PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader
WARNINGS: no use of y/n
GENRE: best friends to lovers, fluff
SONG INSPIRATION: breathin by ariana grande
WORD COUNT: 889
REQUESTED: yes
navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist
it was a warm evening, the kind that made the air feel soft and lazy, perfect for lounging in the comfort of josh’s apartment. you were both sprawled out on his couch, a half empty pizza box on the coffee table, the tv playing some random show that neither of you were really paying attention to.
josh sat beside you. one leg tucked beneath him as he scrolled aimlessly through his phone. his face was lit by the soft glow of the screen, there were moments, like now, when it was hard to ignore your feelings for him.
josh suddenly broke the silence with a snicker. “hey, do you remember that stupid pact we made in high school?”
you blinked, glancing over at him. “uh, which one? we made a lot of stupid pacts.”
he laughed. “true, but i’m talking about the ‘if we’re both single at 40, we’ll get married and have a baby’ one.” he set his phone down, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “we were such dorks.”
caught off guard you looked up at him wide eyed, “yeah, we were. but, you know… it wasn’t the worst idea in the world.”
josh raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly with a teasing grin. “oh, really? so you’re telling me you’re still down for it?”
you laughed, trying to play it cool despite the sudden warmth creeping up your neck. “i mean, if we’re still single at 40, why not? you’d make a decent backup plan.”
“decent?” he scoffed, pretending to be offended. “i think i’d be a pretty great backup plan, thank you very much.”
you rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. “okay, fine. you’d be a great backup plan. happy?”
josh leaned back against the cushions, crossing his arms with an exaggerated nod. “much better.” there was a pause, and then, in a quieter voice, he added, “i’m serious, though. you think you’d actually go through with it?”
the playful mood shifted just a little, enough to make you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. he wasn’t looking at you, his gaze focused somewhere on the tv screen, but his jaw was tight, like he was waiting for your answer.
you swallowed, your heart picking up speed. “i mean… yeah. i think i would.” you hesitated, then forced a light laugh. “assuming we’re both still single by then. which, you know, probably won’t happen.”
josh didn’t laugh this time. instead, he turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours. “but if we were? you wouldn’t mind… being with me?”
your pulse raced, you felt a strange mix of excitement and panic building inside you. was this it? was he finally–?
“well…” you shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “you’re not the worst option out there.”
his expression softened, and for a moment, the usual teasing glint in his eyes faded, replaced by something warmer. more serious. “good to know.”
there was a beat of silence, and then josh leaned forward, his tone shifting back into playful territory. “but if we’re going to go through with this, i need some assurances.”
you furrowed your brow, intrigued despite yourself. “assurances? like what?”
“well, for one, if we’re having a kid together, i’m not doing all the midnight feedings by myself. you’re in this with me, 50/50.”
you laughed, relieved by the lighter tone. “deal. i’ll be there, half asleep and covered in spit up right next to you.”
“good,” he said, grinning again. but then, before the moment could pass, his voice softened again. “but, you know… i don’t think we’ll need to wait until 40.”
you froze. the words hung between you.
your stomach flipped as your eyes searched his, wondering if you’d heard him right. “what… what do you mean?”
josh hesitated, his fingers tapping nervously against his leg, finally, he let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, looking away for just a second before meeting your gaze again.
“i mean…” he swallowed hard, his voice a little shaky now. “i don’t know why we’d wait that long when… when maybe i’ve been kind of hoping this whole time that we wouldn’t need a ‘backup plan.’ you know?”
your heart was pounding in your chest, your mind racing to catch up with what he was saying. “josh, are you saying–?”
he cuts you off, his smile small but real. “i like you. i really like you. more than just best friends. and i know it’s risky and maybe i’m an idiot for bringing it up now, but… if you feel the same way, i’d rather not wait until we’re 40.”
for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. you’d imagined this scenario a hundred times, but now that it was happening, you didn’t know what to say.
so instead, you leaned forward, your heart in your throat, and kissed him.
The kiss started gently, almost hesitant, as if you were both feeling your way through unfamiliar territory. But when Josh’s hand lifted to cup your face, the connection shifted, growing more intense as all of your worries seemed to fall away. After a few lingering moments, you parted, breathless and a little stunned, eyes wide as you stared at each other in quiet disbelief.
“so…” you whispered, your forehead resting against his. “no backup plan, then?”
PAIRING: josh washington x actress!reader
WARNINGS: no use of y/n
GENRE: angst / fluff
SONG INSPIRATION: i love you, im sorry by gracie abrams
WORD COUNT: 9.7k
REQUESTED: yes
navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist
you had been waiting anxiously for a callback for the big film you’d auditioned for.
it was the kind of audition you left feeling half giddy, half sick to your stomach, replaying every line in your head like you were your own worst critic. was it good enough? did they notice the slight crack in your voice during the emotional scene? and why did you nervously laugh when they said, “thank you for coming in”?
every message and call since had you hurtling towards your phone. it was becoming a bit ridiculous, really. the first couple of days, it was exciting. you’d get a text notification and scramble to check it, only to be greeted by spam.
you’d sigh, deleting it quickly, before going back to refreshing your email.
this was a recurring thing, it was starting to piss you off.
the moment your phone buzzed, you almost tripped over your own feet to grab it. but there it was: the dreaded unknown number you’d seen three times today. you stared at the screen, feeling your heart deflate. “i don’t want to renew my car’s extended warranty!” you groaned into your pillow.
by day four, you were convinced your phone was mocking you. it sat there, silent, while you tried to distract yourself with literally anything. you started scrolling through social media, but every post was about someone else’s big break, and you found yourself glaring at your screen.
“oh, of course, you booked a role,” you muttered, jealously eyeing a friend’s celebratory post about a commercial gig. “good for you, toothpaste ad girl.”
you even tried taking a walk, thinking the universe might be kinder if you weren’t obsessing over it. the park definitely slowed your mind as you watched the ducks, glancing over to the family happily laughing about anything and everything.
it’s crazy the difference in your lives, but even though you didn’t know them, you wished for them to keep their happiness even with how you were feeling right now.
by the end of the week, you were practically glued to your phone, sitting at the edge of your couch. you’d made yourself a cup of tea to calm your nerves, but it had gone cold hours ago, untouched.
and then it happened.
your phone lit up, and this time, it wasn’t your mom or a scam call or a text about household essentials. it was your manager’s number flashing on the screen. you grabbed the phone, nearly dropping it in your haste.
“hello?!” you answered, a little too loudly. you winced, immediately trying to play it cool. “oh, i mean, hey! what’s up?”
there was a pause on the other end, the kind that had you holding your breath. then your manager’s voice crackled through, sounding oddly chipper.
“guess who just booked the role?”
you let out a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. “are you serious?! i got it?!”
“you got it!” your manager confirmed, laughing. “they loved your audition. said you brought a lot of… unique energy to the role.”
you frowned for a split second. unique energy? what did that even mean? but you didn’t have time to dwell on it because the excitement bubbling up inside you was too overwhelming. you started pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of your feet.
“oh my god, oh my god!” you shouted, completely losing any semblance of chill. “this is huge! this is– wait, you’re not messing with me, right? because if this is a prank, i swear i will–”
“relax,” your manager interrupted, sounding amused. “i promise, it’s the real deal. bob washington’s production company called me directly. they want you on set next week.”
“bob washington?” you echoed, your eyes widening. “like… the bob washington? he’s producing it?”
your heart was thudding harshly in your chest. you nearly dropped the phone, switching it to your other hand as you ran a nervous hand through your hair. bob washington. legendary producer, hollywood royalty, and a man known for creating some of the most iconic films of the last decade.
“yup,” your manager confirmed, clearly revelling in your reaction. “they’re calling it his biggest project in years. high budget, a-list cast, the works. they wanted someone fresh and dynamic for your role, and, well... you knocked it out of the park.”
“oh my god,” you breathed out, sinking onto your couch. your legs felt like jelly, and you were pretty sure your pulse was now audible. “i can’t believe this is happening. i can’t– this is insane!”
“i know, right?” your manager agreed, sounding almost as excited as you. “this is the kind of project that could change everything for you. it’s going to be intense, but it’s exactly the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”
you could hardly sit still, feeling like you might burst out of your skin from the rush of adrenaline. “okay, so… what happens next? do i need to do anything? when do i start?”
“calm down,” your manager laughed. “i’ll send over all the paperwork today, and you’ll need to sign off on it. but you’re officially set to start next week. first day is monday. they want you on set early for wardrobe and a quick read through.”
“monday?” you echoed, eyes widening. “that’s in, like, three days!”
“yup,” they replied casually. “showbiz waits for no one, especially when bob washington is at the helm. so take the weekend to get your head straight and be ready. oh, and maybe do some research on the other cast members. you’re going to be working with some big names.”
you nodded, even though they couldn’t see you, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “okay. okay, i can do this.”
“that’s the spirit,” your manager said, their tone turning a bit softer. “this is your big break. you’ve earned it. go get ready to blow everyone away.”
“thank you,” you managed to say, voice thick with emotion. “seriously. for everything.”
“don’t thank me yet,” your manager teased. “save it for after you’ve made it through the first week without fainting.”
you hung up, staring at your phone in disbelief. for a moment, you just sat there, letting the reality of it all sink in. you’d gotten the call. the role you’d dreamed of was yours and in a few short days, you’d be stepping onto a set unlike any you’d been on before.
your first day on set was a whirlwind, and calling it crazy would be a massive understatement.
you were beyond nervous, practically buzzing with a mix of excitement and fear. you’d changed your outfit at least five times that morning, scrutinising every detail as if your career depended on whether your shirt said “professional” or “i have no idea what i’m doing.” by the time you arrived, you were convinced they could see the nerves shaking through you.
but all your worries melted away the moment you stepped onto the lot. instead of the cold, judgmental stares you’d been bracing for, you were met with warm smiles and friendly greetings. the crew bustled around you, nodding and waving, making you feel like you were already part of the family. it was as if everyone had collectively decided that you belonged here, no questions asked.
“hey, you must be the new star!” a woman in a headset called out, grinning as she approached. “i’m sara, assistant director. welcome to the madness!”
you laughed, the tension easing just a bit. “that obvious, huh?”
“well, we did hear about you,” she replied with a wink. “bob’s been talking you up since the casting decision. he’s really excited about you joining the team.”
your stomach fluttered at the mention of bob washington. it felt surreal, knowing that a man of his status had taken notice of you. “i’m just hoping i don’t mess it up,” you admitted, trying to keep your smile steady.
“you won’t,” she said simply, squeezing your shoulder. “c’mon, let’s get you over to wardrobe. they want to do a final fitting before we start blocking your first scene.”
you nodded, following her through the maze of trailers and equipment. as you walked, you couldn’t help but take it all in. the towering sets, the clamour of voices, the scent of fresh coffee and sawdust hanging in the air. it felt like stepping into another world, one you’d only ever dreamed of being part of.
wardrobe was a flurry of fabric and pins, the team immediately setting upon you with expert hands, adjusting and perfecting your look. they chatted as they worked, making you laugh with their behind the scenes stories and gossip about past productions.
it was impossible not to feel at ease around them, and by the time they were done, you felt like you’d already made a few new friends.
stepping out of the trailer in your costume with a newfound confidence. taking a breath before meeting up with sara.
“looking good,” sara called over, giving you a thumbs-up. “ready for your first scene?”
you took a deep breath, the nerves settling into something steadier, like anticipation. “ready as i’ll ever be.”
“great! we’ll do a quick run through on set, and then we’ll start filming.”
you followed her to the soundstage, where the set was already in full swing. cameras were being adjusted, lights were positioned just so, and the director was deep in conversation with the cinematographer. the air buzzed with energy, and for a moment, you felt like a small cog in a very big machine.
but then bob washington himself appeared, striding across the set with purpose. he looked exactly as you’d imagined. a tall, silver-haired man with an aura of calm confidence, like he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.
he spotted you instantly, breaking into a broad smile as he approached. “there she is!” he said warmly, extending a hand. “our newest star. i’m so glad you could join us.”
you shook his hand, hoping he couldn’t feel the slight tremble in your fingers. “thank you, mr. washington. this is… incredible. i’m really honoured to be here.”
“please, call me bob,” he insisted, waving away the formality. “and the honour is ours. i’ve got a good feeling about you, you’re exactly what this film needs.”
the praise made your cheeks heat up, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “i’ll do my best to live up to it.”
“i know you will,” he said confidently. “now, let’s get you into position. i want you to feel comfortable, so if you need anything, just let us know..”
as bob walked away to speak with the director, you took your place in front of the camera for the first time. the lights were hot, the crew was watching, and the nerves threatened to bubble up again. but then you remembered the way everyone had welcomed you, the genuine smiles, and bob’s encouraging words. you took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders back, settling into the moment.
“all right, everyone, quiet on set!” the director called out. “we’re ready for the first take.”
the set fell silent, and you felt the weight of it, the anticipation hanging in the air. you were about to speak your first line, to step into this role that you’d fought so hard for.
and for the first time all day, you didn’t feel nervous. you felt ready.
“action!” the director shouted.
it was the second week of filming when you first met josh. he strolled onto set with his dad, cutting through the chaos of cameras and crew with an easy confidence, like he’d done this a million times before. you hadn’t known what to expect, you’d heard people whisper. the washington name came with a lot of preconceived notions, but when he flashed that wide, boyish grin at you, all your assumptions melted away.
josh was nothing but lovely from the start. he introduced himself with a playful smirk and a handshake that lingered just a moment longer than necessary. “and you are?” he asked, his eyes bright with curiosity, like he already knew your name but wanted to hear you say it.
you gave it, trying to keep your own smile polite and professional, but it was hard not to be charmed by the way he looked at you. “nice to meet you, josh.”
“trust me,” he replied, leaning in slightly, voice dropping to a low whisper, “the pleasure’s all mine.”
from that moment on, josh was a regular presence on set, always finding his way over to where you were between takes. he’d crack jokes, compliment your performance, and offer you his hoodie whenever the chilly air left you shivering.
it wasn’t exactly a secret that he liked you. it was there in the way he lit up when you entered a room, the way he leaned closer when he talked to you. he was flirty, sure, but never in a sleazy way. it was sweet, almost shy at times, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck that you just might be interested in him too.
one afternoon, you found yourself sitting together at the edge of the set, the sun dipping low behind the trees. most of the crew had wrapped for the day, the noise dying down to a soft murmur as everyone packed up. josh sat close enough that your knees were almost touching, a faint smirk on his lips as he handed you a coffee he’d picked up from the food truck.
“figured you might need a pick me up,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement. “you looked like you were about to fall asleep standing up during that last scene.”
you laughed, taking the cup from him gratefully. “wow, so i’m that obvious, huh?”
“only to someone who’s paying attention,” he teased, nudging your shoulder with his. he took a sip of his own drink, then glanced sideways at you, his expression softening. “you’ve been killing it, by the way. i know everyones been super impressed.”
you felt a blush rise to your cheeks, caught off guard by the compliment. “thanks, josh. that means a lot.”
he was quiet for a moment, watching you with a soft look in eyes. “you know,” he said slowly, like he was testing the waters, “i’ve never really seen someone fit in so quickly. it’s like you’ve been a part of this cast forever.”
“i could say the same about you,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “you’ve practically become one of us, and you’re not even in the movie.”
he chuckled, the sound low and warm. “yeah, well, maybe i just like hanging around you.”
there it was. that flirty charm that made your pulse quicken every time. you tried to play it cool, leaning back and giving him a teasing smile. “is that so?”
josh’s grin widened, but then he looked down, almost sheepish. “yeah,” he admitted softly, and for once, he didn’t sound like he was trying to impress you. it was just honest. “you’re different, you know? in a good way.”
you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a loud voice called out from across the set. “josh! we need you over here for a second!”
he sighed, rolling his eyes but standing up anyway. “duty calls,” he said, but before he walked away, he turned back to you, taking a small step closer. “let’s hang out after this. just us,” he suggested, his tone hopeful.
you couldn’t help but smile. “yeah,” you agreed, feeling a jolt of excitement you hadn’t felt in a long time. “i’d like that.”
josh’s smile was all teeth as he jogged off, giving you a quick wave before disappearing into the crowd. you watched him go. it was impossible not to feel something for him, the way he made you feel seen, special. you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too, or if it was just his natural charm.
by the time shooting was nearing its end, you’d formed the softest spot for josh. it wasn’t just the way he made you laugh or how he seemed to know exactly what to say to put you at ease.
it was the little routines you’d fallen into together, the kind that made it hard to imagine your days without him.
every morning, without fail, josh would show up at your trailer with your favourite drink in hand. he’d knock once and then let himself in with a bright, teasing grin. “good morning, beautiful,”
it didn’t matter how tired you were or how early the call time was. he'd always bring a bit of sunshine with him, and you’d find yourself smiling back even on your worst days.
it started with his playful affection. at first, his hands would land on your shoulders as a joke, squeezing them dramatically like he was an over the top masseuse. “rough night?” he’d ask with a wink, his fingers digging into the knots from the long hours on set.
but as the weeks went by, those joking massages turned into something more real. he’d work out the tension in your neck and back while the makeup artists did their work, his touch firm but gentle, the kind of attention that made you melt.
“careful, you’re going to put me out of a job,” one of the makeup artists would joke, glancing between the two of you with a knowing smile.
josh would just chuckle, his hands lingering a bit longer than necessary before he’d sigh dramatically when it was time for them to move on to your hair. “fine, fine,” he’d say, stepping back like he was truly reluctant to let you go. but then he’d slide into the chair beside you, threading his fingers through yours without a second thought, as if holding your hand was the most natural thing in the world.
he’d sit there contentedly, scrolling through his phone with his free hand, occasionally showing you a funny meme or a video he thought you’d like. he always had that wide smile on his lips, the kind that made it clear just how happy he was to be there with you. it was a kind of peace, a quiet connection that neither of you had to put into words.
you knew people noticed, and you didn’t mind. it was hard not to smile at the way he looked at you. the playful flirting had given way to something tender, something that felt a lot like the start of a relationship neither of you had fully acknowledged yet.
as your makeup artist stepped back and declared you camera ready, josh gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “you look amazing,” he said quietly, his voice low and sincere, all the teasing gone from his tone.
you turned to him, meeting his eyes. “thanks, josh,”
“i couldn’t have done it without my personal masseuse.”
he laughed, leaning closer so no one else could hear. “anytime,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “but, you know, you don’t have to wait until we’re on set for this kind of attention. we could... make it a regular thing.”
your eyes flicked up to meet his, and you saw it there. the unspoken question, the hope he was trying to play off as casual. you bit your lip to hide your smile, giving his hand one last squeeze before letting go.
“yeah,” you said softly, feeling the warmth bloom in your chest. “i’d like that.”
the last weeks of filming flew by in a blur, each day bleeding into the next. if you weren’t on set, you were out grabbing late night drinks and dinners with the cast or rehearsing lines together. it felt like you were constantly moving, your days filled with laughter. just pure fun with all your new friends..
well, most of them, anyway.
then there was olivia.
no matter how friendly you tried to be, it was like talking to a mirror. everything bounced back at you with a reflection of fake smiles and hollow laughter. she was sweet and bubbly when others were around, playing the role of best friend like it was written into her script. but the second you were alone, her expression would shift. like she couldn’t drop the mask fast enough.
you were in the middle of reapplying your lip gloss in the bathroom when the door swung open with a bang. olivia stormed in, her heels clicking sharply against the tile. she came to a stop beside you at the sink, her gaze briefly meeting yours in the mirror before she looked away, pulling out her compact and patted at her makeup.
for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her rummaging through her purse and the muted thump of music coming from outside. you kept your focus on your own reflection, but you could feel her presence next to you, heavy and expectant, like she was waiting for something.
finally, jessica let out a huff, a tight, forced laugh that seemed to come out of nowhere. “you know,” she said, her tone as sugary as ever but dripping with something darker, “it’s funny.”
“what is?” you asked, capping your lip gloss and glancing over at her.
she leaned in closer, the smile on her lips so thin it looked painful. “how everyone is obsessed with you.” her voice was sharp, each word pointed like the edge of a knife. “it’s almost impressive, the way you’ve got them all wrapped around your finger. i mean, what’s your secret?”
you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in her tone. “olivia, i’m not–”
“oh, spare me,” she snapped, dropping the sweet act entirely. her eyes narrowed, the fake friendliness dissolving. “don’t play innocent. you know exactly what you’re doing.”
a frown tugged at your lips, confusion mixing with a flicker of irritation. “i’m just here to do my job,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “if i’ve upset you somehow–”
“upset me?” jessica cut you off with a dry laugh, tilting her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “god, you really think you’re above it all, don’t you? just because everyone likes you right now doesn’t mean they always will.”
you took a step back, feeling the heat of her words. there it was. the real olivia, finally showing through the cracks of her perfect persona. “i’m not trying to compete with you, liv,” you said quietly. “we’re supposed to be a team.”
she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “oh, please. we both know this industry isn’t about teams. it’s about who shines the brightest. and right now, that’s you.” she snapped her compact shut and shoved it back into her bag with a sharp motion. “but don’t get too comfortable. you’re just the flavour of the month.”
you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. it would’ve been easy to snap back, to throw her own words in her face, but you knew that was exactly what she wanted. instead, you offered her a small, tight smile. “if that’s how you feel, then i’m sorry.”
her eyes flicked up to yours, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face before she quickly masked it. it was almost like she hadn’t expected you to be so calm, like she’d been gearing up for a fight you weren’t going to give her.
“whatever,” she muttered, but her voice was sharper now, laced with something bitter. she turned on her heel, strutting towards the door with a slow, almost mocking glance back over her shoulder. “enjoy this little fling with josh while you can,” she added, her tone practically dripping with disdain.
her smirk widening as she continued, voice dripping with bitterness. “he’s just being nice to you. it’s what he does– flirts a little, makes you feel good about yourself. you’re not the first girl to fall for it, and you definitely won’t be the last.”
you swallowed hard, but the sting was already spreading through your chest. it felt like she’d reached right in and found the one spot where you weren’t sure of yourself, digging her nails in just to see how much it would hurt.
“i give it a few weeks before he moves on to someone else,” jessica added, her tone almost singing now, like she was savouring the taste of the words. “i’m sure he’ll find another little pet project soon enough.”
she turned and strutted out, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving you standing there in the echoing silence. you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hands gripping the edge of the sink so tightly your knuckles turned white. you tried to shake it off, to tell yourself that she was just being petty, but her words had landed right where they were meant to.
you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. maybe you weren’t special. maybe you were just another girl caught up in josh’s charm, another temporary distraction for him to play with before he got bored.
as you walked back out to rejoin the others, you felt the sliver of doubt she’d planted start to grow, worming its way deeper into your mind. you couldn’t shake it, her words playing on a loop, biting and bitter.
you’re not the first girl to fall for it, and you definitely won’t be the last.
you stepped onto set and josh looked up immediately, his grin spreading across his face as soon as he caught your eye. it was like the whole room disappeared for him, like you were the only person he wanted to see. for a split second, you felt the warmth of it wash over you, the easy comfort you’d come to crave.
and then that sliver of doubt dug deeper, twisting painfully. you frowned, forcing yourself to look away as you made your way to where you were supposed to be, brushing him off without a word. you could feel his gaze follow you, his smile faltering, slipping away like he couldn’t quite understand what had changed.
i give it a few weeks before he moves on to someone else.
olivia’s voice echoed in your mind, harsher now, louder. you clenched your jaw, eyes fixed on the ground as you took your mark. you didn’t dare look back at him, even as the silence stretched on and you knew he was still watching, trying to catch your eye.
you distanced yourself from him for the last few days of filming. it wasn’t something you planned, but every time you saw him, olivia’s words clawed their way back to the surface, sharp and jagged, cutting into whatever fragile hope you had left.
you started to lock your trailer door in the mornings, sitting in the too quiet space with your heart pounding in your chest. your stylist team exchanged concerned looks behind your back, their hands moving a little more gently through your hair, as if they could sense the storm you were holding in.
the pain gnawed at you, raw and relentless. how could you be so stupid? you thought. of course this was how it would end. he was josh washington, the son of a hollywood icon, used to getting whatever he wanted. he could have anyone, and you’d been foolish enough to think you were different. that you were something more than a temporary distraction.
you were angry, but mostly at yourself. angry for letting your guard down, for believing that the way he treated you meant something real. it hurt in a way you hadn’t expected, a dull ache that pulsed through your chest every time you saw him across the room.
and when you did see him, he looked just as lost. his usual bright smile had dimmed, replaced with a soft, uncertain look that he reserved only for you, like he didn’t quite know what he’d done wrong but was desperate to fix it. you tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible. they always found you, pleading silently for you to come back, to talk to him, to let him in.
but you couldn’t. not now. not when you were convinced it had all been a lie.
on the final day of shooting, you pulled away from your friends as they gathered for one last photo, your throat tight with the effort of holding back tears. you forced yourself to look up, and there he was, standing across the room, watching you. the look on his face broke you a little more. a mixture of confusion, sadness, and something you couldn’t quite place, something that made you want to run to him and pull him close, even now.
he tried to give you a small, sad smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. it was like he was holding out an olive branch, unsure if you’d take it. your heart twisted painfully, the urge to just say screw it almost overwhelming.
you debated for a second, the weight of it all crashing down on you. then, you managed the briefest of smiles, a tiny, strained thing that faded almost as soon as it appeared. it was all you could give him. and when you turned to leave, there was a tug, a pull from you to him.
the door closed behind you, and you didn’t look back.
a year passed, and life moved on. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. you stayed in touch with the friends you’d made on set, the group chat still active. but it wasn’t the same, not without him.
you’d started to make a name for yourself in the industry, your social media blowing up when the announcement came that you’d be starring in a new film. the feedback was overwhelmingly positive, fans excited to see you. it should’ve felt like a triumph, something to celebrate, but every time you saw the comments or got a congratulatory message, there was a hollow ache you couldn’t shake.
you tried to fill the void with dates. new people, new places. but none of them went past the first dinner or drinks. you laughed and made small talk, but it always felt forced, like you were going through the motions. you kept telling yourself it was because you were busy, too focused on your career to make time for anything serious.
but that wasn’t the truth, and you knew it. you missed him. you missed josh. the way he’d made you feel, the way you clicked from the very first moment. it was something you’d never had before and hadn’t found since, and it haunted you more than you wanted to admit. you hated how you left things, but the thought of facing him, of looking him in the eyes and seeing what hurt you caused. it terrified you.
you sighed, leaning back in the vanity chair as your makeup artist lined your lips with whatever product she was using. it felt good to be back in the routine of it all. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfortable rhythm of the brushes, the gentle hum of conversation around you.
your playlist played quietly in the background, filling the silence with a mix of your favourite songs. and then, it shifted to something different, a song that made your chest tighten painfully.
the one that used to play in his car, the one he’d sing along to, off-key and grinning as he’d turn up the volume just to make you laugh. you opened your eyes, staring at your reflection in the mirror.
the smile you’d been wearing slipped away, replaced by something softer, sadder. the makeup artist paused, noticing the change in your expression.
“you okay?” she asked gently, her hand hovering near your shoulder.
you forced a small, tight smile. “yeah,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m fine.”
but as the song played on, you realised just how untrue that was. you weren’t fine, and you hadn’t been since the moment you walked away from him.
there wasn’t time to dwell on it, not when the makeup artist was stepping back to admire her work, giving you a final nod of approval before you were whisked away to get dressed. you were guided behind a privacy screen where a small army of stylists and assistants waited with your gown.
it was a process, the kind that required several hands, gentle tugs and tucks, and lots of patience. you held your arms up as they shimmied the dress up your body, the fabric whispering against your skin as it slid into place. it was stunning. a custom made one, of course.
the bodice was sleek, hugging your curves in deep, midnight blue satin that seemed to shimmer under the light. it had a delicate sweetheart neckline, showing just the right amount of collarbone, and thin, elegant straps that wrapped around your shoulders.
as they adjusted the fit, you glanced down at the intricate beadwork that trailed from your waist, cascading into the full skirt like a waterfall of tiny, sparkling stars. the gown flowed out into a subtle train behind you, the kind that made you feel like you were gliding when you walked. it was a dress designed to make a statement, to turn heads and capture attention the second you stepped into the room.
but as they fluffed the layers and pinned a few final details, your mind drifted back to him. would he be there tonight? you hadn’t asked, too afraid of the answer. if he was there, would he even look at you? did he hate you now for leaving the way you did? and did you even want to see him, knowing it would bring back everything you’d tried so hard to bury?
the stylists stepped back, murmuring their approval, and you turned to face the mirror. for a moment, you barely recognized yourself. you looked beautiful, powerful even, like you belonged in the spotlight that was awaiting you.
you smoothed your hands over the satin fabric, taking a steadying breath. it was showtime. whatever happened tonight, whoever you might see, you needed to keep your head high.
“ready?” one of the assistants asked, offering you a bright smile as they held the door open.
you nodded, forcing a confident smile as you stepped out into the hall. “ready as i’ll ever be.”
but as you made your way to the venue, the sound of your own heartbeat seemed to drown out everything else, a constant, pounding reminder that no matter how you looked on the outside, you were far from ready.
the second your heels touched the pavement, you were met with an explosion of blinding lights. flashes erupted from every angle, the paparazzi swarming you, desperate for the next big story. voices overlapped in a chaotic frenzy:
“look here! over your shoulder! who are you wearing tonight?”
you forced a smile, dazzling but rehearsed, turning slightly to give them a better angle as you adjusted the skirt of your gown. the cameras loved it, loved you. you could almost hear the clicks getting faster, the flashes coming quicker, and you knew by the looks on their faces that the photos would be everywhere tomorrow.
but your eyes weren’t on them; they were searching the crowd, scanning the sea of faces. you caught sight of your castmates just inside the venue, a familiar group gathered together in the warm light, posing for photos of their own. you watched as they laughed, their smiles wide and genuine. for a moment, you felt a pang of longing, you missed them, missed the easy camaraderie you’d once had.
you took a deep breath, lifting your chin a little higher as you made your way towards the entrance. the red carpet felt like it stretched on forever, every step heavy with the weight of anticipation. you could feel the eyes on you, not just from the photographers but from the crowd gathered behind the barriers. fans calling your name, reaching out with pens and posters. you waved, gave them that same bright smile, even as your stomach twisted into a knot.
you made your way over to the fans lined up along the barricade, the shouts of your name cutting through the noise. you couldn’t help but smile as you leaned in, reaching for the first outstretched poster.
“can you sign this?” a girl asked breathlessly, her eyes wide with excitement.
“of course,” you said warmly, scribbling your signature across the glossy paper before handing it back. you moved down the line, taking your time with each person, pausing to hold their hands and answer their rapid fire questions as best you could.
“what’s your favourite scene in the new movie?” someone yelled.
“can’t spoil it for you!” you teased, giving them a playful wink. “but you’ll love it, i promise.”
you paused when you saw a young teen, her cheeks wet with tears, clutching a phone case with your face on it. you knelt down a little, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with a gentle thumb.
“hey, you alright?” you asked softly, giving her a reassuring smile.
she nodded quickly, wiping her face with her sleeve. “i just… i can’t believe i’m meeting you.”
your heart melted a little at that. “well, i’m so glad you’re here,” you said sincerely. “you’re amazing. don’t forget that, okay?”
you hugged her quickly, the crowd erupting in cheers around you. when you pulled back, she was beaming, and it made the exhaustion you’d felt all day fade away. you moved on, taking selfies with everyone who asked, laughing and chatting. it was honestly one of the best parts of your night.
you took a deep breath, flashing one last smile at the crowd before stepping back. the fans waved and shouted their goodbyes, their faces lit up with joy, and you couldn’t help but feel the same joy in your own chest.
the red carpet felt endless beneath your feet, stretching out in front of you like a vivid trail leading you toward a thousand cameras, all flashing at once. it was chaos, but the good kind. the kind where you could almost feel the excitement buzzing in the air, like a collective anticipation.
the energy of the crowd was contagious, and you couldn’t help but smile, soaking in the moment as you made your way down the carpet, exchanging waves and greetings with familiar faces. it was all about the premiere, of course, but for you, it felt more like a reunion of sorts. a chance to reconnect with old friends and colleagues you hadn’t seen in a while.
you hadn’t gone more than a few steps when a voice broke through the noise.
“look at you! killing it out here!”
before you even had time to react, a warm hug pulled you in. ryan. a guy you’d worked with on a previous project, was grinning at you with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes. he stepped back to give you a once over, then mock pouted.
“you’re out here making me look like an amateur. you should’ve warned me.”
you chuckled, adjusting the hem of your dress as if it were the most dramatic thing in the world. “not true. you’re just not bringing enough sparkle to the table,” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow.
he raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down. “i’m just trying to keep up. but i gotta say– mission accomplished. you’re stealing the spotlight tonight.”
the photographer’s call broke through the banter, and with a flash of the cameras, you both struck a pose. you leaned in slightly, offering your best smiles as the clicking of the cameras. you could hear the photographer giving a quiet “perfect!” before they moved on to catch the next moment.
you gave him a quick wave and moved on, weaving through the throng of excited actors and industry folk, all basking in the glamour of the night. there was something intoxicating about it – the shared joy, the excitement, the way everyone seemed to be feeding off each other’s energy.
a few steps down, you spotted someone you didn’t know well but had met at industry events before. a woman whose laugh was as big as her personality. she waved as she caught sight of you, and before you could even offer a word of greeting, you were pulled into a warm, tight hug.
“is this your first premiere?” she asked, her voice bright with curiosity.
you smiled, shrugging a little. “no, but i’m still kinda freaking out. there’s just something about the flashing lights that makes me feel a little claustrophobic,” you admitted with a laugh.
she grinned, understanding exactly what you meant. “it’s like being in a fishbowl for a night, right? everyone’s looking at you, but you’ve got to own it. let’s have some fun with it!”
the cameras around you both clicked as you posed together, flashes going off so quickly you could hardly keep up. there was no rush, no pressure. just laughter and the easy chemistry that made you feel at home in the chaos. after a few more shots, you thanked her and kept moving.
the next few minutes blurred together, more poses with more familiar faces. a guy you’d met once at a party last year, a rising star in a rom com who was just starting to get their break through, a selfie with someone who had appeared in an indie film you adored.
it felt like an effortless stream of interactions, as if you were just hanging out with friends instead of being on a giant event.
but then, you noticed something. as you made your way down the carpet, the crowd around you seemed to dissipate. you didn’t know if it was your own sense of space or just the natural ebb of the event, but suddenly you found yourself alone. there was no one nearby, no familiar faces laughing or posing for pictures. just the sharp clicking of cameras and the hum of voices from the crowd.
the realisation hit you like a wave, and with it came the creeping tide of anxiety. your heart began to beat a little faster, the flashing lights growing brighter, the eyes of the photographers turning into an overwhelming pressure. it wasn’t just the cameras. it was the sheer number of people, all of them looking at you, all of them waiting for something, expecting something.
you tried to steady your breath, forcing yourself to smile through the nervous tightness that was starting to crawl up your chest. but it wasn’t working. the world seemed to be closing in, the noise around you getting louder, more suffocating.
and just when you felt like you might lose it, a hand settled firmly on your waist. before you could process what was happening, you were gently spun into someone.
your hands landed against the solid expanse of their chest, you looked up, you met josh’s eyes, his face soft with concern, a quiet understanding in his gaze.
"hey,” he said, his voice low, cutting through the madness. “you okay?”
the world slowed. his presence was the grounding force you needed, the anchor that pulled you back from the edge of panic. you inhaled deeply, feeling your heart rate slowly return to normal, the suffocating weight of the moment lifting.
“yeah...” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “i think i am now.”
you both turned back to the cameras, the bright flashes momentarily blinding you, but josh’s presence beside you grounded you. his hand, warm and firm around yours, tugged you gently, guiding you into a slow spin. the world around you seemed to slow as you turned, the cacophony of the red carpet fading into the background.
“isn’t she so beautiful, ladies and gents?” josh’s voice rang out, effortlessly confident, the words slipping out like a natural compliment, as though it was the simplest truth in the world.
all that was heard were cheers and whistles surrounding you.
you couldn’t help but laugh. a genuine, startled laugh, the kind that bubbled up from deep inside you. the sound echoed around you, and it felt like the air cleared for just a moment, like the weight of the night lifted. you stumbled slightly, your feet shifting against the plush carpet, and found yourself falling back against him.
his arms caught you instinctively, pulling you close. the warmth of his chest against your back, the steady pressure of his hand on your waist. you glanced up, meeting his gaze, and suddenly the world didn’t seem so big, it didn't feel so overwhelming.
but josh’s eyes, dark and intent, told you everything without a single word. there was something there. something unspoken, a silent intensity that left you breathless. it was in the way he looked at you, the way his lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile, and the way his thumb traced slow circles on your skin. his hand never left you, his touch steady, grounding you in the middle of the chaos.
you could feel the pull between you, magnetic, undeniable. the longing was palpable, the unspoken words that hovered between you both. it wasn’t just the physical closeness, the way your bodies fit together so naturally, or the way his hands held you with such ease. it was the way his eyes never strayed from yours, like he was trying to convey everything that words couldn’t.
in that moment, it was clear — everything you both needed was right here, in the quiet tension between a glance and a breath.
and for a fleeting second, you almost forgot about the cameras, the lights, the flashes. you almost forgot about everything and just stayed in that space, just the two of you, with the unsaid words hanging in the air.
it wasn’t long before you two made your way into the theater.
you followed josh inside. the world outside had momentarily faded away as the two of you found your seats, the lights dimming around you. the film was about to start, but there was no denying the tension between you.
as the opening credits rolled, you tried to focus on the screen, your own face staring back at you larger than life. it was surreal, seeing yourself up there, but despite the excitement, there was something else that kept drawing your attention away. josh.
you could feel his presence beside you, warm and steady. his leg brushed against yours, sending a small jolt through you. the whole theater could’ve been empty, and you still would’ve been hyper aware of him.
the movie played on, but you couldn't quite get lost in it. your heart raced, every subtle movement from josh had you second guessing your focus. his hand was now dangerously close to yours, just a few inches away. with every frame, your breath caught a little more, the anticipation mounting.
ever so slowly, josh’s fingers inched toward yours. you held your breath, hoping it wouldn’t be too obvious. but as he grazed the back of your hand, a little shiver ran through you. you turned your palm up ever so slightly, just enough for him to get the hint.
his fingers brushed against yours again, this time lingering for just a moment. your heart hammered in your chest, and you couldn't help the sly grin that tugged at the corner of your mouth. his eyes flicked over to you, a mischievous glint in them, before his hand fully settled in yours, fingers intertwining.
you both glanced at each other, and for a moment, the world outside of that theater vanished. the film could have been playing a thousand scenes, and neither of you would have noticed. the only thing that mattered was the warmth of josh’s hand in yours, the way he squeezed it gently.
by the time the credits rolled and the lights came up, you both were still sitting close, your hands now very obviously intertwined. there was a satisfied, playful grin on both your faces, a mutual understanding of what had just happened between you, and neither of you could stop the little spark of joy that flickered in your chest.
the crowd outside the theater had thinned, and there were only a few straggling onlookers left. the lack of paparazzi made the air feel lighter, more intimate. the flashing cameras, the constant eyes on you, had disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived, leaving only the steady presence of josh by your side. his hand was still firmly wrapped around yours, and though the world seemed to fall away, you couldn't help but feel the weight of all the whispered glances from the few people still lingering around.
you snuck a glance at him, and he caught it, his eyes meeting yours with a playful smile. you both walked in silence toward the exit, but the tension between you was thick. it wasn’t just the excitement from the night, or the high of seeing yourself on the big screen, it was something else. something you couldn’t quite name yet, but you felt it every time his fingers brushed against yours.
once you reached the parking lot, you turned to him. "do you want to come back to my place?" the words felt sudden, but they were honest. he raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk pulling at his lips, but he didn’t hesitate.
"yeah, i'd like that," he said softly, his hand tightening around yours as you made your way to his car.
the drive was quiet but not uncomfortable. the radio hummed quietly in the background, but it was his presence that consumed your attention. every so often, you'd catch his eyes glancing at you, his face softening with a tenderness that made you feel both a little breathless.
when you reached your apartment, he pulled up to the curb and parked, smoothly shifting into neutral. before you could reach for the door handle, he was already there, opening it for you. his fingers curled around the edge of the door. he offered you his hand, helping you out. it was such a casual thing, but it still managed to pull a smile out of you, the kind that you had to look away to hide.
he walked alongside you to your front door, his presence warm against the cool night air. he waited patiently, a step behind as you fished your keys from your bag. you could feel his eyes on you, attentive but soft, like he was memorising this small moment. the lock clicked, and you pushed the door open, stepping inside and feeling the rush of warmth against your skin.
he stepped inside, his focus shifting to the family photos on the walls as he moved with unhurried steps. the silence felt heavy now, filled only by the click of your heels across the floor as you set your handbag on the counter. you could hear the quiet scuff of his shoes as he followed, moving closer, the distance between you shrinking with every breath.
josh stood in front of you, his eyes softening as he took in the tension on your face. he could see it. the way your brows furrowed slightly, the way your lips were pressed together. the worry was evident, and it made him feel an unfamiliar ache in his chest.
"hey," he said, his voice low and gentle, "what’s going on? you’ve been quiet ever since we got here." he took a small step closer, his eyes never leaving yours as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything.
you opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, trapped somewhere between confusion and guilt. what could you say? how could you explain the mess inside your head, the things that had been eating away at you for the past year?
you felt his presence growing stronger, like he was waiting for you to reach out, but you couldn’t. you didn’t know how to bridge the distance that had built up between you, even if it was only in your own heart.
“i– i don’t know how to say this.” your voice cracked slightly, betraying the emotions you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now.
josh tilted his head, concern deepening in his eyes. “you don’t have to explain anything if you’re not ready, but i'm here to listen if you are.”
his words, that small gesture of understanding, only made the pressure in your chest tighten. the last year had been filled with silence, each day spent wondering if you’d made the wrong choice. and now, standing before him, feeling the warmth of his presence, you were finally forced to confront the truth.
was it worth it to trust someone else's words over his?
“olivia said... she said some things about you. about us,” you began, your throat tight as you struggled to find the words. “i let her get into my head. and i chose to believe them. since i've seen past tabloids of you, and i just... i don’t know. it made me think maybe i was just another girl to you, josh. that i was nothing special.” the words were difficult to choke out, like each one took something from you.
you took a shaky breath, your voice thick with the emotion you’d been holding back for so long. “i know i should have talked to you, josh. i should’ve just asked you if it was true, if i was just another girl in a long line of flings. but i couldn’t bring myself to do it.” you looked down, your gaze fixed on the floor as you admitted the hardest part. “i was terrified. i was scared that if i asked, on the off chance that it was true, it would hurt even worse than believing the lie.”
josh’s expression shattered, he’d just realised how deep the wound went. he moved even closer, his hands sliding up to gently cradle your face, forcing you to look at him. “god, i hate that you felt that way,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “you should never have had to doubt us. i should’ve made sure you knew how much you meant to me. i’m so sorry.”
your chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears spilling over as you finally let yourself lean into his touch, the warmth of his palms grounding you in the moment. it was like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces of you together, the way his thumbs gently stroked your cheeks.
“i didn’t know,” you whispered, your voice raw. “i didn’t know if it was real, or if i was just something temporary for you.”
“it’s real,” josh said urgently, his forehead pressing against yours. “it’s always been real with you. and i should’ve done more to show you that. i’m here now, and i’m not letting go again.”
“i should’ve trusted you,” you whispered, the guilt bubbling to the surface. "but the way she said it, the way it all just seemed to line up... i thought maybe she was right. i thought maybe you were just... playing around." you swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. “i didn’t know what to think anymore. and i pushed you away.”
josh’s hands slid to your shoulders, his grip gentle but firm. “i get why you felt that way, but i’m not like that. i never have been with you.” his voice dropped, becoming more vulnerable. “i’ve been falling for you this whole time. and i know i messed up.
i didn’t fight hard enough for us when i should’ve.” he sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i should’ve told you how i felt. i shouldn’t have let you think i was anything like those guys. i’m not.”
you stood there, trying to process everything he was saying, the rawness in his words hitting you. the walls you had built around yourself started to crack, the defences you’d spent a year erecting finally starting to crumble in the face of his honesty.
“i don’t want to be just another fling, josh,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “i need to know i mean something to you.”
“you do,” he said, his voice almost pleading now. “you mean everything to me.” his hands slid down your arms, holding onto you with a desperate kind of tenderness. “i’ve been stupid, letting this distance grow between us. i never stopped caring about you. and i’m sorry for not saying it sooner. i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way.”
the air between you was thick, almost stifling, as if every unsaid word hung there, waiting. your chest rose and fell, breaths coming a little faster than they should. he looked at you, searching your face like he was trying to find the right thing to say, but couldn’t.
for a second, you just stood there, both caught in that in between place, uncertain, but wanting more than you were willing to admit. you could see the way his gaze flickered, the way his hands hovered by his sides, like he was debating whether to reach for you.
you took the leap first, stepping into him and pressing your lips to his. the kiss was simple but real, like a question and an answer all at once. he exhaled against your mouth, almost a sigh of relief, and his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.
when you pulled back, the tension melted away, replaced by something softer, almost gentle. he rested his forehead against yours, letting out a quiet laugh, almost like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “i’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered.
you smiled, feeling the weight of everything you’d been carrying start to lift. “me too,” you admitted. “but no more excuses, okay?”
he nodded, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “no more excuses,” he promised.
and with that, you kissed him again, letting yourself fall into it.
trusting that this time, you’d both make it count.
PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader
WARNINGS: no use of y/n
GENRE: fluff
SONG INSPIRATION: wait on me by rixton
WORD COUNT: 1.8k
REQUESTED: yes
PHOTO CREDIT: antihuntress
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the night was still young, laughter danced through the lodge, mingling with the crackle of the fire and the gentle hum of conversation.
everyone was gathered in the cozy living room, some lounging on the couches, others milling around. everyone had more or less run out of things to do, the winter cold outside forcing them indoors.
jess sat up with a grin that stretched across her face.
“you know what we should do?” she announced, drawing everyone’s attention. “spin the bottle!”
her suggestion was met with a chorus of mixed reactions. some groans, some chuckles, but eventually, everyone nodded in agreement. after all, it was either this or face the awkwardness of an uneventful night. it didn’t take long before everyone got into position, sitting in a circle on the floor around an empty bottle.
ashley was the first to spin. it slowed down, until it finally stopped with a dramatic thud. pointing directly at chris. the group erupted into laughter, the guys whooping as ashley’s cheeks turned a shade of red that almost matched the warmth of the fire.
chris, for his part, looked equally flustered, but he leaned in with a grin. the two shared a quick, somewhat awkward kiss, but the cheers and playful teasing from the group drowned out any embarrassment.
“okay, okay, let’s keep this going!”
sam was next. she spun the bottle, the glass spinning faster than it should have. it wobbled slightly before it slowed down and landed on emily. the room burst into cheers and whistles as the two girls shared a kiss, a short and sweet one. the guys were loud in their encouragement, while the girls rolled their eyes, trying not to let their smiles slip through.
they sat back down, teasing one another about it, but there was a noticeable shift in the air, a lightness that only grew as the game continued.
now it was your turn. the bottle sat in front of you, the room seemingly holding a collective breath as you reached out to spin it. your heart now beating faster, your hand brushed the glass, giving it a swift spin.
as it spun around the circle, the anticipation built. the seconds felt like hours as you waited, your eyes locked on the bottle as it slowed. finally, it came to a stop, pointing directly at josh.
the room erupted into a flurry of excited murmurs, teasing comments, and laughter. you could feel your cheeks flush as the eyes of the group turned to look at the two of you. josh just grinned from ear to ear.
“well, well, well, look who it landed on,” he teased, sitting up, raising an eyebrow. “guess you’d better come over here.”
you swallow harshly. everyone knew about your crush on josh. well, except for josh, that is. it had been a long-standing kind of mutual attraction that neither of you had dared acknowledge until now. you swallowed nervously, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your own lips.
with a deep breath, you crawled toward him, the motion feeling almost surreal as you closed the space between the two of you. the group was still watching intently, the tension in the air palpable. as you reached him, josh’s grin widened. he leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying the attention as he looked down at you.
“so, what are you going to do now?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, though there was a hint of something softer.
you rolled your eyes, trying to mask the flutter in your chest, but your voice came out just as playfully as you replied, “you’re enjoying this way too much.”
josh smirked, leaning in closer. “oh, you have no idea,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.
without thinking, without hesitating, you closed the distance between you and kissed him. it wasn’t a long kiss, but it was enough to send a rush of heat through your veins. josh’s lips were soft, his kiss gentle yet confident, like he’d been waiting for something like this just as much as you had.
the teasing, the laughter, the game. all of it melted away. it was just the two of you.
when you pulled back, you could feel your heart racing, your breath catching in your throat. the room had fallen into a stunned silence for a split second, and then, as if on cue, everyone burst into loud applause and whistles, their laughter filling the room.
you couldn’t help the shy smile that crept onto your face as you quickly crawled back to your spot, heart still pounding in your chest. josh watched you the whole time, his smile had softened at the edges, but the warmth in his expression hadn’t faded.
"if that’s you holding back, i’d love to see you go all in." josh said, his voice quieter this time, the playful tone now replaced with something a little more... serious.
you raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at your lips. "careful what you wish for, josh," you teased, "i might just take you up on that." it was hard to ignore the way his eyes lingered on you, or how your own seemed to be drawn to him, even now.
as the game continued, you couldn’t stop glancing at him, and you noticed he was doing the same. for once, you didn’t mind being caught staring. it was like you both knew what was happening, but neither of you had the courage to say it out loud. not yet.
the night had started to wind down.the game ended an hour ago, and everyone went off to do their own thing. the quiet of the house settled in, and there you were, sprawled on the couch with josh.
you were both half-watching tv, but mostly cracking jokes about how ridiculous the game had been earlier. you laughed, nudging him with your foot. he grinned and grabbed your legs, pulling them into his lap. as he started massaging your foot, you smirked and teased, “you’re such a dork, you know that?”
he grinned, not missing a beat. “says the person who faked a sprained wrist to get out of a thumb war that one time.”
you burst out laughing, tossing a throw pillow at him. “hey, i was being strategic.”
“strategic, my ass,” josh shot back, grabbing the pillow and tossing it back at you. “you’re just a sore loser.”
he smiled softly, his fingers going back to gently kneading the arch of your foot. neither of you said much, the room filled only with the quiet hum of the tv. it wasn’t about words. just the comfort of being close, soaking up the calm of each other’s presence.
you found yourself watching josh as he focused on his hands, his fingers gently working over your foot. the way his lips curved into a faint smile, the quiet care in his touch. it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before, but in this moment, it felt different. it felt like something just for the two of you.
finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter than usual. “you know,” you began, sounding almost hesitant, “i used to have a crush on you.”
josh glanced at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “used to, huh? so, what happened?”
you shrugged, trying to play it cool, but your chest felt lighter, your pulse picking up just enough for you to notice.
“i don’t know. i guess i never really saw the point in mentioning it. i felt kind of stupid, like what was the point of saying anything if you didn’t feel the same.”
josh’s grin softened, but his eyes were still locked on yours. “i don’t think it was stupid,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “i mean, i always thought you were pretty great.”
you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips. “oh, yeah? so, you did notice, huh?”
“of course i did,” he said, his voice playful. “how could i not notice you?”
you shifted on the couch, a soft warmth spreading through your chest. the conversation was still casual, but something felt different now, like a quiet shift in the air. something you’d kept tucked away, only just starting to surface.
"yeah, well," you replied, looking away for a moment, "i don't know. it was just one of those things. didn't want to make it weird, you know?"
josh shifted closer, his eyes not leaving yours. “i get it. but, honestly, i kind of wish i had known. because i, uh, had a crush on you too.”
you blinked, surprised. “wait, seriously?”
he shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "yeah, it was you, after all.”
surprise and excitement flooded you. "i had no idea, why didn’t you say anything?" you said softly, barely able to find your voice.
josh shrugged, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “i don’t know. i just didn’t think you’d feel the same way. i was kind of an idiot about it.”
that same silence hung between you two again, pressing down in a way that was hard to ignore.
“well,” you said softly, a smile creeping up on your face, “i don’t know about you, but i’m still kind of into you.”
josh laughed softly, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you. “well, that’s a relief,” he said, his grin turning a little lopsided. “because, uh, i’m still very much into you. like, borderline embarrassing levels of into you. think about writing your name in doodles sort of level.”
you couldn’t help but laugh, your cheeks heating up. “oh, so you’re the type to write my name in little hearts? good to know.”
“absolutely,” he shot back, a teasing glint in his eye. “but only in the fanciest fonts. you deserve nothing less.”
you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “wow, a man of high standards. i’m honoured.”
“you should be,” he said, leaning in just enough for his voice to drop to a playful murmur. “but seriously, i thought i’d blown my shot. turns out, i’m an idiot and lucky. quite the combo.”
“lucky is right,” you quipped, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart felt like it might melt. “so what now, mr. embarrassingly into me?”
josh grinned, leaning even closer. “now? now i make it very clear i’m not blowing my shot this time.” and with that, he pulled you into the kind of hug that made the world outside feel miles away.
his smile widened as he closed the last bit of space between you. “absolutely nothing.” and then he kissed you, soft and sweet at first, until you both started smiling into it, laughing gently against each other’s lips.
Another day, another Until Dawn rewrite by yours truly <3
I've got Rami Malek on the brain again so I decided to revise this old 2016 fic I wrote about Josh being accompanied by Reader in the shed (after his prank reveal). Changed a few things around and added stuff from the prologue, but all in all the plot's the same (except they're together)
Anyways enjoy!
......
"Hey, [y/n]. Got a special delivery for you."
Hearing the quiet giggles of the Washington sisters, you looked up from your phone and smiled upon seeing your boyfriend being held up by the two of them.
He looked plastered as hell and half-asleep, but his eyes were slightly open. The moment they landed on you, lopsided grin spread across his lips.
"[Y/n]...baby...?"
"Yes. It's me, Josh." With a chuckle, you put down your phone and assisted the girls in helping him lay on the sofa. You decided to let him rest on top of you, seeing as he already had his arms wrapped around your torso. "Jeez, so clingy, huh? How much did you drink?"
"Mhm...I forgot.." His words were slurred.
"Of course you did." Putting your arms around him, you lightly scratched at his scalp with your fingertips, hearing his hums of content as he looked to his sisters.
While Hannah left, Beth smiled back and took a picture of him being all cuddly with you, reminding herself to send to you later. After that, she finally left you both alone.
"They take good care of you."
"Yeah..they're..the best." Josh mumbled tiredly into your chest, hugging you tighter. "But 'm glad you're here...thank you for being by my side. I love you sooooooooooo much."
"Of course, Joshie. I love you, too." You chuckled, holding him close until he dozed off again, before you ended up falling asleep yourself, enveloped by the warmth of the cabin fire and the one you loved most.
He probably won't remember much of this in the morning, but that was fine.
For once, everything felt right in the world.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"[Y/n], honey? Baby? Sweetheart?"
Blinking, you returned to the cold and cruel present, looking to the man tied to the post.
"Yes, Josh?" You sighed tiredly, wiping the blood from the corner of your lip.
"I'm pretty cold. How 'bout we loosen these restraints a little and-?"
"I'm sorry, but...I don't think that's a good idea right now."
"What? I....I can't believe it. You would let those jerks do this to me?!! Your boyfriend? After all I've done for you?!!" Angrily, Josh tugged at his restraints, gnashing his teeth at you like some animal. "I feel hurt. Who does this to someone they love?!"
"First of all, I didn't tie you up. And second...you're not the only one who's gotten hurt tonight."
"If anyone deserves to feel hurt, it should be me! After what they did to my sisters..they had it coming."
As much as you wanted to snap at him for acting this way, you knew that he wasn't well, and getting angry right back wasn't going to make anything better.
Instead, you opted to look outside the shed, observing the snowfall while trying to ignore the sounds of him whining and struggling with the ropes.
Such sights used to calm your nerves, but now...it was nothing more than a grim reminder of how long and unforgiving this night has been, and how there's still a few hours until sunlight and rescue arrived.
How did you get here?
Well, it was supposed to be a reunion between friends.
You and Josh were still together after the horrible tragedy that befell his sisters exactly one year prior, and you were with him through the long days he spent trying to isolate himself, and the difficult nights he spent wishing he didn't wake up at all.
You stayed with him no matter what.
No matter how many times he tried pushing you away...you always stayed. And while he didn't express it as much as he wanted to, he appreciated it.
That's the only reason why he didn't subject you to the "prank" he had laid out for the rest of the group.
You knew his passion for film projects, having helped him with some small YouTube ones yourself. You knew that this year, he wanted to do something to "really bring the gang back together", and you let him be when he insisted on working alone.
God, why didn't you press him on what exactly this prank entailed?
Why didn't you pick up the signs that he was off his meds?
What he enacted was horrific beyond measure--a prank that you didn't even think he was capable of carrying out.
One that seemed so real that you were almost convinced that you lost him to a murderer.
When Chris came to you sobbing in remorse over how the "Psycho" tricked him into killing your boyfriend, you didn't know what to feel. You wanted to see the body to confirm it, but given his and Ashley's reactions..it wasn't worth scarring your eyes or mind over.
It left you unbelievably sad and numb, although you were left confused when through his blubbering, he admitted that the saw blade was rigged to kill Josh despite choosing to save him.
That was the first sign that you knew something was off.
You didn't know anybody that held a massive grudge against him to the point of rigging a trap to murder him only.
But only after Josh revealed everything to Chris, Ashley, Sam, Mike, and you....that's when it all made sense.
And you felt betrayed.
You couldn't believe he'd orchestrate this whole scheme behind your back.
How could you have been so naive and trusting?
You felt like you should have known what he was up to. The others gave you suspicious looks and even Mike wondered for a moment if you were an accomplice...but you weren't.
That was the truth.
You had no idea.
Now all you felt was lingering guilt and festering anger that this was Josh's twisted idea of "revenge" against the people who didn't even kill his sisters. Against people like Chris who didn't even know what happened until he woke up.
And in a way, you felt like it was against you for not waking him up in time to stop the prank that led to Hannah and Beth running out of the cabin.
No matter how many times he claimed you had nothing to do with it, you felt like he was punishing you, too.
So now, you, Chris, and Mike have taken him away from the others, to a shed where he couldn't hurt anybody. Apparently Jess was dead, and despite his insistence that he didn't kill her....Mike didn't believe a word he said, having seen her body firsthand in some mining elevator.
Then when he started making lewd comments about Chris and Ashley, both of the men were growing agitated, debating on whether to make him shut up by force or not.
Finally, you intervened before they could decide, offering to watch over him until sunrise. You're the only one who had a small chance to talk some sense into him and make him realize his mistakes.
Mike was reluctant to leave you alone with him, thinking he'll guilt trip you into letting him go, but you convinced him and Chris you'll be fine.
There were some...scary things you've seen out in the woods earlier, and the last thing you wanna do is leave Josh alone with them nearby.
Even after all the shitty things he did, even after faking his own death...you still loved him.
You didn't believe he murdered Jess.
That's not what Josh would do.
"Your sisters wouldn't have wanted this." You quietly said, looking back at the wide-eyed man. "I wish things were different that night. I wish they didn't get humiliated. God, I wish Hannah had talked to me instead. But this...all of this was wrong, Josh. What happened doesn't justify-"
"But it worked, didn't it? Listen, I...I-I didn't want anyone dead." He stammered. "I just wanted to see that same terror on their faces. And I got them good! I got you all!!"
"...did you have to give Ash a black eye, though?"
"Look, she stabbed me with scissors! And it still hurts like a motherfucker."
You just gave him an expression that read "well I would have too if a killer was chasing me", and he seemed to understand...given how his shoulders slumped with defeat.
"Baby, 'm sorry..this...was not how our night's supposed to go. But you know what? I'm glad I was the only one laughing! Because NOW THEY KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE ON THE OTHER SIDE!!" Tears of anger pricked his eyes as his voice unexpectedly rose.
You whole body tensed, but you stayed calm, knowing he's only lashing out. "Josh, I know they hurt you. And hurting them back might feel good..but you hurt me too by faking your own death and not telling me how far you intended to take this prank."
"..you would've stopped me if I told you." He mumbled.
"Well maybe I should've been more persistent." You huffed. "If I was, we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't have to talk about why Jess died and why you seem to be the prime suspect-"
"I swear to god, it wasn't me! I don't even know where she is!" Josh snapped, before he curled up, like a child in timeout. "Mike..he wouldn't explain the wheres and whens. He just kept hitting me, pushing me..telling me to shut up...but I didn't do it...I swear. Please, please believe me, [y/n]. I'm sorry that you got roped into this. I-It's..the..the last thing I wanted.." His voice softened. "I'm sorry I've been bad..."
Slowly, you could see bits and pieces of the Josh you once knew coming back. His mind wasn't all there, of course, but you've known him forever.
You should be thinking with your brain and not your heart.
But....
You still love him, and believe in second chances.
"Joshua."
He perked up, anticipating the worst as you pulled up a chair to sit in front of him. For you to say his name like that couldn't have been good.
Maybe you were gonna side with all the rest of them and spit on him.
Maybe you were gonna say that you're leaving him alone here, as Dr. Hill had warned would happen.
Maybe you were finally going to tell him what an unforgivable monster he wa-
"I believe you're innocent. You're not one to take a life. No matter what they say." You suddenly spoke, putting a hand to his soot-coated cheek
Almost immediately, his twitching stopped, and he stared straight at you.
It's like you put him in a trance.
"I'm not gonna leave you."
"..e-even though I've been..all messed up?" He asked cautiously. "I-I mean..I haven't been a good boyfriend lately..."
"That hasn't stopped me from being there for you before." You chuckled. "We're gonna work through this. Even if it's just you and I."
"............"
"I believe you when you say you didn't kill her. Do you believe me?"
It took him a few moments to study your expression, seeing the genuine care and warmth in your eyes. Despite all the horrors you've seen tonight, there was still a spark of hope in them.
That was the light he needed.
"...I-I do..I really do." He sniffled, resting his head on your shoulder, grateful that you didn't push him away despite being covered in dirt and fake blood. "'m sorry...I-I don't deserve you."
"Oh, honey..." You put your arms around him, sighing softly as you felt him tremble against you, tears slowly dampening your jacket. At this point, you knew you got him back, and you were so relieved. "We'll figure something out. Just stay with me."
"You don't think I'm a monster..?" He asked through his sobs. "I mean, everyone treated me like one...you've seen them.."
"....I know. Neither of us can change how they feel. But listen, the only monster here is-"
All of the sudden, a shrill inhumane screech echoed from somewhere outside, deep in the woods, interrupting the tender moment between you two.
Josh sat up with a start, his tearful eyes wide and terrified as he looked to you. "Wh-What was that?"
"That's the real monster I was gonna mention. They call it the Wendigo. Hang on." Crouching down, you managed to find a small pocketknife on his toolbelt, using it to cut the ropes binding him. "It's fast. But it's blind as fuck. We need to get out of here."
Nodding, he got up as quickly as he could, having no time to rub his aching wrists as you grabbed his hand.
The shrieks became louder, forcing you two to hide further inside the shed, sticking close to the back wall where the shadows were darkest. "Shit. Don't move a muscle, okay?"
His breath hitched as the wendigo dropped down in front of the entrance, creeping inside the small building to look for prey. But he took your advice and tried staying still.
You could practically hear you own heartbeat as you held your breath, thumping louder and louder as the creature wandered around. Josh watched it scrape its claws along the wall, creating a sound most unpleasant in an attempt to make him flinch.
It then made direct eye contact with you both.
While you managed to keep perfectly still, you could hear Josh's quiet whimpers, indicating he had a much harder time considering how jittery he was earlier.
All you could do was hope and pray it would leave.
Otherwise...both of you were dead.
Just when you thought your boyfriend was going to lose it completely, the distant snapping of a branch caused the wendigo to turn at blinding speed and sprint out of the shed, returning to the surrounding woods.
"Okay...thank christ.." Letting his hand go, you took a breather, only to see that he was still standing rigid. His eyes showed nothing but pure terror, as he began mumbling something like "was it real" under his breath.
"Josh? Baby?" You shook his shoulders a bit, and he blinked several times, coming back to reality. Relief immediately crossed his face as he realized you were still here. "It's okay. It's gone."
"Tha....That thing w-was real?"
"Yes. I know how to outsmart it. But we can't stay here. We'll be safer at the lodge with the others. We just gotta keep our heads down until then."
"But..what about the-?"
"Don't worry about them. Let's worry about getting out of here, alright?"
Wordlessly, Josh nodded, practically clinging to your arm as you both headed outside and down the snowy trail. He kept mumbling incoherent things, reassuring himself that he was safe with you.
Obviously, he seemed pretty shellshocked, considering the monster he just encountered was real and not a product of his imagination.
He didn't know whether that was better or worse.
Either way, you allowed him to hold onto you, knowing he needed someone--anyone--to lean on right now. And fortunately you were exactly the person he needed.
The only one who could help him come back to his senses.
You swore to never abandon him, and you intend to keep that promise even after all that happened tonight.
PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader
WARNINGS: suggestive, no use of y/n
GENRE: best friends to lovers
SONG INSPIRATION: DIE FOR ME by chase atlantic
WORD COUNT: 1.4k
REQUESTED: yes
NOTE: got a little carried away . . .
navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist
the cabin was quiet. the flickering flames in the fireplace cast small shadows across the room as the last embers of the night begin to fade into darkness. you were stretched out on your bed, the warmth of the fire still lingering in the air, even as the chill from the mountain outside crept through the windows.
everyone else had long gone to their rooms. the day had been packed with hiking, teasing jokes, and way too much food, now the others were all passed out, getting some much needed rest for whatever was going to come tomorrow. you should have been tired too, but here you were laid in your bed wide awake, staring at the wall beside you.
the soft creak of your door opening broke the stillness. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“hey,” josh’s familiar voice whispered from behind you. he was always the last one up too, unable to sleep when it got too quiet.
“hey,” you answered, glancing over your shoulder to see him standing in the doorway, his hair disheveled, looking sleepy and tousled. he had that half grin on his face that made you feel warm inside.
“can’t sleep again?” you teased, already knowing the answer.
josh shrugged, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor, making his way to you. “nah, i tried. it’s freezing in my room, and, y’know, it’s weird without you there.”
this had been a thing between the two of you for as long as you could remember. whenever you were on trips with the group, josh would find his way to your room after everyone else had gone to bed.
it started as something simple as after late night movie marathons or study sessions that turned into sleepovers, but over the years. it just became your thing. sleeping alone felt strange now, especially for josh. he always needed you close.
“come on then,” you mumbled, lifting the corner of the blanket without a second thought. there was no need for words. he was already climbing under the covers with you, fitting his body against yours.
he slipped his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest, the warmth of his body immediately chasing away the chill from the mountain air. his breath was soft against your neck, and you felt him relax instantly, his head resting on the pillow just behind yours.
this was normal. it had always been normal. the two of you had shared beds, couches, even floors when crashing at friends’ places after parties. josh had always been touchy, needing to feel you, as if that contact helped him settle. you never questioned it. after all, you felt the same.
his presence was grounding, the one constant you needed in your life.
his hand found its way to your waist, his fingers casually slipping under the hem of your shirt, resting against your bare skin like it was the most natural thing. it sent a shiver up your spine, but not because you were cold.
you were used to this, he always did it. he always wanted that skin to skin contact, as if the barrier of clothing was too much separation between you. and you let him, because it didn’t feel strange. it just felt like josh.
“you’re warm,” he murmured sleepily, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your lower back. he said it every time, but the way his voice softened whenever he said it always made your heart flutter.
you hummed in response, pressing back into him just slightly, the lines of your bodies fitting perfectly together under the thick blanket. his fingers continued their slow, lazy path across your skin, drawing shapes you couldn’t quite decipher but made you relax into him even more.
the room was quiet except for the faint crackle of the dying fire and the soft sounds of josh’s breathing behind you. this was your rhythm. an intimacy that had never been questioned.
josh had always been more than just your best friend, but you’d never dared to label it as anything else. the touches, the closeness, it was just how the two of you operated. you were comfortable, safe with each other.
but tonight, something felt… different.
maybe it was the calm of the cabin, or the way the mountain’s isolation made everything feel sharper, more intense. or maybe it was just the fact that your heartbeat picked up whenever his fingers slipped a little higher, his hand resting now against your ribs, dangerously close to the swell of your chest.
you wondered if he noticed the way your breathing hitched when he moved, the way your body tensed ever so slightly.
“josh…” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet of the room.
“hmm?” his response was a soft hum, his lips brushing the back of your neck now, almost absentmindedly.
for a second, you considered pulling away, setting up those boundaries that were supposed to exist between best friends. but the truth was, you didn’t want to. you never had.
the truth of it settled deep in your chest, an acknowledgment of something you’d both danced around for years.
instead, you turned your head just enough to see him from the corner of your eye. his face was so close, eyes half lidded in the dim light, his lips parted slightly in that relaxed way that made him look vulnerable.
your heart did that little stutter it always did when he was this close, and suddenly, the unspoken feelings that had always been lurking just beneath the surface felt impossible to ignore.
“josh,” you said again, this time turning fully in his arms to face him.
he blinked, eyes clearer now as he studied your face. his hand didn’t move from where it was resting on your skin, but his expression shifted, like he could feel the shift in the air too. “yeah?”
the weight of the moment hung between you, the closeness suddenly more intense than it had ever been. you opened your mouth to say something. anything, but the words died on your lips as josh’s gaze flickered down to your mouth, then back to your eyes.
you weren’t imagining it. the way his hand moved a little more deliberately now, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, skimming just beneath your shirt. the way his body pressed a little closer to yours, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own.
this was no longer just about comfort. something had changed.
“i–” you started to speak, but before you could say anything more, josh’s hand slid a little higher, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast so lightly you almost thought you imagined it. but you didn’t. the look in his eyes, now more awake and intense, confirmed that.
his breath hitched, the same way yours had, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the shared rhythm of your breathing, matching and uneven at the same time.
“we… we’ve always been like this,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, as if he was trying to remind himself of what this had always been. “right?”
you nodded, not trusting your voice to stay steady. “yeah. always.”
but it wasn’t always like this. not with the way his lips hovered just inches from yours now, the way his hand slipped further under your shirt like he was testing a boundary you weren’t sure existed anymore.
“maybe…” he whispered, his forehead now resting against yours, his voice so soft it was barely more than a breath, “maybe we’ve been fooling ourselves.”
his words hung between you, heavy and raw. and just like that, the unspoken tension between you, years of shared beds, lingering touches, and blurred boundaries, came crashing to the surface.
you didn’t pull away. you couldn’t. because deep down, you’d known it too. this was never just about needing to be close. it had always been more. you just hadn’t wanted to admit it.
“josh,” you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest as his hand slid up to your shoulder, his fingers gently tilting your chin so you were looking directly at him.
and then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, his lips brushed against yours. soft, tentative at first, a question hanging in the space between. when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you again, deeper this time, the heat between you building until the air felt thick with everything you’d kept hidden for so long.
you didn’t know where this was going to lead, but in that moment, with josh’s hands on your skin and his lips on yours, you knew one thing for sure.
Hiii babes I hope you're having a good day I have a request for Abby 💖 could you write something where Abby comes home and sees reader doing yoga in the living room and the pose she's in is attractive to abs so he gets behind her wrapping his arms around her waist being all touchy and affectionate while he talks to her about each others days and maybeee (if you're comfortable with it Ofc) abby pressed more against reader and kissing on her neck and shoulder etc and it gets a little heated between them?
I LOVE YOUR WORK SM THANK YOUUU
yoga pants || abby saja x fem!reader
prompt ; abby comes home to his lovely girlfriend doing yogo, bent over and stretched in those cute outfits she wears!
warnings ; mutual teasing, nsfw, not explicit, makeouts, suggestive ending(hints that it leads to sex), touchy touchy abby,
a/n ; UGHHH never getting enough of abby ever ever i love abby and lowkey self inserting bc i love my flared yoga pants ughh, this is very short and sweet just because im literally on the city bus HAHAHA im going to class im sorry i hope i served enough
reblogs are encouraged! - bells navigation - request rules
(￣▽￣)(￣▽￣)(￣▽￣)(￣▽￣)(￣▽￣)(￣▽￣)(￣▽￣)
your mat squishes under your stance, stretching yourself before you begin what abby calls “body wizardry“. your tiny tank top and flared yoga leggings dangle off your body, allowing your self to move easier and smoother.
you start by bending down, crossing your arms and attempting to touch your elbows to the mat. you hear the door click open, and shove shut, abbys thick steps rounding the corner.
he leans against the door frame, hands in his jean pockets and a low whistle coming from his lips. "just got home and shes already bent over." he chuckles, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your midsection, cheek squished against your shoulder blade.
"hi abby, how was your day?" you asked, ignoring his playful comment and weight of his body as you come back up.
hes perched right behind you, feet with yours on your mat and face nuzzled into your bare shoulder. "it was okay, just missed seeing your face." he hums with satisfaction as you stretch your arms across your chest.
"i can tell." you say shortly, allowing yourself to breathe through his subtle touches and glances. "i did groceries earlier today, so youre cooking." you banter, eyes fluttering closed as you let out a breath.
"mhmmm, what would you like to eat?" he asks calmly, hands sliding down to rest on your hips as he places a single kiss to your temple.
i thought for a moment, melting into his arms and humming. "im thinking something like pasta, i bought new tortellini and i wanna make it tonight." you murmured, straightening back up to continue stretching.
abby lines kisses from your temple to your ear, barely licking the shell as he continues down the back of your ear and to your neck. "mkay, sweetheart, alfredo or red sauce?" he asks, mumbled by the softness in your skin.
"alfredo, but not a lot because tortellini doesnt need a lot of sauce, its all the inside." you explain, leaning back down and hugging on side of your leg.
hes stood tall behind you, fingers tracing the waistline of your flared leggings. "your ass looks good in these," he adds, pressing his hips right against yours.
you can feel the semi hard bulge beneath his jeans, you playfully press your ass harder into him, returned with low groan. "dont start something you cant finish, baby." he mutters, gripping your hips like he was going to fall.
you giggle, switching sides and sighing dramatically. "im not doing anything?" you say, cocking your eyebrow up at him and twisting your head to see his face.
"oh we wanna play that game now?" he chuckles, hooking an arm around your stomach and lifting you.
"abby put me down!" you yelp, plopping down on the couch with him beneath you.
you straddled his hips, his hands smoothing up and down your sides. "i can think of plenty different ways to stretch you." he says lowly, leaning forward and capturing your lips with his.
you lean against him, hands pressed against his chest and hips grinding down against his. the wet noises of your mouths echo against the walls, hums and giggles swallowed by the passion.
his tongue glides along your bottom lip, shoving between your teeth and licking every crevasse like he'd die without it. you just relax, the smooth feeling between you two adding to the soft glistening of the sunset.
"we takin' this somewhere else?" he asks, pulling away and looking up at you with big eyes
"yeah the kitchen, im hungry you idiot." you tease, flicking his forehead.
"over the counter? youre a freak, i like that." he laughs, lifting you and navigating to the kitchen.
"not like that! cook my pasta!" you yelp, hitting his chest and struggling against his grasp.
Summary: You hate how attracted you are to Walker, and you pull away from him because of it. He notices. - ao3 version
Word Count: 3.8k
Notes: Post-Thunderbolts, reader is a New Avenger and is mentioned to have some kind of super abilites (not plot relevant but it's there), porn with some plot, just reader being horny and then getting to fuck this man, car sex!!!! p in v, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks) reader and John both bully each other during sex, John Walker's praise kink (when will it not make an appearance) Bucky and Bob appearance!
a/n: This one goes out to all my homies who hated John in TFATWS and feel conflicted about finding him really hot in Thunderbolts! I guess he's my boy now bc I was literally the second post on the Walker x Reader tag (????tf????) so here I am once again being horny on main with y'all.
Teasing Walker was practically a team bonding activity. Hell, even the man himself had grown used to it, took it as a show of affection from the other New Avengers. You were one of the main perpetrators of it. John had always pissed you off, from the minute you met in the vault. He’d grown on you significantly since then, although you’d never admit that, especially not to him.
You’d also never admit how down bad you were for him.
You weren’t really sure when it had started. He was an attractive guy, from an objective standpoint. They’d picked him to be Captain America for a reason, and one of those was that he looked damn good. Still, beyond the awareness he was handsome you’d never really thought of him in that way.
That is, until that day. You couldn’t find one of your knives, and you were sure Bucky had stolen it, so you’d ventured down to the training room to confront him. You opened the door, ready to start interrogating him when you were met with the sight of him and John, side by side, doing pull ups in the doorway to the equipment room. Bob stood next to them, counting off as they went.
You’ve known Bucky for a long time. He’s like an older brother figure to you, someone you couldn’t see romantically if you tried. Seeing him shirtless has no effect on you, other than an instinctual ew. You’ve never seen John shirtless before.
And here you are, speechless, gawking at the guy who you once referred to as ‘Captain Crashout’. His biceps flexed with each lift, the muscle sinewy but hard-earned, gleaming with sweat. Broad shoulders, dabbled with old scars and freckles from too long in the sun. Your eyes fell to his abs, not as clean cut as Bob’s, but still very much there, pulled taut as he raised himself over and over. He was clad in a pair of old gym shorts, which had fallen a little lower than they started out, revealing the beginnings of a sharp v-line, and what you thought was just a smattering of blond hair trailing down.
And the sounds. John has always had a tic of snorting during battle. You call it his gorilla call that he makes when shit gets serious. The way he grunted as he pulled himself up, exerted but determined, gave you goosebumps the more you heard it.
Jesus fucking Christ, when did John get so hot?
He’s a supersoldier, of course. You know he’s strong. You interact with him almost everyday. You’ve seen him carry a crate the size of Yelena with ease. Yet somehow you’d never considered him hot before this. Never once have you looked at John Walker and felt this hot and sweaty all of a sudden, something in your stomach twisting with equal parts nerves and arousal.
You think you’re going insane.
After what feels like an eternity, John dropped, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Fine, you win Barnes.”
Bucky dropped as well, a smug look on his face. “Told you.”
“Hey, well you’re shorter than me, you have less to pull up.”
“By what, 3 inches?”
“3 inches where it counts.” Walker joked. Shit, now you’re thinking about this dick. Don’t look at his crotch. Do not look at his crotch-
“When’d you get here?” you snapped out of it at the sound of Bob’s voice, turning your attention to the other man.
“Um, around 20?” you guessed, doing your best to keep your eyes off Walker. You blinked hard as you turned to Bucky. “Did you take my Bowie knife?”
He sighed as he toweled himself off. “Shit, yeah. It’s in my bag, I’ll get it.”
“Asshole.”
He just flipped you off as he walked off to the locker room. Bob trails behind him, announcing his need to pee, leaving you alone with Walker.
You did your best to avoid eye contact, or any visual of him as he lowered himself onto the nearby bench ,grabbing his water bottle. You knew he has a habit of manspreading, which you often tease him about, but now it’s more annoying in that you’re trying desperately not to ogle him.
“Pretty good, huh?”
“What?” you blinked, looking over at his confused face.
“60 pull ups. Maybe not as good as Barnes,” he threw a jilted look at the locker room door, “but still, impressive, huh?”
“Yeah, I uh, guess so.” you stared at the space above his head, arms crossed, praying Bucky finds his damn bag and brings you your knife soon.
“You okay?” John questioned, standing up to approach you. You instinctually took a step back, causing him to stop. “Did I do something?’
“No! No, I’m fine, you didn’t do anything. Just feeling a little off today, maybe I’m getting sick.”
John nodded, unconvinced. “Uh huh.” He took another sip of his water, drawing your eyes to his strong forearms, solid and firm, leading to his large hands gripping the bottle. Were his hands always that big? It’s ridiculous. You wonder what they would feel like gripping your hips.
“Got it.” Thankfully, Bucky reentered, holding out your knife. You swiftly snatched it, stuttering out a thank you and goodbye before you practically ran out the door. John and Bucky just stood there, confused.
After that, you ran to your room, locked the door and screamed into a pillow like a middle school girl.
You know there’s nothing wrong with liking Walker. Sure, he’s real fucked up, but hell, you are too. You’re both trying to be better, all of you on the team are. Your present torment is self-inflicted, part of it being the sheer embarrassment. You can’t seem to let go of your ego, the little voice in your brain bullying you for wanting a man who carries around a shield shaped like a taco.
You’re being ridiculous.
You’re held back by a fear of screwing things up with him yourself, and therefore for the entire team. You don’t want to ruin what you all have. You’ve all had hard pasts, never really having a group of people that you could rely on till now. You wouldn’t destroy that because you were so, so very horny for one of your teammates.
So you distance yourself. You try not to look him in the eye, lest you start imagining him with his shirt off again. You feel like an old Victorian man who forced ladies to hide their ankles; looking at any part of John makes you feel like you’re going to lose it then burst into flames. Once you went to ask him something and saw him in just a towel, and immediately turned heel and left. He plagues your mind, beyond just the thought of sex. The thought of him, holding you in his arms, whispering into your ear, smiling down at you.
You do manage to forget how badly you want to fuck him when all of a sudden he’s hurling himself into danger, in front of a hail of bullets that his stupid shield barely covers.
“What the hell were you thinking?” you lecture him as the two of you climb back into the van. You’d been tasked with securing classified S.H.I.E.L.D files from a criminal organization planning to sell them. You’d managed to get them back, but not without a few scrapes and bruises. Honestly, you’re lucky neither of you died because of John’s recklessness, something you’ve told him multiple times now.
“I was thinking of what was best to keep us both safe.” he grumbles as he slams the driver’s door, turning the key in the ignition. “It was a tactical decision-”
“It was a tactical decision,” you mimic his deep voice. “You could’ve died! You’re lucky-”
“Lucky to be alive, I know, I know. What do you even care?” you turn to him, seeing the anger in his eyes, mixed with something else you can’t place.
“Why do I care? Because you’re my fucking friend, John, and I’d rather not see you filled with lead!”
“Well, it doesn’t seem that way lately.” he scoffs, eyes moving back to the road.
“What did you say?”
“I’m saying, you’ve been acting crazy lately.” he slams a hand on the wheel. “One day, we’re friends, the next you act like I’m the dirt on your shoe. I-I don’t understand. What did I ever do to you?” he leans back in his seat, defeated. “You’re acting like you don’t care whether I live or die, so fine, if I die, what’s it to you?”
“John,” you sigh, trying to hold it together. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” he sits back up, angrier, more offended than upset. “I’m the one who’s being ridiculous? You’re the one being ridiculous! All this time-”
He rambles on, leaving your anger at him to simmer in your chest. It mixes with guilt, of being cold to him, not telling him why. He somehow manages to look handsome like this, passionate, full of emotion. Still, you feel your stomach twist knowing you did this, that you hurt him like this. “John, look, I’m-”
“No, I’m not done!” he interrupts. He continues to rant, getting into specifics of your treatment, your apology dying in your throat. What would you even say? I’m sorry I was mean to you, it’s because you’re too fucking attractive and I don’t know how to handle it?
You forget about all the reasons not to do this. You forget how annoying and brash he can be, all the embarrassing things he does you tease him for. You forget how screwed up you both are, about the team, about everything.
You just lean over the console, grab his face and smash your mouth to his.
He’s quiet, finally, still in shock of what is happening. The second his brain catches up to his body he’s gripping your shoulders, kissing you back with a force. It quickly turns open and messy, tongues desperate for each other as you act on months of frustration and feelings repressed.
You pull back when you run out of air, sliding back into your own seat as he does his. You sit, quiet, thinking about what you’ve done.
“Is that why?” His voice is hoarse from kissing.
You nod. “Yeah. That’s why.”
You’re both quiet again, reeling from your actions. He slowly unbuckles his seatbelt, climbs out of the car. You wonder if you’ve done something wrong, if maybe you misread him.
Then he’s opening your door, and before you can say anything he’s kissing you again, large hands cupping your face in them as he presses his lips to yours, hungry and needy.
He pulls away too quickly, looking at you with a ferocity in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Do you want this?” he asks, voice low and warning.
“Yes.” you nod. “John I’ve wanted you so bad for-”
You’re both throwing yourselves into each other, not even bothering to finish talking. John’s wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You yelp as you quickly wrap your legs around him, clinging to him for dear life, still not breaking the kiss.
He kicks the car door shut and presses you up against it, tongue slithering along your bottom lip, asking permission. You give it, sliding your won against him, deepening the kiss. You feel a moan emanate from your throat as you do, feeling like you’re absorbing John into your very being.
He shifts one hand to holding you up as he fiddles with the backseat door, yanking at it unsuccessfully. He finally pulls back, much to your dismay, to pull the damn thing open properly.
“There you go.” you joke.
“Shut up.” he mutters, before pulling you back from the side of the car and gently carrying you into it, laying you on along the backseat.
“Take your clothes off.” he huffs, fiddling with his own as he climbs in, stripping himself of his weapons. You do the same, pulling off piece after piece of tactical gear.
There’s kevlar everywhere, bulletproof vests thrown haphazardly in the trunk, knives discarded in the front seat. Somehow in a lust-induced craze, the two of you still manage to have some form of organization.
You’ve barely pulled off your shirt before you peer over at Walker, face turned red from exertion, cheat heaving with heavy breaths.
And god, you love looking at his chest. Your eyes meet his, flitting back down in silent communication. Without a word, he nods and you’re on his, straddling him as your hands run along his broad shoulders, teeth nipping at his neck before you kiss the small bites.
He groans, head falling to the crook of your neck as he takes you in, hands gripping your hips like you’ll vanish he doesn’t.
“God, so fucking pretty.” he mumbles, grabbing your chin to pull you back in for anther kiss. One hand trails down towards your arching core, tugging at your waistband. You quickly move to help pull them down, you and John struggling together until finally, the dreaded things are gone.
He doesn’t bother dealing with your underwear, just pushing your panties aside as he brings a finger to your soaked cunt, you gasping at the sensation of his touch.
“So fuckin’ wet, too, shit.” He trails his digit alon you till he reaches your clit, flicking it, eliciting another sharp gasp from you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”
He brings two fingers to your hole, running them against your folds, coating them in your arousal as you groan. “Fucking hell, John, please.”
“You’re even mean when you’re horny.” he chuckles, you glaring down at him in return as you lower one hand to the bulge in his pants, squeezing it to a sharp inhale from John.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” you palm at his crotch as he tries to form some kind of words. Finally, he gives up, instead pushing his fingers into you, at last granting you the friction you’ve longed for. It’s so much better than those nights you’ve laid along in your bed, picturing him above you as you pleasured yourself on your own fingers. His are thick and calloused, and feel fucking incredible as you pushes in and out of you with ease, eyes never leaving your face.
“God you’re gorgeous,” he mumbles out, “so fuckin’ tight just on my fingers. Wanted this forever…”
“Please, John, need you too-”
“Gotta cum on my fingers before you can cum on my dick, baby.” you clench around him at the pet name, John smirking at the feeling as he quickly adds a third finger. Your nails dig into his bare shoulders as he moves within you, your head thrown back and eyes shut in pleasure,
“Look at me baby.” you obey, opening your eyes to see John’s flushed countenance, blue eyes dark and wide as you drink you in. “Go on, cum for me.”
He scissors his fingers within you, and with a cry, you do. You thank God you’re parked in the middle of some forest in the middle of nowhere as you moan, riding the wave of ecstasy. John doesn’t stop, keeping his pace till you start to come down, taking deep breaths as you loosen your grip.
“You cut me.” you blink, John nodding to his shoulder. You see the places where your nails have left crescent marks, breaking the skin.
“Oops.” you shrug, still out of breath from your orgasm. “Something to remember me by?”
John purses his lip. “Only fair I get to leave a little something for you.” he turns his attention to your collarbone, kissing and sucking a bruise into it as he circles his thumb on your clit, making you yearn for more even after one orgasm.
“John, please, for fuck’s sake…” you mumble incoherently. Your brain is wired to tease him and even his fingers inside of you will not change that.
He lifts his head, looking down at the bruise he’s left with pride. “Something to remember me by.”
“You are such a teenager.” you sigh, hand reaching down to undo his belt.
“You’re the one begging me to fuck you.” he grins. His hands meet you there, tugging the leather off and tossing it away as he yanks his tactical pants down just far enough to free his cock.
You can’t help it, you gape it at. He’s thick, and long, a vein running along the underside where you can clearly see. It curves slightly up against his stomach, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. If you weren’t on top of him, you’d lean down and lick it off.
“Shit, do we need a-”
“You’re good. Can’t get pregnant.” you’re already lifting your hips, trying to position yourself over him.
“See, begging.” he teases as he lines up with cock with your cunt, tip rubbing along your folds. “You ready?” he asks earnestly, looking up at you with genuine concern,
You nod. “Walker, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me I swear-”
With that, he pushes into you, silencing you with a moan as you feel yourself stretch around his cock. He’s not too painfully big, the kind of sharp pinch that makes the feeling just that much more sinful.
He groans, head rolling back as he clutches your waist. You’re sure if you looked down you’d see his knuckles turned white.
“Jesus Christ, this fuckin’ perfect pussy,” he mumvles incoherently as he pushes deeper into you. “SO fuckin tight for me, baby.”
Then finally, he sheathes himself fully, with a downright pornographic moan escaping your throat at the sensation, John gives you a moment to adjust, the two of you sitting in silence, save for your shared panting and occasional groans.
You’ve never felt so full, stuffed to the brim with JOhn’s cock, feeling the head just kiss your cervix within you. You breathe deep as you adjust, feeling every part of him, every ridge, vein, curve of his cock.
“God, John, so big…” you trail off as your brain shuts down, thoughts of anything else besides the man in front of you and his dick inside you fading away into static.
“Taking it so good.” he brushes a fallen piece of hair out of your face, a gentle gesture compared to his usually annoying countenance. “So pretty when you’re full of me.”
You nod sharply, your brain still fuzzy with lust and pleasure. You lift your hips, his cock rubbing against your walls before you slide back down, moaning as you do.
You pick up the pace, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, because it’s all you’ve wanted for fucking weeks and he feels so fucking good.
John sucks another bruise into you, this one on your neck, groaning out incoherent expletives as you bounce in his lap, moaning loudly with ecstasy.
Still, you’re exhausted from your mission and your previous orgasm, your pace beginning to falter. Your eyes meet John’s, and without a word he wraps his arms around you, rolling the two of you onto the seat, you on your back with him above you.
You rake your nails over his back, leaving even more scratches as you writhe beneath him. That gentle moment from earlier feels long-gone; John is rough with you, each thrust pounds into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper, as deep as he can possibly get. His mussed blond hair frames his face as he fucks into you, his expression concentrated and determined.
“Feels fuckin’ perfect, perfcct fuckin’ girl beensth me, God I’ve wanted you so bad, so perfect and good.”
“Wanted you too.” you manage to pat out, looking up into John's eyes. “So handsome, John, you’re so good.”
Oh, he liked that. He moans outright, loudly, his thrusts managing to become even harder. You give a raspy moan in reply.
“Like when I tell you how good you are?” you pant out as you give him a dastardly smile, to which he just grunts in response, “So fuckin’ good, John, love your cock, let you fuck me forever.”
You’re a little cockdrunk, or a lot, head spinning as you clench around him, John pressing his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss. Maybe to shut you up, maybe because he wanted to, who knows. You just know you can feel the pressure building in your stomach, another orgasm on the verge of breaking loose within you.
“John,” you move a hand to his face, running through his beard, gripping the fine hairs as you seek something, anything to hold onto. “Gonna cum, ‘m close.”
“Go on, baby.” he grunts, thrusts growing faster and more erratic, his cock barely leaving you before slamming back in. “Cum all over my cock.”
You grip his shoulders, crying out his name as you cum again, seeing stars as you feel the white-hot waves of pleasure crashing over you. John follows shortly, sheathing himself deep inside you, where you can feel the heat of him cum painting your walls.
He gives a few weak thrusts, as if he’s trying to fuck his cum further into you. You just groan, eyes squeezed shut, body still feeling like it’s on fire.
When you open your eyes, you see him above you, panting as he comes down to Earth. He looks even more handsome like this, all sweaty and messy and smelling of sex.
“Was that,” he exhales, still trying to catch his breath, “Was that good?”
You just stare up at him, before a laugh manages to escape you. He looks a little sad before you pull him down by the nape of his neck, kissing him again, soft and slow.
“Yes,” you say as you lay your head back against the seat. “That was good, John.”
He smiles, not the usual cocky and self-satisfied look, but a genuine smile, a sense of satisfaction flowing through him. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, atop where he’s left a hickey, then to the other, then a third peck to your lips. You giggle a little, running your hands through his messy hair.
“If I’d known all it took to make you stop being an asshole was fucking you, I woulda done it a lot sooner.”
“Well, technically I was the one fucking you”
You groan, exasperated. “God, the fucking technicalities with you.” you look back up at him, tilting your head as you smile. “Am I gonna have to do this again to make you stop?”
He just shrugs, a mischievous look on his face. “Guess so.” he rolls his hips against yours once more, and you can already feel him getting hard again within you.
“Fuck John…” you’re still barely recovered from the first round.
“Hey, thank the serum.”
a/n: Shoutout to the Tiktok comment where someone called him Captain Crashout bc i immediately jotted that shit down for later use. And thank all of you who've shown my fics so much love!!! I started this as a hobby to practice my writing and I'm genuinely shocked that people really enjoy these.
Description: John Walker and you are nothing more than two idiots who can’t stand each other. But when a mission goes wrong and you fall through cracking ice, he does everything in his power to keep you alive.
Warnings/Tags: Enemies to ‘you saved my life, what are we now?’, hurt/comfort, drowning in frigid water, CPR, body heat. You might fall in love with him. Thunderbolts make a cheeky appearance.
Notes: This was the most voted option for my next fic, it’s uh … it’s a bit long, yeah 🤭. Enjoy 🫶🏼
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You'd lost a stupid bet to Yelena, so stupid you couldn't even remember what it was, but you were currently living the consequences of it.
Which meant being paired on a mission with none other than John Walker.
Yes, the myth, the legend, the annoying, all star american asshole.
You'd managed to avoid being paired with him for a while. After all, the last few missions you were together had ended in setbacks, for the simple reason you two just couldn't get along. We're talking about a history of missed targets, blown covers, a few stray bullets aimed in each other's general direction, and maybe ... one crashed jet.
So Bucky and Yelena avoided it at all costs when planning for missions.
That was until now, all because Yelena had gotten bored. A lost bet landed you back on another jet with him of all people.
Mission site was in the middle of a frozen forest, where sunlight hadn't touched the snowy ground in years. Even inside the jet, you could feel the cold creeping through the metal walls as you got closer to the drop point.
You were sent to retrieve intel from a highly guarded facility that had made enemies with Valentina. Maybe eliminate a few targets if it came to that. Quite standard, even easy if you actually knew how to work together as a team.
The worst part? Their security perimeter stretched for miles. Which meant you had to go through a rough landing between the trees, far away from the base, and then hike through thick snow and unforgiving cold just to get in there.
Any enhanced teammate would've been better than you. Either Bucky or Alexei ... maybe they just didn't want to stroll around for miles with Walker either.
Couldn't blame them.
So Yelena, influenced by Bob surely, thought it would be funny to send you. Now that was the worst part, doing all of it with him.
You didn't even know what it was about Walker that riled you up so badly. Maybe it was his superiority complex. Maybe it was his agressiveness when he didn't like the way you planned things. Or how he never took the blame when things went sideways, even when he'd done something reckless too. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way he looked a little too good when he was pissed at you, those veins in his neck, chest heaving, strands of sweaty hair sticking to his forehead—stop.
Let's go back to 'You simply don't get along'.
It was easier to hate him than to name ...whatever the hell this was.
"Can you stop doing that? I'm trying to land this thing, or are you looking to crash another plane?" Walker snapped from the pilot seat, not even turning to look at you.
You stopped for a second, realizing you'd started pacing in the back of the jet. It was the only thing keeping your body warm, and your mouth shut.
Until he had to open his.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Is the super soldier getting distracted?" you said sarcastically. "Maybe if you actually paid attention to the plane this time, you won’t crash another one."
"We crashed because you couldn't sit still for five seconds … like right now."
"Wow, you're right. I brought it down with my bad attitude. My apologies, Cap."
You noticed the way his posture tensed on the seat, knuckles immediately flexing on the controls ... why was he so easy to rile up?
And why the hell was that kinda ... No. Stop it.
John didn't know what it was about you that riled him up so bad either. Maybe it was the constant defiance, that bratty attitude he just couldn't allow. Maybe it was how you never followed his orders, even when he was right. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way you kept running your mouth and he could only think about his mouth on yours to shut you up—no.
He just hated you, that was it.
"Just sit your ass down and put on your belt. We're about to land," he muttered, trying not to sound like he wanted to throw you out mid flight. "I don't know how bad it's gonna be landing into the woods."
You figured it was better to comply, not for him, but because the mission hadn't even started yet and part of the bet with Yelena was to finish the mission successfully, without killing each other in the process.
A lost bet was a lost bet, after all.
You plopped down into the copilot seat beside him, letting your eyes roll as you buckled in. John just side eyed you.
"Good girl," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.
You went upright in your sit, looking at him with disbelief. "What the hell did you just call me?"
All you saw was a half smirk on his face, but before you could unbuckle and force him to say it again, the jet landed harshly into the snowy woods, trees scraping against the reinforced windshield as the aircraft rolled for some distance until it came to an abrupt halt.
You groaned when your head knocked hard against the leather copilot seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw his head snap toward you.
"You okay?" he asked, already unbuckling his belt.
If you really looked into it, it sounded a bit off from someone who had made very clear how much he didn't care about you. But apparently he seemed to have forgotten that for a moment, as he walked over and knelt in front of your seat, fingers working quickly to unbuckle you as he scanned your face for any signs of a concussion.
And for a moment you believed the hit gave you one, because there was no way in hell this was real.
John Walker...being nice to you? Caring?
You blinked a few times at the sight of him crouched at your feet, heart thumping so loud on your chest you were sure he could hear it. John's eyebrows furrowed to your lack of response.
You considered faking the concussion so you could blame your dazed state to that and not to the fact that his large hands rested on your knees like he wasn’t the last person who wanted to touch you.
"I'm good," you finally replied, barely audible, but enough for him to let out a breath he was holding.
Your eyes dropped to your lap, and he was suddenly aware of the placement of his hands. He quickly cleared his throat, standing up to somehow pretend to shrug it off. He grabbed his shield from the floor and tightened it up in his arm, maybe a little too hard so he could control his own heartbeat.
"Okay then … time to go to work."
You cleared your throat too, nodding and trying to ignore the heat that flushed across your cheeks.
Must've been the landing... yeah, just that.
——
The rough landing seemed to had messed with the jet's communication system, leaving you unable to notify anyone back at the watchtower that you'd made it safely.
You barely got two steps outside before regretting every decision that led you to this point. The stupid bet with Yelena. Stupid Bob.
Actually, scratch that ... Yelena was taking the yelling for the both of them.
Even layered head to toe with Valentina's high tech tactical suit, the cold crept in through every seam and zipper. The forest around you was quiet, and too white, just frost covered pines and the sound of boots crunching the snow below you.
And... him.
He walked ahead of you, carrying the map completely unfazed by the freezing air, head high and posture perfect, with that ridiculous bent shield attached to his arm.
"Walker, why do you get the map?" you asked, not even trying to hide your irritation.
"Because I actually know how to read it," he replied without looking back.
You rolled your eyes. Honestly, you didn't even want the map, your crossed arms were staying glued to your chest for warmth. Picking a fight with him was just the most entertaining way to stay conscious.
You walked in silence for about fifteen minutes before you started talking again, not because you had anything relevant to say, but because it kept your jaw moving.
"How much longer?" you asked, not intending it to come out as whiny as it did, but the cold sinking in your bones was making your brain foggy.
"Can't keep up, already?" he mocked. "Want me to take out the Sentry I keep in my pocket? Maybe he can fly us there."
You inhaled sharply, resisting the sudden urge to stab him. No one would know ... right? Mission incident. Just an incident.
You shook your head, you still needed him to get out of there. That didn't mean you couldn't mess with him a little longer.
So you sniffled.
"You're so mean, John," you mumbled, voice laced with fake hurt.
He stopped in his tracks, shocked about two things. First, did you just call him John? And second ... were you sobbing?
He immediately spun around to check, and Jesus, not a single tear. Just a goddamn grin spreading across your face.
His was jaw tight as he turned away, clearly realizing he'd been played.
"You're impossible," he muttered, shaking his head as he began walking again. You laughed.
"I'm actually cold ... not that you'd get it Walker, you're biologically incapable of suffering."
"Can you just be quiet for two seconds?" He groaned. "Maybe shutting up will help you preserve some energy."
"Oh, I'm sorry," you huffed, "Are we saving that energy for all the arguing we're gonna do later?" you were panting now, hating the way your breaths came shorter from the lack of oxygen.
He stopped again, turned just enough to glance at you over his shoulder.
"You good back there, or do I need to carry you?"
There was a part of it that sounded like he actually gave a fuck, but most of it was just him being sarcastic. Or at least that's what you told yourself.
"Oh, please," you scoffed, trudging past him in the snow. "I'd rather get naked here in the cold than be carried by you." He let out a short, dry laugh, and continued trailing behind you.
Yes, fighting with you was entertaining to him too.
The two of you went deeper into the snowy woods for a while, until the trail curved into a clearing. There, a wide, frozen lake stretched in front of you, splitting the path you were supposed to get across. It was lightly dusted in snow, surface thin enough to be a problem but not so fragile you couldn't maybe cross it if you were careful.
If you were careful.
Walker stepped in front of you, eyes scanning the amount of space the lake covered. He cursed under his breath, realizing going around was not an option if he wanted to get this mission done before the night fell and you froze to death.
"I don't like the look of this." He muttered, shaking his head.
It didn't take long for him to get into his I-was-a-soldier-once persona, running through scenarios in his head until he chose the one he seemed to be satisfied with.
Surprise, it was always the same one.
"Okay ... you're gonna have to stay right behind me. I'll check the ice as I go, you step where I step, got it?" He turned to you, lifting his eyebrows expecting an answer while you looked at him with an annoyed expression.
Yes, you knew it was the safest way to do it, he just didn't have to sound so condescending about it.
"Yes ... got it Walker, thank you," you rolled your eyes, eager for him to just go so you could get this over with.
He sighed, and turned his back to you. He adjusted his shield on his arm and stretched his neck from side to side. You snorted, why was he so dramatic all the time?
"Let's go," he muttered, before testing the first step by tapping into the ice with his boot.
You made your way like that, he gave cautious long steps, first putting part of his weight to test it, then all of it, before he could step forward with you behind him. You kept yourself close to him, as much as you told yourself you didn't enjoy it, the broadness of his back covered you from the chill air and his body was so warm you could feel it through his suit.
You didn't notice when he came to an abrupt halt, lifting his right arm up as a 'stop sign' a second too late, causing you to collide against his back.
"What the– ouch!" You cursed when you crashed into him. He didn't even budge from his spot, it was like hitting a wall. A six foot two brick wall. "Do you mind warning me before stopping like that? you are literally made of concrete," you complained, rubbing your forehead.
"I literally signed it when I stopped," he furrowed his brows, pointing the hand he kept in the air.
"You are supposed to sign it before you stop, soldier boy. Or how about you just talk like a normal human being?"
"Listen, I think this is a thinner section, so we have to walk through slower, s l o w e r, is it clear enough for you now?" he said, spelling the world 'slower' as he made a walking motion with his fingers on the palm of his hand.
God, stabbing him never sounded like a better idea.
"Jesus Walker, do you even hear yourself when you talk? Just because you're leading doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it." You were almost yelling, completely fuming at this point.
"If you don't like the way I lead," he snapped, gesturing sharply in front of him, "then by all means, go ahead, take the lead. Break the ice if you want. I won't catch you if you drown."
You narrowed your eyes at him.
He didn't expect you to actually move.
But you did. Because you'd rather drown out of spite than let him think he had the final word. So you squared your shoulders and strode right past him without hesitation.
His hand shot out to grab your shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm taking the lead," you shrugged, and he looked at you in disbelief.
"Are you serious right now–"
You yanked your shoulder from his grasp before he could finish. "Dead serious."
You kept walking without testing your steps, John's eye twitched at the sound of your boots hitting the ice. At this point you had forgotten how cold you were, just from the anger at him alone.
"Oh great ... yeah, keep stomping like that. You want me to throw the shield too? Maybe help you break it faster?"
"No, Walker, I don't want your stupid taco shield. Besides, I'm lighter than you."
You kept your pace, ice creaking faintly beneath you, but you ignored it. You were almost halfway through. When his firm hand latched onto your forearm, rougher this time, stopping you in your tracks.
"Stop doing that!" he snapped, holding you firmer so you wouldn't let go. "You can't just walk off and–"
"God, stop stopping me!" you shouted back, twisting violently in his grip. "Let go of me, Walker!"
But this time, he wasn't gonna let you. You exhaled loudly, feeling helpless, so you stomped your foot on the thin ice. Great … you were letting John Walker make you throw a tantrum. He just got angrier at your reckless move.
"I gave you an order!" He finally snapped, making your eyes go wide in surprise to his audacity.
Where the hell does this man get off?
You just stood there in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, his grip still firm on your forearm. Your brows furrowed, chest rising up and down from the confrontation. You swore your head was about to explode.
"You know what, Walker," you muttered, your voice was low because you felt that if you raised it any louder you were about to have a stroke. "Maybe if you used half of the brain inside your big stupid head you would realize you're not the boss of me."
He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out. His posture relaxed slightly, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"I'm just trying to keep you alive," he muttered, like he was trying to make you understand something he couldn't quite put into words.
You saw a flicker of something different in his eyes, making you lower your arm to stop resisting against his grip. You wanted to believe him, you really did. Flashes of the way he'd looked concerned about you back in the jet invaded your mind.
But no. You wouldn't give him the pleasure.
"I don't need you to do that," you whispered, and when you noticed a slight falter in his grip, you forcibly pulled yourself back.
The sound of cracking ice didn't even register to him until it was too late. You turned around to continue making your way, planning to ignore him the rest of the mission.
"Wait, stop—" he blurted out, reaching a hand to stop you, but you had already stepped forward.
The clear layer beneath your boots gave way in an instant.
Freezing water swallowed you whole as you lost sight on John, who stood on what was left of the ice on the surface.
It wasn't just cold, it was paralyzing.
Your breath got caught somewhere in your lungs, never making it out. You tried to swim up but everything was so heavy, your limbs, your thoughts ... the world. You could only watch as you were dragged from the light above.
This was it. Your last dumb mission, stuck with him of all people.
John's knees hit the ground hard, scrambling to the edge of the crack you'd fallen in, peering into the dark, freezing water. But he could see nothing.
"Shit—shit ... where are you?” he looked frantically, but there was no way he could get you out like that, the current had pulled you under.
He inmmediatly dropped the shield attached to his arm, the goddamn map, and didn't even think twice before diving in. The cold punched the air from his lungs, but he didn't care, he could take it. You couldn't.
His eyes went wide in the dark, searching through the blurry water for you. Minutes passed, but he refused to acknowledge how long it was taking him to find you, how his enhanced body was already pleading for oxygen.
But then, in the distance he saw something. A figure ... your body, sinking like it didn't belong to someone fighting for their life.
Maybe you weren't fighting anymore.
No. God please—no.
He got to you in three large strokes, grabbed you with one arm, and pushed up, only to be met with thick, unbroken ice above. He cursed, accidentally swallowing some water. He slammed his fist into it once, twice, he didn't know how many it took until it broke wide open, cracks stained with the blood of his hand.
It didn't matter, he would heal.
John bursted through the surface with you held tight to his chest, coughing, ignoring the cold sinking into his bones as he dragged you into a thicker part of the ice like his life depended on it.
Because it did. Because yours did. But you weren't breathing anymore.
"No no no ... hey, hey, come on–" he groaned, laying your head on his lap, gently tapping your cheek, but you didn’t open your eyes. "Fuck."
He cradled your head to place you flat on the ice, and kneeled beside you. You were still, too still, the image of your limp body broke something inside him he didn’t even know was there.
"Don't do this to me," he muttered, as he started CPR with just one blood stained hand so his strength wouldn't crack your ribs on top of everything else. "Come on. Come on, don't– not like this ... I didn't mean it dammit!"
He shook his head, wet hair splashing cold water everywhere, aggressively wiping his eyes with his free hand, before going down to blow oxygen into your mouth.
"Breathe .. please breathe. You're not–you're not allowed to go out like this, you hear me?"
He kept just kept going, didn't plan on giving up, not on you. Compress, oxygen. Compress, oxygen. Over and over.
Until you finally jerked under him.
Water burst from your mouth in a choking cough, body lurching forward, your hands reaching out to cling on something, anything.
John.
He exhaled like he hadn't since he saw you go under the water and immediately scooped you up against his chest, a large hand placed behind your head to steady you. You gasped as you shivered, and he just felt this excruciating pain in his chest.
"Okay ... okay. You're okay," he mumbled, more to himself than you. "You're going to be just fine."
He just stroked your hair, as he kept muttering 'you're okay' 'you're alive'. You coughed a few more times, clinging into the heat of his chest that escaped the wet fabric of his clothes. That's when you realized he was soaking and shaking too, he'd actually pulled you out.
"You ... you went after me," you blurted out.
John wanted to punch himself in that moment. Repeatedly. Why did he have to say all those things to you? He knew damn well he would go after you every time.
He held you tighter, and placed a kiss on your forehead.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, voice cracking, something you never thought would hear from him, but man was he holding you like his life depended on it.
You wanted to say something else, but your teeth began chattering uncontrollably. You weakly pulled apart to look at him, maybe to let him know you felt your body giving out, maybe to look at him clearly one last time before your eyes began blurring more. And he saw it, he knew.
"No–no don't do that. Stay with me, alright? Listen to me! Just this once."
You're not the boss of me, Walker, you thought.
He finally stood up, pulling you up into his arms, one hand braced under your knees, the other across your back. "We're heading back to the jet. I need you to stay awake for me."
You just managed to nod, curling against his chest.
He left his shield behind, Val would get it back and if she didn't who cares. That wasn't important to him now, you were.
He miraculously managed to make it out the frozen lake without it breaking again, running right back into the forest path you'd already hiked through.
At this point, he didn't feel the cold anymore.
Didn't feel the bite of ice in his clothes, or the burning ache in his chest as he launched himself through the trees. You were trembling in his arms, he knew you were getting worse the longer he took to get you to shelter.
"Hey," John barked, louder than he meant to, like volume would anchor you to him. "C'mon. Say something, just keep talking."
You wanted to roll your eyes and laugh at him. He sounded way too desperate, for someone who couldnt stand you this morning. "You suck," you managed to blurt out, and you felt his laugh vibrate in his chest.
"Good girl," he replied, trying to get you mad at him like he'd done earlier in the jet, just so you talked to him.
Just so you stayed alive out of pure spite.
But you didn't fight him this time, you didn't want to anymore. He could boss you around all he wanted as long as you could feel the warmth of his body. As long as he kept running through the woods, holding you like you were the only thing that mattered to him.
"Eyes open. Stay with me." He groaned, when he didn't get the reaction he wanted. "Just a little longer, alright? Yell at me, go ahead, just keep saying shit. Insult my haircut. Tell me I ruined your day ... anything."
You made a noise, maybe a word, but it sounded wrong. Your head lolled against his shoulder and your lips were turning blue.
"Fuck," he hissed. "You're not dying on me."
The jet was on sight now, slightly buried in snow between the crashed pines. The second he reached the ramp, he stumbled up with you in his arms, kicking the door open. The inside was less cold than outside, but it was not enough.
He laid you gently on the copilot seat, and turned to the controls, desperately flipping switches to get the jet's heating system going, and fiddling with the comms settings to try to get to the team.
"Bucky? Yelena? Anybody, come in–" he barked, looking at you over his shoulder. "We need immediate extraction."
Nothing came back, the signal was still down.
"Goddammit." He slammed the control panel, a let out a string of curses under his breath.
He finally turned to your figure on the seat, and felt his whole chest cave in. You weren't moving anymore, just breathing shallow and slow. He could hear your heartbeat slowing down as you stared at him with half lidded eyes.
The jet had barely warmed up. It was like being inside a fucking freezer. There was no time, he knew what he needed to do.
"Fuck it."
He stripped off his gear quickly. The heat of his body had already dried off most of it. Still, he got rid of his tactical suit, gloves, the compression shirt he wore inside, until he was left in his underwear, body steaming against the crisp air.
He knelt by your chair, then hesitantly placed his hands on your soaked layers.
"Sorry ... I have to do this," he muttered, as his fingers found your suit's zipper. "I know you hate me. I know this is the last thing you want ... but I need you to live more than I need your permission right now."
His hands were careful. Gentle, even as they worked fast. He took off all layers, except for your underwear. His jaw clenched the whole time as he tried to keep his eyes from looking more than necessary.
He then lifted you off the seat so he could sit instead, placing you on his lap. He pulled you as close as he could, chest to chest, arms wrapped around your freezing body trying to trap as much heat as he could between you. He tilted your face gently, tucking it under his chin.
And God, he was warm.
By this point you had stopped shivering, but he knew it meant you were just at the worst stage of it. Your lips were blue, skin worryingly lifeless, and you couldn't quite figure out what was going on anymore.
"I got you," he whispered, kissing your head like he did when he got you out of the water. But that time you'd gotten back to him. Right now you were drifting away. "I've got you. You're gonna be okay."
"John?" His name came out unsure. Like you didn't remember he was even with you. Like you didn't remember you never called him John.
"Yeah it's me ... it's Walker. You hate my guts, remember? ... come on, stay with me," he held you tighter, wishing there was a way to give you all the serum going through his veins, even if it was him dying instead of you. "I didn't mean it. Any of it. You can punch me when you get better. I'll let you."
His hands tan through your back, your arms, rubbing warmth into your skin, trying to coax you back.
"I'll carry you through another mile of snow. I'll lose all the bets to Yelena if it means you get to yell at me one more time."
He didn't know what he was saying anymore. And it's not like you were hearing him anyways, time got strange after that.
You drifted in and out, sometimes aware of his arms around you, sometimes lost in the static of your own head. But slowly, like fog clearing, your mind began to catch up with your body. You felt heat all around you, like you were wrapped in something solid and safe.
And... bare.
Your cheek was pressed to bare skin.
John Walker's skin.
You blinked against the soft rise and fall of his chest, his heart thumping under your ear.
"...you're warm," you whispered, barely audible.
For a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. But you shifted in his grip enough to let him know that you were there, that you were real again.
Thanks to him.
"You're alive," he exhaled. His hand instinctively cupped the back of your head, fingers threading carefully through damp strands. "Jesus ... you're alive."
"You sound surprised," you rasped, lips ghosting a smirk.
"I watched you fall through the ice." His voice cracked on the word fall. "Yeah ... I'm fucking surprised."
"I can tell ... your heart is racing," you mumbled, voice coming out hoarse from your dry throat.
The adrenaline was still screaming through his bloodstream. He wanted to play it off, crack a joke, maybe roll his eyes and say yeah, thanks for ruining the mission, but none of that came out.
"Yeah ... well," he breathed out. "You scared the hell out of me."
There. He said it. Fuck it.
"I thought you hated me,"
"I tried to.. . God knows, you make it easy."
That made you huff a shaky laugh. He ignored the way his heart skipped to that. You were laughing again. Alive. In his arms.
"You're not exactly sunshine yourself, John."
John. His name sounded so pretty coming out your lips when you were not dying.
"I know."
That was probably the first conversation that didn't end with you wanting to punch him in the face. Something had shifted.
Maybe almost dying was all it took.
It was like the cold had finally frozen the part of your brain that hated John Walker. Or the heat of his body had melted the part of you that still tried to pretend you did.
You nestled your face closer to his neck, trying to soak in the impossible warmth of his skin. "I didn't mean it either ... you know. All the times I said you were insufferable."
He didn't say anything.
"I mean, you are ... but–" You exhaled. "I think I just didn't want to deal with whatever this was."
You felt his fingers twitch against your back, still careful, like you weren't almost naked in his arms.
"Yeah," he said. "Same."
John looked down at you, still cradled to him like glass. You were watching him now, really watching him, and not with the usual disgust behind your eyes. This time it was something... gentler.
And he was close. Too close. You could feel the heat of him everywhere, arms still locked around you like you belonged there. And his gaze had stopped hiding whatever had been buried under all those arguments and insults.
He tilted his head, eyes flickering down to your lips for a second too long. That's when something snapped inside you. You surged forward before your brain could catch up.
It wasn't cute, not at first. It was cold dry lips, desperate touches, and months of pent up tension crashing together. But then he softened, his hand cradled your face like you were something fragile, and yours clung to his neck like maybe if you held tighter, this wouldn't end.
But it did, because he pulled apart, like he was still holding himself back. He shook his head.
"I want you alive first ... fully conscious," he whispered against your lips. "Not ... not like this."
Of course he wasn't sure if this was real. If this was just some kind of 'thanks for saving me' type kiss. Like tomorrow you would wake up and remember you hated him, and he wasn't sure if he could take that.
You shook your head, you have never known what you wanted more than in this moment. Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe it was the brush with death.
"No," you shook your head. "Ive never felt more alive ... and I'm not wasting another second."
John opened his mouth to argue, but you kissed him before he could. You took all the strenght left in your body to kiss him deeper, until it was less about the anger, the insecurities, and more about everything else you hadn't said yet.
And you showed him, with your hands running through his hair, with your tongue playing with his, that this kiss wasn't a just a thank you, it was an apology ... a finally. Because you still didn’t know what the hell this was, but neither of you wanted to fight it anymore.
You pulled back breathless, but you were still so close that you could feel his chest rising and falling against yours. And then ... you both laughed.
Awkwardly. Like you didn’t know what to do with each other now.
"...What on earth was that?" you whispered, smiling through the adrenaline crash.
"I ...I don't know," he muttered, a little dazed.
You knew you should be panicking, overthinking. You should be denying everything that just happened. Yet still, you're both laughing again, naturally, like you didn't spend the last months wanting to stab each other.
Something loosened inside you, and you closed your eyes. His warmth, John was so damn cozy and soft ... almost unreasonably so.
Until he oppened his mouth again. Because he was still John Walker after all.
"So... what was that about you rather being naked around here than letting me carry you?" He allowed himself to tease you, because he could now.
Because everything you said in your stupid argument came true. You just didn't expect him to rub it in. You opened your mouth in surprise, hitting his chest, but this time it was playful.
"Haha, very funny. What was that about you not going after me if I drowned?" you snarked back.
He chuckled, and god ... it felt so easy now. He didn't have to say something mean back this time, too many months wasted on that.
So he just leaned in and crashed his lips against you.
Because you were cold. Because you were warm. Because your lips were right there and he just saved your life. And he was sick of pretending he hated the sound of your voice.
This time what interrupted your little make out you was the voice of someone else.
"... h-hello? ... guys come in. We got your message, Walker. Already on our way. Are you both okay?"
Yelena's voice coming out the jet’s comms made your tongues freeze mid kiss. You split apart like teenagers caught making out in a janitors closet.
You were suddenly aware of your very compromising position ... almost naked.
"Oh my god ... oh my god, John," you panicked, looking at the pile of wet clothes on the floor. "She's not even gonna let us explain it to her."
"Just ... don't answer yet," he hissed. "Give me a second to ... it's just my face, I can't—" He turned away from you.
"Are you blushing?" You chuckled through your panic.
"No ... It's the cold, shut up."
"Guys, do you copy? Hellooo ... this is Yelena … I swear to God if you two are dead, I'm going to be very upset."
You scrambled upright, before she thought about accessing the jets cameras or video calling, and tapped the console to talk to her.
"This is Walker and uh ... me," you said, voice slightly breathless. "We're alive, mission compromised. But we're... okay."
There was a pause, and you thought maybe you saved your asses.
"Why do you sound like you've been making out?"
You didn't answer inmediatly.
"Hold on ..." she hurried, and you panicked.
A white light flickered, signaling image was coming through. A fucking video call.
Before you could launch towards the control deck to cut the communication, a hollogram showed the inside of another jet, and Yelena's face. Or more accurately, Yelena's extremely judgmental face. Her eyes went wide, jaw almost falling to the floor.
"What the fuck are you guys doing?"
John cursed under his breath and reached blindly to get his tactical shirt, laying it over your shoulders to cover what was left of your dignity. Bob's voice came in behind her.
"Wait, wait ... move, lemme see—holy shit,” he covered his mouth with both hands, in half amusement, half disbelief.
Ava shoved herself into frame next, squinting. "Are you guys... naked?"
Bucky just peeked his head in, horrified. "They are."
You covered your face with both hands, muffling a mortified groan. John just tipped his head back and let out the most dramatic sigh of his life.
"I swear to god," he muttered. "We weren't ... we're not—it was hypothermia!"
"And your solution was...?" Yelena teased.
"Body heat, Belova," he snapped, rolling his eyes. "It's called first aid, look it up."
"Well ... clearly you got aided." Ava smirked at you.
Bob's voice chimed in again. "I bet that's not the only thing he—"
"BOB."
Yelena mouthed a sorry to the camera after shutting him up, and gently pushed him to the side. Ava disappeared next to them. Even off frame you could still hear their muffled laughs.
Bucky just scanned your face through the screen. "You okay?"
You nodded, because you were. You finally were. "He's really warm."
John cleared his throat.
"We need evac. She's stable now but still cold. Jet heating wasn't enough, I did the only thing I could."
"Copy that," Bucky nodded, biting his cheek to not say anything. "Reaching your coordinates, just please... put your shirts back on before we get there."
Summary: Bucky notices you haven’t been wearing your wedding ring
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It was one of those quiet Sunday mornings in the Barnes household sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains, the scent of fresh coffee drifting from the kitchen, and the sound of Bucky humming something old-timey under his breath.
You padded into the kitchen in one of his old Henley’s and a pair of fuzzy socks, hair tousled and cheeks still warm from sleep. He smiled when he saw you, his whole face lighting up in that boyish way that still made your heart do flips.
“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you leaned against the counter beside him. His metal hand slid around your waist automatically, like it always did.
“Mornin’, Bucky.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, and that’s when you saw his eyes flick down for just a second. It was subtle, but you caught it. He didn’t say anything. Not right away.
But you knew Bucky Barnes better than anyone, and you recognized that soft flicker of doubt in his eyes before he turned back to the coffee.
You glanced down at your hand. Bare.
You hadn’t meant to leave your ring off not in any significant way. You’d taken it off last week while baking because dough had gotten stuck in the band, and then you’d forgotten to put it back on. It had sat safely in the little dish on your dresser, waiting for you.
But Bucky hadn’t asked about it. Not once.
You stood quietly for a moment, then reached for the coffee mug he’d already poured for you. His back was to you now, but his shoulders were a little stiffer than usual.
“Bucky,” you said gently, cradling the warm mug in your hands. “Can I ask you something?”
He turned slowly, expression soft but guarded. “Of course, doll.”
“Did you… notice I haven’t been wearing my ring?”
His eyes flicked to your bare finger again. He didn’t answer right away. Just gave a small, quiet nod. “Yeah. I noticed.”
You bit your lip. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged, and the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to let something deeper show. “Didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it. Figured maybe it was uncomfortable or you needed a break from it. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to wear it for me.”
You walked over to him and reached up to cup his face. His stubble scratched your palm as he leaned into your touch, almost instinctively.
“Bucky. I took it off while I was baking and just forgot to put it back on. That’s it.” Your thumb brushed across his cheekbone. “You think I’d ever want a break from being married to you?”
He looked down at you, eyes soft and unsure in that way that only you got to see.
“I know it’s just a ring,” he murmured. “But when I don’t see it, I guess… part of me wonders if maybe you”
“No,” you said firmly, already reaching for his hand. “I love you. I love being your wife. It has nothing to do with a ring on my finger.” You gave a sheepish smile. “Though I am gonna go put it back on right now.”
You turned to leave, but he tugged your wrist gently. “Wait.”
You paused, eyebrows raised.
He pulled a small box out of the junk drawer behind him. “Since we’re talkin’ about rings…”
You blinked. “Bucky?”
“I saw this the other day when I was picking up your favorite tea.” He opened the box to reveal a delicate chain. “So if you ever don’t wanna wear the ring on your finger, you can wear it on this. Around your neck. Still close to your heart.”
“James Buchanan Barnes,” you whispered, heart full and eyes shining. “You are the sweetest man on this entire planet.”
He grinned, relieved now. “I just love bein’ yours, sweetheart. I know it’s silly to get caught up in a ring, but… it reminds me every day that I get to call you mine.”
You took the chain from him, slipping it on so the ring rested just above your heart. “There. Now you’ve got me twice over.”
He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in warmth and familiar safety. “Yeah, but you had me first.”
You kissed him right there in the kitchen, sun streaming in, coffee long forgotten, both of you wrapped in a love that didn’t need gold or diamonds to prove it still sparkled just as brightly. You had slipped the wedding ring back onto your finger that morning. It felt warm again, like it belonged there like it never should’ve left in the first place.
Bucky noticed immediately, of course. You were just getting ready to leave the apartment, he was slipping on his leather jacket when you held your hand out to grab your phone and your ring glinted in the light.
He froze mid-motion, lips twitching into a grin so wide it practically split his face.
“You wore it.”
You looked down innocently. “Wore what?”
“Don’t play with me, doll,” he said, pulling you toward him by the hand in question. “Look at you, showin’ off.”
“I just figured since my very handsome husband gave me the prettiest ring in the world, I should wear it,” you said, eyes sparkling.
“Damn right,” he muttered, and before you could say another word, he dipped his head and kissed the hand with your ring like some old-fashioned heartthrob. “I’ll never get tired of seein’ it on you.”
You leaned into him with a smirk. “You gonna cry again?”
“I didn’t cry the first time,” he grumbled half heartedly, but the way his ears turned pink betrayed him.
Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader
Word Count: ~2,500
Warnings: Jealousy, possessiveness, mild language, secret marriage, flirting, fluff
Summary: No one knows you’re Tony’s wife. So when you show up at the Tower looking like that—all soft smiles and staggering beauty—the team doesn’t stand a chance. And neither does Tony’s patience.
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No one knew you were married to Tony Stark.
It wasn’t a secret, not exactly—just something quiet. Yours. Not for press releases or public drama or fan theories. Just late night takeout and cold feet under warm blankets and his name on your finger, where no one ever looked close enough to notice.
He told you once, right after your wedding, that keeping it just yours was the only thing that ever felt real in a world full of noise.
So you kept it.
Until today.
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You didn’t mean to cause chaos.
You really didn’t.
You just walked into the Tower—hair soft and loose, your favorite blouse (the one Tony always got stupid quiet about), and that look on your face. The one that said you weren’t trying to impress anyone, which somehow made it worse.
“Uh—can we help you?”
You turned and smiled. The kind that always made Tony stare too long.
Steve Rogers was blinking like he forgot how eyes worked.
“Oh,” you said sweetly, “I’m just here for the debrief. Meeting Room B?”
“I can show you,” he offered instantly, already stepping forward. “If—if you’d like.”
Sam appeared out of nowhere, like a hawk to something shiny. “We all should, actually. You know. To be polite.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “How thoughtful.”
Steve looked proud. Sam looked smug. Natasha—who had just walked in—looked like she knew exactly what was going on and was already bored.
You followed them, heels echoing softly on the floor, pretending not to notice the way they kept glancing at you. Eyes lingering too long. Not even in a gross way—just stunned. Like they weren’t sure how someone like you had just walked into their world like a living fever dream.
And somewhere above all this?
You knew Tony would lose his shit.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tony had exactly four minutes of peace before FRIDAY chirped into the air.
“Mr. Stark? Your wife has arrived.”
His pen clattered to the desk.
“She what?”
“She’s currently being escorted to the conference room. With Captain Rogers. And Mr. Wilson.”
Tony swore under his breath, already halfway out the door.
Because of course she couldn’t just walk in like a normal person. No. She had to stroll in like a dream sequence, melt every Avenger’s brain, and forget she was wearing his ring under that blouse that should really, really be illegal.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Steve was mid-sentence—something about protocol, but you’d stopped listening—when the doors slammed open behind you.
You didn’t even have to turn around.
You felt him before you saw him.
The magnetic hum of presence. The slight change in air.
And then: “There you are.”
Tony.
Everyone turned.
You smiled innocently over your shoulder. “Hi, honey.”
Silence.
Complete. Staggering. Silence.
Tony crossed the room in three long strides, didn’t even glance at the rest of them. He took your hand, laced his fingers through yours like it was instinct. Then leaned in and kissed your cheek. No, your jaw. No, right below your jaw, where it would linger.
Steve made a noise that might’ve been a gasp. Sam swore softly under his breath.
“Wait,” Clint said from the corner. “Honey?”
“Wife,” Tony corrected, turning slightly. “As in legally, emotionally, and very very off-limits.”
You squeezed his hand to stop him from adding and so far out of your league it’s laughable, because it was definitely coming.
“You never told us,” Natasha said, her tone unreadable.
Tony shrugged. “Don’t tell you what I eat for breakfast either. Doesn’t mean it’s a secret.”
You leaned into his side with a smile that was all teeth. “He’s a little jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” Tony muttered under his breath.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later, when the others had mostly dispersed—some in confusion, others in utter shock—you found yourself curled on the couch in the penthouse, Tony pressed half on top of you like a grumpy cat who’d finally caught its prey.
“You flirted with them,” he grumbled.
“I was being nice.”
“You winked at Steve.”
“He’s polite.”
“You asked Sam to walk you down the hallway.”
“I didn’t want to get lost.”
Tony buried his face in your neck with a dramatic groan. “You are going to kill me.”
“You like it.”
He looked up at you, eyes suddenly soft.
God, those eyes.
“I love you,” he said, like it wasn’t fair. Like it hurt him to admit it, even now.
You didn't think life could ever turn out the way it does in romance novels until you met a handsome stranger on vacation
3.2k words
Warnings: 18+, smut (oral, f receiving, protected piv sex), alcohol mention, fluff and rom com style clichés
Notes: This was supposed to be short and fluffy but something happened, hope you enjoy anyway! Title from the Bon Iver song because I'm bad at coming up with my own. Still new to writing fics so comments are, as always, appreciated!
...
Reading on the beach in the setting sun was just about the most ideal way you could think of to end the first day of your vacation, a week in Hawaii with your best friend stretching ahead of you. Later, you’d both planned to head to a bar you walked by earlier for a few drinks, however since she’d engaged the attention of a group of surfers that perfect end to the perfect day was fading further away.
To you they pretty much all looked the same apart from one. If you had to describe him in a word, it would be golden. His skin, his hair, the way the setting sun was shining on him all gave him a glow that was bordering on angelic, godlike even. You don’t realise you’re staring until he looks up and catches you- it’s too late to pretend you weren’t but luckily your friend interrupts.
“Hey, these guys were thinking of having a bonfire and a few beers, I said we could stay and join them, what do you think?”
“What happened to us getting drinks? And you’ve only just met them, do you really want to spend the whole night with them?” you reply, a little reluctant to give up your plans and spend the evening with a group of strangers.
“Come on, we’re here for a week, I promise we’ll go to that bar another night,” she pouts, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically. You roll your eyes. “Ugh, fine, I’ll stay so you can continue talking to the hunky surfers.”
“See, I knew there was a reason you were my best friend- anyway you might enjoy talking to the hunky surfers. Blue eyes over there keeps staring at you.” You look round to see who she’s referring to- it’s Golden Boy.
You shove your book into your bag and muster your enthusiasm as you accompany her over to where the guys were starting to gather a pile of driftwood. She introduces you to some of them as you help set up logs, blankets and coolers of beer around the bonfire and they make polite conversation before turning their attention back to her- you’ll never understand how she does it.
Seeing how the night is going to go, you sit down by the fire, welcoming the warmth and resigning yourself to toughing it out alone for a while. That is until Golden Boy sidles up to you, looking more bronze now in the firelight and holding out two beers in one hand, the other shoved slightly awkwardly in the pocket of his shorts.
“Hey, I’m Harrison- you looked like you could use one of these?” You thank him, introducing yourself before he asks if you mind sharing your blanket- of course you don’t. “What were you reading over there?” he says after a moment.
“Oh, it’s just some romance novel- it’s really sappy, kinda stupid, but I’m enjoying it.”
“You a romantic then?” he smiles.
“Yeah, I suppose so,” you shrug, “not sure how much of that stuff ever happens in real life though.”
“Oooh, so cynical,” he says, wincing. You giggle at his expression, “well, are you?”
“A romantic? Hard not to be living in a place like this,” he replies wistfully, staring out across the ocean. You follow his gaze to see how the final pink rays of the sun are dancing on the rippling waves and can’t help humming in agreement. “So how long are you here for?” he asks- from there you slip into conversation about your lives, your jobs and his future plans. “Have you always wanted to be a doctor?”
“I guess I always knew I’d end up going that way, my dad’s a doctor and I can’t make a living from surfing and working in a record store, as he loves to remind me,” he says with a slight grimace. You catch the sadness in his expression and steer the conversation in a different direction, the record store providing the perfect route. You talk through the music you like, the books you’ve read and the movies you have or haven’t seen. Around you the night gets chillier, and he suggests moving closer to the fire, wrapping the blanket around both your shoulders. Feeling the heat of his body against you is intoxicating, and you don’t think you’re imagining the way he occasionally glances at your lips.
But too soon the group begins to disperse, and he offers to drive you and your friend back to your rented beach house. When he’s dropped you off you watch him drive away with a sinking feeling in your chest- you’d felt a connection, but you hadn’t swapped numbers and you didn’t know his second name. What did it matter though? He was practically a stranger, and you were only here for a week, you’d probably never see him again anyway.
…
While you’re searching for a brunch spot the following day, you stumble across a music store, RECORDS and TAPES illuminated in neon in the windows. “Hey, I just want to stop in here for a minute- you go ahead and get us a table,” you tell your friend, gesturing to the café next door. You know old vinyls aren’t really her thing and she’s already told you how starving she is, besides you already know what you’re looking for, you’ll only be a minute.
Inside, you make your way around the boxes of vinyl, rifling through them to see if they have what’s missing from your collection. Someone moving towards the back of the shop distracts you, but you freeze when you see who it is. Can’t make a living from surfing and working in a record store. You had forgotten until now.
Harrison starts to raise his head from the vinyl sleeve he’s studying so you whip around to stare at the wall in front of you. It’s populated with cassette tapes, and your eyes land on one with a brightly decorated cover but you can’t read the title. You’re contemplating your next move when a deep voice comes from behind you. “They’re all mixtapes people have donated. Nice to see you again,” he says, smiling lopsidedly as you turn to look at him.
“Oh yeah, hi,” you reply as naturally as you can with your heart racing like it is- it’s unfair how good he looks in that blue shirt, “that’s cool, I was just trying to read the name of that one.”
He reaches out to take the cassette off the shelf and squints at it. “Ooh it just says Makeout Jamz, I’d love to know what’s on that,” he laughs. He opens the case to look for a track list but inside it’s blank, “there’s nothing on the card, you’d have to play it to find out.”
“Shame no one has cassette players anymore, guess the Makeout Jamz are lost to time,” you joke. He hums in agreement and looks like he’s thinking before he speaks again with a smirk. “So, did you come in here looking for something specific or did you just see me through the window?”
You feel yourself flush. “Uh, actually there’s an Etta James album I’ve been looking for, thought it was worth checking in here.”
“Etta James? So you’re definitely a romantic.”
“Everyone likes Etta James,” you argue. “Sure,” he nods, “come on I’ll show you where it might be.”
You follow him across the shop where he finds the right album almost immediately. After he rings you up, he scribbles something on your receipt before handing it to you. “I’m sorry if this is too cliché or whatever, but my number’s on there- drop me a text if you want to, there’s no pressure I just…I really enjoyed getting to know you yesterday, it would be great to see you again before you leave.”
It's hard to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and you bite your lip to control the smile that’s breaking across your face. “I’d like that too, I’ll text you later,” you say, storing the receipt safely in your bag and hugging the vinyl to you. “Great,” he grins, and as you leave you can feel the heat of his gaze following you out the door.
“Sorry I took so long I ran into someone,” you apologise to your friend as you drop into the seat opposite her.
“Ran into who? We don’t know anyone here- unless it was that guy from the beach, was it him?” she gushes excitedly. Once you’ve caught her up on the details and she’s finished squealing you find the receipt in your bag.
Hey Harrison it’s me, was 5 minutes long enough to wait to text?
At least you waited until you’d actually left, playing it pretty cool if you ask me. Is tonight too soon to meet up again?
Your friend promises she can entertain herself for an evening- turns out one of the other surfers from the beach had invited her out- so you tell Harrison that tonight would be perfect. He suggests dinner at a place by the beach. You can’t wait.
…
When Harrison offers to drive you back after dinner you accept, unable to tear yourself away from him yet. He’d guided you out of the restaurant with his hand on the small of your back and then offered you his arm as you walked along the beach to where he’d parked. So now you’re here, one hand curled around his bicep while the other carries your shoes, welcoming the breeze that’s coming off the ocean as it cools your flushed skin. You stop to look out across the sea, another red sunset lighting up the water. “It’s so beautiful here,” you muse. “I’ve got a blanket in my car if you wanted to sit for a while?” he suggests. You’re still not ready for the night to end, so you agree. He holds up a finger, “I’ll go get it, wait here, I also have a surprise for you.”
“Okay…” you say softly through a smile as you watch him jog excitedly towards his car. When he returns, he’s got a blanket in one hand and an old portable stereo in the other. “You want to find out what’s on that mixtape?”
You clap your hands excitedly, “oh absolutely, where did you find that stereo?”
“We get them come in broken at work, fixed this one up this afternoon.” He spreads out the blanket and fishes the tape out of his pocket while you sit down. As soon as the first song starts to play, he groans, “oh it’s worse than I imagined.” It’s very 90’s and incredibly cheesy. “It’s exactly what I hoped it would be,” you grin.
You sit there together, marvelling at how the tape somehow gets worse with every song while the sun dips below the horizon and heat creeps up your back from where his arm is propped behind you. In a moment of quiet you turn to him and find he’s already looking at you. You’re not imagining the way he’s looking at your lips now. “So, you’re on vacation, on a beach at sunset, on a date with a man you only met yesterday- this too sappy for you?” he asks with a smirk.
You smile, “oh definitely, way too sappy, this stuff never happens in real life.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” he laughs, shaking his head. Then, softly, “would it be ok if I kissed you?”
You nod, and he cradles one side of your jaw in his hand before he catches your bottom lip between his. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you open your mouth for him as you sigh into the kiss. It grows more heated as your hand slips into his hair and he leans into you, encouraging you to lie back. You hardly care whether anyone can see you right now, not while his thigh is resting heavily between yours and he’s pressing a kiss to your neck, then your collarbone. When he pulls back and speaks his voice sounds deeper. “You want to get out of here?” You agree without hesitating.
…
The drive to yours takes minutes but it feels torturously slow with the tension that’s now crackling between you. Harrison’s hand is on your thigh the whole time, hot and rough, gently kneading the soft flesh. At the house, you hold your breath and pray that your friend has gone out, but when you open the door it’s dark and quiet, just you and Harrison and the distant sound of the ocean.
You lead him through the dark to your bedroom where shards of light from the rising moon fall across the floor. He wraps an arm around your waist while his other hand sits against your neck, encouraging you to lift your lips to his. His kisses are hot and desperate now, all tongue and teeth as he walks you backwards towards the bed.
Your legs hit the edge and you sit as he drops to his knees in front of you, kissing you again as he helps you take off your top. You lean down to grab the hem of his shirt and run your hands over his firm stomach as you pull it up and over his head. You lift your hips to help him pull your skirt down over them and he lets out a little moan when he sees your damp underwear, “god you’re wet already.”
Then he’s trailing hot hisses across your throat and down your chest to the tops of your breasts. He moves his hand around your back to the clasp of your bra and pauses to ask “is this ok?” before you nod and reach back to help him. “So pretty,” he whispers into your skin as his lips and tongue drag across your now exposed breasts while you gasp and bury your fingers in his hair. He presses his hand flat against your stomach, gently urging you to lie back while he kisses down to the edge of your underwear. When he reaches it he looks up at you with an almost pleading expression and asks, “can I taste you?”
“Yes…please, Harrison,” you answer, butterflies erupting again in your stomach as he pulls off your panties and hooks your thighs over his broad shoulders. He presses his lips to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, each time moving closer to your centre. Your hands fist in the sheets when he finally licks a slow, deliberate line up to your clit where he stops to tease and suck at it. The slide of his tongue has you squirming beneath him, but the broad forearm slung over your hips and hand around your thigh keep you still and open for him. The slick sound of his mouth and the vibration of his rough moans against you add to the pressure that’s building faster than you expected in your core.
“There, please Harrison-” you beg as you feel yourself reaching your peak, thighs shuddering and fingers clawing at his arm as he works you through it. While you catch your breath, he lifts his head and you almost whimper when you see the wetness on his chin- you pull him down to kiss him with an open mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.
“Want you,” you whisper against his lips, reaching down to palm the hard bulge in his pants as a moan catches in his throat. He pulls back to remove the last of his clothes and you giggle at him when he almost stumbles taking off his jeans. He shushes you through a laugh while he takes a condom from his wallet. Then he's kneeling in front of you, his hands on your thighs again, lifting them to rest over his before he lines up his cock and rocks into you. You watch the muscles in his arms and chest work as he handles your hips, pulling you towards him to meet his thrusts. A curl falls over his forehead from where your fingers had displaced it earlier, and you reach out to run your nails gently across his stomach, making him shudder and his rhythm falter.
As heat begins to bloom inside you again, he wraps his arms around your back and encourages you upwards to sit on his thighs, bodies now pressed together while you roll your hips against him. His eyes fall shut and he rests his head against your chest, mouthing at your breasts as he fucks up into you. The breathy, desperate sounds he makes when he comes and the feeling of him twitching inside you is enough to bring you to your second climax. As you clench around him he continues to lazily thrust into you, pressing his lips to yours and swallowing the last of your moans.
He gently lowers you back down before you help each other clean up. You accept the offer of his soft t-shirt to keep away the chilly air as sweat begins to cool on your skin, and you both settle side by side on the bed.
“Is it ok if I stay a while? I can leave if you want me to…” he whispers beside you. “No,” you reply quickly, “I want you to stay if you do.” He nods then pulls you to rest on his chest, running a hand along the curves of your body while you slip back into the easy pattern of conversation you’d had the first time you met on the beach. As much as you’ve already learned about each other you still want to know more, you want to know everything. He’s in the middle of a story about learning to surf when you hear your friend open the front door.
Your eyes widen and you motion to Harrison to be quiet while you listen to her giggling in the hallway, followed by a man’s voice. Now Harrison is as wide eyed as you are, mouthing “I know him” as you shush him again. He presses his lips just beneath your ear, whispering “do you think they want to borrow the mixtape?” and you have to stifle a laugh with your hand while you wait for the voices to pass by and her bedroom door to close.
Your laughter subsiding, you turn your head, finding yourself nose to nose with him. He tilts his head to capture your lips. In moments the kiss grows heated, and he strokes his hand down your leg to the crook of your knee, pulling it over his hips. Sitting up, you hover above him, watching as he runs his hands along your thighs and a furrow appears between his brows. “What are you thinking?” you ask as you reach out to smooth it away and fix his unruly hair. He sighs deeply before answering. “I’m just…I don’t think a week is going to be long enough with you.”
Thinking about leaving makes your heart drop like lead, the same feeling you had watching his car pull away on the first night. You didn’t know exactly what the feeling was- maybe the sadness of a lost opportunity, something that was so obviously meant to be but felt almost impossible. You can’t find the right words. Instead you just agree with him by leaning down to kiss him while his arms wrap around your back again to pull you closer.
summary: Long-time best friends, it's not a surprise that it's you Steve comes to when he needs a fake girlfriend. One little white lie, one perilous family dinner, one evening of pretending to be a couple.
How hard could it be?
[ 12k + best friends to lovers + fake dating + fem!reader]
STEP ONE: THE PROPOSAL
"Be my girlfriend."
The glass held between your fingers slips and makes a loud bang as it hits the sink. The water from the tap pours over it, unaware of the incredibly unusual change in the universe that just occurred.
You tilt your head up, ignoring the lost glass, and raise your eyebrows high. "Come again?"
Steve huffs a little, as though you're the one being rather dramatic, and leans further forward across the island. His hands are planted firmly, his hazel eyes wide as he all but pouts at you. You're still grappling with where the hell that came from.
"Be my girlfriend. Please." He says. "For just one dinner, I promise. I swear I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't actually desperate."
You blink, clearly having missed a beat somewhere.
Frowning, you finally shut off the tap and rescue your abandoned glass from the bottom of the sink. You pick up and give it a quick once over for any chips. Scot-free, luckily.
"Okay, back up." You say, giving a small shake to clear your head. You make a face. "First of all, Harrington, ouch."
Steve sags a bit. "C'mon, you know that's not what I mean."
Not even a hint of a smile at your dig — which tells you he's probably pretty serious then.
"Secondly, what dinner is this? What could be so important that you have to show up with a faux-girlfriend on your arm?"
Steve properly slumps this time, a loud groan accompanying the languished movement. His forehead presses against the counter-top and you bite your tongue to avoid making an unhelpful, teasing comment about it. Instead, you refill the glass in your hand and wait patiently.
"I…" Steve begins, his voice muffled against the counter-top.
"MybrotherisintownwithhisfiancéeandI—"
"Steveeee," You interrupt as you give in to the urge, leaning over and poking him in the head. "If you want my help, please stop mumbling into the counter and tell me the problem."
He doesn't move for a moment, still face down, but you can see the rise and fall of his back as he sighs deeply. He shifts, twisting so his face is no longer hidden. It's noticeably pinker than it was a minute ago.
"My brother is in town next week." He explains. "With his fiancée. And my parents really love to kick up a fuss whenever he gets brought up, whether it's, yanno, like, about jobs and shit or whatever."
Steve waves a careless hand out. He rises from his slumped position, tucking his chin into the palm of his hand.
"And, like, this time it was about relationships. It was all," Steve's voice pitches up, whiny and nasally. "When are you going to get a serious relationship like Brandon, Steve? When are you going to settle down, Steve? When are you going to stop being a disappointment, Steve?"
He huffs another sigh, this one tinged with more defeat. You feel your face twitch in sympathy.
"So, just to get them shut up I…" Steve averts his gaze to study the counter-top suddenly. He draws an idle circle with his free hand. "I said that I was actually dating someone."
You take in his words. "But you're not."
"Thank you, genius. I had no idea." Steve straightens up with a scoff, throwing his hands out. Dragging them down his face, another groan warbles out of him.
"But now they're expecting me to show up to this dinner with someone — someone I'm dating — and I cannot admit I lied. So, please, be my girlfriend for one night."
You snort. His distress, a disaster of his own making, is just a tad bit funny. Just a little. A smidge. "Dude, chill. Just say your girlfriend is sick and she can't come."
Steve laughs mirthlessly. "That's like the adult equivalent of saying oh you don't know her, she goes to another school. No, I can't do that! C'mon, please."
His hands clasp together, raised in a plea.
"Think of it as one hugely, massive favour."
You take a moment to think it over.
"When is it?"
"This weekend, Saturday, 5 o'clock."
"Dress code?"
"Formal. Duh."
"How many people?"
"Uh, my mom, my dad, my brother, his fiancée. Maybe my uncle? Four or five."
Saturday was only a couple days away. He'd left it awfully late to ask—and you're not exactly sure who else would step up for the job if you said no. For the first time since he threw out the insane suggestion, you properly consider it — and feel your face screw up instinctively.
You? Pretending to be Steve's girlfriend?
Sure, to some girls that probably sounded like a dream come true, but it hadn't ever been like that between you and Steve.
You weren't even sure if you could picture it, being tucked under his arm, receiving delicate kisses on the head instead of noogies. Your nose wrinkles again at the oddity.
It wasn't like people didn't like to speculate — men and women can't just be friends, after all — but getting on Steve Harrington's kiss list had never really been a priority to you. Would you even be able to pull it off?
Your mind casts out to the girls that Steve tends to date, nit-picking as you try to think of what separated you from them. While Steve would certainly vehemently deny it, you're pretty sure you can pick a pattern out from the array of girls. A type that you certainly wouldn't see yourself fitting into.
Steve just… doesn't go for girls like you.
Steve, watching you closely, sees the hesitation sink in. He leans forward again, bargaining face on.
"You can veto every movie we watch for the next month."
You squint at him. Raise your chin an inch, forcing yourself not to smile too obviously. It's not often you get to see Steve looking ready to actually grovel for something.
He narrows his eyes, catching onto your deviousness. "Fine. I'll pay for your shakes for the next month, too."
You take another moment to think it over, exaggerating the hmmm sound you make. You tap your finger against your chin, indicating you're not quite convinced yet.
Steve leans further forward, his expression inching toward a bitchy disbelief. A muscle in his jaw twitches.
He looks as though he might start another slew of scoffing, his tongue pressed into his cheek, before he seems to re-evaluate what's at stake here.
He says, "I will drive you up to Indianapolis on—" He holds up one finger. "—one occasion when you ask."
Grinning, you stick out your hand for him to shake.
"You've got a deal, mister."
Steve sighs, his shoulders sagging in relief as he drops his hand to rest in yours. You give it a firm shake and just when you can see the thank-you forming on his lips, you tug his hand forward. You grin wider, almost taunting.
"I would've done it just for the shakes, just so you know."
Steve does scoff this time, ripping his hand back from yours. "You're an awful friend."
You bite down your smile, already dreaming of the free shake you'll be sipping all the way out to Indianapolis. You take a sip of your water and raise your brows at Steve over the lip of your cup.
"Hey. Don't you mean awful girlfriend." You wiggle your brows, not failing to see the hint of pink that colours Steve's cheeks.
Despite the colour in his face, Steve manages to deliver a long, unimpressed stare at you.
His eyes flick down your figure, clearly turning your words over in his head, then back up. As though he's actually realising what he's asked you to do.
He huffs another sigh, running his hand down his face. "Jesus Christ. This is an awful idea."
"Hey, it's your idea, not mine."
—
A stray blouse flies from the closet, landing in an unceremonious lump at the foot of your bed.
You toe at it gently, narrowed gaze travelling from the murky colour up toward the closet, to the perpetrator currently tearing your wardrobe apart. He doesn't even pause, hands still digging, almost resembling a dog burying a bone.
Sighing, you drop your head back, hair splaying against your pillow. The water-stain on your bedroom ceiling greets your sigh with silence.
You had thought that, while sure, yeah, the Harrington's are a fancy bunch, it ultimately wouldn't be that much of a hassle to step in as Steve's date.
You'd have to dig through your closet for the nicest thing you owned (and seldom wore) and you and Steve would concoct a ludicrous story that could be the next John Hughes film.
It would take an hour, tops.
A severe underestimation. Maybe the promise of one hugely, massive favour should've tipped you off.
"Are you being serious right now?" You moan from your place on the bed. You shift your head forward again, eyeing your best friend across the room.
Steve, still buried in your closet, makes a loud harumph in answer. His voice comes out muffled against the clothes, too swamped amongst the fabric. "—Y'know, this wouldn't be so hard if you actually had anything wearable in here—"
You make a noise of indignation, tipping your head further forward. Your necklace shifts, the pendant sliding down the chain and hitting the comforter beneath you.
"And just what are you trying to say?"
Steve pauses for a moment, his hands halted on a pair of coat-hangers. He leans out from the clothing and lets his head loll back, his hazel eyes forming a flat stare.
"Har har." Steve says sarcastically. He turns back to the closet, the coat-hanger in his hand scraping as he pushes it along, assessing each piece with quick, attuned eyes. "I'm just saying you have a lack of clothing that my mother deems acceptable."
He turns back for a second. "Which is a good thing, by the way."
You hum in agreement, letting your head flop back onto your pillow. You've seen the pantsuits Cynthia Harrington wears.
Steve continues his barrage through your wardrobe, making a noise of disapproval every couple of seconds.
You also can't say you had expected to get started so soon; as in immediately post fake-girlfriend proposal. It occurs to you that perhaps you've said yes to something bigger than you expected.
"You're taking this really seriously." You comment.
"Yeah, well," Steve reaches in and tosses another blouse, this one pale-blue, on the bed by your feet. "I know you've met my parents before but they're, like, different when Brandon comes around."
"Different?"
"Like worse. Way, way worse." He draws a line with a flat hand. "Brandon makes them just so—"
His hand curls up, forming a fist. He sighs, dropping it to rest on his hip. For a long moment, he stares into your wardrobe.
You push up on one elbow, brows knitting together. "Steve?"
Steve jolts lightly at your voice, torn out of his thoughts. He reaches out and plucks another blouse from your wardrobe, a maroon pleated one that you'd sworn you had thrown away. It's horrendous and definitely picked out by your mother. He turns and chucks it on the bed, crumpling atop the others and looks up at you, hands perched on his hips.
"Just, like, the smoother this dinner goes, the better, okay?"
You sit up completely, catching the seriousness leaking into Steve's voice. Damn. He actually sounds pretty worked up about the whole thing.
You smile, aiming for comfort. Even if you hadn't quite grasped what you had said yes to, Steve was still your best friend.
His parents were… difficult on the best of days. It was clear he was going for the least eventful, head-down approach as he could for this.
You could do that.
"Okay." You nod, more serious this time, eyeing the blouses on the end of the bed. You miss the relief that shutters across Steve's face. "We got three days til Saturday. What do you need me to do?"
"You can start," Steve says, spinning back to face your chest of drawers this time. His eyes flash over, with a hint of mirth. "By telling me if you even own a skirt that goes below your knees, you scandalous woman."
You laugh and get to your feet, wandering towards your drawers to pull open the bottom most one. Fishing around, you try to recall if you have anything church-worthy, tongue poking out your lips.
A hideous woollen skirt gifted to you for Christmas a couple years ago springs to mind. You shiver.
"Below the knee, huh?" You say. "You better start telling me about the role I'll be playing if I can't even turn up as myself."
You're only half joking. Your fingers curl around the scratchy fabric and you wrinkle your nose in recognition. Tugging it forward, it escapes the confines of your drawers and splays out with a sudden poof. You get the joy of remembering just how ugly it really is.
Twisting, you hold it up to Steve who has taken your place on your bed, laid back.
"Think this'll do?"
Steve's head perks up and he locks onto the skirt in your grasp. "Ugh, it's awful. Perfect."
You drop the skirt, abandoning it to take your place next to Steve on the bed. The springs creak slightly as your weight joins Steve's, the bed dipping and forcing you closer together. A smile sneaks onto his face.
"Okay, but for real," You jab a finger into the softness of Steve's side and he makes a little noise of complaint. "You've gotta tell me what I'm expecting for this, dude. It would be, like, catastrophically mean of you to send me in there blind."
Steve sighs — something he's really doing that a lot recently — and rolls toward you, propping his head up with one arm. The edges of his polo stretch as his bicep bulges. He frowns down at your comforter as he thinks.
"I don't know if I actually can prepare you for it." He admits, raising his gaze to look at you through his lashes. "Like, I think we're gonna have to just come up with a story and fend off the questions as best we can."
Another thought occurs to you. You frown. "Wait, don't your parents, like, know about me already?"
Steve's gaze darts away, this time staring at your comforter with a greater intensity. He gives a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, well, that's why it'll work. They basically already ask me when we'll be getting together."
Your brows jump. A teasing grin taunts your mouth but you forsake it for a more helpful approach.
"Alright, then," You say. "Then let's do better than fending off the wolves. If I'm gonna be your fake girlfriend, I'm not gonna half-ass it. Let's knock the socks off your parents."
Steve's eyes jump up, meeting your stare and it takes another moment before he realises you're being genuine. You grin, poking him in the side again.
"And Brandon."
"Yeah?" Steve smiles. He sounds a tad awed at your dedication, his eyes roaming over your face gently. After a moment, he shakes his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "Okay. Uh, we have to come up with a backstory first."
"And it has to be one that your parents will believe too."
Steve nods, then pauses, a frown knitting together his eyebrows. "Wait, when did we get together? We can't have just started dating that's— like, almost as bad as showing up without a girlfriend."
You blink, perturbed. "What?"
"Oh, hey mom and dad." Steve says, his tone sardonic and flat. "Oh yeah, this is my girlfriend who I somehow started dating just one week ago, coincidentally just in time for this family dinner."
You cringe a little. He does have a point.
"Fine." You say. A little worry burrows into your brain — the longer you make your 'relationship', the more details you have to construct, to remember, and recall correctly.
You worry your bottom lip. "How long is long enough though? If it's too long, we have to remember more things."
Steve's mouth twists in thought. He gives a hmm.
"I think the last time you saw my parents was… sometime around New Year's Eve, right? They had that party, d'ya remember?"
You wrack your brain and find a memory with glittering fireworks and greasy hot-dogs. Steve had too much champagne and emptied his stomach into a bush. Faintly, the memory of passing by Mr and Mrs. Harrington fits in there— only for a moment.
"Yeah," You say.
Combing over the last years' events, you try to think if there's anything else you would've seen them at.
Graduation? You try to smooth out the wrinkles of that memory too; sunny day, sweltering gown. You hadn't remembered seeing Steve's parents there. "'Cos they didn't come to graduation, did they?"
"Nope." Steve says, popping the p. He rolls back to lie flat on your bed, folding his hands to rest on his chest. "What about after one of my basketball games? The final one of the season." He proposes, eyes tracking back to you.
You laugh without meaning to, spurred on by Steve's surprise.
"Really? At your basketball game? That's when the sparks went flying and we got together?"
Steve's mouth drops open an inch in offense. He throws his hands up. "What? That's, like, totally romantic." He defends. "Besides, it's a good reason for our friendship to have changed."
"You lost that game."
"I still scored!"
"Fine." You appease, laughing lightly. "We got together after you lost the last basketball game of the season."
Steve wrinkles his nose again. "Well, don't put it like that."
You laugh again, soft and light.
"Who asked who?"
"I asked you." Steve says.
You nod, carefully trying to commit the detail to memory. Your head spins as you try to think up the variety of different questions you might get asked at the dinner.
What sort of questions might his parents ask? Or his brother? They'll probably want to know the basics — how you got together, how it's going. You might get a shake-down to see if you're worthy of dating a Harrington.
Then, of course, there is the matter of ensuring you're a convincing couple. In love enough to be brought along to an exclusive family event.
That means… getting touchy. The thought sends a jolt through your stomach— will you have to kiss?
You bury the thought. You'll cross that bridge and have it's subsequently unavoidable, awkward conversation when you get to it.
You're not sure who'll you will have more trouble convincing; Brandon or Steve's parents. But from what you know of Steve's family, you'd bet none of them know him that well.
For all you know, this could well be a walk in the park. Maybe the easiest free trip to Indianapolis ever earned.
"What's Brandon like?" You ask, trying to get a better sense of who you'll be fooling. "Do you think he'll ask many questions?"
"He's…" Steve's eyes shift from you to the ceiling, his mouth forming a flat line. "An asshole, like my dad. He's got this amazing talent for getting under my skin. Which usually includes undermining just about anything I have going for me in my life. Or—" He gestures to you with a sigh. "—what I actually don't have going."
He rolls his head in your direction, his mouth twisted into a bitchy frown.
"He used to always rat on me to our parents when I was kid. He once got me in trouble for going to see Tommy just because he didn't want to walk me over. Said I disobeyed authority." Steve makes quotations with his fingers.
Your brows raise in disbelief. "Isn't he, like, fifteen years older than you?"
Steve huffs a mirthless laugh. "Yep. Told you, asshole. So, yes, he'll probably ask questions but I don't think he'll expect I'd do something as desperately pathetic as faking a girlfriend so hopefully we'll fly under his radar."
Reaching out, you whack Steve on the arm, relishing in his annoyed ow!
Eyes narrowed, you wait til he's looking at you with his what gives? face before you say, "What you're doing is not pathetic, nor is it desperate. It is an act of survival against your shitty family, okay?"
Steve stares at you for a moment before his shoulders seem to melt, the tension leaking from them. He flops his head back.
"Okay." He murmurs in agreement.
"Alright," You say. "Now, let's get this story straight. We got together at the final game of the season, which would mean we've been together for nearly…"
STEP TWO: THE ACT
Your legs itch and you fight the urge to readjust your tights for the umpteenth time.
Steve, in the driver's seat beside you, drums his hands against the steering wheel too rapidly to be casual. He keeps darting one hand to his mouth, teeth worrying at his thumbnail.
You'd reach out and smack him to get him to stop but you're beginning to feel the lurch of nerves yourself. The drive from your house to Steve's has never seemed so, so entirely too short.
"Okay, uh," Steve's throat clicks, clammed up from his silence for too long.
He hadn't spoken much when he had picked you up, other than to laugh at your joke at the mismatch of yourself and your prim outfit.
You'd ended up finding a double-breasted blazer in your mom's closet and you look almost ready to run as the local mayor. You're even wearing tights.
"We got together the 20th—"
"—of June, last year." You finish for him.
Steve nods, his face still facing forward. His eyes look a tad unfocused, even as he reaches out to adjust the collar of his dress shirt. "Right. So we've been together for, uh, about ten months."
You nod encouragingly, checking the details in your head. "You asked me out. Our first date was—"
"—at The Hawk." Steve cuts in, parroting off your memorised answers. "We saw Labyrinth and, uh, then I drove you home."
That part isn't technically untrue. You and Steve had gone to see Labyrinth together back in June of last year, but it certainly hadn't been a date. You find the details lend themselves quite easily regardless.
"That's when we had our first kiss." You remind him, even if it makes your face heat minisculy. "What did you get me for Christmas?" You quiz.
"Uh," Steve's hand rabbits against the steering wheel, nerves evident. He finally breaks his stare from the road to glance at you, his brows furrowed together, eyes worried. "Fuck, I can't remember."
"It's fine," You stress, waving a hand. "You got me tickets to Billy Joel and we drove out to Indianapolis for the concert in April."
Steve nods a bit too manically, his perfectly coiffed hair coming a bit loose. The houses flashing by the window gradually get bigger, fancier. He bites his thumbnail again and this time you do reach out and tug his wrist away.
"Thanks." He murmurs.
He turns the wheel, the engine droning as the car takes the corner to enter his street. Your nerves hike a mile higher and you tug at your tights fruitlessly again. The street is lined with nice cars — not unexpected for Steve's neighbourhood.
What is unexpected is the sheer volume. You and Steve peer out the car windows, eyes wide, as you take in the full street. When you swallow, your throat feels particularly dry.
You turn to Steve. "I thought they said it was a family dinner?"
Steve, his eyes darting from car to car, either trying to find a park amongst the packed sidewalk or maybe just panicking like you are, takes a moment to meet your eyes. He looks a lovely shade of chalky white.
"They definitely did."
There's a free space down the end of Steve's street, the driveway already full with two cars, neither you can recognise.
Steve's foot hits against the brake too abruptly and the car jerks to a stop, rocking forward. You grip the edges of your seat tightly as Steve kills the engine. For a moment, neither of you make a sound.
"What if there's more than just family in there?" Steve croaks, turning slowly to face you.
The paleness in his face has pitched toward something greener. He swallows heavily, twisting back to stare out the windshield and his hands on the wheel tighten. "Oh my god, this is— this isn't gonna to work."
"Steve."
"Valentines, we did Lover's Lake," Steve mutters to himself, eyes still out the window. "Fuck, this is so stupid."
"Steve," You try again. His own panic is worsening your own and if he continues to spiral, you fear you might never make it out of the car and you did not wear itchy tights for that to happen.
"You got me the Michael Jackson record for my birthday," He rattles off again, almost absentmindedly, as though his mind can't pick between panicking about trying to remember all the details or the apparent extra guests.
"This is— oh my god, we're never gonna convince them."
"Steve." You say firmly. His head snaps around, broken from his mutterings. He blinks at you.
You take a deep, exaggerated breath in. Steve follows instinctively, his shoulders rising as he inhales.
"We will convince them." You insist earnestly.
Offering out your upturned hand, you wait for Steve to shift to place his bigger hand in yours. When he does, your fingers curl around it, cradling it.
You can feel the rabbit of his pulse at your fingertips and you meet his eye as you say, "We know each other—really well. We're best friends. We've practised, we look the part, okay? Now, all we have to do is… be a couple for an evening. It's going to be fine."
Steve swallows and for a moment, he doesn't say anything. Then his breath bursts out in a release of tension, his hand finally squeezing yours back. "God, what would I do without you?"
"Crash and burn, probably." You tease, thankful when unease hanging on his frame is replaced by something more familiar.
Steve makes an appalled noise, tightening his grip on your hand so you can't pull it back. His other hand moves, his fingers dancing across the ticklish skin on the inside of your arm til you shriek out in laughter, yanking your hand back.
Your laughter seems to have dimmed the nervousness a bit. You glance over your shoulder, down the street, and track an older couple dressed primly entering the Harrington home. As you turn back to Steve, you swallow to gather your nerves.
"Ready?"
Steve doesn't look like he is, his shifting, unsure eyes and stressing hands. He pushes his palms against his slacks and takes a sharp inhale, before meeting your eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."
You count the steps up to the doorway without even meaning to, arriving at the Harrington doorstep in approximately 47 steps. The maroon double doors before you seem taller than usual. Steve raises his hand to knock and then halts, his attention shifting to his upraised hand.
He quickly tucks it back against his side, except this time with his elbow held out for you.
A faint pang of surprise in your chest, coloured with something softer, nicer. You’ve seen somewhat what Steve’s like on his dates and you’ve certainly heard plenty of the aftermath. But you’ve never been on one, of course.
As you loop your arm to nook in his, you find yourself unexpectedly eager to find out exactly what it’s like to be Steve Harrington’s date.
Steve knocks on the door, then twists the knob and lets himself in.
Despite seeing the earlier guests, there’s little to prepare you for the room full of people that stand on the other side of the door. Moving on instinct, clinging to Steve’s arm, you step through the threshold and into the lion's den.
Your nerves fry. Never mind lion's den; you feel more like a fly caught in a web. Frog boiling in a pot? No, that doesn't work because you know exactly what you were signed up to when you said yes to Steve.
Well, not precisely. You survey the crowd, counting at least three times as many people as you were expecting with nervous eyes.
Your little white lie with Steve just graduated to having an entire audience. No pressure, right?
“Steven.”
The croon of Cynthia Harrington greets the pair of you.
You feel Steve stiffen up beside you, his shoulders rolling back, his entire body straightening up. His throat bobs as he swallows nervously.
“Mom,” Steve says. His voice is a bit dry and he swallows again. “You didn’t say there were going to be this many people here.”
He’s polite enough to not word it as an accusation. His niceties don’t work, bouncing off the painstakingly sculpted smile of a businesswoman.
“Please, it’s a networking event, I’m not sure what you expected.” She adjusts her diamond earring, swaying and heavy, as she speaks dismissively. “I told you this, Steven.”
You never hear anyone call Steve Steven other than his parents.
“No, Mom, you didn’t.”
There’s a barely restrained bite in his words.
That catches Cynthia’s attention. She stops her roaming gaze to focus on her son, not even glancing at you. After a moment, she gives an exasperated huff.
“Well, why else would we be back, Steven? Your father is trying to close business with Mr. Collings.”
The sting isn’t even for you — in fact, you don’t even think she realises she’s dealt it — but you feel it all the same. Steve’s arm looped with yours tightens, a minuscule motion.
Though you know he thinks they’re all assholes, it doesn’t stop Steve from hoping they’ll come back for him.
“Right.” Steve says, voice tight. “Sure. Of course.”
You’re just thinking about dragging him away from this barbed conversation, clearly pricking all his sensitive spots, when Cynthia’s sharp gaze slides over to you.
Her eyes gleam in recognition and her posture changes.
“Oh, is this the girlfriend you’ve spoken of?”
This time you’re the one who stiffens up. It’s momentary. You know that Steve’s likely freaking out too and at least one of you has to pull yourself together.
The most winning smile you can manage glides onto your face.
“That’s me.” You squeeze Steve’s arm with your hand. It's half in genuine comfort, half in show.
Cynthia regards you for another long moment before she manages to straighten up further, as though pinched.
“Oh! Yes, I recognise you. Remind me of your name, dear?”
It’s a struggle not to grit your teeth. Steve and you have been friends for nearing ten years now.
Still, you relay it politely for her. Your smile feels a bit wooden now.
“Oh, Steven. How nice.” Cynthia says, a touch of patronisation in her tone. Her beady eyes slice back to yours. “He had such a crush on you for the longest time, it’s—”
“Mom.” Steve hisses, cutting her off. Another unexpected jolt of something warm in your chest. Wait, really?
You chance a glance up at Steve. His ears are tinted pink.
You’re not entirely sure what to make of how that makes you feel, so you shelve it for later. Maybe when you’re not being thrown to the sharks by Steve’s awful parents.
Okay, too many animal metaphors. Falling asleep to the Discovery Channel last night is definitely taking its toll.
“We’re gonna mingle, find Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. He moves forward, past his mother, and tugs you with him. Your legs itch with the reminder of your scratchy tights.
“Alright, Steven. Make sure you say hello to your brother!”
Steve huffs, loud enough that you hear it, and you let him lead you through the throngs of middle-aged people. He stops when he reaches the kitchen, finally unwinding his arm with yours.
He does it so he can shove his hands in his hair, a stressed motion from Steve if you’ve ever seen one.
“God, okay, that went well.” He says sarcastically.
“Stop. You’re ruining your hair.” You reach up and rescue his lochs from his harsh grip, fingers around his wrists to tug his hands away. You’re far too aware of how long it had taken him to do.
Steve lets you. When you focus on his face, you notice the pink from his ears is also on his cheeks.
The question jumps off your tongue, unbidden.
“Was she telling the truth? About… the crush? Or was she just trying to tease you?”
The pink dips closer to scarlet. Steve sighs, his eyes closing for a moment.
“I— she- yes,” He admits. Your heart shudders at the revelation. Steve’s eyes open and he twists his hands so he can hold yours in them. “But, like, not now. In the past. Years ago, I promise.”
For his sake, you do your best not to take it too seriously. Even if you wanted to pry, now is not the time nor the place to do so.
However, you can’t resist a small, teasing grin. Steve catches it and his embarrassment gives way to exasperation instantly.
“You likeeed me,” You say in a sing-song voice.
Teasing is not unfamiliar in your friendship with Steve and getting to joke around, even at this strange party, feels nicer. Steve groans dramatically, his eyes closing and his hands pushing against your hands to shove you away.
A new voice interrupts.
“Liked? I sure hope he likes you now, being his girlfriend and all.”
You and Steve both snap out of your easy joking, remembering that you’re supposed to be presenting as a couple. Head turning to who had spoken, it only takes a couple of seconds for you to place who it is.
He looks a little bit like Steve, but not really.
The eyes are different, not as slanted and he hasn’t got any of Steve’s beautiful moles. But the nose, the mouth, put together with matching brown hair and tan skin, you know who this is without having to ask.
“Brandon.” Steve says. The name is stilted in his mouth.
Brandon smirks, his same hazel coloured eyes dragging a long, scathing once-over of his younger brother. He doesn’t look impressed, if his disinterested expression is anything to go by.
Then he does the same to you.
It’s almost tangible, the prickly feeling of his gaze raked over your body. Searching, hunting, nearly making you want to perk up to gain his approval.
God, Steve was right on the money. This guy is like his father but worse.
“The eye-candy of the month, huh?” He says to you, chuckling as if he’s made a joke.
You consider, then make the decision to throw all pleasantries out the window. You don’t smile back.
“Actually, Steve and I will be coming up on one year soon.”
Tangling your hands back together as you say it, you lean into Steve’s side. It’s warm, smells of his cologne. Only when you gaze up at him, do you let a smile grace your lips. It’s soft and genuine.
Steve smiles back down at you, crooked and lovely.
“I’m surprised anyone could settle him down,” Brandon continues and you turn back to him, fighting the urge to narrow your eyes. It doesn’t escape you how he’s jumped from one slight dig to the next.
He’s clever with it. Polite enough that Steve can’t exactly bring it up as an issue.
Brandon continues, swirling his crystal tumbler of whiskey idly. “Surprised he wanted to. Little bro always seemed like such a womanizer. Didn’t think he’d want just one chick.”
He leans in and socks Steve on the shoulder, hard, when he says the word womanizer. He’s grinning.
You have to admit, Brandon’s far too good at this — good at getting under your skin. If you hadn’t been forewarned of his behaviour, if you actually were Steve’s girlfriend, it would certainly rub you the wrong way. He’s certainly doing his best to sprinkle grit and strife between you two.
And you know it hurts Steve to hear — Sure, maybe when he was a thick-headed freshman, with no clue about the world, he had acted that way.
Nowadays... Anyone who knows Steve, even a little bit, knows he wants the real deal, more than anything.
“Not anymore,” Steve says, though it’s not nearly as confident as he usually is. He clears his throat and casts his gaze around. “Where’s Ariel?”
“Ah,” Brandon hums, looking around himself. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “Not sure. I think I left her in conversation with the Erickson’s from across the street. She’s been pleading with her eyes to be saved but hey, she’s gotta learn sometime, right?”
Your lip curls up in distaste before you remember yourself. Fingers intertwined with Steve’s, you clutch them tighter for some semblance of strength.
You’ve got to get the two of you out of here before you start outright sneering at this man — which is very much not the heads-down approach Steve had asked for.
“Babe,” you say, effectively dismissing Brandon’s comment as you look up at Steve. He looks down at you and squeezes your hand. “Can we grab a drink, please? I’m feeling thirsty.”
Steve murmurs his affirmation and you both turn back to Brandon to bid a polite goodbye. His left eye twitches just once, the only indication that he’s put off by your subtle rejection.
“Well,” Brandon fixes his features, his smirk sliding back into place. “Don’t let me keep you. What was your name again, sweetheart?”
“I didn’t say.” You say, forcing the politest, more nonchalant expression on your face. You let him stew in the awkwardness, waiting for him to break and ask.
He doesn't. Brandon just smiles, though this time it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He holds out his hand and despite how you don’t want to, you place your own in it to shake it.
“Well, it’s been real nice getting to meet you. I hope I’ll see more of you later tonight.” He smiles like a promise. His grip tightens in the handshake.
You grip his hand tighter, matching his strength, and for the first time in the whole conversation, you match his perfectly fake smile.
“Not if I see you first,” You say, spoken pleasantly enough that the meaning of your words doesn’t sink in until you’ve pulled back. You urge Steve somewhere, anywhere that’s not here.
“C’mon, let’s get that drink.”
There’s a punch-bowl out in the living room, thankfully. Displayed next to it is a large jell-o mould, arsenic green, and jiggling gently whenever someone bumps the table. Rich people stuff, you assume.
You eye it curiously as Steve quietly ladles a cup for you, then himself.
The punch is pineapple flavoured but peachy in colour. You sniff the cup Steve gives you hesitantly before you take a small sip. It’s nice. Mostly juice.
You peer up at Steve over the next sip and the cup hides your near hiccup of surprise when his hand slides along your waist. His hand, warm and large, settles on the small on your back and urges you closer.
“That was— wait, this is okay, right?” He pulls his hand back an inch, hovering over your waist. You nod without having to think about it.
“Okay,” He sighs in relief, resting it back down. His thumb moves, soothing along the fabric almost absentmindedly.
He grins at you, “That was, like, amazing to watch. The whole —not if I see you first— just, god, his face. Amazing.” His hand on your waist squeezes lightly. “You’re amazing. I didn’t know you could be so snobby.”
He says the last word slightly too loud and you laugh, worriedly stealing a glance around the room. No one’s paying you much mind. You do notice, however, that Brandon’s meandered into the living room now.
You sidle closer, tucking up under Steve’s arm.
Surprise touches Steve's features; his brows raising a bit, lips parting, and cheeks colouring that ruby colour once more.
It’s as if, despite all your previous agreements, he’s forgotten that you’re supposed to be acting like a couple.
As if he’s forgotten that couples act like this. In love, that is.
“Are you finding this weird?” He murmurs, volume control on this time. It’s said just to you, muffled into your hairline.
From afar, you think it might look like he’s kissing your forehead.
You take another sip of the punch, peering at his dress shirt, and consider his question. It’s not weird, per se. You tell him as much.
“I think it’s just new,” You look up at him — closer than you usually ever see him. His lashes are long and spidery. His hazel eyes are lighter under the lights. “Just different to what we’re used to. It’s… nice, I think.”
“You think?”
You expect Steve to tease you for your own unexpected soft answer but instead, his response comes out with a strange reverence.
If you had to pick a word, something traitorous would maybe call it hopeful. Wait, traitorous? Wait, hopeful?
"Yeah," You shrug a little, no big deal. "I mean it's not that much different from how we already are, right? Just a little more..."
Steve's thumb swatches along your back, more intentionally this time.
"Touchy?" He provides.
You nod and pretend the strange acknowledgement isn't making you feel a tad more flustered.
The touchiness is really quite nice. It’s sweet to have an anchor in this freaky social situation, very much unlike the aforementioned and abandoned Ariel. Steve’s hand on you is a grounding touch, a constant soft reminder of the person who has your back—literally.
And the person is Steve — which, again, isn’t really that different from what you’re used to. He sorta always has your back anyway.
You suppose it hasn't really crossed your mind before, not in depth at least, the small changes that would occur if you and Steve really did date.
How different would it really be?
Chin tilting up, you slyly steal a look at him as Steve scans the party. He's probably planning escape routes, jaw clenched subtly. He's clean-shaven, not a whisper of that stubble that you think suits him rather well.
Would you still be friends, if the two of you dated?
The question feels silly the moment you think it, even if it's only spoken in your mind. You wrinkle your nose lightly and hide it behind another sip of punch. There's an easy answer to that.
Of course you would. It's like you just said: not that different from how you are now. Same teasing dynamic, same loyal history, same sharing embarrassing secrets and same driving around doing nothing, loving it.
Just more. More of this.
Steve squeezes your side warmly, his head twisted to look back down at you. He's asked you a question you realise.
"Hm?"
"I was asking how long do you think it's acceptable to wait to fake a heart-attack to get us out of here?”
Amusement draws your eyebrows up. You grin up at Steve. "A heart-attack? At your youthful, healthy age? C'mon, Steve, they'll never believe it."
Steve's expression twitches closer to bitchy as he considers your rebuttal. You take another sip of punch. He relents.
"Fine. What else? I’m not above faking haemorrhoids.”
The punch in your mouth comes back out in a surprised splutter, thankfully landing mostly back in your cup. A drop of it streaks down your chin.
Your surprise quickly morphs into a glare, eyes shifting up to deliver it to your best friend.
The shit-eating grin on Steve’s face tells you that his timing was not accidental.
“You’re unbelievable,” You hiss because what happened to the polite, head down, and not eventful approach that Steve had all but pleaded from you?
He reaches for a napkin for you without asking — and then tugs you in closer with the hand around your waist, brings the napkin up to your face. He hovers, giving you a moment to realise what he’s doing, before he dotingly swipes away the streak of juice.
“Careful now, honey,” He says, giving the petname a teasing intonation.
How he managed to pick the petname that does actually make your heart perk up in your chest is beyond you. Maybe he knows you better than you think.
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You ask, brows raised, pretending to be annoyed. Your bitten-back grin gives you away. “Making me spit my punch and then just sprinkling in a petname—”
“—like you didn’t do that first, with Brandon in the kitchen.” Steve interjects. He crumples the napkin and drops it back on the table.
“Okay," You say. "Fair."
"We forgot to discuss that, actually," Steve says. He sounds casual but he looks away, studying the punchbowl rather intently. "What... like, do you like to be called? In a relationship?"
It is an oversight both of you managed to miss, which makes you feel a little foolish now. You focus on the question.
"I like honey," You admit gingerly. A tepid smile threatens at your lips and when you look up at Steve, he's already turned back to watch you closely. "It's a bit old-fashioned. Sounds more like something you say if you're married but...I think it's nice."
"Yeah," Steve says softly. "Me too."
Something hums brightly in your chest at his gentle expression, his fondness zeroed in only on you. You break his gaze to swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.
"What about you?"
Steve chuckles. "Don't like babe."
"Too late."
“Yeah, well, obviously.”
There’s a beat and you think if you’ve ever had this conversation before. Sweetened preferences didn’t usually make it into your gossip sessions. This is new territory.
“I like sweetheart too,” Steve says, somewhat offbeat. As if he’d thought for too long if he’d say it or not.
He peers down at you, a scrunch in his nose. “Not like Brandon says it though. He might’ve ruined that one for me.”
“He can ruin this dinner, but not that.” You decide for him. “C’mon, sweetheart. We look like we’re stealing all the punch.”
Using your hand in his, you lead him away from the punch table and weave through the people milling about the living room. A touch of resistance makes you glance back. You can see a pink glow painted on Steve’s cheeks.
Your feet come to a halt, twisting back to properly face him. You can’t resist the urge to tease. “Oho, you weren’t kidding- you do like that one.”
“Oh, shut up,” Steve murmurs, his tongue pressed into his cheek and his eyes narrowed.
“I don’t believe I raised you so poorly as to address a lady like that, Steven.”
You jump at the intrusion, realising you’d unluckily managed to stop right beside Mr. Harrington. Fuck, why are all of Steve’s family so good at sneaking up on you? You chalk it up to their snakeish tendencies.
“Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. Then, with a quick swallow, he corrects himself. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Mr. Harrington is not what you’d call an impressive man. Sure, his suit is tailored to fit and you have no doubt his overwhelming cologne costs more than three paychecks combined — but in substance? He lacks. Severely.
You’ve met him thrice.
Every time, you wonder how someone as wonderful as Steve, can come from someone like him.
Though, it certainly explains the god-awful ‘King Steve’ phase Steve had gone through in his freshman and sophomore year. You shiver at the memory.
“It was warranted, Mr. Harrington, believe me,” You jump in to move the attention of Steve’s father back to you, easily shouldering the blame. A smile, cool and collected, graces your face. “I was teasing him, after all.”
Mr. Harrington grunts in disagreement. “Hardly an excuse to speak so crudely, especially in front of guests.”
Opening your mouth to defend him again, Steve speaks first. “You’re right, sir. I apologise, it won’t happen again.”
Steve still shoots you a thankful glance. You clamp down your half-formed response and squeeze his hand instead. He squeezes back.
Maybe the two of you should’ve learned morse-code with all the squeezing you’re both doing. You hadn’t anticipated holding his hand for this long.
You could let go. You don’t really want to — and you’re pretty sure, neither does Steve.
You can’t remember the last time you held his hand.
“Your new girlfriend, I presume?” Mr. Harrington nods to you.
Steve barely gets a moment to respond when his father is waving him forward, stepping back to open a circle of middle-aged men behind him.
“Come, there’s a few associates I’d like you to meet, Steven.”
There’s no question, only a demand. Despite how it feels like stepping into a pit of vipers — damn you, Discovery Channel — you and Steve join the circle.
“Gentlemen,” Mr. Harrington addresses the four men before you, a wry smile on his face. “My son, Steven.”
Then, as an afterthought, with a glance your way. “And his girlfriend.”
“Oh? Not fianceé?” One of the men speaks up. He’s balding, his hair combed over in an attempt to cover his ruddy coloured scalp.
“I’m afraid you’re thinking of my other son, Brandon.” Mr. Harrington says, words suddenly imbued with a proud tone. Steve’s hand grows rigid in yours, though you don’t think he’s even noticed. You send a squeeze back.
A different man speaks up. This man has all his hair, but also has a pot-belly that threatens to send buttons on his dress shirt flying.
“Ah, well, fianceé to be, I bet.” He says, speaking directly to Steve and ignoring you. “Soon it’ll be the ol’ ball and chain. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, son.”
Then the fucker winks at you—as if you’re in on some big joke. A deep, miserable pity dawns in you for their wives.
“Actually,” Steve begins. There’s an edge in his voice.
You glance up at him concernedly — sure, these guys are douchebags, but you know that. Throwing in the polite and heads-down approach in front of his father might be the worst timing ever.
“I’m not sure what you mean.” Steve says. The bite in his voice has receded and instead, he sounds calm. Polite. “My girlfriend is one of the best things in my life. She’s smart, talented, beautiful— and why she chooses to waste her time with me is a mystery to me.”
He speaks as though he believes every word he’s saying, a hundred percent. You realise you’re holding your breath when Steve turns to look down at you. His hazel eyes are soft, genuine.
“She makes me a better person. She’s… She’s my best friend.”
The line between your genuine friendship and this fake concocted act blurs entirely — and suddenly, you can’t tell what is real and what is not.
Worse, you’re not sure which you'd prefer more.
Does he really think all those things about you?
Steve, who should probably, definitely take up an acting gig after this, plants a quick, nimble kiss on your forehead to sell his loving words.
He turns back to his father’s business friends.
“Believe me, if I ever get so lucky as to marry her, I’d be the ball and chain.” He chuckles. “Not the other way around.”
You’re still holding your breath, heart stuck somewhere halfway up your throat. The businessmen before you show varying amounts of surprise and annoyance—none more of the latter than Mr. Harrington himself.
It doesn’t matter. Steve’s said it all in that perfectly polite way that’s so often been used against him. Something within you glows hotly with pride.
“Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us,” Steve says politely. He drops your hand to re-link your arms once more, then nods to them. “I need to reapply my haemorrhoid cream.”
You’re pretty sure Steve turns you both away from the conversation as fast as he does, knowing that you’re gonna laugh. You do, his last sentence so unexpected it turns your laugh into this foul half hacking, half coughing noise.
Steve pats your back, expecting it, raising his voice as he walks you forward, “There, there.”
There’s a little smugness in his tone. You wait until you pass back into the front hall — now Cynthia Harrington free — to unlink your arms and smack him on the chest.
“Asshole!” You exclaim, but you’re already laughing. Steve’s laughing too, the sound bright and honeyed amongst the dull murmur of the event. God, the looks on their faces.
“I didn’t think you would actually do that.”
“Hey, it got us out of the conversation, didn’t it?”
“Yes, but,” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze falling from his for a moment. “I mean, won’t your dad…?”
Steve sighs and then shrugs. “I think I’m done trying to impress people like that. If you’re not up to standard to them, why the hell would I care about their opinion of me?”
Your heart feels a little wobbly at that. Steve has always been devastatingly earnest; it’s just less often directed at you. The two of you are used to teasing.
You fall back on it. “Awww,” You coo, gripping his forearms and leaning forward with a coy grin. “You got haemorrhoids for me, honey? That’s so romantic.”
Steve narrows his eyes, trying and failing to suppress his own smile.
“Hey. Fake haemorrhoids, thank you very much.”
“Eh, what’s the big difference?”
“One is my bleeding heart, the other is my bleeding ass, is the big difference.”
He can barely get through the sentence before his laugh takes over. You dissolve into laughter too, cheeks beginning to ache with the force of your grin.
“Steve? Leaving so soon?”
The sweet bubble of laughter around you and Steve pops at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He’s in the doorway that leads to the kitchen and at your attention, he steps toward you, slow and deliberate.
“Yeah, actually,” Steve says. His eyes track Brandon with every calculated step his brother makes til he stops, a few metres from you both.
“Y’know, I heard that hasty exit in front of dad. Did you know that was in front of Mr. Collings? Y’know, the one guy dad’s trying to close a deal with?”
Shit. You swallow heavily. You didn’t know that. You know neither did Steve.
Beside you, Steve grows tense. When he swallows, you hear his throat click from dryness.
Brandon watches and revels in the tiny reactions, his smirk growing. He tucks his hands into his suit pockets casually.
“I talked with mom, too. Learned some interesting stuff, especially about your pretty lady here.”
He nods to you, hazel eyes slicing across to meet yours. Your nerves start to stand on end, something threatening in his calm demeanour setting you off. You grip Steve’s forearms tighter.
“That she is the best friend you’ve been mooning over all these years. And I just thought—” Brandon clicks his tongue. “Man, what are the chances that we don’t hear a thing about you two getting together until this conference? Crazy timing, if you ask me.”
He tilts his head to the side, examining the two of you closely. His smug nature is far, far too much like that of a predator toying with its prey.
“It’s like- wait, no—”
Brandon cuts himself out, fishing a hand out his pocket to gesture to you, grinning smugly like something is funny.
“Is he paying you?”
You recoil back, so baffled and taken aback by the cruel mockery Brandon jumps to make of his younger brother. To make of your best friend.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snap.
Brandon blinks, surprised, and a bit of his smugness dries up. He draws his hand back, holding it up defensively.
“C'mon, like it's not just the kind of pathetic move he’d pull. I haven’t even seen the two of you kiss.”
He chuckles as if the idea is ludicrous.
STEP THREE: THE KISS
You act without thinking — turning back to Steve, your hands reach up to tightly grasp the collar of his dress shirt.
You see Steve’s hazel eyes widen ever-slightly, then you’re pulling him down, pressing up on your toes, and kissing him.
And… oh.
He’s not half bad at that, you think. It takes Steve a moment, but then his arms circle your waist and after a tentative moment, he kisses back gently, deepening the kiss. Not bad at this at all.
For one brief, precious second, you’re kissing your best friend.
And it's entirely incomparable to any kiss you've experienced before—immeasurable in passion and utterly undoing in a thousand ways.
Steve breathes a little heavier, his cheeks flushed, when you break away. You sink back down off your tiptoes, hands dragging off Steve’s rumpled collar to rest on his chest. You turn to face Brandon.
He doesn’t look so smug anymore. He looks ticked off. Good.
“Brandon, you’re an asshole.” You state plainly. “I hope one day, soon, your fiancée realises what a cruel and shallow bully you really are. And I hope she leaves you for it. Truly.”
The ticked off expression on Brandon's face veers closer to aghast and offended—as if he can’t believe you have the gall to speak to him that way.
“I hope you realise what a stain you are on other people’s life and I sincerely hope that I never have the displeasure of meeting you again.”
Moving to grip Steve’s hand in yours, you move towards the door without a goodbye.
STEP FOUR: THE AFTERMATH
It’s bright outside. Stepping out feels a bit like waking from a stress dream, where in reality, the sun is shining and things that were driving you nuts aren't really problems you actually have.
You stall on the front doorstep, where you were just an hour or so ago.
Well, that didn’t go… awfully, you think. In fact, you’re feeling quite happy with serving Brandon a perfect brand of his own medicine.
You’re about to open your mouth and say as much when Steve drops your hand, brushing past you to head down the stairs, “C’mon, let’s go.”
Your stomach drops at the tone of his voice, a prickly disappointment draped over his words. You’d think you’re reading into it — if Steve wasn’t currently heading for the car, not even waiting for you to catch up. A dead giveaway.
Tights itching from the hasty movement, you quickly follow him and puzzle for a moment. He’s mad. But at what? It takes only a moment to hazard a pretty good guess.
Before the dinner, the awkward conversation of how touchy you two would be had been breached. You and Steve both agreed; no kissing. Even with how close the two of you were, it felt like strange territory to cross into. An unspoken line not to cross.
By kissing him, you’d broken that rule.
Guilt wells up within you. Your moment of telling Brandon to suck it suddenly feels tainted by the sliminess of kissing Steve without permission. You pull at your tights uncomfortably, trailing behind Steve on the sidewalk.
As you reach his car, you swallow the lump in your throat, and speak up.
“I'm sorry, okay?"
Steve, who's reached the driver's side door, looks up and over the top of the car. Then furrows his brow.
"What?"
"For..." The word gets stuck in your throat like wet paper. "Kissing you when we said we wouldn't do that. That was-" You inhale sharply and study the trim along the edge of the car window.
"I just really couldn't stand how he was talking to you. And I thought that would shut him up."
You glimpse back up at Steve. He's softened a little at your words, the crease between his brows gone now. His eyes dart away, a muscle in his jaw working tightly.
"Yeah, well, you were right. It worked."
Steve seems to hear how short his words sound right after he says them, especially as you rear back an inch. He gives a sigh, his eyes falling shut for a moment. "Look, I'm not mad about the kiss, okay?"
His particular wording isn't lost on you.
"But you are mad." You press.
"I'm not."
You step closer to the car, desperate to understand. He is mad but he's not mad about the kiss? Does that mean he is or isn't mad at you?
"You sound mad."
Steve makes a sputtering noise, like he's torn between denying it or not. You catch it, pressing your hands against the car window to lean in even closer.
"So, you are mad. At me? Are you sure it's not because of the kiss?"
“Yes. No." He's furrowing his brow again, confused between how to answer your question correctly. He pinches the bridge of his nose with another sigh. "It’s- no, I'm not mad at you.”
Still not an exact answer. You eye him warily, your guilt still lingering at the front of your chest, aching painfully. It forces out your next words, reminiscent of a rambling apology. You take a step back from the car and begin to pace.
"It's okay if it is the kiss, Steve. I- I mean, we said we wouldn't and I broke that- and I don't want you to ever feel like—"
“I just— I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that!”
That halts your pacing, feet quite suddenly rooted to the spot. You turn rapidly back to Steve, your eyes wider than they were a moment ago, heart jammed back up your throat. Did he just say...?
Steve realises what's escaped him a moment after you do. His hand leaps to cover his mouth as if he can smother the secret he's just let slip.
His eyes crush closed. He smushes his hand against his face more forcefully as though he's trying to push the words back into his mouth.
"What does that mean?" You ask softly. "Steve?"
He clears his throat, dragging the hand down and off his face sluggishly. "That, ah, no- nothing!" He deflects, hands making a crossing motion. "It means—zilch. I just, ah, you know- it's—"
He's thought about it before—about how he'd want a first kiss between the two of you to go.
A glow in you dissolves, the saturated sweetness of it riding through your veins like a sugar rush. You have a sudden wish you weren't wearing such a ghastly outfit for this conversation.
"Steve," You interrupt him. You round the front of the car slowly, stopping with still some distance between you. Let him meet you in the middle. If you're right about all this, that is.
"If there's even a small part of you that wants to do that again," Your breath shudders at your inhale. "You need to tell me."
"A small part?" Steve echoes your words, his tone incredulous. He rounds the car to meet you, his hands out in front of him, flexing into fists. "Don't— don't say what I think you're going to say, if you don't mean it."
He pauses in front of you, eyes blazing with a fierce emotion as he stares down at you. He studies your face and then groans, tipping his head back and burying his hands in his hair.
"It's a big part, y/n. A huge fucking part of me wants to kiss you again and has wanted to for awhile." Steve stresses. His hands sag down from his mussed hair to hang off his neck before he gestures back to the Harrington house.
"What I said in there? About my crush on you being ages ago? I lied. I've had a crush on you for years and I don't think I ever stopped and so if you don’t mean what I think you mean, please don’t… Don’t give me hope.”
There's desperation in his final plea.
A thousand emotions course through you, all competing for your attention. You squint incredulously at Steve, half tempted to sock him for the feeling of a kept-secret. You're best friends for gods sake. Years. Years, he said.
A tremble takes your heart. You open your mouth and try to find the right words.
"Wha... You never said anything."
It comes out a little insulted.
Steve stares at you, flabbergasted. "You never seemed interested!"
"I didn't think I was your type!"
Though it seems impossible, Steve's eyes widen further, his hands shifting to hold out before him, fingers spread wide.
"Are you saying you've thought about it before!?"
"No!" You exclaim, suddenly stressed. You run your hands across your face agitatedly. "I mean, yes. Of course, I've thought about it before!”
Your fingers splay against your cheeks, pulling an expression not unlike the painting The Scream. You're not sure you've ever been this stressed, this undone before.
“Every day through fuckin' high school someone asked me if we were a thing. I just... hadn't, like, considered it til today. Properly."
"Okay, okay," Steve breathes in deeply.
He brings his hands together, clasping them, and he rests them against his forehead. For a second, he stares at the ground before he meets your gaze, dropping his hands.
"And... now?"
Fuck. Right. Cards on the table, you guess.
"Like," You don't know where to put your hands now. They drop off your face and hang loosely at your side. "I told you, I hadn't really, like, thought about it — but we were in there and it just wasn't that different!"
It's a heavy effort to keep yourself looking at Steve. There's no decoding the expression on his face, not when you're already frantically trying to unscramble your own feelings.
"If we did actually, yanno—" You stumble over the words, a fierce and bumbling heat flaming your face. "—date and be—I don't know—boyfriend and girlfriend, like, I guess what would actually change? And now I think we've just been one step removed from dating this whole time!"
Steve takes an almost quivering breath in and takes a step forward, bringing you both closer. He asks the million-dollar question.
"Would you... want that?"
"I," You flex your hands anxiously. "I don't think we can go back to the way things were." You say truthfully.
Something crestfallen ripples across Steve's face. It's hidden away in the next second. You gulp involuntarily. You feel so nervous you can feel it's fizzing inside you, bubbling like a freshly carbonated drink.
But more than that, it feels like you're balancing on the precipice of something good. Like waiting for news on whether you get something you desperately want.
And there it is; the true revelation.
"And I don't think I want to."
The admittance hangs between you, strung out and tinged with your apprehension and Steve's disbelief. He stares at you, brown hair tousled and messy, pink lips parted in his surprise.
He's your best friend and he's been waiting all this time. Holding the torch quietly, the flame flickering low sometimes, but always burning, always for you.
How the hell did you miss it?
"You..." He croaks. He reaches up and tugs at his tie as if it's suddenly too tight around his neck. "You mean that? You'd want to, like, date me?"
What you really want is to kiss him again. To chase away the tender look of disbelief in his eyes with a passionate press of your mouth against his. But you won't kiss him without asking twice in one day.
"I would like to try," You say. It takes a lot of courage to not lose your nerve. You rock up onto the balls of your feet to let out some of the rampant nervous energy.
Steve clocks it, some part of his brain that knows you, and all your tells well, finally coming back online. You're as nervous as he is, and maybe just as unsure.
But you want to try.
That's about all Steve's ever wanted. A chance for more between you.
He closes the distance between you, his hands shifting up and sliding along your neck to cup your jaw. It's ticklish enough to make you shiver and Steve smiles at the motion. He draws your faces closer and you push up on your toes to reach properly, magnetically drawn in.
He pauses just before your lips can touch.
Your eyes scan his face and he does the same to yours, both of you drinking in the intimate closeness. This close, you can see the tiny quiver hidden in his lips.
Fondness percolates between you, sweeter than sunlight and softer than a daydream. You can't resist the smile that toys at your mouth. Steve smiles too.
You're excited.
His pupils are blown wider than usual, only a ring of hazel around them. It might be your new favourite colour.
"I imagined," Steve murmurs lowly, his eyes now trained on your lips. "Our first kiss would be more like this."
The kiss is different from the one in the hallway. There's no surprise in it, no hesitance — Steve cradles your face between his hands preciously and kisses you so fiercely you ache.
He kisses with painstaking reverence. With an unfaltering adoration. Steve kisses you as though he envies anything that's ever touched your lips.
You grapple to find purchase on his suit jacket, your fingers curling around the material and pulling him closer without breaking the kiss. Steve hums into your mouth, his nose pressing against yours. You're both trying to pull each other closer.
"That was-" You breath heavily against his mouth as the kiss breaks. Your eyes open. Steve's gazing at you through his lashes, honey-eyes doting.
"You-" You try again, realising you haven't finished your sentence. You can barely get a word out, a relentless grin overtaking your lips. "I mean—you thought it- like that?"
"I hoped." Steve whispers. He's grinning too, not yielding any of the nearness between you. His thumbs on your jaw swatch softly across your skin.
God, he'll undo you entirely. This newness, this intimacy, it's ruining you. You capture your bottom lip with your teeth and bite it meanly to try to contain your grin.
"So, like, you wanna try? For real?" You say, matching his whisper. Speaking too loud feels like it breaks the moment—and you want to savour it as long as you can.
You can't even imagine how Steve must be feeling, waiting all those years. You take your feelings and multiple them tenfold. It's dizzying. It only endears you even more.
"Like, being boyfriend girlfriend?"
Steve's eyes crinkle in happiness as he scrunches them closed for a moment. His nose scrunches a little too at the motion. He takes a deep inhale and opens his eyes.
"Dating, boyfriend girlfriend, sweethearts, I don't care what you call it." He breathes. "Yes. Yes, to all of it."
Then he kisses you again, stealing the affection off your lips with an ardour that threatens to make your knees weak.
You kiss and kiss until you and Steve are both smiling too much to properly continue.
Only a couple days ago he'd asked the same question you had asked him, except as a begged request to help his ruse. He's the only one you'd have said yes to, you know now, the only exception.
One can only wonder how the two of you would have carried on if you had said no — never gone along with his frankly ridiculous plan, never showed up on his arm to fool an event full of people, never kissed him just to piss off his brother.
Never known the true depths of affection Steve held for you.
As you crowd in closer — your lips skimming across his gently, hearing the hitch in Steve's breath before you kiss him once more— you're thankful you'll never really know.
taggin some peeps below!
@illyrianbitch @headkiss @brettsgoldstein @spideystevie @djotime
just ppl that either expressed interest in the preview or i thought would enjoy! <3 i don't know what possessed me to pick this draft up and straight up like double the word count and finish it in one day but whew,,, i enjoyed that sm
When John gets visitation with his son, he gladly becomes your second favorite Walker
No real warnings, little talk of broken ribs, gunshot wound
When John first joined the “New Avengers” he was still on not so good terms with Olivia. However he still made sure his child support was paid. You and Yelena seemed to make it your personal mission that Valentina double it.
While all of you understood it didn’t make up for the fact that he hadn’t physically been there when he asked you why you’d gone to bat for him and gotten Yelena to you’d replied “It’ll make her life a little easier not having to worry about a bill coming up out of left field”
She slowly started to reach out to him. With a text, a photo. He cherished any information on Eli he could get. He knew he was the problem. Olivia was an amazing mother and she’d done the right thing by putting their child first and he respected her for it.
One night he couldn’t sleep so he ended up heading to the kitchen of the watchtower. He wasn’t too surprised when he got to the end of the long hallway to see the light already on. When he made it to the entryway you were getting a bottle of water out of the fridge and poking at the cookies Yelena had made. “They’re pretty good” he spoke and you jumped, spinning around to face him “Christ have mercy Walker! Why is everyone in this place so damn quiet?” he grinned “Says the one who snuck up on me six times in one week”
You grabbed a cookie and closed the fridge before leaning against the counter to face him “What’s got you up?” you asked and he crossed his arms “Could ask you the same” you grinned “My brother called because my nephew wanted to talk to me” you kept your family a secret for the most part but the inhabitants of the watch tower knew them. John had seen you with your nephew. You were pretty damn good with him. The kid seemed like he adored you.
“Ok, I’m stressed because I have a meeting with my lawyer, Olivia and her lawyer” you raised an eyebrow “About what? Shit, nevermind that’s such an overstep! I’m sorry” he smiled “It’s fine sweetheart. It’s a talk about visitation” your eyes widened “Really? That’s amazing John”
He nodded slowly “I live here though. Do you think everyone would be up to a kid being here?” you nodded “Yeah! Even given our backgrounds I’d say most of us are actually pretty good with kids for the most part. I mean Bob and Ava may be a little awkward and Alexei may try to outfit him in one of those god awful track suits but beyond that I don’t see how it would be an issue”
He laughed “Fair enough. Ok” you pushed off the counter, patting his shoulder on the way by “It’ll be ok. You’re his dad John. You can do this”
The first visitation John had with Eli, Olivia came to the watchtower as well which you would have been surprised if she hadn’t. You rounded everyone up in the common room so she could meet who would be around her son and threatened them all to be on their best behavior. John was trying to fix his mistakes, the least all of you could do was help him.
When the elevator dinged, you cut your eyes across to Bucky who shrugged as the doors slid open. John stepped off first then Olivia stepped off behind him, Eli was walking next to her, holding onto her leg. He was holding John’s hand too but the little guy seemed nervous.
You shook your head when Alexei started to stand. No, if Olivia approached then you’d stand but no one was crowding them. John waved a hand towards all of you “Olivia this is the team” Bucky stood up first, mainly because they’d met before. Then Alexei, Yelena, Ava, Bob then you. When you shook Olivia’s hand she smiled “John said you have a nephew a few years older than Eli that you’re pretty good with?” you cut your eyes at John before shrugging “Yeah”
She laughed “So if he needs any back up…” you laughed “I always help my team. No matter what” Eli looked up at you and when he smiled you couldn’t help but smile back. He was the perfect mixture of John and Olivia. You could easily pick out what features he’d gotten from her and what features from John. “My goodness he is cute! He get that from you Olivia?” you asked and she winked at you “I like you”
She nodded to John “I’ll be at the sheridan with my sister. If you have an emergency, call me” “I will. Thanks Liv”
Olivia picked Eli up, pressed a kiss to his cheek then passed him to John’s waiting arms. She waved at everyone “Nice to meet you all” then walked onto the elevator. You nodded to John “Well we’ll all get out of your hair so you can spend time with little guy. If you need anything, holler ok?” “Thank you” he replied and you nodded “Of course” and started to round everyone up, offering to buy Thai food to get them moving faster.
The first couple visitations John kind of just spent alone with Eli. If Valentina even dared to try to send a mission with his name on it you would be in her office in a heartbeat. After you threw a knife at her once, taking a little off the top of her hair, she’d decided against trying that again and started paying more attention to John’s visitation schedule.
You knew Eli needed to get used to his dad again before he could get used to any of you. It was a few visitations in when John had gone to pick Eli up and when they got back you and Yelena were in the kitchen making cookies. You had a disney soundtrack of all things playing because you’d been working on catching Yelena, Ava and Bob up on the movies they’d missed in their childhood. It just so happened that John and Eli walked off the elevator in the middle of you singing “I just can’t wait to be king”
The matching looks of amusement on John’s and the three year old’s face was priceless. You skidded to a stop and grinned “Hey fellas. Want chocolate chip?” John looked at Eli who nodded “Might as well” you squatted down to be eye level with Eli “Come on little dude” he looked at his dad for the ok and when John nodded he ran into your arms. You lifted him onto the counter and handed him a cookie.
John laughed as “Be a man” came on and Yelena joined you in a duet. He moved to stand with Eli, grabbing a cookie himself. You were now putting on a show that you had an audience and Eli was enjoying it. He was giggling watching you and Yelena do the arm motions and all.
When the song was finished you both bowed. John shook his head “Multi talented indeed ladies”
However when John asked Eli if he wanted to go to John’s floor or go get dinner Eli looked at you and Yelena and spoke in a small voice “Can they come?” you raised both eyebrows, looking at Yelena who smirked “I’m sorry little Walker. I have to go with Bob but she can come if it’s ok with your daddy” you knew your eyes were wide and you made a mental note to hit Yelena a little harder in training.
John looked back at you “You don’t have to” you shrugged “I had no plans. I mean I don’t want to intrude” he shook his head “It’s fine. We were just gonna go get food from the place on the corner” you nodded “Let me change out of clothes that have flour all over them” you dramatically slapped your shirt, causing a cloud of flour to flutter through the air and Eli laughed again. John saw the way your eyes lit up every time you made Eli laugh and it made his heart flip. “Sounds good”
You headed for the elevator and looked back “Five minutes fellas and we’ll be ready to go”
You were curled up on the couch, reading a book when John walked in, picked up your legs and sat down, letting your legs rest in his lap. You barely looked up before saying “What exactly are you asking me for here?” you and him were friends. It had happened without you ever even realizing it so you knew him well enough to know when he needed something.
His large hand rested on your ankle “It’s not for me” you nodded, leaning to reach your bookmark and slid it into place before giving him your full attention “Spill it” he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth “Eli wants to have a disney movie night.. With you too” you grinned “Really? Oh I’m down”
You swung your legs off his lap and stood up. “Where are you going?” he asked and you laughed “Shopping! If I’m Disney movie nighting with him, I’m doing like I did for my nephew when he was that age. We’ll need themed snacks, oh he needs a stuffed simba! Spaghetti and meatballs with Lady and the tramp for dinner” you headed for the elevator and John hopped up off the couch “Wait! I’ll come with you”
You laughed “Hurry up then dammit! I gotta get ready for my favorite Walker” John couldn’t help but grin because you meant it. You were honest to god excited at the prospect of having a movie night with him and Eli for Eli’s sake.
______________________
John’s floor looked like some crazed Disney employee got a hold of it. Truly it was you with one of Valentina’s issued cards. You were a flurry of activity, trying to make everything as close to perfect as possible, even ordering Italian from a nearby place to make sure there were perfect meatballs for the spaghetti and meatballs along with Lady and the tramp.
When Olivia stepped off the elevator with Eli her eyes widened, a grin on her face “John, did you do this?” he laughed “Um I put stuff where I was told?” she laughed “She’s pretty good at the whole kid thing” he looked around as you came out from the living room and froze “Oh, hey Olivia. I um I was just sitting up for little guy” about that time Eli popped around his mom and grinned when he saw you, giggling your name and because you were in a pair of stitch footie pajamas.
“Love you mama” he told her then ran to you. She watched you and him, heading for the living room where it looked like you had an entire theater set up “Isn’t she a former assassin?” she whispered to John who winced “She got into the work because her brother was in trouble but yes” Olivia nodded “I’m impressed. Eli likes her, alot John” “She likes Eli. Tells me all the time she protects me for him” Olivia laughed “Well have fun. I’ll see you on monday”
______________________
You were sitting in the floor of John’s living room, Eli was next to you while the aristocats played. He laughed when you started to sing along with one of the songs “Daddy doesn’t know songs” you winked at him “Don’t worry, we’ll teach him yet”
He was holding the stuffed simba you’d gotten him and the two of you were curled up on the cushions you’d formed a fort with. John was sitting on Eli’s other side and you looked over at him and he was watching you and Eli with a soft smile. “Isn’t that right?” he nodded “Yeah, guess I’ll let you add songs to my playlist?” The mental image of John working out while “Be a man” cranked out made you burst out laughing which in turn made Eli start laughing which made John himself start laughing.
_____________________
Sometime in the evening Eli started getting sleepy but asked you to stay. You looked at John and mouthed “I can’t leave” he nodded because he understood not being able to say no. Now however he had a dilemma. You and Eli were both asleep in the pillow fort. It was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. Eli’s head was resting on the stuffed simba while you were cuddling with the stuffed dalmation you’d bought. You had your leg curled around the opening of the fort so if Eli started to move you’d feel him as if even in sleep your instinct was to protect his son and that warmed his heart then and there.
He snapped a photo and sent it to Olivia because he was unsure what to do here. She texted back “Neither of their necks are cramped. Curl on the floor next to them and get some sleep” so he did just that.
The next morning he woke up to the smell of pancakes. You’d woke up sometime before him and ended up retrieving a big stack of pancakes. Now Eli was tearing into a few. When he sat up, rubbing at his eyes you were sitting near him with a grin “Morning. We saved you some pancakes”
Eli looked up with a smile “They’re good” you laughed “I made them myself” he raised an eyebrow “Well Eli said they’re good so I’ll give them a try”
You were half asleep when you heard a knock at the door of your quarters. You pushed yourself out of bed and shuffled across the floor “Yeah, what is it?” you opened the door and there stood John with Eli on his shoulder “He’s warm”
You nodded slowly and held your door open further “Come in” he walked in to the couch “He woke up fussy so when I touched his head he felt really warm. His temp said one hundred point eight” you nodded “Low grade. Did Olivia say if he’d been feeling bad?” he shook his head. You walked over and sat down next to him. Eli whined lightly so you touched his head “Hey bud. How ya feeling” he stuck his bottom lip out and god he reminded you of John in that instinct “My tummy hurts”
“Probably has a bug. Common in kids. My nephew got them a lot. I’ll run to the Walgreens for some children's motrin and something for his stomach. You call Olivia” John shook his head “I can’t ask you to go out at one in the morning” you raised an eyebrow “I can take care of myself John” he stared you down so you sighed “Eli, wanna stay with me so daddy can go get you meds and call mommy?”
He nodded weakly so you sat down on the couch, shifting him around so his head was laying on your stomach, “Go on, I’ll keep him calm” “Are you sure you’re ok?” John asked and you nodded “I can handle a fussy three year old”
John pressed a kiss to Eli’s head and headed for the door. You shook your head and looked down at Eli “Tummy? Anything else?” he shook his head so you nodded “Let’s get comfy. Daddy will be back soon”
He leaned his head over on you “You’re nice” you smiled, rubbing his back through his pjs “Thank you. I try”
______________________
John walked back in to your quarters and you were still on the couch but Eli was now fully laying against your stomach and your eyes were closed while you lightly hummed something. Eli seemed to be asleep. He’d called Olivia and she assured him he’d done nothing wrong. A stomach bug was going around daycare and she’d told him to get the same meds you had.
You were pretty amazing with Eli. You were pretty amazing in general. Your eyes slowly opened, a smile slipping onto your face “His fever broke” you whispered and he nodded “I got meds” you smiled “Wanna just put him down in my bed? Don’t risk jostling him?” he shrugged and stepped over to pick up Eli.
Once Eli was curled up in your bed fast asleep the two of you stepped back out into the living room, leaving the door cracked. You smiled “You can sleep in there with him. I’ll take the couch” “Thank you honey. I didn’t know who else to go to” you smiled “No problem John. I’m here for you and him” he felt his heart flip and tried to ignore it, tried to ignore how the feelings he’d had for you were growing stronger and stronger daily.
“I appreciate it more than I could ever say” he told you and you smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek “Remember that when I end up sick. I can still contract stomach bugs” you laughed lightly when his eyes widened “Kidding, mostly” then nodded to the couch “Night John” “Night darlin”
John knew it was inevitable that Eli’s visits would end up overlapping with a mission. He didn’t expect Eli to downright pout over your absence. It was adorable. “Daddy, where is she?” he asked and John laughed “She’s at work bud”
“Oh, is she ok?” “Yeah Bucky is with her and Lena” Eli nodded, fidgeting with his Simba “She’s ok?” John nodded, pulling him into a hug “I promise. She’s ok” he hadn’t realized Eli had grown that attached to you but then again you were bonding with him nearly every time he was at the watchtower and it was never a purposeful thing you just always ended up making plans that included him or popping up with “Hey! Look what I got for Eli! Or “Hey! Eli would like this, right?”
He’d long since accepted that he had feelings for you. Why wouldn’t he? Beautiful, sweet when you wanted to be, hell on wheels when you didn’t. You were protective to a fault, a bit on the wild side and genuinely cared about the most important person in the world to him, Eli. He’d give damn near anything to have the nerve to tell you but things were going so good with your friendship and Eli liked you so much he didn’t want to screw stuff up.
____________________
You were exhausted by the time you got back to the watchtower. Everyone was. Bucky went ahead and sent a text to John, warning him to keep Eli on his floor until everyone was cleaned up. All of you had blood, soot and other things on your suits.
You had to force yourself into the shower and back out. You were on the verge of just collapsing into bed when a text came through from John Eli wants to see you There was your second wind. If the kid wanted you, the kid got you.
You slipped your feet into the soft slippers you wore around and got onto the elevator. The moment you stepped foot off onto John’s floor you heard Eli call your name and thank god John caught him right before he slammed into your sore ribs. You smiled and squatted to hug him, biting down hard on your cheek so he didn’t see you were in pain “Hey bud, your dad said you were worried so I figured I’d show you I am here and in one piece” he hugged you tight and you caught John’s eye over his head. He gave you a small smile which you returned. “See? She’s ok but she’s sleepy bud”
“She can sleep here” Eli argued and you laughed “I would but you know what? I don’t have my favorite blanket. Gotta have it” he nodded “Ok”
He headed back to his toys and you watched him for a second before John said “You ok?” you shrugged “Bruised ribs. Thanks for the save” he gently touched your side “Sorry i wasn’t there” you shook your head, turning to face him “Don’t. Bucky had my back. I’m ok. You’re doing what you need to be. Ok?” he nodded “Ok sweetheart” you grinned “Now, take care of my little man. I’m going to crash” you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek “Give that to Eli for me at bedtime if I’m not back by then”
“Yes ma’am” he whispered, trying to act like his face didn’t feel like it was on fire where your lips had touched, even in such an innocent manner.
He couldn’t feel that way about you. You were everything good, he was just now getting his life halfway back right. What if he screwed you up? And yet when you looked back at him with a smile he knew he was already gone. He was yours.
“Where is she at?” it threw John off when Olivia downright asked where you were at drop off. He cut his eyes down at Eli then mouthed “Mission” she nodded then tapped Eli’s shoulder “Go on bud, I wanna talk to daddy”
Eli hugged her then ran off to play. He watched him for a moment then turned back to her “Everything ok?” she nodded “You do know if something happens to her now our little boy is gonna be heartbroken right?” he raised an eyebrow and she laughed “John, I love you but to be so intelligent you’re an idiot”
“Gee, thanks Liv” he laughed and she smiled “He loves her John. He sees her almost like another parent, a best friend at least. He talks about her almost as much as he talks about you. I know you two aren’t together but she’s good for him, could be good for you too”
He smiled slightly “I care about her but I’m not screwing up any more women I care about” she patted his shoulder “The past is the past John. Let’s face the future” she stepped further into the living room area “Bye baby! Be good for daddy”
John watched her walk onto the elevator then walked into the living room with Eli. “Hey bud. What are we doing today?” Eli looked up and shook his head. The moment he opened his mouth John was not surprised when he asked for you. “She’s at work bud” he sat down on the floor next to him and he nodded, crawling over onto his leg “She’s ok?” that was Eli’s routine if he didn’t see you time he got to the watchtower. He wanted to make sure you were ok. “Yeah, how about I ask if she wants to go to the zoo with us tomorrow if she’s back. Ok?” Eli smiled big “We can see lions!”
____________________
You were sore and a bit tired. Honestly if anyone else would have asked you to do anything you would be in bed but John asked you if you wanted to go to the zoo with him and Eli. That was why you were up, dressed and ready to go.
You were in the kitchen, filling your water bottle when you heard your name. You turned in enough time to catch Eli, spinning him around “What is up little dude?” he laughed, throwing his arms around you “You’re back!” you laughed “Of course! I always come back to my favorite Walker man”
John walked in the room after him and grinned at you. You winked at him “And your dad comes in as my second favorite Walker man” John shrugged “Second place isn’t all that bad”
Eli grinned “Ready to go?” you nodded “Let’s fill your water bottle and daddy’s then we’ll go. Ok?” “Yes ma’am”
He hopped down out of your arms and John smiled at you “You’re sure you’re up for this?” you nodded “If I get tired you can carry me and him both easily after all” he burst out laughing “Fair enough”
___________________
John snapped a photo of you and Eli in front of the lions while you and him were naming the entire enclosure after Disney characters. You cut your eyes at him when you heard the click “I better look good” “You always look good honey” he replied and you seemed to get almost flustered but recovered quickly enough when Eli tugged you to the next exhibit.
Eli was walking holding onto one of your hands and one of John’s. You had a broad smile on your face and seemed to not get aggravated no matter how many questions Eli had about animals, even fishing your phone out to get google to assist when needed, citing “I’m not as smart as your dad” to which he’d told Eli “Don’t listen to her, she’s smarter than daddy”
Eli shrugged “She can bake and knows songs” and that put a proud smile on your face when you looked up at John and playfully stuck your tongue out “See? I have my strong suits”
_______________________
By the time the three of you got back to the watchtower Eli was fast asleep on John’s shoulder. “You need help getting him settled?” you asked and he shook his head “I got it sweetheart. Thanks for today, I know you were tired” you shrugged, running a gentle hand down Eli’s back “For him? I’ll drag my ass up and go” you looked up at John then, his bright blue eyes looking at you like you were something amazing and felt your heart flip. It didn’t mean anything, him spending time with you. It was just because Eli had bonded to you. You had to keep telling your traitorous heart that because at times? It felt like you were so close to being what you wished you were to John but you weren’t going to risk making Eli lose someone.
“You’re not bad company either John. Good night” he smiled “Night darlin”
Everything came to a head between you and John on a mission. You caught a bullet meant for him. It wasn’t serious, a through and through to your upper arm. With Valentina’s medical staff you would be fine in a week or so. Of course that meant getting out in one piece.
The bullet burned when it ripped through your arm but John turned and took out the shooter, snatching you into his chest where no matter how he turned he could shield you both. “We gotta find an extraction point” he muttered, pushing you ahead of him. One minute you were running down corridors, the next he was tugging you into a closet.
“What the hell?” you whispered and he glared at you “The halls are overran. We gotta get backup now” you nodded as he repeated that order over the com, letting Bucky know you two were secure. “Twenty tops” Bucky’s voice came.
The small area was deathly quiet, your ears straining for noise, knowing John had the advantage on that. He shook his head “It’s clear for now” you nodded, leaning against the wall as you dug into your utility belt for roll gauze until you could do better for your arm.
When he realized what you were doing he snatched it away “Let me” you were taken back by John being so gruff with you. You thought you and him were eons past that. “Fine” you bit back, letting him grip your arm as he wrapped the gauze. “Why did you do that?” he muttered and you raised your eyes to his “Save your life? You were taking on three combatants. It was take the bullet or you get shot”
“And if you would’ve died?” he asked, voice low and eyes fixed on your arm as he tied a small knot in the gauze to keep it in place. “It would’ve been ok. Valentina would’ve paid out to my brother. At least Eli would still have his father”
He shook his head “And you think your brother would want money over you? That Eli wouldn’t notice you were gone?” he leaned down to be eye to eye with you “That it wouldn’t torture me every day to know I was the reason you were gone?”
“It wouldn’t have been like with Lemar John” you whispered and he nodded “I know. Lemar was my best friend but I’m half in love with you” you froze, eyes wide “What?” and he shrugged “it’s out there. I am. You’re an amazing person. You’re sweet when it’s called for, hell when it’s not. You got into being an assassin for your brother. You take care of people. My son adores you. You’re beautiful even when you’re bleeding and angry at me. You don’t have to feel the same but please don’t ever think you’re not important to us. You have so many people you would crush if you didn’t come home”
You weren’t sure what to say. What words would be sufficient so instead you reached up to grip the front of his suit and pulled him down to you. The moment your lips crashed against his, he caged your body between his and the wall. He took control of the kiss, it went from borderline desperate to passionate, claiming and clamoring for you. You whined lightly into his mouth when his fingers dug into your hips gently.
When the need for air pushed you two away you smiled up at him “So, I feel the same if that wasn’t apparent” he laughed “I was hoping that wasn’t an easy let down”
“Yeah well that was sweet except for the nasty kissing sounds but we need to go. The hallway is now clear” Yelena’s voice came through the coms and you buried your face in John’s neck laughing “You heard her my second favorite Walker, let’s go” “Let’s be real, he’s everyone’s second favorite Walker. Hurry up” Yelena barked over the com and John shook his head but you could see the grin pulling at his lips before he pressed another quick kiss to your lips and the two of you moved into the hallway to head out to meet the rest of the team.
“So, I somehow have made friends with Olivia again, have my son in my life and you love me?” you were laying across John’s chest, half asleep but he was wide awake and bless him wouldn’t stop talking. You groaned and leaned up “Yes John! You’re a lucky bastard that got a second chance. You have become a damn good father. You and Olivia are rockstars at co-parenting. Eli is the best kid ever and I love you more than I ever would’ve thought possible. Now can you please go to sleep? We gotta fly out to Georgia in the morning”
He grinned “Yeah honey. I love you” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips “I love you too John”
going on a date with bucky barnes and it all goes so nicely, so sweetly, so smoothly. you both had so much fun, chemistry and a good time. he's charming, witty and he keeps flirting and complimenting you at every chance he gets. he held your hand all night long, neither of you even noticed it, it just happened naturally, your cheeks hurt from how much you're smiling and both of your hearts are at ease.. that's until the date comes to an end, it's time to pay and you ask him if he wants to go 50/50.
that would be the first time he lets go of your hand that night, it's unintentional just happened out of pure shock. "50... what.." the confusion on his face, you'd think he's an alien seeing earth the first time.
"you know.. 50/50.. we'll split the bill between us"
"split the bill?" he asks and you just nod, he'd blink at you, "50/50.. splitting the bill.. what is this about, i asked you on a date"
now it's your turn to be the alien seeing earth for the first time, "we are on a date, bucky. this is a date"
"no, it's not a date."
"it is a date"
"you're asking me to split the bill, this is not a date"
"oh my god sam was right, you can be such a drama queen." you laugh, he just stares at you, blankly. "it might've been a while since the last time you went on a date so let me break it down for you.. these days, people who go on dates split the bill, they go 50/50" you shrug, "it's normal"
"it's normal? you've done it before?"
you nod, "every date i've been on has been 50/50 yeah"
bucky nearly flips the table. bucky who spent all of his three dollars in the 1940's trying to win a teddybear for a girl he had a crush on, bucky who used to save up most of his income in an old shoe box underneath his bed so he can take his girl to a nice diner, bucky who went to the florist to get you a bouquet of roses and didn't even ask for the price just handed his credit card because to him your smile is priceless, bucky is about to have a stroke.
"you've never been on a date" he says, face still blank.
"yes i have"
"no you haven't. this is your first date." he says, "i'm your first time." he smirks and you blush at the possible implication. "50/50.." he scoffs under his breath, "what else are you gonna tell me next? i should walk on the inside of the sidewalk? keep my jacket on when you're cold? sleep further from the door? not open doors for you? jesus sweetheart what has the world come to?"
you hide your smile, you love it when he rambles like that, he's so calm yet so offended all at once somehow, it's funny and endearing. "what's wrong with walking on the inside of the sidewalk?" you joke and he rolls his eyes making you laugh, "so.. no 50/50? are you sure?" you ask one last time, hands on your purse on your lap.
he keeps his eyes on you as he pays the bill, glaring playfully, gets up and pulls out your chair before putting his black leather jacket on your shoulders, "no doll," he offers you his hand which you quickly hold, intertwining your fingers with his, and opens the door with his metal hand, "no 50/50."
☆ summary: tyler owens is not easily angered, but when the love of his life runs into an incoming tornado without a second thought, his emotions get the better of him.
☆ warnings: a very upset tyler, yelling, language
note: so i watched twisters and it was actually everything to me! the brainrot is bad and i’ve been wanting to write for tyler ever since i saw it, so here it is! this is very much the idiots in love trope because it’s one of my favorites. enjoy! :)
“Where is she?”
Tyler isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this angry before. He considers himself a fairly easy going man, always quick to make light of a situation and put everyone in the room at ease with his charming, joking nature.
But this was different. This had his heart pounding, his ears ringing. His face is flushed red and he feels like he can hardly breathe.
All because of her.
He slams the door of his truck, approaching his crew in the gas station parking lot with a look on his face that’s so completely un-Tyler that it makes them all shift uneasily.
“Where’s…who?” Boone tries weakly, unsuccessful in his attempt to play dumb. Lily rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare.
Tyler clenches his jaw, for once not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “You know damn well who I’m talking about.”
They all exchange glances, his uncharacteristic demeanor both surprising and concerning. This isn’t the calm, charismatic frontman of the Tornado Wranglers they’re used to.
“She’s in the RV, but I don’t think-” Dani begins, but he’s already beelining for the camper before they can finish. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he nearly bursts through the door, finding her sitting at the small table in the back with her head in her hands.
Her gaze snaps up at the sound of his entrance into the RV, and her face immediately drops when she sees him practically fuming. “Tyler-” she says urgently, instantly on her feet as he approaches as if she’s about to defend herself. But he isn’t having any of it.
“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking out there?” He seethes, suddenly towering over her with his jaw clenched and hands on his hips. She swallows thickly, nervous around this version of him. Terrified to have upset him, disappointed him.
“Tyler, I promise, I was just trying to do the right thing-” she starts again, her tone practically pleading, but he just scoffs. 
“The right thing?” He questions in disbelief, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “You call nearly getting yourself killed in the field ‘doing the right thing’?”
She squeezes her eyes shut at the reminder of what she’d done, at the venom in his voice that’s ordinarily so gentle when directed at her. Memories of what had transpired nearly 20 minutes ago flood her mind and she feels a lump forming in her throat.
“I couldn’t let our data get lost,” she whispers weakly, her gaze glued to the floor in shame. “Bullshit,” he mutters, jaw clenched as his breath picks up. His eyes search her face, grasping to understand why the hell she had risked her life the way she had.
“You don’t run into the path of an incoming EF3 to recover some stupid equipment for our disruption research,” he practically spits, his voice growing louder, more emotional.
“That equipment is completely replaceable. You sure as hell aren’t. So I want to know why on god’s green earth you thought it was a good idea to run headfirst into danger like that.”
Her breath hitches, her eyes welling up with unshed tears at the reminder of her brashness. She feels ashamed and almost embarrassed as Tyler practically berates her.
They were best friends, a pair that the rest of the team liked to call the “dynamic duo.” With a shared passion for tornadoes and a taste for danger, they had instantly clicked from the moment they met during a chase a few years ago, becoming inseparable. Which is why Tyler’s harsh reminder of her stupidity stung so painfully.
She wasn’t used to hearing him so upset, so emotional in the worst way. With her, his tone was always soft, teasing, sometimes so overtly flirty that it would leave her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed.
But this was different. Now his gaze was harsh, curses unnaturally tumbling from his lips as she struggled to explain herself. And she hated every moment of his scrutinizing stare.
“You’ve worked so hard on putting together the equipment for the disruption research. I didn’t want you to have to start from scratch…not after all the effort you went through,” she explains pathetically, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions begin to shine through.
Tyler shakes his head, stepping even closer into her space. “And you thought it was worth risking your life for?” He grits out, his furrowed brow and downturned lips looking so unnatural on his normally smiling face.
Another shuddering breath escapes her as she catches herself from revealing the true reason she’d been so careless, from baring her soul and telling him that she’d run into the path of an incoming tornado because she loved him more than anything. That the thought of his disappointed face, his devastation over months of work lost to an unpredictably large tornado, hurt her so much that she would have done anything to save that equipment.
Anything to make him happy, to be the hero that he was to her.
“I- I didn’t get hurt, I knew I had time to get at least some of it-” she stammers, but she can’t get the words out.
“You didn’t have time!” He practically yells, gripping her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. His eyes are wide, his gaze burning as he stares down at her.
“If Boone hadn’t been close by with his truck, you could’ve easily not made it. You could’ve died,” he chokes out, his grip on her tightening. His eyes are watering now, his anger fizzling out into something more desperate, more panicked.
Tyler still remembers the pure, unadulterated fear he’d felt as she slipped out of the safety of his truck before he could stop her, sprinting out into the open field where the winds and torrential rain were getting worse by the second.
He remembers the devastated scream of her name that had ripped itself from his chest, lost to the howling winds.
He sure as hell can’t forget the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness that overtook him when the rain became so intense that he could not longer see her, no longer assure himself that she hadn’t been sucked up into the raging funnel or hurt by the flying debris.
It was only when he got radio confirmation from Boone five minutes later, stating that she was safe in their truck with some of the equipment intact, that he even knew she was alive.
It had been the most hopeless, terrifying five minutes of his life.
“Don’t you understand what you mean to everyone? What you mean to me?” He rasps, his voice quieter now, more broken. “Some stupid equipment for an experiment isn’t worth your life, Y/N. Not in the least.”
His eyes are tender now as they rake over her face, scanning the scrapes and cuts littering her cheeks, the patch of dried blood clinging to her temple. His heart aches at the thought of her getting hurt, even if the injuries are small.
She notices that nearly all of his anger has left his body, replaced by the emotion that had truly been brewing beneath the surface: crippling fear at the possibility of losing her.
A silent tear runs down her face at his softer, more vulnerable words, her heart breaking as she realizes the effect her thoughtless actions have had on the man she loves. He’s quick to gently wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on her cheek as he gazes at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she chokes back a sob. In an instant, he’s enveloping her in his tight, comforting hold, cradling her head to his chest and pulling her so close to him that their bodies are practically molded together.
“Shhh…it’s alright, sweetheart,” he gently hushes, his hand stroking through her hair as she cries softly against him. He’s back to himself now, all anger and frustration long abandoned in favor of his naturally calm, caring demeanor. Through her tears, she feels herself flushing slightly at his term of endearment.
“I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya, you didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs into her ear, his arms tightening around her.
He internally berates himself for defaulting to anger when she had also probably been scared and upset. But thinking she had died in that tornado just for attempting to recover his equipment had struck something so deep within him that his brain had reacted irrationally.
He stews in his remorse for a moment longer before admitting a truth that might be a little too vulnerable, a little too revealing of his deep and unwavering love for her, but he has to get it off his chest.
“…You just scared me half to death, darlin’. I can’t lose you...I can’t. It would tear me apart worse than a damn tornado ever could.” His whispered words are so raw and tinged with devastation that her breath hitches against his chest.
Slowly, she peels herself away from his comforting embrace to get a good look at him, and what she finds makes her heart clench in her chest. 
His eyes are red and glassy, obvious signs that he’d been crying. His muscles are taught with anxiety, like every fiber in his body had been tense ever since she fled his truck. His hair is slightly tousled and she instantly knows he’d been running his hand through it the way he does when he’s stressed.
The thought that she could cause him this much worry, this much pain, sucks the breath from her lungs and makes her feel dizzy.
“I only tried to save the equipment because I knew how important the research was to you,” she whispers, her voice still shaky but full of sincerity.
“I know how much it means to you, finding a way to keep these tornadoes from causing so much damage to innocent lives. I just- I wanted to do something brave and selfless for you, the way you always have for me,” she admits softly, swallowing as she meets his gaze.
His lips part slightly at her admission, the reverence in her words staggering. Hearing that she cares for him, finds him brave and selfless, wants to return the way he makes her feel, fills his heart with a love so deep he feels like he’s drowning in it.
“Y/N, you’re-” he rasps, pausing to clear his throat when he hears how raw and weak his voice sounds.
“You’re so damn sweet. Your heart is so big. That’s what I love about you. But please, don’t be as stupid as me. I throw myself headfirst into danger so much because I don’t think first…my judgement gets clouded by the thought of helping someone and I get tunnel vision. Which has put me in one too many potentially life-ending scenarios,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her slightly as they rest on her shoulders.
“I can’t- I won’t let you be that careless. You mean too much to me.”
Her eyes widen at the tenderness in his voice, the affection and worry dripping from every word. It feels like their conversation is breaching on something deeper, something much more vulnerable and terrifying.
Her mind is hung up on his soft that’s what I love about you. Even hearing the word love directed at her from the mouth of Tyler Owens makes her head spin and her face heat up, and she’s unsure if she’s even breathing anymore.
“Tyler…” she manages, her voice threatening to break with the overwhelming swirl of emotions running through her. She can’t help herself, knows that she’s finally going to put it out there, tell him how she feels no matter how scary it might be.
“I love-” his lips are on hers before she can even finish. The sensation of Tyler kissing her is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and she’s damn sure she never wants him to stop.
His large hand tenderly cups her cheek while the other snakes into her hair, tangling his fingers through the strands as he pulls her even closer. She gasps softly as his grip tightens, his lips moving against her own with an almost feral desperation.
The salt from her tears mixes with his sweet taste – something like honey and peppermint – and she melts further into him and his warmth. She can feel him pour every ounce of his turbulent, pent-up emotions into the kiss, and it leaves her completely breathless.
He’s waited for this moment for so long, and after thinking he’d lost her today, he’d be content to just kiss her like this for the rest of time. Reassuring himself that’s she’s still there, that she’s his. Showing her what she means to him.
Finally getting a grip on his emotions, Tyler pulls away for a moment, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misread the signs, misinterpreted what he’d felt brewing between them for so long.
But a wide, disbelieving grin spreads across her face as she fights to catch her breath, and he suddenly has no doubt that she’s been his all along.
“I’ve been waiting for that for- well, I don’t even know how long,” she laughs breathlessly, slightly woozy from his intoxicating taste.
He huffs a laugh in return, his eyes shining with an overwhelming adoration for the woman before him. “Yeah…I think Boone might owe Dexter and Lily some money,” he jokes softly, his thumb gently brushing her rain-soaked hair away from her face.
His eyes roam over her, taking in every inch of her muddy clothes, her scraped up hands, the shallow cut on her temple. Regret courses through him at the way he’d raised his voice at her, even if it had been out of fear of losing her.
“Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” He murmurs, his voice lower and more serious than before. She gently nods, her hand moving to rest on top of his own as it cups her face.
“I’m ok, promise. It’s just a little scrape from slipping in the mud,” she reassures him, sensing his lingering gaze on her slightly bloodied face. She can practically feel the apprehension in his stare, his constant worry for her well-being so endearing that she just wants to kiss him again and again.
“I promise, Ty. And I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t think before acting.” He nods slowly, letting the sincerity in her voice wash over her and comfort his racing mind. 
“You’d better not,” he teases softly, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re doing this thing, no more running headfirst into tornadoes, you hear? Can’t have my girl acting like an irrational daredevil like me. I’ve been told she’s smarter than that.”
She feels herself blushing as he calls her his girl, the title rolling off his tongue so naturally that it makes her heart skip a beat. Tyler watches as a hearty laugh escapes her and she leans into his touch, his own smile growing wider.
Suddenly nothing else has ever mattered beyond this moment of her in his arms, blushing and laughing like he’s the funniest damn man in the world.
“Ok, alright,” she giggles with feigned exasperation. “No more running into tornado paths, I swear. Wrangler’s honor. But you have to swear it too. You’re an adrenaline junkie and a trouble maker, even more than I am.”
He chuckles at her playful jab, his body feeling lighter than it has all day as he finally lets the tension within him fade. She’s safe, he tells himself over and over. She’s alive, she’s teasing him like she always does, and she’s got him smiling like a damn fool.
“Baby,” he mutters with that teasing glint in his eye, “you need to get my head checked if I ever run away from you and into a tornado. No man in his right mind would leave a gorgeous thing like you for some wind.”
Before she can reply to his ridiculous comment, he captures her lips once more with his own, relishing in the way she smiles against him as he pulls her closer.
This is all Tyler’s ever wanted - all he’s ever needed. Just her, safe and sound, loving him in all his flaws and worry for her.
If her running into that damn field led to this moment, this reality where she’s finally his, then so be it. He’s never been more grateful for a tornado.
Insomnia isn't special among the residents of The Watchtower. Your relationship— or lack thereof— with John has been at a standstill for months. But late night company turns into talks, and tonight, those talks turn into more, something neither of you are ready to name.
[Reader is a mutant with the power to manipulate blood, and has a serum-induced healing factor similar to Wolverine's. Former Widow and Avenger, current Thunderbolt New Avenger.]
john walker x fem!reader
words: 7.6k
cw: swearing, mentions of death, past abuse/neglect, infertility, smut, oral sex (f!recieving), p in v, creampie, only hints of sub!john, enemies to reluctant allies to enemies to ???, confessions, the idiots are in love, john calls the reader ‘Red’ (because of the blood shtick, he’s very creative) (18+ MDNI)
a/n: wow fucking finally, ive been swamped with a new job and was so worried id never find the time to finish this, but ta-da! i hope you all enjoy my silly little story, and sorry it took so long to make the barbie dolls kiss
alone together - fall out boy
Most nights, you don’t sleep. With your healing factor, you don’t need as much as the average human anyway, but more often than not you keep yourself up until the first rays of sunlight pour through the sprawling windows of The Watchtower.
It makes for a lot of time spent alone, which is fine by you, and a good amount spent alongside whoever else is having trouble that night. There’s always someone; almost a year into being The New Avengers, the team is tight-knit and heavily traumatized. Everyone knows that if they can’t sleep, they can come find you to keep them company. It’s a weekly debate between Bob and Yelena on whether or not you’re actually nocturnal, and it’s not helping the vampire allegations from Alexei.
When it’s Bucky, the two of you catch up on the long list of movies and music that you’ve missed out on over the decades— everything you enjoy he hates, and vice versa. With Bob, you swap books, forcing him to stomach your questionable horror schlock, while you trudge through yet another sci-fi novel about space fascism. You and Ava smoke on your balcony, even if it doesn’t do much for you thanks to your metabolism, but it soothes her pains, physical and mental. It’s rare that Alexei can’t find rest, but when it’s his turn, the two of you split a bottle of vodka and share war stories— he can’t get enough of your Avengers tales, and the anecdotes you have of Nat. Yelena likes video games, technology that escapes you but you partake in anyway to give her the satisfaction of victory that keeps her mind occupied. You have a secret little routine with everyone at this point, something that stays with just you.
And then, there’s John.
It’s been six weeks since your heart stopped and things changed between the two of you. Vitriol and insults traded for longing glances and stilted conversations. You’re learning how to be around him now that it isn’t a battle, your first instinct still to lash out. But you know that’s not what you are anymore, so as the mockery dies on your tongue, the silence settles, because you aren’t ready to acknowledge what you are.
Your midnight routine with him is new, ever evolving, and mostly by accident. It always starts with running into him in the dark, when John is too tired to keep up the pretense of not wanting your comfort. Usually, neither of you speak, sitting in the silence of everything left unsaid, alone together. Sometimes, you muster up enough guts to ask him what’s wrong, and he’s brave enough to answer.
Tonight, you find John in the kitchen, staring aimlessly into the fridge for so long that the alarm for the door starts beeping sharply, and you can’t bear to turn away. He straightens up with a muted curse, shutting the door, and almost jumps when he notices someone. His shoulders relax when a second later he realizes it’s only you, but he still rolls his eyes.
"Jesus, Red. You’re gonna give me a heart attack," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his forehead. "You hungry, or just here lookin to bug me?"
He’s been feeling the shift too. Sometimes, all he sees when he looks at you is the memory of your cold and broken body. Other times, it’s the glimpse of the real you that you’d given him that night, still only half-alive in his doorway just to make sure he was okay. He doesn’t know what’s harder to grasp; the fact that you rose from the dead or that somewhere deep down you care about him. You made him tongue tied before everything, but it’s even worse now, and he can’t find the line between brushing you off and letting everything out all at once.
“Well, if you go into cardiac arrest, I can stop it.” you quip, fingers fiddling with the tie of your satin robe.
You push past him to lean against the edge of the counter. Despite your teasing nature, there’s not a hint of humor in your irises, only wide-eyed exhaustion. Dark circles line them, and your entire body is tense, muscles taut like a bowstring. It was a night where you’d tried to rest and were made to regret it immediately.
John knows that look.
During the day, you’re all sharp remarks and steadfast confidence, but he’s been watching you long enough to know when you’re not okay. He knows the exhaustion, the way you hold yourself, the fidgeting. It used to be a version of you that he didn’t care for, but with each accidental encounter he longed to do more about what was plaguing you.
"Nightmare, or just insomnia?" he asks, and it feels like knocking down a wall.
“Nightmare,” you answer without hesitation, but don’t elaborate, your voice hoarse. There’s a deep understanding between the two of you, even if neither one knows what to do with it. You meet his gaze, and your grimace softens. “How about you? What was it tonight?”
"Insomnia," John replies with a rough sigh, leaning against the opposite counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He regards you, the silken robe you’re wearing, one shoulder barely exposed to the room. He tears his gaze away reluctantly, focusing on the hectic collection of magnets on the fridge. "Same as usual."
You raise an eyebrow. "You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine?" You hide your request for vulnerability— for connection— behind the teasing. You’ve noted it’s easier for both of you to digest that way.
He lets himself look back over at you, amused by your smart mouth. "You gotta go first."
Your shoulders lift in a languid shrug, the gesture meant to be nonchalant but only serves to make the restlessness more obvious. Your eyes flick up from the alternating tiles on the floor to him, contemplative. You pause for a moment, a brief hesitation before the floodgates open, pushing yourself up to perch on the countertop. It feels like a turning point.
"Dreams of Hydra mostly," you admit, a bitter edge as the words echo in the dim kitchen. "Of waking up strapped down in some cold room, being injected with god knows what. Things I should be over by now."
John is surprised by the rawness. He wasn’t actually expecting a genuine answer, and definitely not one that made his chest ache in ways he can’t rationalize. He remembers your terror in The Void. Seeing you afraid is enough to rattle anyone, but he witnessed it almost firsthand.
"It’s not something you can just be over,” he responds a little too decisively. The idea of you beating yourself up for the crime of being used like that isn’t one that sits well with him. He sighs, shaking his head as if it will clear his racing thoughts. "I still dream about Afghanistan. About… about the orders we followed.” The silence hangs heavily in the room, broken only by the intermittent sound of the freezer rattling in the background. He doesn’t often talk about his time overseas, the story of what he did in the name of defending a country that never once intended to protect him. “Sometimes, Olivia pops up too. Reminds me how much I screwed that up." He glances up. “But the part that makes me feel horrible is the fact I don’t regret it.”
“Why don’t you regret it?” you ask quietly, appreciating the way he’s taken the spotlight off of you.
After several beats, he answers with a weary exhale, his shoulders slumped. “We got married because it was just another thing we were supposed to do. High school sweethearts, family pressure, society. It wasn’t long before we grew apart and both felt trapped. Eventually, it all came crashing down. And I just…” His words trail off into another heavy sigh, the guilt weighing him down, even after all this time. “I guess I got tired of doing what was expected of me. Of being who they all wanted me to be. That’s why I don’t regret letting her walk. Because it felt like the first time I’d done something for myself.”
You’re silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. You understand the weight of expectations; the pressure to be something different. The need to escape the mold other people had created for you. To steal back any bit of control you could, even if it put a wrench in things for others.
John huffs out humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Just... I wish I hadn’t gotten it all so wrong.”
Your voice is a gentle counterpoint to the weary acceptance in his when you respond. “I won’t deny that you made quite a few mistakes to get here, but when you aren’t given the room when you’re small, you make worse ones when you’re grown. Your country put you under the emotional equivalent of a hydraulic press and then had the nerve to dump you at the first sign of fracture."
The weight of your assertion hits close to home. Your insight into his life—his struggles—is unsettlingly accurate, almost uncanny. You see right through all the bravado and defensiveness, straight to the root of the wounds that might not ever heal.
"I..." he starts, voice hoarse, "I never really thought of it that way." He takes a beat, observing your expression carefully. "Is that what it was like for you? In the Red Room?"
Your focus falls to the floor again at his question. The memories of the Red Room— the pain, the isolation, the never-ending missions— flash through your mind. You take a deep, steadying breath, gathering the strength to give him a piece of yourself in return, something more than a flippant remark.
"In a way," you reply quietly. "I was an orphan in the middle of a war-torn country when they snatched me up, and suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore. I felt a duty to them, even if I didn’t agree with it. They told me who I was, what I was supposed to do, when I was supposed to do it. And I did it perfectly."
John listens intently, the furrow of his brow deepening as you explain. He hesitates for a moment, considering his next words. "But you fought back eventually, didn't you? Broke free." He says it with so much hope, as if he doesn’t already know how your story ends.
"That’s the funny thing," you scoff, "I didn’t. Not from the Red Room at least. I knew I was different, a mutant. And I managed to hide that from them for a long time. I was the best they had then, but the second I couldn’t hide my power anymore, they pawned me off to Hydra. I felt betrayed."
John can’t imagine what hiding must have been like, having to walk through life in fear of being found out, when you’re the strongest person he knows. He’s endlessly impressed by the way you’ve taken the way they trained you and turned it into something that’s all your own. Your brutality is an expression of love. Your criticism is borne out of care. That you give everyone on the team these pieces of yourself over and over, never letting them give in return. You’re so much more than what they made you, but he doesn’t know how to tell you. He realizes he’s been staring too long— captivated by the line of your jaw, the unguarded look in your eye, and the soft curve of your lips— and clears his throat, his gaze dropping from your face.
"Do you ever think..." he falters, the words sticking in his throat. "Do you ever think that maybe if we’d met under different circumstances… we wouldn’t have been such assholes to each other?"
Your eyes narrow curiously. His question hangs in the air, an unexpected deviation. The last time you heard him say anything so sincere was when you were barely cleared from your deathbed. You search him for any hint of falsehood or sarcasm, but find only the same sincerity from that night. You consider his question for a moment.
"I doubt it," you say bluntly, the familiar sharp edge in your tone returning. "We’re both stubborn, and we get on each other’s nerves, and… you make me want to stab you more often than not," you pause, eyeing him up and down, your gaze calculating. "But you know, we don’t have to wait for another life to be different."
He chuckles at your honesty, expecting nothing less, raising an eyebrow at your words. "What, you think some miracle’s gonna happen and suddenly we’ll stop pissing each other off?"
His genuine laugh is the last straw, making your knees feel weak with an emotion you don’t want to stifle by naming. You prop your palms behind you on the counter, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other, your robe shifting.
"Or maybe it’s worth looking into a different method to shut each other up," you taunt, low and tinged with that playful sarcasm you’ve mastered.
John scoffs, rolling his eyes, anything to not look at you right now. He’s used to your teasing, your mockery, and at first, he thinks that’s all this is. But then, he realizes you’re looking at him the same way you did that day in the gym, the memory of you underneath him flashing in his head. Still not entirely sure what’s happening, he takes a cautious step towards where you’re sitting on the counter, crowding into your personal space. He leans in, hands braced on the marble on either side of you.
You tense at the proximity, eyes flickering over his face, the disbelief. You’re caught off guard by the raw intensity of the moment, the sudden shift from the solemn conversation to the magnetic pull between you. Then, he drags one hand up your thigh, robe falling out of his way.
"John…" you rasp out, your breathier than you’d like, his given name a halfhearted warning. You can feel your pulse thrumming faster, cheeks flushing. He’s so close, his body warm and solid over you. The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body responds to his touch, ignites something deep within him, and he can’t keep it locked away any longer.
"You gonna tell me to stop?" His hand on your thigh moves higher, his thumb continuing its lazy circles, inching under the hem of your robe. Your breath hitches, heat pooling low in your stomach, mind at war over the urge to either pull back or give in. You know it should be the former, that you need to maintain the boundary, no matter how fragile. But the feel of his touch, the way he's looking at you... it's like you’re caught in his gravitational pull.
"This…" you manage in a low voice, "is a bad idea." John can see the hesitation in your eyes, the battle between desire and sense. But he can also feel you pressing into his touch, see the flush in your cheeks.
“Maybe it is,” he murmurs, his hand drifting higher, his fingers precariously close to your inner thigh. Your legs part for him like it’s second nature. “But does it matter?”
You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, can feel the heat of his breath across your skin. Every rational thought vanishes from your mind, replaced by a rush of heated anticipation so intense that you can’t think straight.
“John,” you whisper again, but it’s not a warning. It’s permission. The sound of his name is like a spark to gasoline.
And he’s gone.
John’s mouth crashes into yours, hungry, desperate, impatient. You’ve been dancing around each other for months— longer than he’s even willing to admit to himself.
The stress practically bleeds from your shoulders as you kiss him back, like you’re relieved, giving him just as much as he’s giving you. It's all teeth and tongue, his grip on your waist tight enough to make you wish the bruises would stay. His other hand tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, cradling your head gently.
He groans as you pull him closer, the sound horribly needy, and he’d be embarrassed in any other situation. Your bow into his touch, legs encircling his hips and pinning him between your thighs. He nips at your bottom lip, catching the sound of your gasp and licking into your mouth. He’s been dying to taste you again since that day on the mat.
Your pulse races as John changes course and his lips move down your jaw, and you can sense how his heart speeds up to match yours. He lingers at the sensitive spot under your left ear, sucking and nipping until you’re pulling him to your waiting mouth. He hauls you up, and in one swift movement he’s carrying you down the hall.
He gets you to his room in record speed, every step fueled by desperate need, slamming the door shut behind you. He wastes no time, pinning you to it, your back pressed firmly against the wood. He captures your mouth in another kiss, hard and needy and you can’t get enough.
Wandering hands explore him further, slipping under his t-shirt and grazing over the ridges of his abs, tracing the trail of hair under his navel to the waistband of his sweatpants. In return, John tugs at the tie of your robe hastily until he can push it off your shoulders, and you shuck it away, revealing nothing underneath but your— very obviously soaked— panties. He crowds you, grinding his hips into yours so you can feel exactly what you’re doing to him.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, Red,” he groans.
“I—" you breathe, little more than a whine as you tug at his sweatpants. “I need you. Now.”
Biting back another embarrassing sound, he turns and crosses the room to his bed, tossing you onto the sheets. He pulls away to just look at you for a moment, staring like he’s committing you to memory. His gaze roams over you slowly, the curve of your waist, the flush of red on your chest, and the hitch of your breathing.
"You're so beautiful," he husks, laced with awe.
Then, he’s straightening out and tugging his shirt over his head, and you’re able to make your stunned reaction to him calling you beautiful look like it’s about him undressing instead. His chest is more sun-kissed than you were expecting, subtle freckles dotted across his shoulders. A set of dog tags rest on a thin chain at the center of his chest, framed by lean muscle on all sides. None of his strength is for show, meticulously honed over his years of service and there long before any serums. His pants are stripped off next, and he wastes no more time before crawling over you. He’s straining in his boxers, aching for you, his mouth finding yours again with fervor.
His hands and lips are everywhere, and it’s so much all at once. You’ve been alone and cold and untouched for so long and now, finally, you’re letting yourself have him. You’ve never been held like this, never felt wanted like this, like he can't breathe without you. You’re not supposed to want this, want him. But God, you do. More than anything else in the world.
Your head falls against his pillows, savoring the weight of him over you. The touch of his lips, his beard scraping your skin, all heighten the buzz running through your body, so much better than any of your fantasies. His cock is hard and insistent against your thigh, practically begging for your attention.
You arch your back, pressing your chest to his, a command for more. There’s something feral in the way he responds, hands cupping your breasts, squeezing firmly. He can’t get enough of you. He kisses you hungrily, his hands gliding across your sides, your shoulder blades, everywhere, desperate to touch as much skin as possible. His lips find your neck again, leaving hot, wet kisses that trail down your torso, detouring only to lap over each peaked nipple with dedication. He continues lower, his nose burying into your navel, inhaling deeply. He glances up at you, his eyes clouded with desire, the question on the tip of his tongue. You beat him to it, spreading your legs wilder, beckoning him closer.
"You wanna taste me, baby?" you purr.
John feels the heat in his gut flare at your words, your voice, your body. His tongue traces a path over your hip bone, down to your inner thigh. He takes a moment to marvel at the wet patch on your panties, pressing a kiss over the soaked cotton before urging them down your legs and flinging them to some forgotten corner of the room.
He’s homed in on your dripping cunt, and you swear he licks his lips. "Oh, I'm gonna devour you, Red."
He gets on his knees at the foot of the bed, pulling you to the edge by your hips, and tosses your thighs over his shoulders. He starts agonizingly slow, his tongue tracing slow circles through your folds, teasing, savoring. It doesn’t take you long to realize he knows exactly what he's doing, and it’s unexpected, but you’re sure as hell not about to complain. Every sound that slips from your lips only encourages him further, determined to prove something to you that he can’t quite put a name to. He alternates between broad, languid strokes and focused, pointed flicks, finding all the right spots that make you grind your cunt into his mouth.
“John,” you gasp again, hands tangling in his hair, your grip unrelenting. “You’re so good at this… so fucking good.” You swear you can feel him fighting a smug smile between your legs. But before you can call him on it, John flattens one hand over your lower stomach, holding your hips down, while the other circles your entrance. He teases only for a moment, sliding one finger, and then another inside. Your thighs clamp around his head as he fucks you with his fingers, curling them at just the right spots, his pace relentless. He watches you through it all, completely mesmerized by the way you look, how he’s the one making you feel so good.
“That’s it, baby—“ you sigh, the endearment slipping out without a thought. “Fuck. Keep going.” You’re a trembling wreck, your senses overwhelmed by his skilled tongue. The coil of pleasure tightens inside you, a breadth away from snapping. It’s so much, minding your reactions slips your mind, the moans and curses coming freely now. You’re incredibly vocal, constantly singing his praises, trailing off into unintelligible cries that only serve to push him further.
“I’m so close,” you choke out, “you’re gonna make me come.”
So fucking close.
And then, he does something with his fingers, a subtle crook as his lips wrap around your clit, and that's it. You shatter, your body arching off the bed, head thrown back, a strangled cry escaping you.
"J-John," you weep, shaking with the force of your orgasm. "Oh my god, fuck, so good.” John doesn’t let up, lapping at your cunt to draw out your high for as long he can. You have to pull him away once the overstimulation kicks in, reluctant to part with the taste of your release. The soft praises, the way you’d cried his name ringing in his ears, his cock uncomfortably hard, just from eating you out.
His eyes roam over your form, taking in the sight of you, debauched and flushed, chest heaving with each ragged breath. He doesn’t deserve this. Deserve you.
You lie there, still gushing through the aftershocks, your mind fuzzy and utterly sated. Every nerve ending crackles with electricity, your breathing shallow, skin damp with sweat. It feels like your body has been wrung out and put back together again in the best possible way.
You glance at John who’s patiently waiting for you to come down, but you catch the hint of doubt etched into his brow. Not regret, but the shadow of inadequacy. It brings a momentary gloom over you, baffled by how he could be insecure after giving you the best orgasm of your life.
“I take back what I said about you going down.” You grab his hand, the one that’s still covered in your cum, pulling him closer before he can wallow any longer. John goes willingly, his body settling over yours, and his eyes go wide as you bring his damp fingers to your mouth, tongue darting out to clean yourself off of them. “I guess your mouth is good for things other than running it.”
Your lips find his next, tasting more of your pleasure on his tongue and in his beard. He’s wound tight, the hunger thrumming beneath his skin, but the feeling of your kiss— and your characteristically vulgar compliments— settles the doubt within him.
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” you continue, pulling him into you with your legs around his waist. He rolls his hips yours, grinding his leaking cock brushing your cunt, both of you chasing that friction.
"You’re so goddamn perfect," he murmurs against your lips, rough with need. His hips speed up, soaking up the wetness at the apex of your thighs, even though the barrier of his boxers.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.”
You flip your positions suddenly and swiftly, just like that day in the gym, straddling his hips. Your weight settles over him, tugging his waistband down until his length is freed from the stifling cotton. That day, you’d felt him through his sweats, made up a picture in your mind of what he’d look like underneath. But nothing compares to seeing him in the flesh.
Your hands wander over him, appreciating every contour of muscle, every scar— even the one near his ribcage that was very likely your doing— every faint freckle that dots his shoulders. The way you caress him is firm and deliberate, and you’re lost in the moment, the reality of what’s between you settling heavily over your head.
John watches through half-lidded eyes, the rise and fall of his chest shaky as your lips and teeth trail over his chest. You leave little marks in your wake, making sure to leave your brand on him, even if he can’t do the same on you. He feels the shift too, and he’s terrified, but he never seems to know when to keep his mouth shut around you.
"I’ve wanted you since I first saw you,” he confesses suddenly. “You wouldn’t even give me the time of day back then." He knows it was wrong, that he was supposed to be happily married at the time, and it was something he never intended to act on.
And then, fate— better known as Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine— shoved you back together and locked you in a bunker and forced you to make nice to stay alive. He never thought it would actually end with you in his bed.
"That was three years ago,” you point out, his admission still sinking in. Your heart hammers in your chest, the reality of this hitting you in full and all at once. The depth of the desires he’s been denying, the need you’ve been ignoring.
"I’ve been holding back for years." John pushes himself up on his elbows, leaning against the headboard to be level with you. You’re both in anticipation as you scramble for the right way to respond, wide-eyed and entirely focused on the other.
“Stop holding back.”
And your wish is his command. He relaxes at the tentative acceptance of his feelings, and it’s more than enough when he’s still not sure how to describe them. He leans into you, and this time his kiss is slower, thorough. Your thighs cage his in, all of you on display just for him, his cock throbbing as you start to move your hips. He almost can’t handle the feeling, and he tries to ground himself as to not come in three seconds, and a different issue occurs to him instead.
“Are you on the pill— or something? Or do I need…” he trails off, wondering if he even has any. There’s been no one since or before Olivia, no reasons to be prepared.
Your stomach drops, John’s question sobering in a way you know he didn’t intend. You hadn’t really considered the fact that he was unaware of the Red Room’s ‘graduation ceremony’. It’s been such a constant in your life for decades— less of a sore spot and more of a mild ache that flares up on occasion— but one that doesn’t often cross your mind anymore. A bitter laugh almost escapes you, but you bite it back. You know you don’t technically owe him an explanation, but you decide he deserves one.
“I’m not— but—“ you start, faltering on how to put it into words without completely ruining the moment. “I can’t— I don’t have the equipment.”
John is struck still by the disclosure, his hands pausing where they were gliding over your sternum. It takes a second for his brain to catch up to what you’ve said, but then his eyes flick down, spotting the faint scar that runs vertically through your lower stomach. He puts together the pieces that he should have realized before now.
“It wasn’t my choice but— it’s fine, it was a long time ago,” you insist. It happened before the serums that made you invulnerable, making it permanent. You want him to trust that it’s safe, but don’t want to talk about it, don’t want to linger on another thing that they took from you— autonomy.
“Red—“ he starts, and you mistake his concerned tone for pity, interrupting him before he can continue.
“Don’t worry about it,” you plead. “I’m fine. I want to feel you.” You’re desperate for this to not turn into another therapy session, so you try to resume the friction with a shift of your hips, but his grip holds you still.
You say it all so flippantly, like it doesn’t matter, and he has to forcibly stop the groan that’s building in his chest as you rock against him. The need to make you forget everything that’s ever been done to you is overwhelming. His grip loosens, no longer possessive or rough, and he runs his knuckles over the sensitive skin of your stomach, meant as a comforting gesture.
“I’m sorry they did this to you, sweetheart.”
His voice is so warm. Your heart swells at the use of the term— so tender and familiar, so at odds with everything you feel you are— and you want more. But he’s still looking at you with worry, like what happened doesn’t sit right with him.
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want to think, I just want this… you.”
He can't deny you anything, not now. He has to give you what you need, and it’s this. Him.
You need him.
“You have me, Red. You have me.”
His grip on your hips loosens, no longer holding you in place but lightly kneading your flesh. You’re moving again, but it all feels heavier now, and you keep the pace languid, looking into his eyes. He’s content to give you the control, his body moving on your lead, driven by a need to make it good for you.
It’s not until you decide you’ve reduced him into a desperate mess underneath you that you finally change course, angling your hips so that the tip of his cock catches your entrance. His hips jerk and he can’t help it, driving up into you, groaning into your mouth. His hand tangles in your hair and you echo his sounds as you sink down on him, the stretch euphoric.
"God, you’re perfect," he growls, “you’re so goddamn perfect." The feeling of being inside you, of losing himself in you… it isn’t something he’d ever thought he’d experience, something he can’t put into words.
You lean up to capture his mouth, your tongue sliding over his, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting him as close as you can get him. The world around them disappears, nothing but the feel of him inside you, the taste of his moans on your tongue.
“Fuck,” you whisper. “You feel so good, filling me up so well, so deep."
Your little praises and the curses are more than enough to drive him crazy. He can’t think, thrusting up into your heat on pure instinct. He’s never felt like this, with anyone, like he’s enough. And as you gasp his name, your face clouded with pleasure, it hits him like a ton of bricks.
“I can't get enough of you," he pleads without any clear request. "Can't get you out of my head, out of my system…."
You can feel it building in your body, the heat and sensation coiling tight, pleasure building as you ride him vigorously, thighs flexing, your hands on his shoulders for leverage. You set a rougher pace, lost in him, drowning in the sounds he’s making. He kisses you again, mouth hungry and demanding. You can feel him growing closer, the way his rhythm is turning erratic, his blood is pumping, and you know he’s on the edge.
You cup his face, making him look at you, the words coming out in gasps of breath, “You’re so close, aren’t you? Are you gonna come for me?"
His eyes snap open, his expression raw and primal, his body coiled tight. His fingers dig into the meat of your hip firmly, leaving bruises that heal quicker than he can make them over and over, but it only adds to your bliss.
He cries out your name, thick with emotion. “Please.”
The word hangs in the air. He’s asking for something more than just this physical moment. You trace his swollen, kiss-reddened lips with your thumb.
“Please, what?”
He closes his eyes, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his body trembling under yours.
“Please,” he repeats, a ragged whisper, his lips brushing against your neck, “please don’t leave me… don’t leave me, please.”
He’s not sure he can bear the answer, but he needs you to know, to understand, that he needs you in a way that’s so much more than this moment. You suck in a breath, the words catching you off balance, your heart constricting in your chest. You want to tell him you won’t, that he’s stuck with you, just as much as you’re stuck with him. But the words stick in your throat, the truth feeling too big, too real. Instead, you wrap your arms around him, holding him close, pressed up against him, wordlessly offering yourself.
You’re giving him something he didn’t know he even needed, something comforting and safe and he doesn’t remember ever feeling this known before. He buries his face deeper into your neck, a small shudder running down his body. It’s too much, too intense, but he can’t stop it, can’t hold back.
“I’m gonna come,” he gasps, “baby, can I— please…” Your name on his lips, the low pleading, almost desperate edge to his voice.
“Go on. Inside.”
That simple, filthy command— it’s all it takes for him to snap, and his orgasm is crashing over him. It triggers yours a moment later, the way he’s filling you and the gravely way he cries out completely irresistible. Your name is on his lips, foreheads pressed together as you both come.
“Red… Baby, baby… God. You’re — You’re so good, you’re so goddamn perfect.”
John lays his head on your shoulder, snuggled close, the heat between you cooling to a simmer. You’re both still shaking slightly, the last waves washing over, and you stay this way for what could be hours, your fingers gently running through his hair.
You’re so goddamn perfect.
It rings in your head over and over, and you’re not sure if you want him to say it again or if you even want to respond at all. You don’t know what to do about this feeling, this feeling of wanting more.
He’s not moving, not yet, not ready to lose this contact, this moment. He’s always been a straightforward person, but all he can think of is how damn good this feels, your fingers brushing in his hair, the way you hold him, your praises echoing in his mind.
He finally lifts his head, moving just enough so that he can look at you. And he’s not expecting what he sees.
Your eyes are welling with tears.
Red flags are screaming in his head at the sight of your tears, his mind flashing over all of the ways that he could have hurt you, if he’s pushed too hard, if your wounds are still too fresh. He pulls back, panic making him tense. “Baby? Why are you—“
“I’m not sad,” you reassure him quickly, giving him a watery laugh, shaky as you reach up to dab at your eyes. Two months ago, you probably would have killed him for seeing you like this. That time seems so far away right now. “It was just— a lot, that’s all. I’m not sad, I promise.” And you mean it— you’re not sad, you’re completely overwhelmed with a million different emotions you don’t know how to deal with. You look at him, the concern on his face so unusual and sweet that you can’t help smiling.
“I’m not normally like this, I just— I was expecting a quick hate-fuck, not…” you trail off, terrified to be the one to voice the feelings first.
His concern eases slightly at your admission, his brow still furrowed with worry, but he lets out a shaky laugh. He had been thinking the same, a quick roll in the sheets and the usual brush-off he’s used to. He hadn’t been expecting you to let him past your defenses, or for every damn thing you say and do to make him want you more and more.
He reaches a hand up to your cheek, gently stroking away the tears from your skin. His hand is tentative, as if he’s unsure he’s doing the right thing.
“Maybe it’s a surprise for both of us.” His eyes roam over your face, taking in the way you look, all flushed and sated. “Can I— can I hold you?”
Your breath catches in your throat at the question, your heart fluttering like an over-excited kid. You’d never allowed yourself something so soft, not since you can ever remember, and you’re terrified of how much you want it.
Your response is low, like you’re trying to make sure you don’t scare anyone away. “Please. Yes.”
Relief washes over him, the tension in his body disappearing. He gently pulls you into his arms, settling against the pillows, shifting until you’re lying on his chest. Pulling the blankets over your tangled forms, John runs a hand through your hair, his touch so incredibly tender it feels foreign.
You tuck your head under his jaw, wanting to be as close as possible to listen to and feel the beat of his heart. He’s holding you like you’re something precious, something worth caring for, and it makes your throat tight again.
He’s quiet for a long time, his fingers tracing absent lines across your scalp.
After what feels like forever, he finally speaks. “What’s your favorite kind of ice cream?”
You’re caught so off guard by the question that you burst into a fit of laughter. You pull away so that you can look up at him, the question completely unexpected.
“That’s what you want to know right now?” you ask, an eyebrow raised quizzically at the question. “My favorite kind of ice cream?”
The sound of your laugh is like music, sending a jolt through his chest, and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He grins down at you, his gaze filled with something adoration.
“Yup.” He grins wider at your skepticism. “Ice cream. It’ll be important for when I take you out.”
Your stomach does a flip. When.
You’ve never been one to entertain anything like the idea of a relationship, too caught up in life-or-death situations or your own baggage and grief to even consider the possibility.
“Neapolitan,” you answer simply, biting your lip to keep yourself from looking too enthusiastic. He can see it on your face, the way your expression turns sentimental at the thought of it.
“Neapolitan, huh? I should’ve guessed. You seem like the kind to have trouble making decisions.”
You playfully smack his shoulder, scoffing. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean? Let’s hear your favorite, then.”
His face contorts into a borderline theatrical facade of pain, his hand moving up to rub dramatically at his arm.
“Rocky road,” he says, trying not to crack while feigning hurt. “It’s a classic. And apparently, a sign of a stubborn personality.”
“So, I’m indecisive, but your favorite ice cream is the one with the most crap in it?” You rest fully on his chest, wanting to be closer to him, wanting to soak in the feeling of his touch. “It’s overcompensating,” you tease, tinged with affection.
He lets out a quiet oomph as you lean against him, his arm shifting to wrap more securely around your back as he brings you closer. The boyish smirk on his face grows at your obvious teasing. “It’s not overcompensating,” he argues, full of mock protest, “I think you just experienced firsthand how much I’m not overcompensating, actually. Compensating perfectly adequately.”
You can’t help but snort at that, your head lifting to see the self-satisfied grin on his face. It’s so unexpected, the banter, the lighthearted flirting. But it feels good, so good, in a way you didn’t know you were capable of.
“Oh sure,” you say dryly. “So, when are you taking me out then?”
His hand runs up and down your spine, his touch gentle, touch is so light it’s almost ticklish. “Tomorrow night.” His tone is so soft, so different from how he normally speaks. “There’s this barbeque place not too far from here, pretty good for New York,” he scoffs. “And then, ice cream.”
Your heart stumbles over itself, and for once you have no witty retort. Because he’s making plans. With you. For a real, actual date.
You swallow the lump in your throat. “That sounds… nice.”
He’s not sure how this is happening, but he’s sure as hell not about to question it now. “It’s a date, baby.”
You once thought the strangest thing you’d ever done was go through space and back in time to resurrect your friends. But really, it’s feeling safe and happy wrapped up in the arms of John Walker, and agreeing to go out on a date.
“You know the team is going to never let us live this down, right?”
That gets more laughter to bubble out of him, a wide, genuine smile on his face as the thought of the team seeing you together hits him. You’re right, of course. They’re gonna have a field day with this, and he’s going to have to take the brunt of their trades, because most of them are still a little bit scared of you.
He presses another gentle kiss to your forehead, smile lingering. “Think we can keep it to ourselves for a little while? Just us?”
You aren’t used to asking for things, but you want this, and you let herself be honest with yourself for once. “They mean well, and probably already have a betting pool running behind our backs— but I don’t want them to mess this up before we can figure it out.”
John nods, his own heart swelling at your words. This. He wants this too, more than he’s ever wanted anything, and he’s not ready to share it with anyone else.
“They’ll notice something is up if we aren’t constantly at each other’s throats, you know,” you add, a reminder that only a few hours ago the two of you had been feigning hate for each other for months.
John chuckles, because if anyone knows how hard you’ve been denying the truth, it’s yourselves. He’s not ashamed to admit that it was a bit like pulling teeth, lashing out at you when all he could think about was kissing you senseless.
“I’m sure we’ll still find enough to bicker over to make it look convincing.”
You’ve never wanted someone, not like this, and you know he’ll be able to see it all over your face if he looks. So, you bury your head into the crook of his neck, trying to hide the way you’re beaming as you respond. “We do a rather good job of hating each other, usually.”
He gently lifts your chin, tilting your face up so that he can see you clearly. He's not letting you hide, amused by how damn obvious you are, a reprieve from your typical cold demeanor.
“Don’t you dare hide from me, Red.”
You aren’t used to feeling so exposed. Your forehead rests against his, John’s hand moving to cup your cheek as you lean in, responding with a kiss gentler than the ones you’ve shared previously.
His breath catches at the soft brush of your lips, at the feeling of you under his hands.
“Say you’ll be here in the morning.”
You can hear his sincerity, the sound of it going straight to your heart.
You smile, an unfamiliar and tender smile, so delicate it’s like sharing a secret.
“I’ll be here in the morning.”
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