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[devilishchaos]

Shower | Lando Norris Imagine

Rating / genre: M (18+); smut, fluff

Pairings: Reader x Lando Norris

Summary: Y/N and Lando have soft shower sex.

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected vaginal penetration (don’t do it!!! stay safe!), hair grabbing, swallowing, use of pet names

AN: domestic Lando, because I'm a sucker for domesticity <3. also..not me and yet another shower sex fic. also pt.2..am I back? I don't know, just wanted to write about Lando. enjoy x

Word Count: 2 517 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

You had it coming for a while, you knew it in the back of your mind. And it’s not like you weren’t looking forward to it, but just that the urges, that were slowly growing stronger for Lando, inside of you took a backseat as real world deadlines threatened to overcome you.

Lando had been staying home a lot more than usual, and found himself with a rare two-week break between races, a welcome pause in the relentless pace of the Formula 1 calendar. After months of high-pressure performances and grueling travel schedules, the weariness has started to catch up with him, coupled with the need to be with you and make up for the lost time, due to his hectic schedule, caused him to not want to leave the house. 

Coming back from work every evening, you were greeted with the sight of him whipping up something simple but delicious for you to feast on, his eyes getting all crinkled up as a smile covered his face whenever he heard you yell “I'm home!”. He was playing the part of a perfect boyfriend to the T and you really couldn’t have been more thankful for everything that he was doing for you, even though you couldn’t always say it out loud. 

But behind his loving exterior was something he wasn’t really telling you, for fear of coming across as selfish when he could clearly see the amount of stress you were already in. You weren’t blind though and just like him, you too could see that he was in need of some affection and some attention, was in need of someone telling him he did well on the circuit and was still doing well at home, and you also knew you were that someone. 

You could feel it in his touch, lingering just a second longer than necessary, his fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your skin. You could feel it in his kisses, turning hot and fervent despite starting out as soft and gentle. You knew he needed it and you knew he wasn’t going to be explicit enough and say it out loud nor was he going to pressure you into doing something you didn’t have the energy to do. 

Yet upon hearing the slow pitter-patter of water as you came back home, you had found your feet leading you towards the bathroom, your heart picking up its pace at the thought of Lando taking a shower. The bathroom door unlocked as always, his steamy silhouette could be seen through the glass wall. You couldn’t tell what came over you in that moment, but before you could stop yourself, your hands were moving on their own, getting rid of your clothing piece by piece, until you were naked. 

Your hand came resting against the glass as you peeked inside, taking in the sight in front of you. Lando looks gorgeous, the water trickling down his body and hugging him at all the right places, his shoulders and hipbones, making you want to lick the wetness away. The sight alone is enough to make you press your legs closer together, a need growing inside of you as you take your time admiring the beauty that is your boyfriend. 

Lando had his head under the water, his wet curls sticking to his forehead and the side of his face, his mouth slightly parted to let the warm water hit his tongue as he was lost in thought. And to say that he was beyond surprised when he opened his eyes and found you on the other side of the glass, naked and looking nothing but breathtaking to him, would be an understatement. A groan escapes his lips under his breath as he stares at you, his eyes trailing down, taking in your completely naked body and swallowing thickly, a hunger rising in him, just looking at you.

That is, until a voice snaps you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting Lando’s as he calls you out. 

“Baby?” He murmurs, his voice sounding low as the water still hitting his face causes his words to come out muffled, but you could still hear that his tone was filled with need and anticipation. His left hand moves from where it was against the wall to press against the glass, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a silent conversation happening between you within just that moment, his eyes full of want, making his desire for you clear.

"I'm home" you say in a soft murmur.

“Yeah I can see that..” Lando mutters, his eyes still glued to you through the glass, his mouth going dry as his eyes rake you up and down, taking in every inch of you as if it was the first time he was seeing you like that. He was trying to focus hard on not letting his eyes linger between your legs, because the thought of it already has his brain short circuit.

“You want to join me in here?” He questions, his fingers tapping the glass lightly, giving a small smirk.

Lando can’t fight the grin that appears on his face as you nod, his mind already racing over what the two of you would do. He grabs the shower glass and pushes it open, his arms spreading out towards you as a silent invitation for you to come inside. He can’t wait to touch you again, to feel your skin against his, to hear your soft moans, but even amidst all of that he still has a tiny voice inside his head reminding him that you’re probably tired.

Lando closes the glass door back when you make your way inside, and all it takes is a couple of seconds for him to pull you into his chest against his wet, warm body, his strong arms wrapping around you gently. He lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he buries his face into your neck, the stress melting away from him just from having you close. His hands move up and down against your wet back, the water trickling between you.

He can tell what you’re planning and while it is something he’s been craving all these past days or weeks, now that you were right in front of him, he feels as if just having you so close to him is enough. And so he decides to show you, placing the softest of kisses to your crown as his grip tightens around your waist, the sensation making you lift your head up from his chest, a smile on your face. 

“You are so beautiful.” Lando whispers and that’s all you need to lose your footing. 

Before either of you can realize, your lips are moving in sync with his, a rhythm both familiar and new, being set up as you dance around your desires. You don’t know who started it, but it’s not like it matters anyway. All you can think of in that moment is the way his tongue explores every inch of your mouth, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you get lost in the love only he can give you. And it’s the same for Lando, his senses getting overwhelmed as he finds himself getting high on you, on the way you make him feel. You’re all he could ever want and more, and every time you touch him, it feels like you’re reminding him of the reason he’s alive. 

So he takes it in his stride, finally letting go of his fears and his worries, completely losing himself in you, in the love he feels for you. His hands roam all over your water-covered body, from your cheeks to your neck to your breasts and hips, and he takes his sweet time caressing and feeling every single one of them, just like you do too, your own hands lying pressed flat against his toned body. You touch him everywhere, letting your focus shift from his hair to his biceps to the round cheeks of his ass, and as you do so, you also find yourself pulling away from his lips, kissing down his body, crouching lower and lower till you’re on your knees in front of him. 

The sight makes something turn on inside of Lando’s brain, his hands making their way to your cheeks again. But this time, he’s just a little more assertive, pulling you closer to his crotch, because he can tell you already have eyes for his cock. 

“Want a taste?” he asks, his voice hoarse already and a lazy smirk playing on his lips. You can only nod at that, biting your lip as you lean in, placing a kiss to his tip. And from the sigh that escapes from Lando’s mouth at the small gesture, you know it’s just like the first time for him, over and over again. 

“Then suck on it, baby.” his voice calls out again, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

With that, your hands are quick to get wrapped around his shaft as you take him into your mouth, making him throw his head back in the slightest of pleasure. As your tongue begins to roll around his head, you make sure to savor the heavenly taste of his finest delicacy, your teeth grazing against his flesh as you decide to make up for the time and the rounds you’ve lost out on. 

His tip was already leaking, his body eagerly reacting to your touch, the anticipation building within him. He swallowed, his words caught in his throat, all he could do was let out a groan in response. His hips instinctively moved forward, pushing his cock further into your mouth, his body seeking more pleasure, more of you. He was powerless to the sensations coursing through him, every swipe of your tongue sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

"More," he found himself whispering, his voice rough "I want you to swirl your tongue around the tip, take it into your mouth, then-" he whispered, his eyes flicking down to you, the intensity in his gaze burning with need "Push your tongue into the slit, please.” 

Lando's body tensed, a low groan escaping him as you did as he asked, his eyes falling shut, his face flushed, his jaw clenched in an effort to hold back.

"Good girl," he groaned, his words husky, his voice filled with appreciation and a hint of dominance. 

Lando's eyes fluttered shut, a low moan escaping him as your free hand found his balls. His body tensed, his fingers gripping your hair a little tighter, his hips instinctively pushing forward in a shallow thrust.

"That's right," he growled, his voice filled with need, his words a husky rasp as he tried to control himself, his body trembling. 

As you pick up the pace, your surroundings fade away, the sound of the water acting as background music while you continue to give head to Lando, enjoying the effect you have on him. His hands guide you along, resting at your head, as your own take to worship his cock, your cheeks hollowed out to the max. Maybe it’s the lack of touch that he’s been forced to go through for the past weeks, or maybe it’s the way you seem so determined on bringing him to his knees, but Lando can’t seem to control the urge to cum right then and there, his body involuntarily thrusting his dick right down your throat and making you choke. 

“Go faster, please.” he groans, pretty sounds emanating from deep inside his chest as you oblige, going faster and harder as you begin deepthroating him. Countdown from ten in your head and that’s all you need to have him lose it, his seed seeping into your mouth as you lap every bit up. He tastes just as you remember or maybe even better because it’s been so long. As the last drops trickle down your throat, you let out a sigh of satisfaction, licking your lips before gripping his thighs to pull yourself back up. 

Your eyes meet his and you don’t miss the way he smiles at you, and you can’t help but ask, “Was I good?” and make him chuckle at your cuteness. 

“Incredible as always, love.” Lando says, leaning in to catch your lips in another kiss, his body weight pushing you flat against the glass wall. Maybe it’s you imagining things, but he somehow tastes even sweeter now, the aftertaste of his cum still fresh on your tongue as you make out with him once more. Parting your mouth open with his own tongue, he doesn’t leave a single spot untouched as his cock prods around your heat, silently seeking entrance. 

And you’re only too keen on granting him that, a whimper making its way out of you as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than closer. 

“I n- need you..” you whine, kissing him harder as you feel yourself grow more needy by the second. Lucky for you though, your boyfriend is a great listener, listening to your demand as he thrusts himself into you, penetrating into your pussy at long last. He feels so delicious like that, moving in and out of you as your thighs squeeze around his, your walls tightening around his length as he fills you up with himself. 

You’re a moaning, struggling mess within seconds, the water making everything foggy and slippery as he continues to thrust in you, massaging all the right places you didn’t even know existed inside of you up until you started dating. Every move of his hips, as they roll against yours, sends you into a frenzy, gibberish rolling off your tongue as he starts speeding up more and more. Your bodies mold into one as you claw at each other’s skin, wanting to be as close to the other as possible. You’re in bliss at that moment, the pent up stress from work and the sexual frustration finally coming to the fore and bursting like a bubble as you make love. 

He cums first, his cock still sensitive from your lip-service as his load fills you up to the brim, his thrusts not stopping as he leads you to your own orgasm. It feels like an eternity and like a single second at the same time, your sense of being completely distorted as you focus only on the pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as he pumps into you one last time, making you ride out your climax in style and leaving you panting for air. 

As a new slew of moans racks through your body, he vows to drown them out in a kiss with his hands holding you in place. When he pulls away, the expression on his face is the most lovesick one you’ve ever seen. 

“Thank you.” is all he says, but it’s enough to fill your heart up with warmth as he pulls away, ready to dry you up and lead you to the bed for another round.

[messenger-of-babel]

Bruce Wayne Who...

Summary: Thoughts about your relationship with Bruce Wayne.

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: So Sorry for the longgg absence. I won't explain it too much but I've had serious health complications that require me to go to the doctor weekly and I've been struggling with that a lot. Half of the Christmas event unpublished stories are done- but I don't want to upload them half baked. I will be uploading them around my original schedule of normal fics, so I'm so sorry this all happened while I was doing that Christmas Countdown. So if you see unseasonal content- that is why. I will ask to refer to the notes section of some of the fics before this. I will be trying to deliver more- please be patient and thank you for reading! (I'm working on my requests next so you'll seen them soon <333)

Love RiRi <3

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Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

had sworn off dating. Being a vigilante was enough work on his plate, and he had already involved too many innocent people. He had already made too many people join him in on his night life, like he was a black hole that sucked in anything around it and slowly suffocated its prey. The playboy image also helped him keep his cover up. After all, who could dare point a finger at Bruce Wayne and claim him to be the Bat, when he was spending the night at the Iceberg Lounge? How could he be the one tracking down criminals from Arkham when he had a supermodel on his arm at the mayor’s winter gala?

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

Has to throw that all out of the window the moment that he catches sight of you. When he meets your eyes for only a moment across the sea of people at the Gotham Museums grand reopening, to which he had donated personal items of his family's. His heart lurches in his chest and adrenaline courses through his veins like he's in a fight. You look away after a moment, but he stays fixed on your form as you disappear to talk to some of the curators. Bruce takes a deep sip of his champagne; mind muddled suddenly and distracted the rest of the evening as Alfred drives him home.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Still doesn't think that it's love that has him. He's a stoic man deep down, with the facade of a charming smile and a friendly arm around the shoulders. He doesn't consider it love when he goes out as Bruce Wayne more often, taking impromptu visits to the museum once he discovered that you were an employee there. He doesn't even call it infatuation when Alfred points it out to him. It was merely him making sure that the billionaire image remained intact, and that he was in the public eye.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

Eventually caves and admits his feelings to himself, head in his hands one night. His skin is a storyboard of scars that criss cross lines across his chest and arms. He had tried to brush it off originally as just his playboy persona finding a good alibi for future reference, but late-night thoughts on rooftops had cleared his head. This was the true him that liked you, the scarred black hole that was undoubtedly going to try to drag you in and suck you of what light you had. He spends the night with an anguished heart, trying so hard to contain the ache that had begun to settle there every time he thought about not approaching you.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Practically fawns when he catches you at work, stumbling over his words as he catches you at the end of your shift. He regains his composure and manages to ask you out quietly, giving you an out if you said no. He felt like some teenager, red faced and anxious. He had fought the Joker countless times, stared down Bane and left with his ribs beaten blue. Yet this somehow made his hands shake, hiding in his pockets. The anxiety all but evaporates when you give him a chance, letting him know your address and to pick you up at six that evening. His head felt light, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. His breath heaves out in a sigh, and he nods, agreeing and promising to send a car around at six. He left the museum that day grinning ear to ear, and this time it wasn't his persona doing the smiling for him.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who…

Spoils you as much as he can when you give him the green light. After you've tested the waters and have been dating for a few months, he's enamoured. He bought your apartment for you outright and changed the deed to be in your name, so you never had to worry about rent. Bruce doesn’t want anything in return, he just wants you to be safe and happy. Not that he's really been a man of words, the written mess of symbols and letters clog up his throat when he tries to speak. No, he'd rather explain his affection for you in deep stares and gentle hands on your shoulder of back. He loves that you aren’t deceived by the callouses or the rough texture of his palm. He loves that despite the nicks and scars and occasional bruises on his knuckles that you don’t shy away from the coarseness that emanates from him, your body leans in and relaxes instead. He loves that you make him feel softer than he is.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Can't bring himself to tell you that he's Batman but wishes to do so desperately when he sees you lying next to him in bed. You're still fast asleep wrapped in the sheets, arm tucked under the pillow as he gazes down at you. He wonders what you'd do if he shook you awake gently, if your nose would scrunch up as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes. If you would be more irritated or concerned at being roused from sleep. He wants to show you all of him. After all, you're the person that's come closest to seeing the real Bruce he thought he lost years ago. Yet when he thinks too hard on it, he feels sick, like he's leading you on. He can't tell you who he is on nights you aren't tucked in next to him, when he's out on the street. He can't tell you that everyone in this family is in on one big secret, and that there are shared glances and knowing looks traded behind your back. He feels like a liar.

He is one.

He wants to not lie anymore, to involve you into his fold. He had come close once, before Dick pulled him aside and told him it was probably for the best that he didn't. But Dick wasn't here now, was he? He could just reach out and-

His hand hovers as he reaches for you. No, Dick was right. This was for the best.

So, he lies down next to you again and drapes an arm over your middle, convincing himself to sleep it off.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Considers keeping you in his life forever once the tabloids start running marriage speculations about you both. You've been dating for a while and recently have been out of the public eye. Of course, you were just sick, but a few weeks off were enough to substantiate rumours of eloping and a honeymoon. He can’t deny that he thought of it when he made public appearances, or when he was out in the shopping district and his eyes lingered on the engagement rings just a tad too long. Yet he is the same Bruce who shoves that feeling down deep inside him so it can't surface again or bother him at the board meeting he has in thirty minutes.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Leaves said meeting early to find you at work, taking your lunch break. Who pulls you outside and tells you he has something incredibly important to tell you with a slightly wild look in his eye. You can't help but be taken aback, wondering what's gotten the ineffable billionaire agitated. You think of a million scenarios. He needs to go into witness protection? He got involved with gangs? threats on his life again? he's being blackmailed? Blood money? He leaves as soon as he came, driving himself back once telling you to meet him at the manor that night after work. Immediately after work. He drives back to the manor with his pulse thrumming against the skin of his neck and fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel. he was going to tell you. He was going to risk everything on a gamble, and he couldn’t help but feel the pit beneath his feet trying to swallow him whole at the implications of it.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Jumps up from the sitting room the moment you step in the door, hands jittery despite the glass of scotch he had been sipping. Whose nerves get the better of him in that one moment despite spending years training away that fear. He was fear now, he was the Batman. But in this moment, he felt more man that he had felt in a long, long time.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Feels like he could collapse as you listen to his admission. He's placed all the cards in your hands, enough to extort him forever, expose him and his identity. Make the world crumble around his ears in such a dramatic fashion that the Justice Leage wouldn't even be able to save him from it. He wasn't just gambling with his identity, he played with the lives and identities of everyone he was connected to, every Robin he had raised and trained. So, when you hold those cards he gave you and fold them to your chest, swearing to never tell a soul, the breath leaving his lungs makes him feel boneless.

Thinking about a Bruce Wayne who...

Thinks for the first time, that there was a way to unite the Bat with Bruce Wayne. That when he goes to hug you, he knows that he risked it all on that gamble, but it paid off in ways that he couldn’t have imagined.

and that was enough for him.

[allthewhumpygoodness]

Other Stuff that can happen in "stagnant" whump fics

So I've been thinking about something and wanted to share it as an open conversation. A lot of the time my writing block when writing whump or sickfic comes from like...what can actually happen in the course of the story. Especially since my stuff tends towards the longer side (I'm a chronic overwriter), it's hard to keep things...interesting I guess? And I find my writing suffers when my Tales Of Woe don't have much structure to them.

(I say this as someone who writes primarily sickfic, or recovery-based stories that are caretaker/whumpee focused, with little or no whumper involvement, so that's what I'll be focused on here. Certainly if you're writing something like a character being held in captivity and tortured/attempting escape/encountering other prisoners/being searched for, you've already got plenty going on and probably don't have this issue at all.)

So I've made a list of Stuff That Can Happen during your whump/sick fic. If you would like. Of course, there will always be a market for stories that are mostly the same level of suffering and nothing else is really the focus, but if you do find you struggle with this like I do, this list might be for you.

Character arcs/Internal/social shifts:

1 caretaker, their relationship to the whumpee strengthens

1 caretaker, they find themselves growing apart from the whumpee

2 or more caretakers, there are complicated dynamics between all of them + the whumpee that shift around

Eg; there's a whumpee and 3 others, Caretaker A forms a closer relationship with Whumpee throughout the story, Caretaker B *was* close with them before but finds their place now "usurped" by A, Caretaker C tries to keep the peace between them while also helping out Whumpee

A caretaker realizes they're better at Caretaking than they'd thought

A caretaker realizes they're not as good at Caretaking as they'd thought

Whumpee realizes they have romantic feelings for Caretaker (or vice versa)

Whumpee discovers they only like Caretaker as a friend (or vice versa)

Whumpee learns to trust Caretaker (s)

Caretaker (s) learn to trust Whumpee

There was a previous misunderstanding (about their feelings for one another, their loyalties, an action taken from one of them etc.) between Whumpee and Caretaker (or between more than one caretaker) that gradually gets resolved

A misunderstanding occurs within the story that builds and is then resolved

One caretaker has to convince another to be honest with Whumpee about this misunderstanding (or has to convince Whumpee to be honest with Caretaker)

Someone unexpected arrives at the scene; whether that be a rival, a friend or family member of the whumpee, a potential other caretaker, or Whumper

Perhaps this is a relief for the caretaker, who needs a break

Or it's a stranger who causes tension in the situation

Maybe the caretaker knows this person is coming and is stressed out waiting for them

Physical/symptomatic shifts:

Whumpee is found injured and unconscious, and wakes up being cared for - their wounds later become infected, leading to a much longer recovery

Whumpee's condition quickly worsens

Whumpee steadily becomes delirious

Whumpee is feverish and goes from feeling freezing cold to boiling

Whumpee feverishly tries to stumble out of bed and into a different room (searching for Caretaker? trying to find a warmer spot?), and are found before, as, or after they collapse

Adding illness to injury: Whumpee is dealing with an injury, only to get sick, or sick only to also become hypothermic, they have heatstroke and then get hurt etc. Compounding whump.

Environmental shifts:

A caretaker could leave temporarily out of necessity, leaving whumpee and/or other caretaker(s) worried about them until they return

The weather changes (worsens? gets better? worsens and then gets better? gets better and then worsens?)

The characters have to shift locations for some reason

An important resource is run out of

Something necessary is destroyed or partially destroyed

A doctor/medic needs to be called

Somebody else becomes sick, injured, or lands in some other danger

Whumpee's newest symptom requires a different type of medicine than what they've been taking up until now, possibly one the caretaker doesn't have

The characters are in an intense situation (in hiding, in a warzone, on the run, trying to escape a natural disaster etc.) and the stakes suddenly become much higher due to something related to this

Maybe there's a flood and the waters have reached their safe spot

Maybe whumpee is some enemy they're sheltering in secret and members of their team/army/etc. come searching for them

There's lots more I could add and I'm not sure if this is explained in the best way, but there you have it.

[sczne]

girl are you taking requests cause that last fic HOLYYYYY

ate so hard

if you are can i request semi x gf reader fluff&smut alphabet? (in a normal au, not squid games)

➤ nsfw alphabet.

implied: nsfw pairing: se-mi / player 380 x fem!reader word count: 1.3k note: heeeyyyy, yeah i'm taking reqss mainly for our girlies. alsoo here it iss, i'm not sure if this is exactly what u asked for, but i hope u enjoy it regardless<3 (i spent a whole day brainstorming, and i also did not proof read)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

she’s extremely caring when it comes to aftercare with you, a stark contrast too. she’ll usually bring you a bottle of water, maybe a snack and a lot of cuddles, 一 i’ll say that she sometimes wants to continue, but if you don’t, she won’t push it but if she doesn’t want to, you won’t push her either. maybe shower sex if you’re still in the mood and if you just wanna wash up, she’s okay with that too.

usually se-mi lets you have all the water to yourself but you frown at her way of thinking so the times she brings you a bottle of water and when you finish your turn of drinking, you press the sealing surface against her lips. this action causes her to turn her head towards you, looking away from the tv looking for a movie for the two of you, raising her eyebrow with a small smile “what’s wrong, baby?” furrowing your eyebrows you try pressing further emphasizing for her to drink the water 一 “drink.” 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

boobs. but you already knew that. and it’s too obvious, she’ll steal a glance at any given opportunity, but aside from that, she loves laying on top of your chest just to listen to your heartbeat and probably your collarbones or inner thighs, she’s a sucker for those places, leaving marks whether you let her or not (but if u really say no, she won’t leave any) and only because she just really likes watching you struggle trying to cover them up and usually teases you about it.

on se-mi, it’s definitely her hands, she loves the way your eyes follow every movement, from fingers to the palm 一 her hand in general just staring with your mouth agape as she traces the lip piercing with her index finger, teases you about it too she uses the same hand to point at her eyes, snapping you out of your trance realizing you’ve been caught, “eyes up here, baby, you’re not even gonna be discreet about it?” she teases.

and obviously because of how your body reacts when the cold rings come in contact with your warm skin, especially when they’re sliding up to your inner thigh or a simple slide of her hand down your side when her hand is underneath the fabric of your shirt and you usually grip her wrist to stop her from doing anything else because you’re in public or in the middle of something.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

like i said, se-mi’s hands am i right hahaha,,,, 😻一 she enjoys the sight of seeing your juices covering her fingers, before locking eyes with you through half-lidded eyes, licking her own hand clean as she watches you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, still breathless, sucking in as much air as you could with your chest heaving.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

collars. (open for discussion) something in se-mi finds it arousing about you or herself in a collar with any of the two of you being in control of the chain, visualizing you harshly or gently tugging her towards you or between your legs has her swallowing hard.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

definitely experienced, a decent amount of experience, she’s more than willing to experience new and other things with you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

missionary. doggy. OR LITERALLY ANYTHING. as long as your legs are up on her shoulders. 😽

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

no, huge nono for her, she tends to cherish these moments of vulnerability with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i'd say she’s pretty well groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

i like to think that se-mi gets this natural habit with you during these moments where she brings up your hand using her own hand while she’s hovering on top of you, kissing the palm of your hand, or letting the palm of your hand simply brush against the cool metal of her piercing along with the feel of her lips, maintaining eye contact with you with half-lidded eyes, with her breath fanning over your hand, murmuring a low “i love you.” 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i think it depends, to se-mi i don’t think it’s necessary when she has you. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

she definitely has many, from degrading to praising, dirty talking, but i wanna assume temperature play, this idea mainly based off of how you react when her nose piercing nudges slightly at your inner thigh when she leaves marks and kisses, and let’s not forget when she eats you out.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

probably anywhere as long as you give her the green light, but she’s definitely more into the moment when it’s private.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

se-mi gets turned on by your reactions, your sounds get her going, but it definitely turns her on when you playfully or gently bite her lip piercing mid kiss.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that involves hurting you or that leads you to cry, these are also the reason why se-mi insists you have a safe-word.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

yes, huge YES. i don’t have to explain this. she loves it, having your legs up on her shoulders, watching your reactions, her hand sliding down your side with the feel of her silver rings makes you shiver under her touch, her other hand tightens its hold on your upper thigh to hold you in place and idly tracing patterns on it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

depends on her mood, and yours of course.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

se-mi likes them more than she’d like to admit to you, a little often if you’re in a rush or a limited amount of time, they sometimes turn into an all nighter.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

you don’t risk, you don’t win, she doesn’t care, not a single flying fuck, unless you really say no, she’ll behave.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

she’ll give into as many as you want, but she’d be dead beat after all of it and definitely suggests breaks. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

strap. and definitely others like vibrators and cuffs (maybe. does a blindfold count?)

she’d mainly use them on you, but if you insist she’ll oblige.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

depends on her mood, very unfair most of the time though, teasing is like breathing for her.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

pretty quiet, sometimes muffled by your neck, but the times she’s vocal is just moans, pants and heavy breathing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

sexting, nudes or films if you allow her.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

she probably has piercings in other places. but that’s just me though…

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

decently high i’d say, depends on where her teasing leads to.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it’s a 50/50 with se-mi, depends, sometimes she just stays there cuddled up with you tracing lazy patterns on your thigh while you sleep, making you stir in your sleep. that, or she sleeps like she’s dead. (no pun intended 😿)

©sczne

[millyphobic]

──★ ˙🎀 ̟ !! BOWS & BABES

⌗ after some troubles with your hair, joel lends a hand

jackson!joel x younger!girlfriend!reader

꩜ .ᐟ cw :: bigass age gap (late fifties + late twenties) , passing mentions of spanking because im a freak, reader is kind of a brat because im a freak, reader has that type of hair where it’s not straight but also not curly so it’s just poofy (aka my hair type) because I want to feel better about myself :3

꩜ .ᐟ note :: extremely self indulgent oops ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ and also kinda short but not short enough to be a drabble so this got slapped into a mini fic 😇🎀

“Joel!” Not this shit again. He doesn’t give a response, too busy sitting down on the bed after a long day. Not even five minutes inside and you’re already shouting for him. Let the old man catch a break.

”Joel! My hair’s being a cunt again!”

“Can you not use that word?”

“Cunt! Cunt, cunt, cunt!”

One day, you’re going to end up bald. Or spanked. Depends if he can get his hands on a decent pair of scissors. You emerge from the bathroom with your hair sticking up all nine ways and it takes a lot in him not to snicker at the sight. There’s a busted hair brush in your hand and tears of frustration beading at your waterline and yeah, he shuts the fuck up real fast.

“Oh god,” he sighs and before he knows it, he’s patting the space next to him on the bed. “Come here. Lemme fix that for you.”

Surprisingly, you listen to him for once. You shuffle your way to the bed and lay down next to him on your stomach, face smushed against the mattress. Well, something is something. You’re awfully finicky when it comes to your hair, claiming that it’s destined to always make you look ugly. Which is a crazy statement because hair is literally just hair. It doesn’t take away from your cute smiles and silly nose scrunches. But then again, once upon a dinosaur age, he was just like you. A twenty-something year old who was always stressing about his appearance and whatnot. So he’ll indulge you and fix your problems, no matter how small they may seem.

He takes the poofy strands in his hands and just because, he gives them a little tug, earning a hiss and dirty look from you. “Don’t be a brat. Lift your head up, I’m gonna braid your hair.”

And it’s like Christmas has come early because you listen to him again, raising your head and propping yourself up a bit on your forearms. He shifts his body to face you better and takes a gentle hand to rake his fingers through your hair, tutting at you when he sees the evident sight of breakage. No doubt from the amount of times you’ve mangled your hair with that damn brush.

“Didn’t know you could braid hair.”

Your little mumble breaks him out of his train of thoughts and just hearing the disbelief in your voice makes him chuckle. “You’d be surprised. Now be good and don’t cry. There’s no reason to cry.” His free hand slides to the base of your throat, forcing you a bit more up so he can land a kiss on the top of your head. And there you go, the furrow in your brow disappearing and the tension in your shoulders easing away. Not to be an ass, but Joel finds it amusing how easy it is to keep you happy. All it takes is a few kisses and tender words to unwind you from the fit you got yourself in.

“I don’t know why my hair is like this,” you huff, fiddling some ribbons in your hand. No doubt what you planned to use to tie your hair up. He listens to you ramble as he parts your hair into two sets of three sections. Pigtail braids because they’re cute and you’re cute. Not the most equal sections but it’ll do. Please don’t let me fuck this up is all he can really think of but it’s okay, he’s got this.

“I mean, it’s not pin straight. But it’s not curly either. Just poofy. It’s straight when I get it wet. Sometimes there’s little waves in there when it dries. But it’s so frizzy and gets all knotted so I have to brush it out and then it gets all ruined. I hate this. My hair’s a bitch.”

At least you didn’t say cunt. Makes me wanna laugh when you say that he thinks to himself with a scoff.

All he can really do is click his tongue and sigh as you talk, more focused on making sure he’s criss-crossing your hair right. You’ll forgive him later when he gets this right.

Maybe in another life you could’ve gone to a salon and inquired about your hair type, maybe pick up a product or two to manage the frizz or help form a wave pattern. But with the way things are now, the braids are the best you’re getting.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, sweet pea. But, I’ll be honest with you. There ain’t nothing ugly about your hair. Puffy? Yes. A little tricky to manage? Sure. But it ain’t ugly. You’re not ugly, are you? Of course not, you’re as cute as a button. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Or I’ll fucking make you bald.” He gives the now-completed braids another tug and smiles when you yelp, a satisfied warmth blooming in his chest when he sees you smile back at his antics. That’s his baby, through and through.

“Alright, alright. I’ll shut the fuck up. Here.” You hand him the ribbons and he takes his time wrapping them around the end of your braids, tying them into near bows like how you taught him. He thinks they’re near-perfect too, not to brag. They better be because he didn’t sit still for an hour watching you tie silly bows on his bicep for nothing.

“And there we go!” Joel announces, patting your head as he admires his handiwork. Bows and babes: his favorite. Not bad for an old man. Not bad at all. You roll over to your back and sit up, clambering your way into his lap like you own it. Well, you technically did but damn, at least ask first.

“Hi.”

“Hi, sweet pea. What happened to asking if we can sit in someone’s lap?”

“Shut up.” He really should spank you for that but you press a kiss to his cheek and whatever, he can maybe let that slide for once. You looked too damn adorable in those pigtail braids. Too damn sweet nuzzling your cheek against his, little giggles leaving your lips as his stubble tickles your face. You’re going to be the death of him one day but what a lovely death that would be, to die at the hands of your affection.

“Joel,” you whisper in his ear, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Little minx, sending shivers down his spine as you practically purr at him. “Thanks for braiding my hair. I’m sorry for being an ass. Love you!” Another quick kiss, to his lips so fleeting he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attentive. Damn tease. And your nose rubbing against his like you’re some kind of bunny? You’re absolutely going to kill him one day and it’ll be the best day of his life.

“You weren’t an ass, just a bit of brat. And I love you too, sweet pea.”

[mxltifxnd0m]

motel chats  ── . ✶ ruby

summary: you find ruby in your motel room and she wants have a "chat"

pairings: bi! ruby 2.0 x bi! reader, ruby x gn afab! reader, mentions of samruby and slight unrequited sam x reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, set in szn 4 sometime after ep 4.10, no use of 'y/n', reader is described to be taller than ruby, cursing, smut, hate sex, oral (reader receiving), fingering (ruby receiving), implied switch! ruby and reader, name-calling (whore, slut), face sitting, some degradation, a prequel to my 'you did what?' fic but can be read as a standalone, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 3.5K a/n: first ruby fic/smut!! never thought id be writing a ruby fic but alas im too gay for her not to write one for her bc well look at her LOL also my first time writing wlw (f/f) smut so give me a little bit of grace <3 also there are like no ruby fics out there so i barely had any frame of references outside of mari's fics T-T alas i hope you ruby lovers/freaks enjoy this one ruby masterlist

AT THIS POINT, you don't know if it's too late to change what you're doing with your life. You swiftly swung the iron crowbar at the spirit that was charging at you in its grave that you had just dug up. You were so close to getting rid of this ghost, but of course, it couldn’t be easy for you. 

You had found a simple salt and burn just a couple hours away from Bobby’s. You had asked if the boys wanted to come with you, but they had denied since the brothers were trying to figure out how to stop Lilith from breaking more seals. Which, you had to admit, was out of your league when it came to the world of the supernatural. You tried helping them out as best as you could, but sometimes you felt like you were in their way when it came to helping them put a stop to the end of the world. 

You never thought that your life would be this level of crazy, but since reconnecting with the Winchesters, it’s pretty much turned your life upside down (even more so than you thought possible).

The ghost quickly disappeared when the iron made contact with its translucent form. You tried to use your lighter, but it wouldn’t light for a moment, and you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand as you heard a whoosh come from behind you. You swung your crowbar again, and the ghost evaporated. 

“Just fucking light already.” You grunted out, frustrated as your thumb was flicking against the flint of the lighter. Once, then twice, you tried lighting it before the flame flickered to life. You quickly threw the lighter into the open coffin, igniting the salted and gasoline-soaked corpse. You clambered out of the open grave and saw the remnants of the ghost ‘dying’ for good as the body was set aflame. 

You let out a sigh, your body sagging in relief and tiredness as you lay back onto the cool grass of the cemetery you were in. 

“Next time, I’m forcing one of them to come with me.” You muttered into the silent night. Despite having solo hunted for the majority of the time, you have to say that having another pair of hands (or two, for this matter) was oh so very helpful when it came to having to dig up a dead body and getting rid of the spirit. You let out another sigh before sitting up, a small groan leaving your lips. 

Fuck me. You thought as you got up from the ground and grabbed your shovel, preparing to shovel the dirt back into the hole you just dug up. 

You stalked towards your motel room, the parking lot empty, save for your car and a couple of other ones scattered throughout the lot, but paid no mind to them as exhaustion riddled your brain. You had one goal in mind, and that was to get to your room, shower, and then collapse in bed, hoping you could sleep for at least six hours. 

You threw the duffle that was haphazardly slung on your shoulder on the foot of one of the two queen beds you had in the room. You sifted through it to grab some comfortable clothes and your toiletry bag before you made your way to the bathroom. You stayed underneath the stream of water until it ran cold, scrubbing off all of the dirt and grime that was on your body from the hunt. You quickly went through your nighttime routine, eager to fall into bed and let sleep take you away from the land of the living temporarily. 

But when you exited the bathroom, irritation started to brew in your chest when you saw a familiar brunette laying on the vacant bed. 

Ruby’s head turned when she heard the bathroom door open, and you came out of it. She smirked when she saw how your mood shifted from tired to annoyed when you laid eyes on her. 

“Wow, don’t you look great.” Ruby snarked as she sat up on the bed, and her eyes looked you up and down. 

You couldn’t recognize the look in her eye as her gaze roamed your figure, only in a tank top and some boy shorts style underwear. You wore this getup when you had the rare opportunity to be on a solo hunt or have a room to yourself. 

But you decidedly ignored how she was looking at you and scowled. “What the hell are you doing in my room?” You were tired and didn’t want to deal with her bullshit at the moment. 

“We,” Ignoring your words, she stood up from the bed and gestured between the two of you, “Need to have a little chat.” Ruby’s hips swayed slightly as she began to walk towards you. 

You scoffed. “No, we don’t.” You crossed your arms as you leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, and your eyes never left Ruby’s brown ones as she strode towards you. 

Ruby had a sly smirk on her face. “You really don’t like me do you?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry did I not make that abundantly clear the last time we had a ‘chat’?” You cocked your head to the side. “Because if it wasn’t I can refresh your memory.” Sarcasm and irritation bled through your words as the demon in front of you kept you from sleeping. 

This wasn’t the first time Ruby had cornered you alone. The two of you had a bit of “girl talk” (Ruby’s words, not yours) the night after you and Dean found out what Sam was doing late at night after you had noticed that he would sneak out at night shortly after getting Dean back from Hell. That conversation was filled with thinly-veiled insults, alongside Ruby being able to rile you up until she decided she was done having fun and disappeared when you turned your back on her. 

Ruby had rolled her eyes at your words but was standing in front of you now, only a few feet away. You had a couple of inches on the demon, having to tilt your head down to meet her eyes as Ruby stared up at you, amusement gleaming in her eyes at your foul mood. But the look you couldn’t recognize was back in her gaze. 

A scowl etched your face, trying to mask how Ruby’s proximity had lit something within you, but you stamped it down, letting annoyance coat your features. 

“Look, this won’t take long if you stop being a smartass for a second and you listen to me,” Ruby said as she crossed her arms—the action pushing up her breasts, making her cleavage slightly more prominent in the low-cut shirt she was wearing. 

Your eyes flicked down to Ruby’s chest for a second before meeting her eyes—yours narrowing as you stared her down. 

“What do you want?” You asked through gritted teeth, deciding that if you wanted her gone faster, you would need to be cooperative (even though deep down you didn’t want to).  

The corner of her lips twitched. “I need your help.” 

“Nope.” 

“You haven’t even-” 

You shook your head. “Not in a million years am I going to help you with anything. Go ask Sam. I’m sure he’d be willing to help you since you got him wrapped around your finger.” You spat out his name bitterly, knowing that Sam was under her spell and would be at her beck and call if it wasn’t for you or Dean trying to convince him that Ruby was bad news. 

Ruby dared to smirk at you, obviously loving the way she could rile you up. “If I knew any better, I’d think you’re jealous.” 

A sharp laugh left your lips. “Jealous? And what am I supposed to be jealous about exactly?” 

“I’m not blind,” Ruby cooed your name out, your jaw clenched at the sound of it falling from her lips. “I see the way you look at him when you think no one’s looking.” 

“Right,” you drawled out, “Pray tell Ruby, the all knowing demon, how do I look at my friend Sam?” You snarked at the demon standing in front of you. 

You were going to be honest with yourself; you had no idea how you looked at Sam anymore. The two of you were close growing up. When you reconnected with him and Dean, but after being AWOL for four months and finding him shacking up with Ruby, any inkling of feelings that you had for Sam that may have been more than platonic had been extinguished. But you’d be damned if you were going to admit that to the demon he was sleeping with. 

Ruby chuckled before taking a step closer to you. “Oh please, you’re not very discreet with your small glances or longing looks when his back is turned. I have eyes, you’re just lucky everyone is too wrapped up in themselves to even notice.” 

“Or just wrapped up in someone else.” You couldn’t help but mutter under your breath, hoping it was low enough that Ruby couldn’t hear. 

“So, you are jealous.” Ruby had that sly grin on her face, and all you wanted to do was wipe it off her face. 

You rolled your eyes before scoffing. “The only thing I’m jealous of is everyone else who is sleeping right now.” You kicked off the door frame and walked past Ruby, shoulder-checking her as you made your way to the bed with your bag on it. 

Ruby chuckled. “I’m sure you can stay up for a couple of more minutes. Besides, you aren’t that slick when trying to change the subject.” 

“Have you ever considered not bothering me?” 

“Not when I need your help.” 

You threw your head back with a groan escaping your lips. “For the last time, I’m not helping you with your schemes.” 

“Who said I was scheming?” You took a glance at Ruby, who had her head cocked to the side. 

“You’re a demon, you’re always scheming or lying.” You pointed out as you unzipped your bag, doing anything but looking at Ruby. 

“Do you think that lowly of me?” 

“Yes.” 

Ruby scoffed. “I’m sorry, who was the one who was tortured by Alastair because they knew the location of the rogue angel. Oh, right it was me.” 

Your head snapped to stare at her incredulously.“You helping us once doesn’t warrant my trust for a single second.” 

“And what about all of the times that I tipped off Sam. Come on, you have to admit that I do help you guys in some way.”

Anger filled your chest as you turned from the bed and quickly rushed at Ruby, grabbing her shoulder and pinning her against the wall—quickly placing your forearm against her windpipe, putting slight pressure against it, but not enough to cut off her air supply. 

“I’m only going to say this once so you better listen closely.” You said in a low voice, glaring at the demon in front of you. 

“I’m not going to be a pawn in this fucked up game of yours. You may have your claws deep into Sam and feeding him the delusion that you’re helping us, but I know that you have something up your sleeve. I don’t know your endgame, but you better believe I’ll kill you before you even get to reach it.” Your upper lip was threatening to twitch up in a snarl as you glowered down at Ruby. 

But all she did was smirk, making the anger boil in your blood. “Didn’t expect you to have some bite to you. Maybe you are just more than a pretty face.” 

“Has anyone told you to shut the fuck up?” You glared at her harder as you applied more pressure on her throat. 

Ruby let out a breathy laugh. “Sam does and most of the time, he has a pretty creative way of doing it.” 

You couldn’t help but flick your gaze down to her plush lips before meeting her brown eyes that were filled with mirth.

“Spare me the details.” You tried not to think about what she was suggesting about her and Sam, but you couldn’t help the spark of arousal that zipped down your spine. 

“Are you sure? Because I thought you would love to hear about how he forces me to my knees and makes me choke around his thick cock.” Ruby had a salacious smile pulled on her lips. 

“Shut up.” You growled out as you unconsciously leaned closer to her. 

“Make me.” She purred. “Or are you-” You quickly shut her up by smashing your lips against hers. 

Her lips were soft against yours as the two of you kissed each other fervently and hard. This wasn’t an innocent kiss between two people who liked each other; it was a filthy one meant to show who was in charge and you were winning. You felt her hands fly to your hips, pulling you closer to her body. You moved the arm that was against her neck to grab the nape of her neck as your other hand trailed down to the hem of her shirt.

You nipped at her bottom lip before delving into her mouth, tasting mint and the faintest hint of tequila. Your tongues fought for dominance, but you shoved her harder against the wall with your body, making a small moan escape her lips as you kissed her. Your lips left hers with a string of saliva connecting the two of you before you trailed your lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. The hand on her neck joined the other at the hem of her shirt—only detaching from her neck to pull the piece of clothing over her head. 

Your hands landed on her bare waist, the temperature of her skin being cooler than you expected it to be, but you paid no mind to it as you started to kiss and nip at her chest, leaving hickies scattered throughout her golden colored skin. Ruby’s hands were pulling at the hem of your tank top. You let her pull it up and off of you, throwing it to the ground before pulling you into another kiss—your bare breasts brushing against her bra-covered chest, making a low moan leave your lips at the feeling of your nipples brushing against the lacey material of it. 

Your hands moved up and around to her back to unclasp her bra. Once the straps fell down her arms and onto the ground in between the two of you, you grabbed her hips, pulled her away from the wall, and pushed her down roughly on the bed. You quickly got on top of her, slotting yourself in between her open legs, and kissed her roughly again as one of your hands quickly flicked open the button on the jeans she was wearing. You knew that Ruby could easily overpower you in this position, but she was letting you manhandle her like she couldn’t use her abnormal demon strength to turn the tables. 

You shoved your hands down her jeans and underwear, and a low whine escaped her lips when your fingers rubbed over her wet slit. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” You breathed against her lips, having pulled away from her now swollen lips. “Who knew a demon like you got off on arguing, but then again I should have expected it.” 

Ruby’s face scrunched up, and right before she could throw back a witty retort, a groan left her lips instead at the feeling of your fingers rubbing circles on her clit. You went back to sloppily kissing at her neck, leaving trails of saliva as your lips moved down her chest and took one of her nipples in your mouth and sucked at the hardened nub. Your free hand kneaded the unoccupied breast—pinching and tweaking her nipple. 

Expletives and moans left Ruby’s lips as you sucked at her tits and rubbed at her clit. You stopped rubbing at her clit to shove two fingers into her slick cunt, moaning against her chest as you felt little resistance as your fingers entered her. You bit her nipple, tugging on it with your teeth before letting go of it. 

You moved up from her chest, leaving teasing kisses along her skin as you reached her ear. “Look at you moaning like a whore.” You nibbled at her earlobe and chuckled at her, feeling her clench around your digits at the name. 

“Oh, you liked that.” You teased her as you tried to locate the spongy spot inside of Ruby—your fingers speeding up as you did. “You like being talked down to like a slut?” 

A high-pitched whine left Ruby at your words, clenching again around your fingers as her hips reached to meet each thrust of your fingers. But you stopped your ministrations abruptly, leaving your fingers inside of her warm pussy as you pulled away from her ear, along with most of your body from her to use your free hand to grip the long hairs at the nape of her neck. 

“Tell me.” You tug at her hair, another moan escaping her lips as you do, making you smirk at how strung Ruby is for you. 

“Fuck.” She groaned out. “Yeah I do. Now are you gonna keep going or do I have to finish myself off?” Ruby managed to snap at you, her cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the noises she was making.

You couldn’t help but smile evilly at the plan that formed in your head at Ruby’s retort. “No, I’ll finish you off. But I have to get my fill first.” 

You promptly withdrew your fingers from her heated cunt and swiftly took off your soaked underwear. You grabbed both of Ruby’s wrists and climbed up her body, pinning her wrists with one hand as your naked cunt hovered Ruby’s mouth. 

You looked down at her to find her staring hungrily at your slick core. “Make me cum first and I’ll think about finishing you off.” Is what you said to her before lowering yourself down on her face, letting a soft sigh of pleasure leave your lips when you felt her tongue lave over your heated cunt. 

“Shit.” You moaned. “I can see why Sam uses your mouth like this, it’s the only thing that it’s good for when you’re not spewing your bullshit.” You managed to say as pleasure filled your veins and your hips rutted against Ruby’s mouth. 

Her tongue moved up and down your slit, tasting you for all you were worth before sucking your clit into her mouth, suckling on it before adding more suction to it. A louder moan escaped your lips as you ground your cunt harder down on her mouth. 

Ruby wouldn’t ever admit it, but it felt good to be used by you like this. If this meant she’d get one step closer to you helping her, then so be it. But she knew she wasn’t going to be able to hide the arousal that pooled in her underwear at the fact you used her like your personal toy. You weren’t shy about how hard you grinded down on her face. She moved from your clit to thrust her tongue in you—her nose bumping against your swollen clit sent you faster down to tipping over the edge. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good f’me Ruby, eating me out like a good little whore.” You gripped her wrists a little tighter, using your free hand to grip the top of her hair, and pulled at hair there—Ruby groaning at the sting of pain into you, sending vibrations through you. 

The motel room was filled with your moaning and groaning as you rode Ruby’s face to oblivion, and you didn’t care how loud you were. Ruby could easily have ripped herself out of your grip, but something in her wanted to submit to you, so she did, letting you use her however you pleased. 

Ruby had moved her talented tongue from your cunt and drew your clit into her mouth, and sucked hard on it. It threw you off the edge and into your orgasm. You came hard on her face, your pussy clenching around nothing as pleasure racked your body. She kept sucking on your clit as you came all over her face, wetting her chin and mouth with your slick until you shakily removed yourself from her face and collapsed next to her. Your grip on her wrists fell as you tried to calm yourself from the intensity of your orgasm. 

You could hear the rustling of the sheets right next to you but kept your eyes closed as you caught your breath. 

Before you could peel your eyes open, you felt cold hands grip your wrists and pin them to the bed. You opened your eyes to find a now naked Ruby hovering over you with a devilish smile on her face, but she didn’t bother cleaning your arousal from her face as she leaned down so her face was close to yours. 

“My turn.” Ruby’s lips brushed against yours as she spoke. 

From there you knew you were in for a long night.   

[join my taglist !; read rules before sending in an ask]

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Friendship In Escape

Summary: Steve Rogers x fe!Reader -> After escaping a party, you meet Steve Rogers. It's in a simple conversation, you and him find common ground and from that a friendship grows. Question is, will either of you ever find the courage to act of the underlying feelings?

Disclaimer: This is a LONG one. Spoilers ahead for most of the main Captain America/Avengers films from The Avengers. Also, there's probably a lot of plot holes in this fic so we're just gonna ignore them. Slow, slow burn. Angst-y moments. Found family, fluff, taking care of each other. Some swearing. Reader helps Steve adjust to the modern world. Lots of hugging. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes but we're gonna ignore them, too (it's late and I'm pretty sure my brain is fried). Hope you enjoy it <3 Not proof read.

The party had been humming to life for an hour or more before the honorable host finally showed his face. Dawned in a big name branded suit, Tony Stark stood at the top of the stairs, calling for people to start the party. 

There was meant to be music, laughter, too many drinks and a fight he’ll be able to tell a story about at the next party. And you were sure, by the end of the night, he’d get his wish. 

This party in particular had been the third you’d been dragged along to in the space of a month. It hadn’t changed since you were a child. 

Posh names belonging to posh people with deep pockets and, when the time called for it, had long arms, too. The amount of money that was gathered from parties like this were worth the events being held. 

But never once had you felt comfortable. 

It wasn’t the shoes or the dress. In fact, getting ready was the best part of the night. But being dragged to the same people, with the same stories, being told about the same single people in their family, their sons, nephews, cousins. Being told to stand and take a picture with a smile that will let everyone know how fun the parties are. 

But they weren’t. 

For others they were. But for you? You had more fun spending time alone in the libraries at University, studying, answering company emails and working, mostly, from behind the curtain. 

If you could have done that, you would have avoided the parties all together. Relationships with other businesses were already solidified and had been for almost fifty years. 

So, after the fourth hour of walking around the gala room, standing and being forced to listen to the same conversations that you’d heard your whole life, listening to people be more interested in what Tony Stark had placed around his hosting room, and being introduced to another twenty something with a multi-billion dollar company behind his family’s name, but no integrity, you found your escape. 

“Darling, where are you going?” Your mother asked as you handed her your drink. 

“Just to the bathroom.”

She gave you a smile. “Hurry back. Sandra told me she’s bringing her cousin. Special invite from Mr Stark himself.”

You forced your millionth smile of the night and nodded. “Will do.”

As you took the stairs up towards the upper floors and bathrooms, you looked down over the edge of the balcony. They were preoccupied, listening to somebody’s story. 

Rather than taking a right, you took a left, bumping into a waitress. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

She nodded. “Can I help you with something?”

You looked around you. “Just promise you didn’t see me. I need a break.”

The waitress just smiled. “There’s some rooms that haven't been decorated yet. Just take a right at the end of the hall.”

You looked down the hall, looked back and smiled at her. The first genuine smile of the evening. 

“Thank you.”

She shrugged. “This is my fifth party helping the host. We all need a break every once in a while.”

You thanked her again before walking down the hall. The minute you turned the corner, the party seemed like it was miles away. Every once in a while, you heard a roar of laughter but it never got any louder than that. 

With a sigh of relief, you decided to explore the different rooms. Some had tarp over the entrances, the insides not being suitable to survive at least an hour in. From holes in the floors to fresh paint fumes and drying plaster. 

But then one at the very end of the hall had a door. So, taking your chance, you opened it. 

“Oh!”

Inside stood a man dressed in a woolen style suit, his tie loose around his neck. He looked as if he’d been pacing and deep in thought before you’d opened the door. 

“I-” You looked around you, fearful you were about to get into trouble. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone- Sorry.”

“Trying to escape the party, too?”

You stopped trying to close the door and looked at him. You couldn’t put your finger on it; maybe it was the way he stood, maybe it was the tone in his voice or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but you saw something trustworthy in him. 

An unlikely friend in a place where you had none. 

“What gave it away?”

He smiled, softly. “You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like.”

You stepped inside. “Thank you.”

“I- I’m Steve, by the way.” He held out his hand and you shook it. 

“Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

For the second time that evening, you gave a genuine smile. “Likewise. So, what are you hiding from? A match-making mother, or a business minded father?”

“Neither.” Steve laughed a little. 

You walked further into the room before finding a spot with less sawdust on the ground. You’d been on your feet for a long time. You found the perfect spot against a wall between two windows. 

“Wow,” you brushed what sawdust you could with your feet before turning around and tucking the skirt of your dress down. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He chuckled. “Not a big one.”

You shrugged, stretching your legs out and crossing them at your ankles. You patted the ground beside you. “My parents want me to socialise. I’d say talking with you qualifies as that. I’ve got time.”

Steve smiled as he watched you, finally agreeing to sit beside you. 

And for the first time in almost a month, you weren’t bored. 

Talking and listening to Steve didn’t make you so bored out of your mind you would have rather ran a cross country race. Talking with Steve was the first time you felt comfortable at one of these fancy galas. 

You’d come to learn that he was, in fact, the man they’d dug out of the ice. That he was the soldier lost to time, being forced into a new century without any idea how to deal with it. 

“I know a little of what that’s like,” you admitted to him. “To feel lost. I’ve been attending different parties like this since I was a kid. And never once have I felt comfortable attending them. I can talk to everyone in the room and feel completely loney, but I can sit on my own in a quiet place like this and…feel comfortable and be myself.”

“I had that once.” Steve told you. “I’d say back home, but I’m still in the same country. To be honest, I don’t know what anything is outside of this room.”

Then an idea popped into your head. “I could help.”

“How?” 

You shrugged. “I could help you adjust. I’m no therapist but I know how most things work in the 21st century. Movies, media, books. You said they gave you a document packet?”

Steve nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a folded over thick document. 

“With all the stores and street names, I don’t recognise anything anymore.”

Opening it up, Steve handed it to you. It had an address, some pictures, different appointments and different wifi codes. 

“I know where this is.”

“You do?” Steve seemed surprised. They’d given him the address three days ago with no instruction on how to find it. They just told him something about Google Maps. Whatever a Google was. 

You nodded. “It looks kinda old.”

Steve shrugged. “‘Guess it’s their way of giving me some familiarity.” 

You shook your head. “When do you move in?”

“End of the week.”

“I’ve got a meeting in the morning, but I can take the rest of the day – help you move in, if you’d like.”

Steve looked at you. “You’d really do that for me?”

You handed his document back and nodded. “I would. Just because you were given an image for them to control, doesn’t mean that they should take advantage of the person you are behind it all.”

“That’s really kind of you, ma’am.” 

You smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

For an hour more, you and Steve just talked. Filled with quiet laughter and genuine smiles, you and Steve found an unlikely friendship in each other that evening. 

A friendship that would only grow stronger and stronger over the years. 

At the end of that week, you met Steve outside the SI building before walking with him towards the underground and pointing out different landmarks for him to recognise. A university campus, a museum, a deli store that served the best sandwiches. You explained about the times for the trains that headed towards the different states. Finally, walking down the different streets, Steve started to recognise a few different places. New businesses stood in their places, but the bricks around them were the same. 

“Pretty sure I got beat up in that alley.”

You followed Steve’s eye-line before looking back at him. “Bet your mom was beside herself with the amount of times you came home with a black eye.”

Steve held a reminiscent smile on his face as he looked at his shoes. “Just a kid from Brooklyn who was too dumb enough to run away from the fight.”

You watched Steve for a moment; something in his tone told you those weren’t just his words. 

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

You took Steve’s hand, leading him down the street before you both arrived at the apartment block. A couple of younger kids were playing out in the street, kicking a football around until they scored it round the corner of the building, one of their mother’s yelling to play in the back. 

A guy with a coffee cart served passers by heading back from their lunch break, on the corner. 

Unlocking the front door, you and Steve walked up the first few flights of stairs before finally reaching his new home. 

As Steve opened up the door and walked inside, he was met with a living space that probably hadn’t had someone live there…maybe ever. The furniture seemed old, the kitchen table was rusting a little at the bottom of the legs and the curtains had seen better days. 

A few boxes had been stacked by the entrance way with different labels scribbled on them. 

You rifled through them. “Bed sheets, books, clothes.”

You took a note of the size label. “You know, I think one of my friends might have some clothes you’d like. She runs a clothing company that does everything from a vintage style to modern day. I’m sure she’d love to let you rifle through her products; see if there’s anything you’d like to take off her hands.”

You turned around but Steve hadn’t been listening. Instead, he’d been focusing on the case files that were strewn across the kitchen table. 

Standing beside him, keeping your eye on his reactions, you looked down at the table before you came across a picture. You had to take a breath. 

Steve had told you a little about his friends from the war. The Howling Commandos. 

“Is that them?”

Steve nodded.

It took Steve a while to get used to his new apartment, but with your help, he found it becoming a home. You helped him change the bedsheets and work out his washing machine before putting your phone number into his phone. 

“Think of it like a telegram,” you told him. “But rather than waiting weeks to hear back, it’s almost instantly.”

In the weeks that followed, you met Steve at his apartment every few days. On the weekends, you showed him around some of the thrift stores where he’d found a new kitchen table and some dishes to use in the kitchen. 

One of your friends – the same friend that ran a clothing company – had delivered some new curtains. They were plain, but they were better than the ones Steve had been left with. 

Meanwhile, Steve found an old gym where he could spend his evenings and, with your help, had figured out the basics of a phone and computer. 

The one Shield had given him was far too high tech, even for you. So, you had brought Steve one of your old ones. It was still pretty modern, but it was a lot simpler to use than the Stark Industries issued one. 

Then he got pulled into helping Shield with a threat that, to him, would have been best left in the ocean. 

News reports came in thick and fast during the attack on New York. You hadn’t heard from Steve during it, until you nearly ran into him in the middle of the street as mechanical…whatever the hell they were, were flying through the sky. 

“Why are you still in the city?! Everyone needs to get out.”

You nodded. “I know, but people needed help.” You looked down at his shield. “You know how to use that?”

Steve nodded. 

“Can you break a lock with it?”

Steve followed you as you ran down an alley before disappearing around the corner and to an employee entrance. Neither you or Steve could tell what had welded a lock shut, but considering some kind of blue weapon lay not too far out in the middle of the street with similar residue being left of the door, you could only gather it had been some alien technology. 

It took a few tries but the lock finally busted open and a bunch of parents with their kids came flooding out of the doors. As you and Steve started directing people to safety out of the city, you saw the way the kids looked up at Steve. 

The whole image of Captain America had been controlled by the government, making him an image away from Steve Rogers. But nothing could control the way those kids looked up at Steve as their hero. 

A comic book hero that existed in real life. 

“Ma’am, is that everyone?” Steve asked one of the women that left the room. 

She seemed distressed as she looked around. “I-I think so.” Then she ran off with the others. 

Something in your gut told you to check the rest of the room, and Steve followed you inside. 

“Go! Help the others! I can look after myself.”

“But-”

“Steve.” You looked at him. “Go. They need you.”

It took him a minute but he took your word for it and ran back out of the door. Meanwhile, you checked under every table and desk before something caught your eye at the side of one of the cabinets. 

A kid, no older than six. 

“Hey, honey.”

“Mommy was meant to pick me up.”

You looked around, hearing something hit a building nearby. 

“I’ll help you look for her. Can I pick you up?” The kid nodded. “I’m Y/n, what’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. Come on, let's go and find your mom.”

After three hours of destruction over the city, and countless injuries being collected by people, it wasn’t until a mom came running through the crowds of EMTs and doctors, screaming out for her child that you and Sophie, sitting in the back of an ambulance, looked up. 

And Sophie called out. 

Jumping from the bench, Sophie looked outside and saw her mom running through the crowd. You watched as they collided and sank to the ground. 

“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why aren’t you with the rest of your class? Where are they?”

“Hey,” you said, walking behind Sophie. “They got separated when trying to clear the city.”

“Did you save her?”

“I got her out-” Suddenly, the mom crushed you with a hug. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I-” The tears continued to flow from her eyes. 

“It’s alright. All that matters is that she’s safe.”

“Thank you so much.”

Hours later, you had finally made it back home, had showered and switched your TV on. The news had been following updates and different people’s theories of what had happened. 

Then a knock came to your door. 

Upon opening it, you were greeted with a fresher looking Steve Rogers. 

“Shouldn’t you be with a medic?”

Steve smiled, “Shouldn’t you? Between the pair of us, I’m the one who has a serum running through their veins.”

You looked in his hand. “Is that a pizza?”

Steve nodded. “Didn’t know which kind you’d like, so I got the classic. Figured you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Inviting him inside, Steve laid it on the coffee table. 

“Shouldn’t you be helping The Avengers or something?”

“Avengers?” Steve looked at you with a curious look. 

You just pointed at the screen. “Oh, right. Yeah, we’ve all decided to take a break. But Shield tells me they’ve finally found me a job.”

“That’s something to celebrate.”

Steve shrugged. “Kinda hard to celebrate when an entire city almost got levelled to the ground.”

You understood. “I’m gonna head back tomorrow and see if they need any help.”

“Can I come with you?” 

“You don’t have to ask, Steve.”

He smiled, if a little sheepishly. 

For the rest of the evening, you and Steve shared a pizza and talked until neither of you wanted to say anything else. 

So, you picked out a film and placed it into the DVD player. And you and Steve just sat and watched it. 

As the months passed, you and Steve slipped into a familiar routine. He got better at texting, but you’d come to find he preferred to call. And during the days he was at the training facility in Washington and devoid of signal, he’d write you letters. 

And you wrote them back. 

He’d also started keeping a list, you’d noticed, of things you’d say in passing or you’d tell him to listen to or watch. 

On the quiet afternoons you spent together, Steve would open up more. He told you more about the 40s and being in the army. He told you more about his childhood and his best friend, Bucky. 

You’d surprised him one afternoon by taking him to the Smithsonian. They had a new exhibit put up – one pillar being dedicated to Bucky and his friendship with Steve. 

In one of his final letters, he’d told you of a man he’d basically been trolling on his morning runs. You’d come to find out his name and you smiled. 

Outside of you and the members of his team, Sam Wilson was the first friend Steve had made. 

However, you didn’t get to meet him in person until you got a call from him, under Steve’s contact. Of course, the minute the headline had flashed on your screen, you’d tried to get into contact with him. He’d fallen, or rather, jumped, from an elevator and fallen a hundred feet or more to the ground. His own work seemed to be after him. 

So, when you were told he’d fallen, once more, from one of the jets and had been in surgery, you rushed to him. 

Entering his room, Natasha had been the one to take you to his room after two nurses read your name on his file but wouldn’t let you through. 

“He’s alive, as you can see.”

“If I get a call like this again, telling me you’re dead, I’ll kill you myself.” You warned Steve before you walked to his side. The bastard had the audacity to chuckle. 

“I promise. If I’m gonna die, I’ll ask your permission first.”

From behind you, you heard a voice smile. “I like her.”

“Y/n, this is Sam. Sam, this is Y/n.”

From that day on, the movie and pizza nights came to include both Sam and Natasha. However, unbeknownst to you and Steve, the movie nights also came to include the rest of the team. 

Natasha had been trained to read people. And she’d never read anyone easier than you and Steve. 

And her information soon became Clint’s information which soon became everyone’s information when he accidentally let it slip to the others. 

Tony had been planning a party. Rather, he wanted to throw one and Pepper had come up with a list of people to invite. And when she read out your name, Steve had looked up but Clint had spoken first. 

“Is that Steve’s girl?”

They all looked around at each other before looking at Steve. He had a girl?

Steve faltered. “Yes, well, no. She’s my friend. We’re friends but-”

Tony turned to Pepper. “Invite Steve’s girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends. And she doesn’t really like big parties so-”

“Invite her anyway. I can’t believe Clint knows about her before we do.” Then he turned to Natasha. “I suppose you already knew.”

She just nodded. 

And that was just the start of it. 

A few nights later, Steve had given you a heads up which you appreciated but it did put you on edge a little. But all in all, it was…fun. 

It was the first time you enjoyed yourself at a party and didn’t hate every minute of it. 

Firstly, the attire was fancy but not gala fancy. It was a celebration of Hydra finally being overthrown from Shield.

You arrived in your heels that didn’t hurt your feet so much, wide legged trousers and a graphic t-shirt. 

“Now, who is that?”

At the bar, Rhodey, Thor, Tony and Maria all stood watching as you entered the room, clearly looking for someone. Tony and Rhodey had met most of the building at the party. Maria had met them all – at the very least, she had a file on them all. 

But not on you. 

From behind the bar, Natasha leaned over. “That’s Steve’s girl.”

From the bar they watched as Sam noticed you first and called you over. You looked relieved at seeing a familiar face. Even more relieved at seeing Steve. Tony watched as Steve noticed you, too. 

The game of pool Steve had been winning at suddenly took a dip as his aim went off kilter, his attention immediately going to you. 

“Steve has a woman?” Thor asked, the other just nodded. “Well, we must meet her.”

However, as they all went to walk towards the pool table, Maria reached her hand out. “You boys swarm her, Steve will make sure you never get to speak to her again. I will go.”

And so she did. 

The others watched on as Steve introduced you to Maria, every protective instinct a man got when introducing his girlfriend to the rest of his family going up. And somehow, with simple ease, Maria had gained a small part of your friendship and led you towards the second bar. 

Meanwhile, Steve watched as you walked away, the heart in his eyes never leaving. Not even when Sam nudged him and they got back to the game. 

Throughout the night, Steve kept his eye on you. 

He almost broke the sound barrier by how quickly he turned up at your side when you were dragged into the conversation circle with most of them. 

“So, tell me.” Tony said, sitting beside you. “How did you meet our fellow Captain?”

“Tony.” Steve warned, though no true malice could be traced in his voice. 

You smiled. “It’s okay. We actually met at one of your parties.”

Tony sat back. “Really?”

You nodded. “Some fancy gala a few years back.”

Conversation between yourself and the rest of the group seemed to take a natural flow until eventually, all your nerves had subsided. 

But that didn’t stop you from needing a break by the end. Between talking with Natasha, Maria and Thor for most of the night, and beating Sam at a few rounds of pool – something Steve found incredibly entertaining,

Tony had backed Sam on his idea that you were cheating. Nobody won that many rounds of pool one after the other. So, as the others gathered and watched the game, Steve stepped forward and he covered your eyes. 

For a moment you looked up at him and smirked, and he smiled back with a light shrug of his shoulders. 

“Yes, thank you, Cap.” Sam said. “See. This will prove that she’s cheat-”

As you hit the white cue ball, everyone watched and was left speechless as every ball suddenly found its home in the pockets, leaving you with an automatic victory. 

Opening your eyes once more and standing up, you looked at the pool table with a proud look before looking at Sam. You’d never seen him as shocked. Looking at Steve, he seemed shocked but also proud. 

“Still think I’m cheating?” 

Tony just looked at you. “She’s a witch. She had to be. Were you cursed as a child? Born to some Vampire in Europe or something?”

Steve chuckled, as did you. 

“Come on, Tony. Accept your defeat.”

As the hours passed, eventually you found yourself outside on the balcony, taking a breather from the party. 

“Figured you’d find some place quiet.”

You stood back up, holding onto the balcony bar. “Hey.”

Steve smiled. “Hey. You okay? They can be a bit much.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that. Just needed a minute. You know, this is the first time I’ve enjoyed myself at one of these?”

Steve looked up at the building before looking back at you with a smile on his face. “It is better when people aren’t trying to show you off.”

You nodded with a smile. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for escaping the last one and finding me in that room.”

It was in that moment that you realised the last time you’d gone to any kind of gala or party of the same scale was the first time you’d met Steve. 

You smiled fondly at the memory. “Thanks for not being mad when I opened the door.”

“I could never be mad at you.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got a good judge of character.”

You felt yourself chuckle before you looked out across the rest of the city before a cold wind blew through making you shiver. 

“Here,” Steve shrugged off his jacket but before you could tell him you were fine, he placed it over your shoulders. 

It smelt of him. 

“Thanks.”

Steve just nodded with a smile watching as you placed your arms through the holes and wrapped it a little tighter around yourself before you looked out at the rest of the city with him. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Is something going on between Maria and Sam?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “She’ll eat him alive.”

“He might be into that.” 

Steve laughed and closed his eyes in disgust. “What makes you ask?”

You shrugged. “Just something I’ve noticed. He looks at her like she hung the moon. Though, of course, that’s when she’s not looking. When she is, it's like I’m back at school rehearsing for Much Ado About Nothing.”

Steve’s joy widened. “You were in a play?”

You laughed. “I wasn’t any good. I was only put on stage because my folks donated so much money to the school. All I wanted was to work with Tech.”

Steve chuckled. “I’d pay good money to see that. But, I get what you mean about Sam and Maria. Who knows? If the timing is right…”

Steve looked at you and you felt something bigger was being hidden behind his words. Part of you certainly held out hope that there was. 

“We should probably get back inside.”

An hour later, most people had gone home so it was left with just Steve, yourself, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Maria, Tony, Rhodey and Thor. 

Still wearing Steve’s jacket, you were sitting in the middle of the sofa, your legs curled towards your chest. After he stood up, Steve came back and handed you a beer before he nudged your legs allowing him room to sit down before he pulled them across his lap. 

It was the standard procedure for you and him to sit on a sofa together. Mainly because his sofa in his old apartment had been small enough to do so. 

Despite changing apartments and the sofa, it was just something that stuck. 

The others took silent note of it as the debate continued between Thor and Clint over his hammer. 

By the time everyone was trying to lift it, Steve became one of the last. Sharing a look with you before looking at Thor, Steve stood up and tried to lift it. 

You watched as it squeaked on the table for a moment, but moved no further. However, your knowing grin – despite it never truly lifting from the table – caused you to look at Thor. 

He looked panic stricken. 

But Steve stood back and held his hands up. 

“Or…you’re all not worthy.”

“It’s still a trick!”

In the moments that followed, everyone turned to their own conversations; including you and Steve. 

But Clint and Natasha kept their eyes on you and Steve. Your legs over his lap, wearing his jacket, his focus solely on you, his hand rubbing lightly against the bottom of your leg that was exposed under your wide-legged trousers, your ever loving gaze on his that matched yours, light and soft smiles on your faces. 

“Ten bucks says they’ll be married in two years.” Clint whispered up to Natasha. 

“Deal.”

Something that Clint didn’t know, that Natasha did, was that you and Steve were fucking oblivious. 

They’d all be lucky if it happened in two years. 

Quite frankly, it should have happened two years ago. 

Suddenly, a high pitched noise rippled through the room. 

“Of course you’re not all worthy…”

Your eyes landed on an oil leaking…zombie robot?

His voice was deep and menacing and nothing about any of it felt comforting. 

“Steve?”

“Stark?”

“Jarvis?”

In a single turn of events you’d gone from laughing and joking with each other to suddenly defending yourself against a robot who claimed he’d killed someone. 

A swarm of them flew in through broken glass panels and Steve kicked up a table before any of them could hit either of you. 

You landed on the floor beside him, a little winded. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’m okay. Go, go, go. I’ll be fine.”

Steve helped you up before running off in the other direction. It was a whirlwind of blasts, bullets and shattered glass. 

At one point, one had you cornered as Tony unhooked another. And for a moment, you thought you’d be sent flying out of the window and out into the open before Steve took hold of it, throwing it back towards Thor before Clint threw him his shield. 

And it all ended as Thor sent his hammer flying through Ultron. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“Banner.” Tony called him over before they headed towards their lab. 

Meanwhile, Steve turned around before heading straight towards you and holding you in his arms, almost lifting you from the ground. 

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, letting the scent of him, his clothes, his jacket, calm you. 

“Yeah. Thanks for saving my life.”

Steve truly breathed for the first time since the high pitched noise had rang through the room. With a hand at the back of your head, he pressed a kiss to your temple and he closed his eyes. 

“Come on, let's go and find the others.”

However, as he took your hand, you pulled him back. “Steve.”

“Right, you-you’ll want to go home-”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. You’ve got glass in your arm.”

“Oh.”

“Does Tony have tweezers in his lab?”

Steve nodded. “I think so.”

Less than five minutes later, you sat Steve in one of the chairs, Bruce handing you and Maria a set of tweezers each. 

Staring with his arm, you plucked out the small fragments of glass before his skin healed over them, before holding his palm up to face you. Meanwhile, they began discussing the extinction of The Avengers and the possibility of nuclear codes getting out to the rest of the world.

Then rage got passed around the room. 

By the time morning rolled around, Steve drove you back home.

“Whatever happens…” You looked at Steve, a small voice in the back of your head begging for him to be imprinted in your memory as if he hadn’t already. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Steve nodded. “I promise. You’re the only one that can kill me, remember?”

You felt yourself laugh. At least he remembered. 

Looking at him again, you hugged him. “I mean it, Steve. Please be safe.”

He hugged you back, the feeling of him strong enough for you to still feel hours later. 

“I promise.”

Each day you didn’t hear from him was a little more worrisome than the last. And then when the media reported Shield helping evacuate people from a floating country…all you could do was hope Steve wasn’t one of the casualties. 

“Maybe I’ll take a leaf out of Barton’s book.”

“The simple life?”

“You’ll get there one day. Maybe you could get there with Y/n?”

Steve couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about it once or twice. You and him. Together. More than friends. A part of him did think you felt it too. The same spark. Familiarity. The same love. 

“If something was gonna happen, it would have happened by now.” Steve told him. “Besides, I think the guy that wanted all that went into the ice seventy five years ago.”

Tony shrugged. “Don’t count on it. That guy is still there somewhere. See you ‘round, Rogers.”

As Tony drove away, Steve took in the building in front of him. And despite the acceptance he felt of being home, the idea of you and him…he figured that would always be with him. 

Even if it never happened. 

That night, Steve turned up outside your apartment with the next movie on his list and a case of soda. However, when you didn’t answer, he went in search of you. 

Opening the door to the roof, he looked around before spotting you in the very corner, sitting on the table of the picnic bench. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Looking around, you gave a sigh of relief at seeing him. He dropped the case on the table before you reached for him. 

“Thank god you’re okay.”

“How long have you been up here?”

“Since Nat called me and told me you’d landed. I couldn’t sit in my apartment anymore so…I came up here. Last time I looked out at the city was before everything went to hell.”

Steve looked out at the city himself before looking back at you. “We’re not out of the woods yet. Ross is probably about to reign hellfire down on…everyone.”

“What about the girl?”

“Wanda?”

You nodded. 

“I don’t know. She went through a lot, losing her home and her brother in one fowl sweep.” 

“You should train her.”

“What?”

“Train her,” you repeated. “You’re the only one who knows what it’s like to be in a war, to sign up to be experimented on. She’s gonna need someone who actually understands some of what she’s going through.”

Steve agreed with you. You had a point. 

“Tony can have a lot of influence and his heart can be in the right place but he doesn’t always remember that people didn’t have his childhood or his life.”

“He’s been through a lot.”

You agreed with Steve. “He has. But he’s never lost a brother, or his life to somebody’s cause. She’s gonna need help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The rest of the evening was spent talking over what had happened, what Steve had thought when the earth quite literally started to lift from beneath him, what had happened with Banner and Nat and then you gave him your news. 

Bucky had been spotted. 

The next time you saw Steve was at Agent Peggy Carter’s funeral. You sat at the back for most of it, watching as Steve helped carry the coffin and as people gave their eulogies. 

You didn't know much about Peggy Carter personally, though you could remember learning about her in school. The founder of Shield, working alongside Captain America in her early career. And from meeting Steve, you’d come to know more about her. As well as how deeply both she and Steve were in love. 

You’d seen the clips at the museum, and with Steve beside you, it gave them a whole other meaning. And even though Steve living through the ice and landing himself in the 21st century had given you one of the greatest friendships you’d ever had, part of you felt angry for him. 

Angry at the fact he missed out on his chance with Peggy and that she had to live a life where, as far as anyone knew, Steve was dead. 

A soldier and a love story left stranded in time. 

You could remember when Steve had first visited Peggy, again. 

And now he had to say goodbye, again. 

“It was a beautiful service.”

Steve looked up and down the aisle to where you were walking towards him. He felt the breath get knocked out of him. Or maybe back into him. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use a friendly face?”

 A silent conversation then took place between you and Steve. Silent conversations weren’t unusual between you. A thousand words could be said in a look, but you’d both understand.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen after I leave here-”

“No, I know. I know.” You understood completely. After he walked out of the church, Nat would be leaving without him. 

“Today’s been a lot. Tomorrow’s gonna be a lot.” You looked back at Steve. “Right now can just be…right now. You’ve lost someone, Steve. Right now you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You don’t have to be Captain America right now.” Your gaze turned to Peggy’s picture. “I might not have met her, but I know you and I both know she would be telling you, you don’t have to be Captain America right now. At this moment, you’re just Steve: World War Two veteran who has just lost a great love in their life and deserves a moment to breathe.”

Steve gave you a weak smile, his emotions building up in his chest. “Thank you.”

Stepping forward, you wrapped Steve in a comforting hug and for the next twenty minutes, you both stayed inside the church. 

There he told you the smaller facts about Peggy – the ones he’d learnt when she was with him and his Howling Commandos. 

But then the time came to leave. 

Walking down the different streets, hearing time tick away, you and Steve soaked up what time you could before everything was about to go to shit. 

And on a bench beside the River Thames, you and Steve said your goodbyes. Both of you knew something was going to go wrong. What that was exactly, neither of you could put your finger on it. But something was going to happen. 

It was only a matter of time. 

“Here.” 

“What’s this?”

Steve read the piece of paper. It was a set of coordinates. 

“I own a house. It’s in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in Europe. If anything happens, Ross can’t touch you. The house had been in my family’s name for generations but one of my great aunt’s left it to me. It’s yours to use.”

“Y/n-”

“Take it, Steve. Nobody knows it exists so they won’t find you. It’s run down but there should be running water.”

Steve finally accepted it. “Thank you. You know, if Tony ever finds out about this, he’s gonna believe that you are a witch from a vampire family.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I am, you just don’t know it.”

Steve shrugged, pocketing the paper safely. 

“I’m gonna miss you.”

You took his hand. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

You tried your best to avoid the tears, but they were trying their hardest anyway. 

“Just promise me one thing, Steve.”

Steve nodded, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Be safe?”

You nodded. “Be safe.”

Your eyes locking with his, Steve decided to take a risk. There was a chance he might never be able to see you again. Whatever was going to happen, the first person they’d put a tail on would be you. 

He kissed you. 

With your hand on his lapel, you held him closer. It was short and bittersweet, but the memory of him and his kiss would forever be seared into your brain. 

And for a few moments, you just held onto each other, fearful of opening your eyes and accepting that one of you would have to walk away. 

With his finger, Steve gently brushed the stray hair from your face away and behind your ear before kissing you quickly for a second time. 

“One of us has to say goodbye.”

“I know,” you sniffed. “I know.”

“If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it's that you walked into that room when you did. You were the first person to treat me like one and to help me. Thank you for wanting to escape that party.”

You laughed through the tears. “You never have to thank me for that. It’s crazy to think I almost didn’t go.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

Looking at each other for one final time, you leaned in and kissed him. You prayed that his hand by your waist would leave a brand – a different pain to carry with you than the one in your heart. 

Feeling yourself stand, the kiss broke away and you were the first to say goodbye. 

Walking down the stone pavement, you looked behind you before you turned a corner, only to find Steve had already gone. Between the bustling people, the bench you’d both just been sitting at was exactly that. 

A bench. 

Going home, you tried to find a way to keep yourself busy but no matter where you looked, everything reminded you of him. The movies you’d watched with him, the ones you didn’t. The pizza’s shared, and soda spilt, the curtain, bedsheets, books, clothes, pictures. 

You had some of his artwork in your house. Some of them people, most of landscapes – people and places you’d seen together. 

And in an album under your bed, you had his letters. 

Each one in its original envelope on one page and the pictures he’d drawn of the skyline from wherever he’d been. 

Some evenings, you’d reread his letters – still able to hear his voice. 

Then the headlines started to roll in. 

Captain America was a fugitive and had broken his team out of a high secure facility. 

And for almost two years a hunt was put on for him. You were interviewed every couple of months with the same questions. 

Did you know where he was? Had he contacted you? What information did he share with you?

Just because you’d given him a set of coordinates didn’t mean he’d use them. The last time you’d heard from Steve was in London and the only information he’d shared with you that day was about Peggy Carter and some of the old stories of when he was first in London in the 40s. 

In the meantime, your parents had convinced you to attend different dinner parties, charity shows, fundraisers and galas, all the while helping you find a date. 

Most of the people your mother had first introduced you to years ago, they were recently married. But the single ones she’d found; you dated some, though it never went any further than a sixth date – usually the date after your parents invited them to attend dinner. 

But no matter the fancy meal, or the conversation, or the man; none of them could beat a pizza, soda, a movie and…

Steve. 

None of them could beat Steve. 

But that all changed one afternoon when you were gardening. 

Living in the city had reminded you too much of Steve, and with the constant reminders of the memories and new threats and superheroes popping up, you decided to find somewhere nice to live. 

Someplace…simple. 

So, buying a house outside of the city with a few acres of land, you started renovating. Any business meetings you had could be done online which meant you had more time to fix your new home up. 

The smell of plaster, paint and sawdust filled your home for most of the days until finally things started to come together. New windows and locks were installed, the faulty taps were fixed and finally the entire place was given a new lease of life. 

And just as you were half way through with fixing your garden; planting some flowers and digging patches for a small allotment, a car pulled up outside your drive. 

On your knees in the dirt, it took a moment for your eyes to focus on the person climbing out of the car in the distance. 

They were tall, broad and had a beard. 

However, the closer they got, memories started to kick in. The walk, the frame…

You stood up and walked closer until you stopped again, feeling the breath being knocked out of you. 

“Oh, my god…”

He watched as you stopped in your tracks, your brain confirming who he was. Then you started running. Across the grass and onto the gravel path, you collided with Steve. 

“This is you, I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Steve shook his head and he held onto you, the essence of you filling his senses. 

“No, you’re not dreaming.”

You leaned back and looked at him before hugging him again. 

Finally, Steve set you back onto your feet and his hands remained at your waist. 

“Why are you back? Last I heard…”

“The team and I are keeping our distance for a few days. Nat’s headed to Ohio and Sam is trying to see his sister. It’s the best way to avoid Ross.”

You nodded, checking him over. He didn’t seem like he was dying. 

With a hand on his cheek, you smiled a little, pointing out the obvious. “You grew a beard.”

Steve smiled a little. “Helps me blend in.”

You looked into his eyes and smiled. “It suits you.”

Holding gently onto your wrist, Steve turned his head and kissed your palm and for a second you closed your eyes, leaning into him. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay.”

Placing your hand over his heart, Steve seemed to bear into your soul. “So am I.”

What followed was two hours of conversation around where he’d been and what he’d been doing since he left, and what you had been doing. 

Then he started to help. Painting the porch on the back of the house as you continued planting in the back garden, you spent time together. 

Time that was all too precious knowing he was on a clock. 

“Where did you learn to cook?” You asked Steve as you helped him chop up veg. 

With a smile on his face, Steve continued to prepare dinner. “I have a contact in Scotland. Their aunt runs a cafe and needed a few extra hands in the kitchen.”

As you helped Steve prepare dinner, you listened to the stories he’d gathered over his time away. Scotland, Spain, Germany, Italy, England, Poland, Norway, and many others. 

Once dinner was finished, you started to clean up. But from the table, Steve looked at you standing by the sink in front of the window. 

You’d never left his thoughts. 

Sat on that bench in London, he watched you walk away and for a moment, he remained where he was. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to see you again – not without heavy restrictions. 

He wanted you so desperately to turn around, but if you did, he would have followed you. He would have stood up and ran after you. 

So he left. 

He left before you could look around, he left before he would stop fighting himself and follow you. 

And each day he woke up, for the few moments in the morning where he would forget what had happened, where he would forget the world he’d been found in, he thought about you. He thought about calling you or writing you a letter. He thought about seeing you when he’d roll over in bed. But each time…

You weren’t there. 

You weren’t with him. 

You were at your home, thousands of miles from him. 

And he had no way of talking to you. 

Walking across the kitchen floor to you, he placed a hand on your waist before reaching across to the window cill. 

“What are you doing?” You smiled. 

Looking at you and turning up the dial, Steve smiled. “Come with me.”

Taking the cloth from your hand, Steve dropped it back into the bowl of soapy water and took your hand in his. Then, pulling you into the middle of the kitchen with him, you both started to slow dance. 

“What’s this for?”

Steve shrugged, holding your hand over his heart once again. “I don’t know how long I’ve got with you. Figured we could spend it not washing up.”

You felt yourself smile. “I think I like that.”

It was soft and slow. Swaying with the beat until the radio turned static, you and Steve remained in each other's arms. 

“Can you stay the night?”

Steve nodded. 

“Good.”

The night soon settled over your home, the stars slowly emerging from behind the clouds. With your porch taking on a blue hue in its own shadow, you and Steve sat side by side on your porch swing. 

Your hair still a little damp from your shower, Steve continued to run his fingers through it. And with your head on his chest, you let his heart beat calm you. For a moment, Steve turned his nose into your hair and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

After a few moments, he didn’t say anything. Not that you would have heard anything considering your body was begging for sleep. 

Carefully standing, Steve slipped one of his arms around your back and one under your legs before carrying you inside. He tucked you under your bed covers before making his rounds, locking up the doors and windows. Finally, he got in beside you. 

For years, he’d dreamed of it. 

Being with you, by your side, a domestic and loving day before laying beside you knowing he would be waking up beside you every morning. 

And Steve smiled as in your sleep you moved closer to him, your arms wrapping across his middle. 

You couldn’t remember when you’d gone from the porch to your bed, but you could remember Steve. Feeling his arms around you, his heartbeat under your cheek, his lips on yours…

“Hey,”

Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed by your legs, fully dressed. 

“Hey, what time is it?”

Steve kept his eyes on you. “A little after four.”

You gave a groan and closed your eyes again. Steve chuckled. Reaching out, he gently swept the hair from your eyes, your head turning towards him. With his hand on your cheek, he felt your smile. 

It was your turn to hold onto him and kiss his palm. 

And just as the knowing sadness started to grow, Steve still smiled, leaning forward and kissed you. 

You would never get bored of his kiss.

Peppering it out, you held onto his face before your hands slipped around his back and you held him closer. 

With a sigh, Steve held you closer to him, trying to imprint the feeling of you in his arms. 

Trying your best to ignore the growing tears, you spoke. 

“Just promise me you’ll be safe?”

Steve chuckled a little. “You know you’re the only one who's allowed to kill me. But I promise.”

“Good.”

Holding on a little tighter, you silently begged for more time with him. But the clock was ticking. 

From above, there was deep rumbling. 

“You better go,” you told Steve. 

It took him a moment before he let go and with one final kiss, it was his turn to say goodbye. 

Hearing his boots walk across the floor of your bedroom, down the hallway, through the living room and towards your front door. 

You heard his pause for a moment and in that moment, you wondered what he would do if you called out for him. 

But he couldn’t stay any longer. 

People needed him. 

The world needed him. 

Hearing your front door click open, Steve’s footsteps trailed off as it closed once more until eventually the only sound that was left was the ever quieting sound of a rumbling jet engine.

Six months later, half of the world disappeared. 

With a snap of Thanos’ fingers, Steve watched as half of his team, his family, disappeared. And upon returning back to the Avengers’ compound, you were his first call. 

Only, you never answered. 

“Go.” Natasha told him. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

Making a break for it, Steve ran down into the garage before hopping on his bike. He’d made it to yours in half the time. 

Pulling up, he started calling out for you. His voice filled with desperation and fear, he ran up to your front door. 

It was unlocked. 

He almost tripped inside as he tried the door, the hinges getting stuck. 

“Y/N!”

He raced around your home; checking the kitchen, living room, pantry, washing room, office, bathroom, and the bedrooms before finally reaching yours. 

The bedding was strewn a little, the soft lines of the fitted sheet folded into where you would have been laying. The pain in Steve’s chest seemed to grow heavier by the minute. 

You weren’t here. 

One hand on his hip, another covering his mouth, Steve turned around in a slow circle. Tears pricking at his eyes, his mind had gone from running a thousand miles a minute to…being completely overrun by pain. 

He had nearly a thousand chances to be with you, to share a life with you that he’d always dreamed of – all before everything went to hell. 

But it was too late. 

You were gone. 

Just like half of the world, you were gone. 

Gripping onto the cold metal of your bed frame, Steve tried to steady himself. 

You were gone. 

Somewhere behind him, he heard a click. 

His entire body stilled. 

Slowly turning around he found…

No one. 

Somewhere down the hall, a door closed. 

As quietly as he could, Steve walked from your bedroom and down the hallway. The noises started to compile together. 

Shoes shuffling, a bag being thrown onto a counter, a bucket handle rattling against itself. 

From a corner, Steve saw an apron thrown across the back of a kitchen chair. A tap started to pour before someone switched it off. 

Then someone started to hum. 

You started to hum. 

Fully stepping into the kitchen doorway, Steve felt the entire life get knocked back into him. 

Then you turned around. 

He scared the shit out of you. 

The bucket slipping out of your hand, it knocked against your sink, the water spilling down the drain. 

Just as it did, you recognised him. 

Rushing forward, Steve enveloped you into his arms, your feet lifting from the ground. 

“You’re alive,” you breathed. 

“I thought you were gone.” Steve mumbled into your shoulder, holding onto you tighter. 

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“He won.” 

Steve set you back down on your feet and for the first time in almost seven months, you finally got a good look at him. He looked tired, worn. Beaten. 

“We almost did it, but he won.”

“Whose left?”

Steve tried his best to name those who were left. 

“We think Tony’s gone but we can’t be sure.”

The tears were falling from Steve’s cheeks as he told you. Wiping them away, you pulled him back into a hug. 

“I tried calling you but when you didn’t answer…” You could feel Steve’s entire body shaking under you. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer. Steve, honey, you need to sit down. Let me get you some water.”

As you sat him down, Steve watched as you moved around your kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, running the tap until it was cold before handing it to him. 

“I’ll make you some food. When did you last eat? You should call Nat.”

“Right.”

After calling and updating Nat, Steve hung up the phone. And for the next few hours, Steve talked you through everything he could; right up to him running through your door. 

In the months that followed, a transition started to take place. People had to get used to a world where half of the people they loved were gone. 

And somewhere between Steve finding you in your kitchen and Tony and Pepper having their daughter, yourself and Steve finally came together. 

Properly. 

This time there were no goodbye kisses and fear of never seeing each other again. That biggest fear had been and gone. 

What you were left with was…acceptance. 

Acceptance that you had both almost completely lost each other for good. There was no point in avoiding feelings, or being scared of what might happen. 

You both had a chance at a life together. 

So you both took it. 

From then on your home with Steve became interchangeable between the Avengers compound and your house. Saving her from the lifetime supply of peanut butter sandwiches, you dragged Natasha when you could to your home with Steve and made her a decent meal. 

Being out in the open also gave her a breath of fresh air away from the training facility walls that never changed colour. 

And eventually things…settled. 

People found a new way of life, coming back each year to celebrate those who were lost. And then new life was brought into the mix. 

Not too long after Pepper had given birth to Morgan, you were faced with a positive pregnancy test result yourself. 

And Natasha was your first call. 

“What’s going on? I have an extra gun in the car if we need it.”

You showed it to her. “What does that show?”

“Holy shit, you’re pregnant.”

A small whimper left your lips as you handed her the test stick and started pacing around your bathroom. 

“Are…are we not happy about that?”

You whimpered again as you paced up and down. “I-I don’t know. We-we haven’t planned anything. I mean, we’ve talked about it a few times but what if something goes wrong? Are you sure it was positive?”

Natasha looked back at it. “Well, it’s got a plus sign so-”

“It’s the third I’ve taken this week. The other two came up invalid but that one was like a bright flashing light.”

Reaching for you by the shoulders, Natasha sat you down. “Okay, first off, breathe.”

You did so. 

And then some more. 

“Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna go and get you another box of tests. Proper ones, not these things. And you’re gonna call Steve.”

“He’ll probably pass out. Why do you think I called you?”

Natasha laughed. “Just call him. I’ll be right back.”

And she was. 

Walking back inside, she called out and Steve called back. 

Three minutes later, you were all huddled in the bathroom waiting for the result to finally show. 

“What if it’s a false positive? If it’s positive-positive, will I be able to carry the baby?”

Crouching down in front of you, Steve held your hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Together. Okay?”

You took a breath and nodded. Leaning up, Steve kissed you and you kissed him back. 

You’d been having conversations about starting a family together for a while, but neither of you had started planning it just yet. Mostly because you hadn’t gotten around to it. And you didn’t know if you could even carry Steve’s kid. For all either of you knew, the serum would carry onto your child. 

Natasha looked at her phone. 

“It’s time.”

With a shaky breath, you and Steve stood. However, you paused as you reached for the test. 

“Count me down.”

Steve chuckled softly, counting back from three. 

After one, you turned it over. 

Pregnant 3+ weeks

You felt yourself smile and laugh a little before showing Steve. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

Taking the test from your hands, Steve took one look at it before the water-works started. 

Nine months later, inside the Avengers compound, Natasha was walking with you. 

“Once they started arguing over what the manual said, I made a break for it.”

Tony had surprised you and Steve at your home and after an hour, Steve had wrangled him in to help build the crib. It was the final thing that needed to be built and since Steve had banned you from lifting heavy things since you had elected to ignore your midwife and pushed the crib from the living room and into the nursery. You couldn’t help. 

“Have you decided on a name yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“Well, I might be biassed but Natasha is a really good name.”

You laughed a little. “I’ll think about it.”

Natasha smiled, holding onto your hand as she helped you down one of the narrower steps. 

However, halfway around the building, you stopped. 

“Everything okay?”

You nodded. “Just a bit of cramp.”

But it wasn’t just cramp. 

Barely a second later, you felt water trail down your leg until there was a louder splash against the tiles. 

“Oh, shit.”

You looked down. “Oh, my god.”

“Okay, okay. We’re okay.”

You nodded, taking hold of her hand as she walked you down the hall. 

“Steve’s old room is just down the hall. Once we get you there-”

“Call him.”

“I know, I will.”

“No, call him now. Please.”

Twenty minutes later, Tony’s car was kicking gravel up and onto the windshield. Steve ran inside, nearly taking out a few employees on the way. 

Almost fifteen hours later, a healthy baby girl was delivered. 

With her in Steve’s arms, bundled in a fresh baby blanket, everyone stood around the bed. 

“Only took you a decade.”

Steve chuckled, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his daughter. And neither could you. 

And for almost four years, it was blissful. 

As your daughter grew up, Steve told her stories and showed her pictures of the 40s. Even at the age of three, she seemed wise beyond her years. 

Then one night, everything changed. 

Recently, she hadn’t been sleeping. So, lay in bed with you whilst Steve was still at work, you told her a few bedtime stories but when Steve came in an hour or so later, he found her still awake. 

“You should be asleep,” he whispered to her. 

“I tried. Mommy fell asleep, though.”

Steve looked over and smiled. “Come on, let your mom sleep.”

Picking his daughter up, Steve carried her down the hall, leaving his jacket on the bed beside you. Making sure to close the door behind him, Steve started to talk to his daughter. 

Their conversation eventually turned to someone from Steve’s past. 

“Daddy, whose that?”

Steve looked at the photo. It was him and Bucky during his army days, though both were out of uniform and in civilian clothing. There weren't many pictures of Bucky in normal clothes. 

“That’s Uncle Buck.”

“But he’s not in green.”

Steve chuckled. “You’re right, he’s not. That was when we were in London. Pinky, one of the Howling Commandos, decided to take us on a tour of London.”

“Wow.” 

She was awe-struck. 

“Does he know I was born?”

Steve felt a pang in his chest. “Maybe. I don’t know if he can hear me, but I’ve told him.”

“Would he like me?”

Steve smiled. “He’d love you.”

Kissing her temple, Steve sat down in one of the chairs. “Try and get some sleep.”

Steve himself must have fallen asleep because next thing he knew, you were waking him up. Your daughter was still fast asleep, he carried her to bed before you led him down the hall and he collapsed onto your shared bed. 

The next time he woke up that morning, everything you both knew was about to change. 

Time Travel. 

There was a chance everyone could be brought back. 

And after a long conversation, one that was overheard by your daughter who had been playing in the back garden with the family dog, Steve accepted what he had to do. 

“You and Aunty Nat will have pictures again.”

Handing Steve a slightly mud scattered, crinkled, crayon drawing; your daughter had drawn a picture with everyone on it. 

Herself, you, the dog, Steve, Nat, Bucky, Sam with his wings, Clint with his bow and arrow, Thor and his hammer, Tony, Bruce…the stick men with different items, standing on a green field with a corner sun, continued on and on. 

It was that night you kissed Steve and he said what could have been his final goodbye to your daughter. She held onto him tightly, telling him she loved him. The only thing that carried him on his feet was the thought of going through what Scott was. 

In the time he got stuck, he thought his daughter was gone. 

Steve would have done anything to get his daughter back. 

And it didn’t take much for him to remember the pain that washed through and over him when he thought he lost you. 

Scott, like many others, had lost someone they loved. So had Steve. But he hadn’t lost you, though he thought he did. 

People needed their families back. 

And that’s what they got. 

At the cost of Tony’s life. 

After everything had settled, you drove as fast as you could to find Steve. And you found him far outside of the Avengers compound, crouched on the floor. 

“Steve!? Steve!”

Looking up, he spotted you amongst the grey smoke. A shining light in the darkness. 

Running as fast as you could, you eventually reached him. 

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to know if you were okay. Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice was quiet. “He’s gone.”

“Gone? Who’s gone?”

Steve’s voice broke. “T-tony. Tony’s gone.”

“Oh, my god.”

As Steve hugged you, you held him as tightly as you could. He asked about your daughter. 

“She’s with my dad back home. She’s safe. She just needs a cuddle from her dad.”

Steve nodded. “I think I need one from her, too.”

Two weeks later, Steve brought Bucky and Sam home. 

“Honey, come here.” Your daughter ran to her dad’s side. “Sam, Buck. I’d like you to meet Aurora. Rory, honey, this is Sam and Bucky.”

Sam knelt down and shook her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, miss.”

Meanwhile, Bucky was in pure shock. Slowly, he knelt beside Sam and Bucky felt his life flash before his eyes. 

“Steve…she looks like your mom.”

As Rory studied Bucky, she decided to hug him. Sam smiled and so did you and Steve. And eventually Bucky hugged her back, frightened he might break her. 

“Can I show them my room?”

The consensus was yes and whilst Sam was dragged towards her bedroom, Rory shouting for you to follow, Bucky and Steve followed behind. 

Inside her room, her walls were covered in different pictures she’d drawn of the different stories Steve had told her. Of course, most of them were stick men, but the message was still clear. 

A week later, a funeral was held for Tony and the Stones had to be returned. 

Standing beside Bucky as Steve stood on the platform, Aurora stood and waited in between both of you. 

And in what was a few seconds later, Steve returned with Natasha by his side. 

Aurora gasped and bolted forward. 

“Aunty Nat!”

“Careful, kiddo.” Steve warned just before Aurora collided with her, but Natasha shook her head. 

“It’s okay.” 

Lifting her into her arms, she hugged her tightly.  

“You’re back.”

Natasha smiled. “Thanks to your dad.”

Looking at her dad, she smiled before hugging Natasha again. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Natasha nodded and carried Rory back towards you before everyone started running over. Meanwhile, you watched as Steve walked over to Sam. 

Ten minutes later, your daughter bolted from the crowd and towards her dad who was finally out of his protection suit. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Seeing you again, Steve kissed you before kissing Rory’s cheek. 

“Everything okay?”

Steve watched as Fury made his way over to Sam, and he smiled. 

“Everything’s good.”

Kissing you again, Steve smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For walking into that room when you did.” Steve told you. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to do something about it.”

You shook your head, looking from him to your daughter and back to him. “It happened when it was meant to.”

Steve smiled before he kissed you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tony was right; Steve found the life with you he’d always wanted, even if it did take him a decade to do something about it. 

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Hello! This might be a silly question, but I was curious if you have any future Hazbin/Helluva fics or ideas planned once transmissions is completed? Whether it be Drift or Vox & Al centric or otherwise? Absolutely no pressure of course, you do whatever makes you happy at your own time, I know you’ve sorta elaborated a little on it in other asks before but I wasn’t completely sure lol (everyone btw please go read these fics and give them traction! They are so so good!)

Awww, Anon <3 You got me all blushy now! Really though, glad you like my fics! Was actually in the middle of writing up the next Transmission chapter too, coincidentally <33

But yeah, actually I have a list of different ideas for more helluva/hazbin shenanigans, mostly taking place in the same verse! Haven't decided which to actually start penning yet, and maybe you guys could let me know what interests you the most! Here's a short synopsizes of the ones I had sorta outlined:

For those of you that have read Statistical Outliers, you might remember Vox mentioning an event called the Grand Exhibition, an annual ball that's thrown by overlords for overlords. You might also recall that there's a party that originally inspired that one, a goetia party which even Vox described as 'beyond exclusive'. Well, our media man himself warrants an invitation to this exclusive event, the first overlord personally invited since the one that started the overlord ball! But there's both pluses and minuses to be one of the only Sinners among an echelon of demons who, um, have their own agendas. I say one of because now that's Lucifer is back and trying to spread his wings more, his daughter convinces him to take some of the guests from the hotel as a plus one, or two, or six. Which may include, the the ire of the devil himself, our favorite radio host. Sad as it is to say, Vox might just be safer dancing with Alastor than rubbing elbows with this crowd.

That's the short synopsis but it's kinda a celebration of the hellverse as a whole. You might see some appearances from characters you might not suspect, like Drift, the Sins, famous goetia, and potentially a dysfunctional work family of imps ;)

Another idea actually branches off an initiative that Charlie comes up with, with the assistance of Emily, hoping to help bridge the gap between sinners and winners. And what better way to do that than a friendly interview where Sinners can apologize to the Winners that they may have been sent upstairs before their time. That's the pitch, anyways. In reality? Vox, master of television, is brought on board to help make this whole thing run smooth. And of course he plans on bending it all to his own benefit. Everything kinda gets derailed when the first interview ends up being Drift, meeting the man he hit on accident. And you know? The victim here might not act the way you'd think for an angel.

Aside from some more Drift and Vox interactions, this one was going to go into the kid's backstory in more detail, and kinda comment on the disbalance between judgement of Winners and Sinners. What separates one from the other? Sometimes, all it takes is one bad day. Or being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And Vox is over here looking to make this whole thing turn to his advantage.

On the more Helluva boss centered side of things, I do have a fic regarding Striker and his backstory. Written from the perspective of Striker's childhood best friend, its a story about the wilds of Wrath, where rugged childhood adventures turn to gritty adult drama. Its a rollercoaster, meant to show off how exactly Striker got to be who he was and introducing another character who is going to feature here and there throughout the intertwined webs of stories, my helluva oc, Wyld. This one is already written out quite a bit, nearly 200,000 words at this point, just never published. Wasn't sure there'd be much interest in it. Fair warning, this one gets dark in places because it's very much inspired by gritty realistic westerns, like Eastwood's Unforgiven.

Those are the ones on the docket right now, mostly because those are the ones I've outlined so far, but I'm always adding to it. For anyone interested in my fics, the first one is Statistical Outliers, which is where the main man of television meets a scrawny hairball by the name of Drift and takes it upon himself to, uh, rehome him. And why does it seem like Alastor's sticky fingers are involved in this somehow? The sequel, currently ongoing, is called Transmission Not Received , which is a mystery that forces a reluctant Alastor and Vox to work together to figure out who's running across Pentagram City and nabbing kids from right under their parents' noses in the dead of night.

Hoping to get the next chapter of Transmission up soonish and, boy, is it a doozey!

Either way, let me know what you guys think, maybe check out the fics if ya see something that interests you, and a special shout out back to Anon for making my day! <3

Thanks for the ask! <33

[sp00kymulderr]

Get to know your moots!

ty for tagging me beloveds @bonezone44 @morallyinept @perotovar 💕💕💕

What's the origin of your blog title? 'baby, I'm a giver' bc I am obsessed with The Giver and everything about Chappell's performance of it 🎀

OTP(s) + Shipname: I don't really ship these days, although my otp remains Bobby/Chrisjen from The Expanse bc they are v important to me and always will be 😍

Favourite colour: Pink I love pink, especially brights 🩷

Favourite game: I don't really play anything at the moment because I don't have a gaming console. I'm great at solitaire though 😆. Obsessed with Baldurs Gate 3 right now too, but only from watching playthroughs

Song stuck in your head: Juno by Sabrina Carpenter

Weirdest habit/trait? I'm one of those people who can't have different items on their plate touching, and almost always eats meals from worst thing on the plate to best. Is that weird?

Hobbies: 'Writing', weightlifting, reading

If you work, what's your profession? I work in higher education admin

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? I don't particularly dream of having a job, I dream of not having to work.

Something you're good at: ??? idk I guess I can be creative

Something you're bad at: Everything rn

Something you love: Pedro (duh), Dieter Bravo, aliens

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: Theatre (particularly West End theatre circa 2012 - 2016), Sci-fi, Dieter Bravo

Something you hate: Apart from the obvious? Hm, people who don't unload the bar after their sets (glaring at the guys in the gym who leave all their plates on the barbell after bench esp)

Something you collect: Hard Rock Cafe badges, postcards, I think I have enough vibrators now to say it's a collection 😅

Something you forget: To set my coffee machine on the timer so i have coffee ready in the morning

What's your love language? Words of affirmation

Favourite movie/show: Movie right now is probably Aliens, show is The Expanse (always)

Favourite food: I lovelovelove sushi

Favourite animal: Cats. Cats are the best ever.

What were you like as a child? Shy, quiet, bookish weirdo

Favourite subject at school? I always loved English lit the most

Least favorite subject? Maths

What's your best character trait? I think I'm kind and giving.

What's your worst character trait? I'm too quiet and too shy and too anxious

If you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? I would have ordered pizza and also not be in pain

If you could travel in time who would you like to meet? Maybe Christopher Isherwood, or maybe Octavia Butler

Recommend one of your favourite fanfics (spread the love!): Just one! hmm, there are so many incredible fics in this fandom but I think maybe for me one of the greatest of all time is into the beat of the night by @perotovar - it means so much to me to see an non-binary characther featured in a story with a Pedro boy, and i know it does for others too. I think Erin writes about their relationship beautifully and there's clearly a lot of care and thought put into it (even though i am sososo behind on my reading of it still I'm sorry ilysm)

Tagging lovely moots to do this! (Sorry if you've already done it!) @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @missredherring @grogusmum @ghotifishreads

@amanitacowboy @quinnnfabrgay-writes @for-a-longlongtime @qveerthe0ry @seventeenpins

@javier-pena @nothoughtsjustmeds @jessthebaker @whatsnewalycat @whocaresstillthelouvre

[arthurpendragonsass]

yk there's a lot of talk about the way merlin is practically a god but lives as an unassuming servant, and seeing this surprises druids/other magic users. i wanna see kind of the same thing happen to arthur with the people of his kingdom. we know arthur so intimately, from merlin's pov, but i wanna see him as a living legend. stories of his valor spreading across land, blown out of proportion and missing details. “the prince slayed the great dragon and gifted its head to the king!” “some say the goddess blessed him when he was born, when she took the queen back. how else does one survive an attack by a questing beast?” “he held out his hand and the sword stuck in solid stone flew to him! iwan says meredith’s aunt saw it herself!” “the word has come, king arthur defeated annis’ champion—a giant of a man!” old men discussing arthur’s policies, comparing them with those of previous rulers, and being glad that it's him on the throne “finally, a good fucking king.” people having faith that their ruler is generous and fair and can be approached in times of need, and having the comforting knowledge that he would do his best to help because that's what he did with the other village last year! young boys dreaming to join his army and young girls daydreaming about a fairy tale ending with him (or vice versa, obv). just... arthur of his people.

what I'm saying is i want an outsider pov character study of arthur pendragon king of camelot. hope that helps

[uncleardyn]

(alan wake-gravity falls crossover) man i love that character. you know, the deeply paranoid author who made a pact with a dark entity that ultimately ended with him stranded in another dimension separated from his loved ones for years at a time? takes place in the pacific northwest? has twin imagery associated with him and a reoccurring specific piece of symbology related to the unfortunate situation they're in? doesn't ever explain the reasoning behind his actions and instead just kinda goes "bro trust me"? yeah he also wears an outer layer of clothing with elbow pads on it, that one.

[triglycercule]

dust and horror angel and demon themes,,,, they could totally parallel each other...... :3

dust=angel of death described in the delta rune prophecy (self declared) (i DEFINITELY elaborated on this one waayyyy before but anyways dust with a fucked up savior complex SAVE ME SAVE ME.... death is a blessing ass guy. life is torment and he will be the one to liberate monsters from their bodies and with the strength they provide to him be able to take down evil evil creation of pure misery that is the human ✨✨✨ dont worry his evil cackles are to HIDE HIS PAIN of saving everyone....... trust)

horror=demon that dragged everyone in horrortale into hell (as perceived by everyone else) (i think it would be a cool hc if everyone outside of snowdin viewed horror as literally a demon. maybe undyne preaches that. anyone outside of snowdin might be WAYYY worse because they starve for longer and literally take part in cannibalism so they might not have the same sort of mild sanity that snowdin residents do,,,, besides he DID kinda bring them all eternal suffering. kinda. nobody but undyne knows what happened at the core so she could totally just paint the story to blame horror fully)

ANYWAYS i like the possible dynamics this could have :333

dust to horror (please let me kill you PLEASE let me kill you i can end it all so peacefully wouldn't it be nice??? i promise ill make it quick just for you),,, horror to dust (i want you to live and suffer with what youve done i want you to watch all of your choices hit you one day and i'll be there and laugh at you. i'll keep you alive just to keep you suffering ok?)

OR dust to horror (you dont deserve to die you dont deserve to even be hurt by me. not because youre the exception but youre the Exception i absolutely loathe you so youll never get the sweet release of death :3) and horror to dust (just let me die already i dont wanna be here. youre supposed to be a savior right??? an angel?? then why don't you save me already when i need it more than anyone else)

[citrlet]

last night i actually got back into writing after probably a year? of not having any motivation to and it's so exciting but god i'm so rusty akfjdks

[cyronite]

im so used to how finely curated my fandom experience is with star wars that im actually suffering trying to navigate the fallout fandom rn.

[destiel-wings]

context: I'm writing a LONG wip (should be 55 chapters, an actual epic story with action and plot though romantic destiel filter) and I'm thinking about when i should start posting it. Generally I'd want to finish first and post afterwards, so i can update regularly and not be distracted from the actual writing, but it's gonna take me way too long to finish it (like two years realistically??) so I'm thinking maybe i might start posting it before, even if less regularly? So i can share it with you earlier and you can engage with me as i write it?

[designernishiki]

You asked for a fic rec so I’ll toss this one at ya: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46767358?view_full_work=true Stick through the formatting for the characterization, tone, and really the whole vibe of this fic. I haven’t been able to get the bathroom call between Daigo and Majima out of my head for weeks since I read it with how naturally it all flows. My own little Daigo characterization booklet to review when I feel like I need a refresher on him.

so I may have stayed up until 6am reading this (would’ve slept earlier but I couldn’t stop reading it) and hgggahaghhhhaggahshhhhhhhh that was one of the most well-characterized fics I’ve ever read what the fuck. like the differences in how each character speaks (both tone-wise and in differing levels of authenticity) and how they speak to specific others (the daigo and majima dyanmic specifically- how they actually take into account how long they’ve been working really closely- SO good), the mental anguish and chaos vs the overwhelming emptiness of being daigo dojima but no longer The 6th Chairman Daigo Dojima……….I could keep going but I think you get it.

tbh I’d been wanting to write something exploring a similar set of dynamics/situation (post-kiryu’s fake death, interactions with haruka, daigo, and/or majima specifically, reflecting on his shortcomings while acknowledging the heavy Grief left behind) but now I’m like. well I still could but this was so well written in regards to daigo and haruka that, as far as something between those two goes, I don’t feel the need to.

thanks for the recommendation! my brain is broken now (affectionate)