of ironic emojis and frantic proclamations of undying love, before loading up the (true to prior word) ten minute long video.

Surely this was an exaggeration.

The video began, large letters in a cute font appearing on the dark screen ‘the marvel cast all being in love flirting with y/n for ten minutes’. The quick ‘AS THEY SHOULD’ before the clips started playing made you giggle to yourself.

The first clip was from some years back, you were pretty sure this was a premiere for The Avengers, given how you looked and the quality—you were standing opposite on interview, smile on your face and dressed in a pretty outfit the same colour of your character’s aesthetic.

“How do you feel about your costume?”

Before you could even answer the interviews question, Scarlett intercepted your interview—hair in a short red bob and a smirking grin at her lips as she wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Well I know how we all feel about this ladies costume, it’s a beautiful piece that just makes the women wearing all the more beautiful. If that’s even possible.”

The edit quickly gave Scarlett beating heart eyes for you as she didn’t tear her eyes away from you for a second—making present time you laugh.

With that she kissed your cheek, leaving a red mark of her lipstick and walked away, dramatically winking in your direction.

The second clip was a blooper, from .. Captain America: Civil War, you thought. You were on Sebastian’s shoulders, thighs locked over his head—in character, as your character and his were mid fight.

He stumbled back over a table accidentally and you let out a startled yelp, hands flying to steady yourself in his long hair and one of his landing on your arse cheek to steady you as he steadied himself with the other.

“Is it bad that I’m loving this?”

“SEBA—“

“Cut!”

The third clip was you and Lizzie (Elizabeth Olsen) reacting fan tweets; Lizzie unrolled the piece of paper, her eyes lighting up as she giggled with a little smirk.

“Elizabeth. .” You wearily trailed off, looking at your friend.

“Sorry, sorry. Okay! This tweet says if i could just pretty BEEP please with the juiciest most mouthwatering cherry on top get a not kid friendly scene of Wanda and (Your Character) I could die peacefully, my wish fulfilled. I implore you marvel, listen to your dying fan.”

“That tweet had over fifty thousand likes as well.” A feminine voice added in from behind the camera, laughter in her tone.

You and Lizzie turned to each other at the same time, grinning.

“I mean the fan is dying babe. .”

“Right? We should totally make this happen, like, totally.” She gave you a cheeky once over, eyes appreciating all of you. “Because it was the fans wish, not mine, duh.” Lizzie added.

“Mhm.” You hummed with a smirk.

The fourth clip was a evidently some sort of ‘guess the body part’ game: a photo of what you were pretty sure was your bottom half was the picture currently used for guessing, in the picture you were leaned over in a pair of yoga pants and in your personal opinion, you looked good. Well, your arse looked good (amazing, otherworldly—you humbly added)

Lizzie was the first person to answer, the video showing each persons turn one by one and immediately she said, “that’s my girl. Y/N.” Then giggling she added, “now get my girls booty off the screen, I don’t need you all ogling her. We get enough of that, sometimes causes a strain on us. But we’ve remained strong together.”

Paul Rudd was next and he stared at the picture of you for a few solid seconds, “it’s Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted. He pointed an accusing finger dramatically towards the camera—“I only know this because of all the edits you guys make!”

“You don’t have to watch them.” The interviewer pointed out innocently; Paul pouted, grumbling.

Next was Anthony who instantly answered, “That’s Y/N right here!” He hyped you up, grinning. “Don’t even try and make it creepy, we do glutes together man, it’s why we’re the best asses in the cast. Up top!” Anthony exclaimed, holding his hand up towards the picture as if pretending to high five you or something—the interviewer timidly gave him a high five.

Sebastian was next as you (and everyone) watch his eyes flicker and grin that was more of a smirk spread across his cheeks, “that’s definitely y/n.” He assumed instantly. “Would’ve been able to tell you that blindfolded.”

“But—“

“I’d have just sensed her.” Sebastian giggled.

Chris Evans was next—a grin picked up on his face immediately, eyes trained on the photo of you and he ran a hand over his beard, lightly biting his lip (HEELLLOOO????)

“That’s Y/n.” Chris stated confidently, smirking lightly and the camera caught some of the team in line of sight exchange raised eyebrows.

The fifth clip was of Brie Larson who was being interviewed on some sort of premiere event again—presumably or her (marvellous) movie, Captain Marvel, smiling at the interviewer.

“Out of all of the people on the Marvel Cast, those who you’ve met, do you have a favourite out of them?” The interview questioned.

“I’m not really one for favourites but I would definitely say I’m closest to Y/n! She’s—she’s just so lovely and funny and she’s like a ray of sunshine, honestly. She’s been a great help in the filming process as well, she coached me through everything with so patience—I would’ve strangled me if I was her, but no, she just had that adorable smile on her face. She’s truly an amazing person and a better friend than I thought possible.” Brie answered enthusiastically with a soft smile.

“Awwww! We love to hear that—are any of the rumours about her true?”

Brie blinked, seeming taken aback for a brief moment— “Yes she does smell amazing, she’s always effortlessly beautiful, she’s unfailingly hilarious and yes no one in this world deserves her. But like. . if she’s open to it,” Brie paused, winking at the camera and making a call me sign with her hands and mouthing the words with a flirty grin.

The sixth clip was of you, Tom Holland, RDJ, Paul Bettany, Zoe Saldana and Pom Klementieff on Jimmy Kimmel, tasked with drawing your characters. The clip started just as you turned around the drawing of your character and well, it was actually surprisingly good in your own opinion—the audience immediately erupted into loud and obnoxious cheers.

“As great as that is, love, it still doenst capture the extent of your beauty.” Tom Holland, who was sat to your left, grinned cheekily at you and the audience practically shouted and hooted.

“Would anything ever?” Zoe shot back from your right side, twirling a lock of your hair affectionately and smiling as she leaned against you.

“I sincerely doubt that anything could.” RDJ piped up, giving you an unapologetic grin when you looked over at him with fond exasperation as the crowd was practically inconsolable in their glee and enthusiasm, shouting out your praises. “Give it up for sunshine, people. Our gorgeous ray of sunshine!”

“I—“

“They are quite right, Y/n.” Paul Bettany spoke over Jimmy who was obviously going to try and calm down his crowd.

The seventh clip started playing: it was a clip taken from Jacob Batalon’s story, clearly in a party setting—the video showed you and Zendaya in the centre of the dance floor, everyone around you clearly watching you both as you danced up against each other to the sounds of Yeah! by Usher.

“Mate I think your girls about to be stole.” The voice of Tom’s friend, Harrison, sounded from beside Jacob and presumably Tom himself and to empathise Harrison’s words, Jacob zoomed in on your faces, wide grins of ecstasy, and the way Zendaya was admiring you.

“Right in public as well, the scandal.” Jacob cackled.

The eighth clip was an interview of Chris Evans and McKenna Grace (you adored that little girl to pieces). The two of them were answering the ‘Webs Most Searched Question’s’ together.

“Who was.. Chris Evans, date at the Oscars?”

McKenna immediately ooed, smiling teasingly and Chris laughed from beside her.

“This is getting juicy!”

“Well, it was my mom one year and then my sister last year—“

“He wishes it was Y/n though.” The little girl laughed with a beaming smile on her lips and you, present time, arched a brow.

Chris bashfully chuckled with a smile and you swore you could see a genuine red hue on his cheeks, “I mean—it’s Y/n. Anyone would be happy to go with her.”

“I would be!” McKenna excitedly exclaimed as she grinned so sweetly you were now going to make sure you took this sweet child with you to the Oscar’s, Chris seemed to melt as well, recovering from his brief flustered moment.

The ninth clip was Sebastian and Anthony reading out their thirst tweets in a Buzzfeed interview, the clip started as Sebastian was pulling out a tweet from the large bucket.

He read it to himself and blushed faintly, Anthony’s eyebrows practically reaching his forehead as he tried to lean over and read it but Sebastian jokingly shoved him back.

“Oh for—That scene where (Your Character) chokes baby Bucky out with her thighs, his—his head all up in there; the shit I would give to be her, I would give my soul, my fridge, my moms purse, my dads golf clubs. Please, sir. Put your face between my legs like you did Y/n.”

By the end of the tweet, Sebastian had a deeply awkward and slightly perturbed look on his face and Anthony cackled at his side.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he was more than happy with it being Y/n, wouldn’t change it even for your dads golf clubs.” Anthony laughed.

“That’s. . I’m gonna have to decline that, um, respectfully.” Sebastian spoke in regards to the tweet, ignoring Anthony.

In turn, Anthony ignored Sebastian as well and just dramatically kept winking at the camera.

The tenth clip was Cobie Smulders, who was being interviewed on some sort of carpet event, smile on her face as she spoke to the interviewer before her.

“How does it feel knowing that the lesbian community, myself included, are firmly rooting for your character, Maria and Y/N’s character (Your Character) to end up together?”

Cobie’s smile turned genuinely delighted, “I love it—we love it. Y/n and I actually have made so many PowerPoints and presented them to the Russo brothers, but alas. I do really want to end up with her—oops, sorry, wait. I really want my character to end with hers. . would be the appropriate wording. But I’m all for inappropriate if Y/n wants.”

Cobie jokingly bit her lip at the camera and you, watching the video, could not contain your laughter as the interviewer practically burst out with excitement.

The eleventh clip was a blooper from your filming of the avengers—you were standing next to Chris Hemsworth who had an arm around your waist, holding you to him as in the scene his character, Thor, flies the both of you away. But Chris quickly tugged you in front of him and began tickling you mercilessly, hysterical giggles falling from your lips as the people around you laughed as well.

“Chris, HAVE MERCY!”

“Aw, but I enjoy hearing your laughter. It’s a very pretty sound.” Chris laughed to himself, finally stopping his attack and letting you slump against his, back to his front. “I particularly like this as well.” He smirked down at you.

“CHRI—“

In the twelfth clip, you and Tessa Thompson were reading out thirst tweets together: “The feminine urge to fall asleep cuddled into Y/n’s boobs is too real, pls come here mommy.” You read out, giggling all the while.

“The urge is so strong.” Tess commented, nodding her add as she sneakily glanced at your chest with a innocent smile.

“Come here, baby.” You joked, laughing as you opened your arms for her and she practically leaped into them, resting her head on your chest.

“I’m living the dreams of millions right now and it feels amazing.” Tessa gloated jokingly, pulling away from you with only final squeeze and a little wink the camera caught.

“I concur.” You grinned back.

The thirteenth clip was you and Tom Hiddleston, talking with an interviewer on a carpet event. His arm was around your waist and both of you were wearing smiles greeting the interviewer.

“So, obviously, you both act in marvel movies, but not really close together! If you could, would you want to work more closely and have you characters be more involved?”

“I absolutely would.” Tom immediately replied with an honest, heartwarming smile. “And personally, it’s not even a fact of our characters being intertwined it’s more that working this fantastic woman beside me is a gift I have come to deeply cherish, truly it’s an honour. And I suppose, if our characters were to get involved, so to speak, that I would enjoy that because this is the y/n y/l/n, I’d be a mad man not to want that.” He finished charmingly.

You grinned, taking a bow, and both Tom and the interviewer laughed before that clip cut as well.

The fourteenth clip was at Comic-Con, mostly everyone on the cast had already been called out and taken their seats and then your name was called, the audience erupting into loud cheers.

Sebastian, who was sat next to your assigned seat, hopped and and jogged over to offer you his arm as you grinned and waved at everyone—the crowd screaming louder at his actions.

The screams only increased as Chris Evans and Don Cheadle got up to pull out your chair for you to sit down in—you pretended to swoon into Sebastian before kissing all of their cheeks and taking your seat.

“Where was the treatment for me?” RDJ joked.

“Man, they’re just whipped. But, like, who isn’t for Y/n?” Anthony stage whispered back to him and the crowd literally roared in excitement.

The fifteenth clip was Aaron Taylor-Johnson being interviewed with Lizzie for the Age of Ultron press, most probably.

“So, Aaron, obviously your character—spoilers, sorry—isn’t with us anymore but if you had the chance to explore Pietro more, who would you have wanted to explore a romance with?”

“(Your Character) definitely, Y/N.” Aaron answered with a little sheepish grin at the speed and Lizzie giggled into her palm.

“I’m not making fun, I agree, for myself.” Lizzie commented unprompted.

“Why is that?” The interviewer questioned.

“Why—mate, I think it’s pretty obvious. Y/n is such a stunning person, inside and out, I would have loved to—and obviously her character is extremely sick and I’m certain the relationship between her and Pietro would’ve been the stuff of legends but. . come on, Y/n Y/l/n is my real reason.” Aaron joked.

“Get your own girl, she’s mine.” Lizzie glared.

There were still many minutes left of the video left and that alone astounded you; overcome with cackles, you forwarded the video the your Marvel groupchat—so yall bitches like obsessed with me or sum 🥰🥰🥰

Btw The Thing She Couldnt Ignore Was Someone Calling Her Out For Saying Anti-depressants/hormone Therapy

btw the thing she couldn’t ignore was someone calling her out for saying anti-depressants/hormone therapy are only perscribed by lazy doctors

I was in line at Aldi and this girl with two toddlers in front of me had her card declined and she looked so fucking sad and said “let me call my husband real quick” and it was only 18 dollars, so I just paid for it, and she was very sweet and then as she walked off, the lady behind me said `”You know that was probably a scam, right?” and like, even if it was, like what a sad fucking scam, right? 18 dollars at the Aldi. If you’re “scamming” me for some Tyson chicken and apple juice and cauliflower, then just take my fucking money. 

“A scam” people are fucking wild.  

Same dude same.

Between Cooper's opening scene and Hancock's opening scene, I can't pick a favourite.

If they ever met that ham off would be immense.

Ghouls need the following:

A Cool Hat. (Tricorn vs Cowboy hat).

A schtick, a gimmick, a persona. (Colonial King of the Zombies vs Good Sheriff gone bad).

A Signature Gun (Sawed off Shot-gun vs Whatever Coops' cool as fuck boom stick is).

A Signature Meele Move (Bowie Knife in the gut vs The Lasso).

Tragic Backstory (Naturally, everyone has one in the wastes but you gotta up the ante for Ghouls).

A Drug Problem (What's in the vials?!)

A Sassy/Sarcastic Attitude towards their Vaultie. (It's bonding to drag your Vaultie across the wasteland in a choke-hold ok? It IS--).

A Dramatic Opening Scene. (I was won over both times, love at first sight, that's my wasteland husband right there---)

Big Dad Energy (...Ok.)

YESSSSS. The TV show has reawakened big love for ghouls

♰ character practice ༻ C. HOWARD.*ೃ˚

 Character Practice C. HOWARD.*
 Character Practice C. HOWARD.*

➻ masterlist. ➻ buy me a coffee!

CW ➻ beside a mentioned fight with a gulper i don't think there's any warnings ⋆ does not contain spoilers for the show! ⋆ enemies to lovers trope ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR COOPER BTW! PLEASE SEND ME SOME!

AUTHORS NOTE ➻ the show has left me DESPERATELY needing this man cause OHMYGOD HAVE YALL SEEN HIM????? anyways here's a little something to hopefully hold y'all over while i work on something longer 😁. WC ➻ 400~.

 Character Practice C. HOWARD.*

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

 Character Practice C. HOWARD.*
 Character Practice C. HOWARD.*

the unforgiving sun that was beating down on you was starting to get to you, along with your drenched clothes. that, and the damn annoying cowboy standing in front you. "wipe that damn smirk off your face before i do it for you." you grunt as you take off one of your boots to pour water out of it.

to say that the fight with the gulper had ended well, wasn't how you'd word it. obviously he thought it went just fine, no injuries and the creature was dead.

only he had not been dragged into the gross lake by his boot like you had, drenching every inch of you with irradiated muddy water. by the time you had driven your machete through the creature you had been fully submerged, and good lord did you hate it.

he scoffs, that stupid fucking smirk still on his lipless skin. “what made you think you can talk’to me like that?” he drawls, both humor and an underlying challenge in his tone.

you grunt, throwing your soaked boot on the ground before pulling the other off and chucking it. “you think you’re hot shit huh? just cause you're not drenched?” your fingers working on getting rid of your jacket. you peel the gross fabric off of your arms and throw it down beside you.

he snickers, intense eyes watching you strip down to nothing but a dirty white tank that's become mostly see through due to the water and your pants. he says nothing though, merely standing there as he leans against a tree, watching you.

you briefly look up at his silence, catching the look in his eyes before returning your eyes to your soaked clothes as you hang them on some branches. good lord, you couldn't decide if you wanted to smack that smirk off his face or kiss it..

 Character Practice C. HOWARD.*

i will be adding on to this soon and make it into a full thing! i loove me a good enemies to lovers fic 🤭

TAGLIST — @live-logs-and-proper @looonytooons @seeingstarks TAGLIST IS OPEN!


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