#this happened yesterday and it was like i was hypnotized | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yannawayne · 4 months ago

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viii. a little death

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: MILD SMUT (will put indicators if people want to skip), Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Suggestive jokes, Doppelgangers AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

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 ༻⊰───⋅

The black of his suit bleeds seamlessly into the surrounding darkness, making him appear more phantom than man.

He looks like a living nightmare.

Damian lifts his head just in time to see Batman towering over you, his cape billowing ominously in the night breeze. A cold chill runs down Damian's spine as dread settles heavy in his chest. Of all people, his father was the last person he wanted to find him here like this—vulnerable, exposed, and with you.

Reacting on pure instinct, Damian scrambles to his feet, positioning himself firmly between you and the Dark Knight.

"Father." Damian’s voice is low but steady, though the weight of what’s happening lingers in every syllable. His mind races, knowing that Batman doesn’t recognize you in your vigilante form and likely believes he's cheating on you.

To Batman, this looks like betrayal.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 12:13 AM - Stark Tower, Gotham City.

The rhythmic clacking of a keyboard filled the room, a steady, almost hypnotic sound that gently tugged you from sleep. You stirred, the tangled sheets wrapping around you like a cozy cocoon. Damian’s strong arms were draped around your shoulders and waist, his warmth a comforting presence as he held you close.

As he shifted slightly, his fingers traced absentminded patterns along your back, a tender caress that sent a soft shiver of relaxation down your spine. You groaned softly, turning towards him and resting your head against his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was a soothing, rhythmic pulse, grounding you in the comfort of his embrace.

Across the room, Morgan was propped up at your desk, her messy hair pulled back with a headband, though a few stray tendrils had escaped and framed her face in an untidy halo. Her eyes were fixed intently on the laptop screen, where a Google document was open, filled with lines of text that seemed to flow endlessly. In her free hand, she cradled a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma wafting through the room and mingling with the faint scent of the morning air.

After returning to the tower yesterday, you and Damian had practically slept through the entire morning—this one, however...

You groaned, burying your cheek deeper into the pillow as you tried to block out the light from the laptop and her typing.

“You bitch. Do you ever sleep?” you grumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your hand.

Morgan gave you a lopsided grin, the steam from her coffee curling around her face like a comforting fog. “Sleep? What’s that?”

You rolled onto your back, stretching your limbs. “That’s usually my line.”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “I know. Just kinda hyper tonight,” she said, her fingers dancing across the keyboard as she continued typing.

"By the way,” she hummed thoughtfully, “what kinks do you think Nightcrawler would have?"

"..."

You could feel Damian’s confusion even before he spoke. "Excuse me?" he blinked at her, squinting as if he’d misheard. “Why on earth would you ask that? And why now, of all times?” “I’m writing fanfic,” she replied matter-of-factly, still typing away. “Ooh! You’re her boyfriend. What kind of freaky stuff do you think her hero-sona would be into?”

You stifled a laugh, propping yourself up on one elbow to enjoy the show. “Choking kink.”

Damian, who had been leaning against the headboard, choked on his own spit. His eyes widened in shock, and his face turned a deep crimson. “What?!”

“Don’t play dumb,” you snickered, reveling in the way his skin turned redder by the second. “I know you knew this one.”

Morgan’s gaze flickered between you two, her expression momentarily blank, though a hint of something inscrutable flashed in her eyes before she quickly shook it off. She returned to her typing, the clacking of keys filling the room once more.

“That’s so basic,” she huffed, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Give me a better one. I need something with a little more flair.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Bondage, then. Webs, remember?”

Damian's face turned an even deeper shade of red at the mention of webs, his mind clearly racing to process the suggestion.

Morgan’s fingers paused mid-keystroke as she considered your suggestion. A slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. “Web bondage? Now that’s more like it,” she said, quickly typing it in. “I can work with that.”

“I’m surrounded by lunatics,” he muttered.

Morgan grinned wickedly. “Lunatics, maybe, but this is going to be one hell of a fic. And don’t worry, Dames, I’ll make sure Robin gets some action too.”

He shot her a glare. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“There are ships of us already?” you blink, surprised.

Morgan coughs into her hand, an odd twist in her face. “There are ships of everyone these days. People have imaginations that just don’t quit. "

“I had no idea,” you said, blinking in surprise. “What do they call it? SpideyBird? WebWing?”

Damian looked genuinely disgusted. “Why do they even need a name for it? Why are people spending time on this?”

You patted Damian’s shoulder reassuringly, trying to lighten the mood. “At least they’re rooting for us to be together, right?”

Morgan just shrugged off Damian’s reaction and continued to write. “The fanfics of you are pretty fresh. Only around a hundred works so far, but the edits…” She trailed off, her fingers fumbling for her phone with a mischievous grin.

Groaning, you shut your eyes as Morgan’s grin widened.

“Do not show me—” you began, but before you could finish, the audio started blaring from her phone.

Well, come and get it now Come and get it now Baby, show me what you're doing Come and turn around 'Cause it's not just a figure of speech You got me down on my knees It's getting harder to breathe out

“MORGAN!”

She looked up, grinning widely as if she’d been waiting for this exact reaction.

“What?” she laughed, thoroughly enjoying the moment. “You can’t tell me this hot.”

Curiosity got the better of you, and despite your better judgment, you peeked at the screen. The video was a shaky close-up, showing you leaning against a car, your hair tousled and your armor cracked. You were breathing heavily, your head thrown back.

The camera zoomed in slowly, and the lyrics that accompanied it were dramatic and overly romantic, turning the entire scene into something far more intimate than it had ever been. You could almost understand why someone might find it “hot,” but that didn’t stop the wave of embarrassment from flooding through you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “That is horrible. I was literally on the brink of death. Was that from last night?” “Yeah,” Morgan nodded as she replayed the clip. “Your fans ate it up. Apparently, it’s going viral.”

Damian, who had been eerily silent throughout the entire exchange, finally broke his silence. “Where is that on?”

You immediately yanked your hands away from your face, your eyes wide with disbelief. “No. Don’t even think about it.”

“Tiktok,” Morgan answered casually, a hint of mischief in her tone. To your horror, Damian pulled out his phone

“Don’t you dare!” you warned, but it was too late. Damian was already typing your codename into the search bar.

As the search results loaded, an edit began to play, and you felt your face flush with heat. The chosen song only seemed to amplify the humiliation.

Touch me, yeah I want you to touch me there Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human

Damian, smirked, liked the video, and saved it.

“STOP!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 8:06 AM - Gotham City.

"..."

"Why—"

"Don't—" you seethed, sinking deeper into the plush leather seat of Tony’s limousine. The soft leather creaked under your weight as you clenched the armrest, your knuckles turning white. "Don’t even say a word."

Damian pressed his lips together, suppressing a smirk.

His gaze drifted over your outfit—no, the uniform you’d been practically forced into. The Stark Industries cap perched on your head was like a crown of corporate shame, its logo glaring down at you from the brim. Your shirt clung uncomfortably to your torso, the bold emblem stretched so tightly across your chest it might as well have been tattooed on. Even your sneakers were branded with that obnoxious red logo.

You felt like a sellout.

“You look stunning,” Damian said, barely holding back a laugh as he glanced over at you from his seat across the limo.

“Stunning?!” You shot him a scowl, the edges of your mouth twitching downward. “I look ridiculous!”

“Why didn’t you just wear—”

“I couldn’t!” you snapped, jabbing a finger at Morgan. “This fucking ginger goblin threw my clothes out! Now I’m stuck as a goddamn billboard!”

“Oh, boo-fucking-hoo," she mocked, turning to you from her spot in the limo, sprawled comfortably on the cushions. Her fingers casually brushed against the plush fabric as she spoke, “Don’t shoot the messenger. Dad’s idea, not mine. He wanted you to have a ‘fresh look.’”

You turned to Tony, who was lounging at the far edge of the limo, his dress shoes propped up against one of the seats. He was absorbed in his phone, mindlessly scrolling through this week’s gossip. Occasionally, he chuckled to himself, completely oblivious to the steam practically pouring out of your ears.

Fighting the urge to choke-slam him right then and there, you spoke up “What the hell is this all for, anyways?”

Tony peered up from his phone and grinned, “Oh, come on. It’s a marketing move. There’s going to be paparazzi and everything. We thought it’d be fun to put you in our new line of promotional gear.”

“Fun? You think this is fun?!”

“It’s not like we’re asking you to wear spandex,” Morgan snickered, her eyes drifting to meet Damian’s. He shot her a glare in response. “It’s just a little branding.”

“I’d almost rather be wearing spandex,” you grumble, pressing your cheek to the cool glass of the window. Your breath fogs up the surface, creating a clouded view of the city beyond.

Morgan whistles. "That's a sight I'd love to see."

You roll your eyes. The cityscape outside rushes by, a blur of towering buildings and streaks of light blending into a hazy, indistinct swirl. Outside, the world seems distant, almost unreal, as if you're moving too fast to truly grasp any of it.

“By the way, you’re going to hate me, but…” Morgan spoke up again, reaching into her bag. “I also brought a jacket.” She held out a sleek, branded jacket that perfectly matched the rest of the outfit.

You slammed your head into the glass and vowed to burn every Stark-branded item you owned.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 8:14 AM - Wayne Tower, Gotham City.

Bruce wondered if it was too late to file for unemployment.

He sat at the head of the conference table, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the middle-aged man droning on in a monotone voice. The man's garish mustard-yellow tie jerked awkwardly with each exaggerated gesture, as if trying to bring some life to the dull presentation. His glasses, too large for his face, inched down his nose with every movement, threatening to fall off completely.

“—as you've all been aware, we've been facing issues regarding our stolen drone flight technology due to criminal activity in the—”

The slides projected onto the screen, filled with graphs and charts, were melding into an endless stream of data that felt like it was slowly turning his brain into mush. Bruce barely registered them. Instead, his mind was a million miles away, lost in a fog. He let his attention drift to the ceiling tiles, idly counting the tiny imperfections as the briefing continued.

TICK. TOK. TICK. TOK.

He glanced at his watch, stifling a groan as he saw only a few painful minutes had passed since he last checked. The meeting, as usual, felt like a slog, but today was particularly grueling.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the text he received last night. Damian had invited him to your dress shop appointment today, telling him he would be covering the bill. Without a second thought, Bruce agreed and sent his card over—and if Alfred hadn’t intervened, he might have ended up buying out the entire boutique in his enthusiasm.

Could you blame him?

Much like Selina, you were stubbornly independent—always managing on your own, even when you needed support. It was a trait that made him proud, but it also left him wishing he could be more involved in your life.

If Bruce were a better man, less emotionally constipated as he often chastised himself, he might have reached out more. He might have asked if you needed to talk, offered his support more openly, and bridged the gap that seemed to widen with each passing year.

But he wasn’t that man. He was the one who held back, kept his feelings guarded, and let the distance grow because he didn’t know how to close it.

Adding salt to the wound, Stark would be there too, intruding on what should have been his time with you.

An absolute diva. That man had a way of dominating any room, leaving little space for anything—or anyone—else. It wasn’t just Tony’s overwhelming presence that irked Bruce, but how effortlessly Stark seemed to connect with you.

In just a few months, Tony had managed to get closer to you than Bruce had in years. Where Bruce held back, Tony leaned in, closing the gap he couldn’t seem to bridge.

To make matters worse, Stark had already gotten a head start. Although Bruce would have loved to pick you up himself, he was stuck in this meeting he couldn’t cancel again—he’d already rescheduled it thirteen times.

Which is why, the moment the clock hit 12, he was already on his feet, pushing his chair back and making a beeline for the door.

"Sir, we still need to discuss—" mustard tie stuttered, but his protest was cut short as Bruce, without turning or breaking his stride, raised a hand and dismissed him with a flick of the wrist.

“Contact my secretary if you need anything,” Bruce called over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for debate. The matter was closed.

“I’ll handle whatever needs to be done tonight,” he said, shutting the door firmly behind him.

And he would. Bruce had already gathered a significant amount of data on Black Mask and the recent robberies plaguing Wayne Enterprises. Although the case had taken a backseat amid the chaos with the spider vigilante, it was time to refocus. The priority now was to tackle what truly needed his attention.

As he stormed through the hallways, the lens of a nearby CCTV camera tracked his movements.

The camera’s feed flickered momentarily. The image on the screen sputtered and glitched, revealing fleeting glimpses of different worlds—flashes of varying times and places. Colors bled into one another, shapes twisted and warped, and for a brief, disorienting moment, the image seemed to fracture, as if reality itself was breaking apart.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the glitching ceased. The feed stabilized, leaving only a faint trace of the anomaly that had briefly unsettled the surveillance system.

Bruce jabbed the button for the ground floor and slid into the elevator.

The lens refocused, but he was already out of sight.

 ༻⊰───⋅

The vehicle glided to a stop in front of a gleaming marble building, and you all stepped out, heading toward the entrance. The interior was as opulent as the exterior promised. Marble floors gleamed underfoot, and glass walls reflected the polished attendants who moved gracefully in their sharp suits. Nearby, customers mingled and laughed, their designer outfits adding vibrant splashes of color to the sleek surroundings.

Your attention was drawn to the sleek signage behind the lobby desk, where a name was displayed in elegant gold lettering.

“La Ouvere.”

French. Expensive. So luxurious it practically oozed excess. Because, of course, this was the place Tony chose.

Grumbling, you adjusted your cap to hide your face.

You couldn’t believe he made you wear company merch to a place like this.

CLAP.

You looked up just in time to see two rough hands slam together in a handshake, the sound sharp and echoing through the lobby like a gunshot. Tony and Bruce exchanged pleasantries, their faces stretched into wide, almost painfully forced grins.

"Bruce! Good to see you," Tony started, his voice oozing with practiced charm. "I’ve got to say, I am a huge fan of your recent striptease at the Iceberg Lounge."

"Ha." Bruce’s reply was tight-lipped. "Tony. Always a pleasure."

The handshake lingered a beat too long, both men gripping each other’s hands like they were trying to see who could squeeze the other’s bones into dust first, daring the other to flinch.

Bruce placed a hand on your shoulder with a fatherly air. “I’m glad you saw great potential in her. I’ve always known her to be quite the achiever from a young age.”

Tony wasn’t about to let that go uncontested. He quickly slid his other hand onto your shoulder, “Well, if anyone’s been pushing the limits and achieving great things, it’s definitely been her.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And it’s all thanks to the support system. After all, it’s not just about talent but the environment that nurtures it.” He gave your shoulder a pat, adding, “Despite the struggles, her aunt raised her well—you just get to reap the benefits. Haha. Not everyone can rely on billion-dollar labs to get ahead.”

“Well, thanks to me,” Tony says, giving your shoulder a shake (again with the shoulders thing.) “I’d say she’s got plenty of both now.”

The testosterone in this room was so thick you could practically taste it.

“Alright,” you shake your head, gently removing their hands from your shoulders. “Lovely. Nice. Wow. Can we like, go inside now?”

Tony tossed you a quick glance and said, “Right. Lead the way.”

Bruce gave a curt nod. “Of course. After you.”

They both reached for the door handle at the same time, their fingers colliding in an awkward, fumbling dance. For a split second, they froze, locking eyes with a mutual glare.

Seconds dragged on, feeling like hours. Neither man budged. Their hands, now tangled together in a bizarre and clumsy struggle, seemed locked in an absurd standoff. Tony’s fingers began to subtly shift, attempting a stealthy maneuver to slip underneath Bruce’s grip. But Bruce wasn’t having any of it. With a deliberate twist of his wrist, he countered Tony’s advance, blocking the move with a firm slam.

Another minute stretched out, each second heavier than the last.

You couldn’t take it any longer.

“Are you two having a staring contest?”

"..."

Tony blinked first, cursing softly under his breath. Bruce’s smirk broadened, twice as smug than usual.

“Oh my god. Just move!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration. “We’re here to shop, remember?”

The two men released the door handle simultaneously as if startled out of their petty contest. Tony stepped aside with a flourish, giving a dramatic sweep of his arm. “After you, mademoiselle.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

“These are the choices given to you by Mister Stark and Mister Wayne. Social event, oui?” the attendant says, her tone professionally neutral despite the clearly forced, fake French accent. She smooths down your black undershirt, ensuring it's perfectly straight before presenting the options.

She holds up the first suit: “Deep scarlet. Rich, saturated color—like fine wine. A luxurious wool blend. Two-piece. Tapered trousers, invisible stitching. Streamlined silhouette. French cuffs.”

Then she displays the second option: “Now, dark silk. Smooth, so smooth—like velvet in night. Classic sheen, very elegant. Three-piece. Also with tapered trousers, invisible stitching. Slim silhouette. Barrel cuffs.”

With a smile, she adds, “Both have their own magic, non? What shall you choose for the grand affair?”

“Uh,” you gape like the peasant you were, eyes darting between the two suits which seem nearly identical apart from their color. You barely caught onto the details the attendant pointed out.

As you wrestle with your decision, snippets of the conversation between the two men outside drift through the curtain.

“Sometimes, a classic black suit just gets the job done,” Bruce interjected. “It’s timeless and professional, never out of place.”

Tony retorted, “Oh, sure, blending into the background is so exciting. Why not go for red—loud, in-your-face, and impossible to ignore? It’s a damn statement.”

Bruce’s voice grew sharper. “I don’t know if you’re the right guy to make that call, considering the atrocity you dressed her in today,” he said, gesturing toward the Stark Industries merch discarded on the couch in the dressing room.

“Uh, says the guy who thinks monochrome is the pinnacle of fashion. Please, get real asshole. This is a hell of a lot better than your boring black blobs. Grow up.”

“You grow up,” Bruce shot back.

You roll your eyes and spot another suit hung up on a nearby wall—a deep emerald green. “What’s that one?”

The attendant perks up. “Ah, cette tenue! I apologize, it slipped my mind. This one was provided by the young gentleman with you. I should have mentioned it earlier.”

She holds the suit up to your chest, carefully examining the fit and adjusting the sleeve to ensure it drapes just right.

“Three-piece suit with pattern. Jacket is single-breasted, notch lapels, welt pocket. The trousers are flat-front, slim fit, with sharp crease. The vest has five buttons, V-neckline, tailored fit. Very technical, very structured.”

You nod, satisfied. “This one. I like this.”

“Oh, magnifique! Excellent choice!”

She quickly helps you into the suit. First, she slides on the vest, adjusting the straps at the back for a snug fit. Next, she drapes the jacket over your shoulders, smoothing out the fabric and aligning the lapels. Finally, she fastens the trousers, making sure the fit is right and the sharp crease is aligned.

You step out from behind the curtains, and every eye in the room locks onto you.

Morgan's face drops. “She chose the puke color.”

"Wow. Thanks. Really feeling the support here," you scoff, adjusting the sleeves.

Turning to Damian, you raise an eyebrow, and it's only then that he truly registers what he's seeing. His expression softens gradually as he takes you in. The hard lines of his face are still there, but now they seem gentler, softened.

You give him a small smile—nothing grand, just a subtle curve of your lips. But you know that even the smallest smile from you is enough to unravel him.

He watches, mesmerized, as you twirl slightly in front of the mirror. The suit hugs your figure perfectly, accentuating every curve.

“This was the boyfriend's pick," you say, flicking and straightening the lapels. Morgan's head snaps up. "I picked it because it matches his eyes, and honestly, I couldn't deal with your guys' arguing any longer.”

"Tt," Damian’s lips curl into a smirk, and he gestures for you to come closer. You step to his side, feeling the warmth of his hand as it rests gently over yours. With a subtle twist of your wrist, your fingers intertwine naturally, fitting together like they've always did.

Tony huffs, shaking his head. “Alright, well, whatever makes you happy. You look snug as a bug, kid.”

“Uh. Arachnid. Not a bug,” you correct him.

Bruce blinks in confusion, his brow furrowing as he tries to make sense of the interaction, clearly missing the joke.

He shakes his head and gestures to a waiting attendant, who approaches with a tray holding three boxes. The attendant opens the first box, revealing a necklace that catches the light and glints brightly. They lift it out, its shine almost blinding, and place it carefully on the counter.

“If you'd like,” Bruce smiles, “I’ve also picked out some accessories for you.”

The attendant then moves to the next box, lifting the lid to reveal a set of matching earrings, which they arrange neatly on the counter. They proceed to the third box, opening it to reveal a bracelet that sparkles just as intensely as the necklace. The attendant sets everything out with careful movements, arranging the pieces in a neat row.

You hold the necklace up to the light, blinded. “This is... a lot of sparkle.”

Turning to the attendant, you ask, “What’s the damage?”

“The necklace is priced at $250,000,” they say with a smile that’s more tightrope than genuine. “The earrings are $150,000, and the bracelet is $300,000.”

You blink, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, the numbers swirling in your head.

“What the actual fuck?” you blurt out, carefully setting the necklace back in its box with the reverence of someone handling a live grenade. “That’s… definitely not in my budget.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just money. If the price is too much, I can always—”

Bruce cuts him off with a grunt. “No need. I already have the check ready.”

"What?!" You turn to Bruce, shaking your head. “No! No one is buying me more than the suit! I appreciate the gesture, but this is way too overboard.”

"It's not that much, beloved," Damian hums, reaching for the earrings and holding them up to your face. "The necklace I bought you for your 18th cost twice of these combined."

Your eye twitches in disbelief. “You... you told me it was of ‘reasonable price.’”

“It was.”

“How much did you pay?!”

Damian remains silent, avoiding your eyes.

“Damian. Thomas. Wayne—”

Before you can finish, Damian calls over one of the attendants with a casual wave. “Excuse me? We’ll take all of this.”

The attendant, looking a bit taken aback but eager to please, nodded quickly and began arranging the items. You stared at Damian, your eyes practically burning and searing a hole through his stupid undercut.

“You can’t be serious!”

Damian simply smirked, leaning closer. “Consider it a small gesture for someone who’s worth every penny.”

As you continued bickering, Morgan’s gaze lingered on the scene, her chest tightening with an unsettling, heavy feeling. She could feel something bitter and heavy rising in her chest, and she turned her eyes away, hoping that if she didn’t see it, she could ignore the way it made her feel, that gnawing ache she wished she could forget.

But then she heard your voice, soft and inviting.

"Morgan?"

It was like a lifeline, pulling her back to the present. She turned to you, forcing herself to meet your gaze.

"Can you tell them that I do not need this?" you asked with a groan, your smile radiating warmth. It was the kind of smile that could light up any room, even as your eyes drifted to the glimmering jewelry with exasperation. “They’re completely insane.”

Morgan forced a small smile of her own, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and shrugged slightly.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I think they’re onto something. You’re worth every penny. More than any of this could ever show.”

The words came out easy enough, but underneath, she could feel the bittersweet edge of them, something she kept buried deep where no one could see.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 10:24 PM - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

Shot through the heart and you're to blame Darling, you give love a bad name An angel's smile is what you sell You promised me heaven, then put me through hell

Music played from her speakers. The lab was dimly lit, illuminated only by the soft glow of various screens and the occasional flicker of a monitoring light. Morgan sat at her workstation, the faint blue light of the holographic display casting a ghostly glow on her face. She was surrounded by a sea of tools, schematics, and half-finished projects, but her attention was miles away from the work at hand.

The thought of how you looked at Damian earlier haunts her deep into the night.

Morgan’s fingers tapped absently on the console, her gaze distant and unfocused. She tried to lose herself in her work, hoping the details of her projects would distract her from the ache in her chest. But every time she glanced up at the screen, it felt as if her mind was dragging her back to that moment.

It didn't take a genius to see that she had feelings for you.

Woah, you're a loaded gun, yeah Oh, there's nowhere to run No one can save me, the damage is done

On the screen, the potency of the toxin you were exposed to a day ago was being processed. Ivy's old journal lay open in front of Morgan, serving as a reference for comparison.

As she scanned the data, a troubling pattern began to emerge. The readings were unstable, fluctuating wildly and suggesting incomplete or inconsistent results. Hours melted away as Morgan poured over the data, her eyes darting between the fluctuating graphs and the notes in the journal.

An odd, unknown element kept appearing in the results. It was an anomaly.

"This is not supposed to be here...?" Morgan mumbled, scratching at her head.

The journal’s pages fluttered as she flipped through them, desperately searching for any mention of similar anomalies or clues that might explain the glitch. Ivy’s notes were dense with technical jargon and cryptic observations, but none of it seemed to align with the strange data she was seeing on her screen.

BEEP.

Morgan’s head perked up, her attention snapping back to the screen. The familiar, rhythmic pulse of data had been interrupted by a sudden alert.

Element Detected: 𝑜̥̊⃝𝑠̥̊⃝𝑏̥̊⃝𝑜̥̊⃝𝑟̥̊⃝𝑛̥̊⃝

She squinted at the glitching display. The screen flickered and distorted, displaying an unfamiliar string of characters. The text was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

The computer screen continued to flicker violently, lines of code merging into chaotic patterns. Cursing under her breath, Morgan fought to stabilize the screen. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, desperately trying to recalibrate the system.

After a tense few moments, she managed to clear the worst of the glitching. The flickering subsided, and the screen settled into a more manageable state.

Was that someone trying to hack in? The thought crossed her mind with a jolt.

She scrutinized the security logs, reviewed firewall activity, and cross-referenced access records, but found no concrete evidence of a breach. The logs were clear. Everything seemed normal—no unauthorized access, no signs of tampering.

But the unknown element was still there, stubbornly staring back at her from the screen.

Morgan ran her tongue over her teeth, a habit of hers when deep in thought.

Alright. So. Every sci-fi movie warns against messing with unknown chemicals. And this is definitely one of those “don’t touch” moments. But what’s life without a little risk? Besides, it’s not like she hasn’t faced weird before.

Problem was… the data on her screen right now was like trying to read a recipe from a cookbook that had been chewed up by a dog—completely useless. If she wanted answers, she’d have to get a closer look.

Morgan quickly set up a new data extraction protocol, isolating the unknown element. The process was slow and tense, but gradually, the substance began to take shape on the screen, its properties becoming clearer with each passing minute.

Once she had successfully isolated the element, she moved on to the next phase: synthesizing it into a serum. With a gloved hand, she carefully heated a glass flask on a burner and began adding the unknown element to the mix, watching as the contents started to react.

The silence was abruptly shattered by a sharp crack that split the air. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock as she saw thee glass flask on the burner shatter into jagged pieces. The once-clear liquid inside had turned into a dark, burned residue, and what was left was a blackened crust coating the inside of the flask.

"Great. Just great," Morgan muttered under her breath. She reached for the shattered glassware, cradling it gingerly in her hand. But as she did, something bizarre began to happen—the flask itself seemed to glitch.

The glass started to flicker and warp as if it were a malfunctioning image. It shimmered and pulsed with an otherworldly light, surface fading in and out of focus, struggling to maintain its form.

"What the fuck?"

Her eyes stayed glued onto the flask. The constant flickering was starting to give her a headache, a dull throbbing that grew more intense with each passing second. She squinted, hoping to stabilize her vision, but the distortions only seemed to worsen.

Amid her growing confusion, she started to hear faint whispers—strange, disjointed voices that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The whispers were so low she could barely make out their words, but their presence added to the sense of disorientation that was creeping in.

An unexpected impulse tugged at her—a sudden, inexplicable urge to take the serum. Her hand trembled slightly as she considered the syringe lying on the nearby counter, a dark thought creeping into her mind.

She stared at the flask, her gaze mad.

A part of her wanted to see what would happen if she followed through with the intrusive thought.

Then, in a sudden, jarring shift, the erratic glitching reached a peak. The flask’s distortion became so intense that Morgan could barely make out its shape. She snapped back to reality, jolted by the sheer intensity of it all. Her senses were overwhelmed, the whispers louder now, almost shouting in her mind.

In shock, her hand lost its grip. The flask slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor, the blackened remnants scattering across the lab.

CRASH!

The sudden noise of breaking glass cut through the disorienting haze, and Morgan’s breath came in ragged gasps as she stared at the mess before her.

The strange impulse had vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.

The glitching that had plagued the flask started to spread outward, expanding like a ripple through the air. Her eyes widened in disbelief as the distortion grew larger, forming a swirling vortex in the center of the lab.

The portal-like disturbance expanded further, and out of it, a shadowy figure began to emerge. First, it was just a hand, reaching through the glitching void. It grasped at the air, solidifying into a more defined shape. Morgan's heart raced as the figure pulled itself further into the lab.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, as the figure's hand closed around her arm. The touch was cold and otherworldly, sending a shiver down her spine. She struggled against the grip, her heart pounding as she tried to pull away.

With a sudden, violent shove, the figure tossed her back. Morgan crashed into her workstation, slamming painfully into a shelf, sending tools and equipment clattering to the floor.

Her eyes darted back to the figure, now fully emerging from the glitching portal.

The intruder was clad in dark green armor, nearly black in the dim light, with a purple shawl draped over their shoulders and a hood shadowing their face. They wore goggles and a mask that concealed their features, lending them a menacing, almost robotic aura. Despite their height and build matching Morgan’s, there was a palpable strength in their movements, an unspoken threat in the way they stood.

The portal behind them flickered and closed, sealing off the strange rift from which they had emerged.

Morgan scrambled to her feet, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself as she faced the intruder.

“Who the fuck are you?!” she demanded. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she stood her ground, ready to fight if she had to.

The masked figure remained silent, their gaze—hidden behind those reflective goggles—locked onto Morgan. They slowly tilted their head down, taking in the sight of the shattered remnants scattered across the lab floor.

Morgan followed their gaze and noticed the scattered pieces of a hoverboard. She recognized it immediately from the fragmented components. The design was eerily similar to the one she had in development herself—a project that had been pushed to the back burner.

The intruder’s attention then shifted to the broken glass and the unknown element still displayed on her screen. A soft click of disapproval escaped from behind the mask as the figure nudged the broken hoverboard aside with a booted foot.

“Shame,” they murmured, their voice low and laced with something almost like regret. “I came a minute too early... You should have taken that serum first. You were supposed to. It would have made this easier for both of us.”

Morgan swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what they meant, but she didn’t want to find out. The figure took another step closer, closing the distance between them.

“Who are you?” Morgan pressed. “And how did you even know about that?”

The figure paused, considering her for a moment before answering. “Who I am isn’t important. What matters is what you could have been—what you were supposed to become.”

Morgan’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of the cryptic words. This wasn’t just about the serum—there was something bigger at play. She took a step back, trying to put more distance between herself and the intruder, but the figure only followed, matching her movements like a shadow.

“Don’t worry,” they said softly, almost mockingly. “I should know better than anyone that you would want answers.”

Morgan’s heart skipped a beat as the figure’s gloved hand slowly reached up to their mask. The tension in the room was suffocating, each second stretching out endlessly. The mask and goggles came loose with a soft click, and as they were removed, Morgan’s breath caught in her throat.

It was her.

Her own face stared back at her, a perfect reflection, yet not. There were differences—subtle but unmistakable. The other Morgan’s eyes held a cold, calculating gleam, their hair was longer and pin-straight compared to her short curls, and their lips curved into a smirk that sent a shiver down Morgan’s spine.

“I'm Morgan Stark,” the doppelgänger said, voice eerily familiar yet laced with something darker, something twisted. “But in my universe, they call me the Green Goblin.”

Morgan felt numb. The words didn’t make sense, and yet they explained everything.

“What... what do you want?” Morgan’s voice was barely above a whisper, the shock of seeing her own face—so twisted and malevolent—making it hard to think straight.

The Other Morgan—the Green Goblin—tilted her head, studying Morgan with a mix of amusement and pity. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said, taking a step closer. “I’m here to make things right. In my world, I perfected the serum. I became something more, something powerful. But in this universe, you... you were just about to throw it all away.”

Morgan shook her head, trying to process the flood of information. “This... this isn’t possible. How can you—”

“Exist?” the Other Morgan interrupted, a cruel smile curling on her lips. “Multiverse theory, sweetheart. Infinite versions of you, of me, of everyone. Even our beloved Spidey. In my universe, I figured it out. Became a goddamn genius... and a bit of a monster, too. Here though? You’ve barely scratched the surface.”

“I don’t care what I—you’ve done in your world!” Morgan’s voice shook with defiance. “You don’t belong here. You won’t get whatever it is you’re after.”

The Other Morgan smirked. “Oh, but I already have. I didn’t come here to take anything. I came to see what I could have been if I hadn’t chosen the path I did. And honestly,” they scoffed, flicking a piece of Morgan’s hair, “I’m disappointed.”

Morgan’s fists clenched at her sides. “Get out,” she spat, her fear giving way to anger. “Get out of my lab, out of my life. Now!”

But they just laughed, a chilling sound that echoed in the small space. “You still don’t get it, do you? I’m not going anywhere. I didn’t come all this way just to walk away empty-handed. If you won’t take that serum, then...”

Before Morgan could react, her doppelgänger lunged toward the remnants of the shattered serum with blinding speed. Morgan scrambled to intercept, but her doppelgänger was faster. In a swift, brutal motion, they slammed Morgan down onto a nearby table, the impact knocking the wind out of her.

Morgan struggled against the hold, but her alternate self was stronger, pinning her down with ease. The twisted grin never left their face as they reached for a syringe.

Morgan watched the charred solid remnants of the serum begin to twitch and quiver, as if responding to the presence of the syringe. To her horror, the blackened crust slowly liquefied, transforming back into a thick, dark fluid that oozed toward the tip of the needle.

"Shh," the Other Morgan cooed, voice dripping with mock tenderness as they drew the serum up into the syringe. The liquid swirled ominously inside, as if alive with a malevolent intent. “You’ll thank me for this in the future.”

Morgan thrashed, trying to break free, but her alternate self only tightened their grip, leaning in closer.

“Don’t worry,” the Other Morgan whispered, bringing the needle closer to Morgan’s skin. “This is a canon event, sweetheart. This is the part where you become more than just a bystander. This is where you become unstoppable.”

They leaned down, eyes glowing an eerie green. “This is where we kill Robin.”

“No!” Morgan's scream pierced the air as she slammed her knee into her doppelgängers gut, the sudden impact causing them to stumble back.

The Other Morgan staggered backward, clutching their midsection with a pained gasp. Morgan seized the moment, pushing herself off the ground and scrambling for any advantage. Her pulse raced as she darted towards a nearby workbench, grabbing a wrench and holding it defensively.

Scoffing, the Other Morgan recovered quickly, rising to their full height with their long hair cascading over their face, obscuring their features.

"First off, I’m not some fucking homewrecker," Morgan gasped, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as she took a defensive step back, wrench clutched tightly. "And second, you’re insane! Spider’s happy with him! Do you honestly think she’ll fall for you after everything you’ve become?"

“You think you can stop me?” Other Morgan snarled. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“I know enough,” Morgan said through gritted teeth, trying to steady her trembling hands. “And I’m not going to let you hurt anyone.”

The Other Morgan’s lips curled into a smirk.

With a swift flick of their wrist, they threw a small device onto the floor. It hissed and released a dense cloud of smoke that quickly filled the room. Morgan’s vision blurred as she squinted, trying to make out the figure through the thickening haze.

Suddenly, a sharp, electric crackle pierced the smoke, followed by a powerful jolt that knocked Morgan off her feet. The room spun around her as she struggled to rise, her head throbbing from the shock.

Before she could fully recover, she felt a tightness around her wrist. She looked down to see a watch strapped onto her, its face glowing ominously. As she tried to make sense of it, a swirling portal began to materialize around her, its edges flickering with an eerie green light.

“Why don’t you take a trip to my universe for a bit?” the Other Morgan taunted, their voice dripping with malice. “I’ll handle things here while you’re gone.”

Morgan tried to protest, but the portal’s force was too strong. The edges of her world warped and twisted as she was yanked into the swirling void.

As she disappeared into the vortex, she heard a faint, mocking laugh.

The portal closed with a swoosh, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.

The Other Morgan turned their gaze to the workbench, their eyes locking onto a pair of scissors lying casually on the counter.

“Alright,” they said with a chilling smile, “first, a haircut.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

They say you’ll be bitten by spiders no less than 500 times in your lifetime, and you probably won’t even notice 95% of those bites.

Spiders might not affect most people that much.

Damian, however, would have a different opinion. He’d also like to punch those people in the face

Tonight, as Robin swings through the city, his gaze is locked onto you. You dart between skyscrapers with a grace that seems almost effortless. Your Starktech suit, still in for repairs, has you back in your old black kevlar—sturdy, reliable, and showing signs of wear.

Damian, out with you for what was supposed to be a routine patrol and sweep, is seeing your skills up close for the first time. He watches as you maneuver through the urban jungle with an ease that both impresses and frustrates him.

He finds himself pacing alongside your swings, trying to stay close—not just to keep an eye on you but because he’s half-expecting to be called into action at any moment. Watching you is like witnessing a high-wire act where the safety net has mysteriously vanished. Moments ago, you executed a daring twist and jump that had Damian’s heart lodged firmly in his throat. He was practically holding his breath, bracing himself for the sickening thud of a broken leg—or worse—only to see you land on your feet with a carefree laugh.

But then, without warning, you yelp and take a sharp turn, diving into the open air. The sudden change sends a jolt through Damian, and his heart skips a beat as he watches you fall fast.

“Nightcrawler!” he shouts, his voice barely audible over the rush of wind. His grappling hook fires with a crack, and he rockets toward you, every muscle straining as he fights the pull of gravity.

Just as you’re about to hit the ground, Damian’s gloved hands wrap around your front, pulling you into his arms with a fierce grip. He tucks you close, bracing for impact. You slam against the wall of a nearby building with a jarring thud, Damian’s boots taking the brunt of the landing. The impact shakes him to his core, but he holds you tightly, shielding you from the collision.

Heaving, he immediately tucks a strong arm against your back, holding you against him. “Are you—”

You burst into laughter, your arms wrapping around his neck as you press your cheek against his. “Did you see that? I pulled off a perfect dive!”

Damian’s breath comes in sharp bursts as he steadies you both, his eyes scanning for any signs of injury. “You imbecile! What were you thinking? You could have broken your neck.”

You pout playfully, brushing a stray lock of hair from Damian’s mask. “I was having fun! Come on, I wasn’t actually going to fall.”

Damian shoots you a glare that borders on murderous. "Fun?! Fun isn’t worth risking your life."

His fingers dig into your hips as he continues to hold you tightly against him, his muscles tensed like a bowstring. "And you did fall—nearly landed on your face. If I hadn't been there, you'd be eating through a straw right now."

You tilt your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Uh. But you were there.”

Damian narrows his eyes, his tone dripping with frustration. "Do you get some perverse pleasure out of scaring me to death?"

"Maybe," you drawl with a teasing grin.

Even with his anxiety cranked up to eleven, he can’t help but feel a surge of warmth for you. The irritation in his eyes softens, revealing a flicker of affection.

“You talk and do too much,” he grumbles, though his actions speak louder than his words. As he starts to guide both of you up to a nearby rooftop, his grip remains firm and protective.

He’s climbing with you in his arms, every muscle straining under the effort. You can’t help but whistle at the impressive display of strength, watching as his muscles ripple beneath his suit with each movement.

“Tsk,” he scoffs as he hauls both of you up onto the rooftop, setting you down gently.

Once you’re safely on solid ground, Damian steps back, creating a respectful distance between you. As he stands against the backdrop of the city lights, his figure is dramatically framed by the glowing skyline. His cape flutters behind him like a dark, billowing flag, enhancing his imposing silhouette. Robin stands tall, masked, and cloaked in shadows—dark and lean.

You grin coyly at him, your arms tucked behind your back as you take a few steps closer.

“My hero,” you tease playfully, your fingers trailing gently up his cape.

The gesture almost immediately disarms Damian, his irritation momentarily forgotten.

He snatches your hand away from the fabric, his fingers wrapping around yours in a firm grip. “Is this a joke to you? I am in no mood for your games tonight,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair as he turns his gaze to the city skyline. He bends down, squatting on the rooftop, the city lights shimmering below and casting a soft, ambient glow over the scene.

You follow him, bending down to wrap your arms around his shoulders and drape yourself across his back. Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to his jaw through your mask, the gentle touch warm against the cool night air.

Damian’s shoulders relax slightly under your embrace, and he closes his eyes momentarily, savoring the closeness. For a moment, he considers chastising you, but the feel of your body pressed against his back makes the words die on his lips.

Instead, he lets out a sigh and shifts his position, guiding you so that you slide down his back into his lap, your legs draped on either side of his hips.

“You know,” he murmurs, “you’re not making it easy to stay upset with you.”

“That’s the point,” you whisper, your breath warm and teasing against his skin.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says, moving to stand and pulling you up with him.

You giggle, your fingers trailing down his chest, light and teasing. Your claws graze over the contours of his suit, scratching at the armor that covers his chest and abs. The sensation is electric, sending shivers through both of you.

“Careful,” Damian rumbles, his voice a low growl as he grabs your hands once they reach his waist, his grip firm but not unkind. You’re getting a rise out of him, in more ways than one.

You lean in closer, wickedness dripping from your lips. “When have I ever been careful?”

Damian’s eyes narrow, the heat in his gaze intense as he draws his face inches from yours. "You never are. You are a reckless, impulsive, and downright idiotic woman."

“Yeah,” you press your chest against his, your voice low and teasing. “I get that a lot.”

"And you just love proving them right, don’t you?" he says, his voice low and laden with both warning and something else.

“Is that a threat, Robin?” you whisper, your voice dripping with challenge. Flicking your wrist up, you web his chest and pull him down.

He crashes into you, his body pressing against yours. His hands fly to your thighs, gripping the supple flesh there.

A smirk spreads across his face. "Merely a promise."

Without another word, Damian tugs your mask off and closes the distance between you, his lips crashing onto yours in a fierce, heated kiss. His mouth moves with a possessive intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, his tongue teasing yours as he pulls you closer, leaving no space between your bodies.

You feel the low rumble of his moan vibrating through your chest, a sound that only fuels the fire between you. As your hands tangle in his hair, you suddenly notice something that makes you pause—he’s smirking against your lips.

He’s smirking. The fucker is smirking.

Grinning against his lips, you pull back just enough to murmur, “So my Spidey thing turns you on? Or is it the webs?”

"Keep talking like that and I'll have to shut you up," he grunts, his voice rough with desire before he silences you with another kiss, this one deeper, more consuming. His grip tightens as he claims your mouth again, leaving no doubt about the effect you have on him.

He presses you back, and in the heat of the moment, you take a step backward with more force than intended. Your injured ankle lands awkwardly, sending a jolt of pain shooting up your leg. Despite being healed, it still ached every now and then, and this was one of those painful reminders.

You pull away with a sharp hiss, unable to stifle the reaction.

Damian's concern for you immediately eclipses his previous frustrations. His hands find your hips, steadying you to prevent you from putting too much weight on the injured foot.

“What happened? Did I—”

“It’s just,” you wince, carefully adjusting your stance, “just my ankle. It’ll be fine.”

"I thought you said you were healed," he fusses.

"Guess I thought wrong."

"I wouldn’t have let you out with me tonight if I’d known you were still having trouble. You should have told me it was still bothering you." he scolds.

You frown, your voice softening as you look up at him. "I just... I just wanted to spend time with you. Are you mad?"

Damian’s expression softens with an almost pained look as he carefully gathers you in his arms, lifting the weight off your injured ankle.

"Mad? No, I'm not mad," he hesitates then, his grip on you tightening slightly. "But I'm worried. I worry about you, and your actions tonight didn’t exactly ease my concerns."

He looks down at your ankle, gently tracing his fingers over the injury.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault. If I hadn’t—Last night, if I’d just taken time to ask you—you wouldn’t be hurt in the first place,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he brings his face close to yours. The apology is raw, and when he mutters it against your lips, his breath hitches in his throat, overwhelmed by the warmth in your eyes.

“You had your reasons; it’s okay,” you say with your usual forgiveness, the kindness in your voice a balm to his aching conscience.

His fingers gently graze the back of your neck, the touch tender and almost reverent.

“I should have been more careful,” he murmurs, thick with regret. “I’ve let my anger cloud my judgment.”

“Damian, it’s fine,” you said, running your fingers through his hair and gently swinging your legs. “I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. We all have our moments, and it was just a bad time for both of us. I love you, and I trust you.”

Damian made a soft sound. Up close, in his arms, there was no space between you, and he seemed softer, more touchable.

“I love you too.”

You cupped his face gently as his other arm slid below your head, pulling you even closer. His strong arms enveloped you, holding you in a way that felt perfectly right—moving closer, exchanging breaths, and locking eyes to see everything there was to know about him.

 ༻⊰───⋅ smut begins

Whispering his name, you kissed him again, and he eagerly returned the gesture.

He guided you into a shadowed corner, his kisses growing more urgent and insistent as he pressed you against a wall. The world around you began to dissolve into a swirling haze. The only sensations that mattered were the feel of your breath mingling with his, the whisper of your voice against his, and the way your hands tugged at his hair.

You. You. You.

His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for entrance, which you granted immediately, opening your mouth and deepening the kiss. His hands roamed over your body, mapping the curves and contours like a blind man seeing the world for the first time.

You raised your knee and pressed it against him, eliciting a groan from Damian, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “Fuck…”

You teased softly, “That good?”

“As always, habibti.”

Damian’s words were swallowed by another kiss as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him even closer, bodies pressing together in an intimate embrace.

His fingers roamed up your back, tracing the curve of your spine with the practiced touch of a man who knows you intimately.

Smirking wolfishly against your lips, Damian slowly dragged down the zipper on the back of your suit. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, amplifying every sensation as he worked his way down.

The heat between you two quickly spiraled into an unstoppable force that surged and twisted.

His utility belt falls to the ground with a loud clang, the buckle hitting the asphalt. Fingers trembling with impatience, Damian tugs at his suit's zippers, each one loosening with a sharp hiss before he dives back in.

Every touch, every movement, seemed to ignite a deeper craving within him. Each time you breathed his name, it was like a spark that fueled his losing control, pushing him further into the abyss of his desire.

He wanted more of you—every part of you, every inch of your skin, every breath you took.

He dips his head down, his mouth finding the pulse point on your neck. His tongue flicks out, hot and wet against your skin, as he begins a trail of kisses down your collarbone that sears into your skin.

"I need to feel you, sweet girl." Damian's words come out in a guttural moan, half-curse, half-plea.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his mouth found your chest, and you arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him.

“Damian,” you gasped, your voice a low moan. “Please.”

A flurry of movements passes, and finally, he's pressing himself into you. Your body welcomes him like it was always meant to be, fitting together perfectly as if he was always meant to be a part of you.

His cape falls over you, enveloping you both in a cocoon of shadows and heat.

The rhythmic movement of your bodies creates a slow, intense friction between you. The heat between you two was scorching, each touch and caress creating sparks of pleasure that shot through your body. Damian's teeth sank into the soft skin of your neck with a possessive fervor, leaving behind marks that would linger long after the night was over.

He could feel you pressed against him, your warmth melding with his. The taste of you lingered on his lips, the flavor of you lingering with every kiss. The sweet sounds of your pleasure, your moans and gasps, filled and echoed in his ears. The scent of your perfume, intoxicating and familiar, drifted in the air, consuming, overwhelming his senses and pulling him deeper into you.

It was all you. Everything was you.

It comes in waves, each one building and cresting until the final surge pulls you completely out of orbit. Your toes curl, your thighs lock, your heart seems to freeze, and a cry of his name escapes your lips, echoing in the space between you.

“Yes,” Damian pants out. “There you go, habibti. Just like that…”

He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as he follows you through the aftershocks. Gently, he guides you down from your peak, his hips rolling slowly against yours until the rhythm gradually subsides. He murmurs love confessions in Arabic, lips trailing loving kisses over every inch of exposed skin, soothing you as you twitch and tremble in his lap.

As the aftershocks subside, Damian gently lifts you and tucks you against his chest.

"You okay?" he asks, soft and filled with concern. He gently massages your lower back, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin.

He pulls his cape around you like a blanket, wrapping you in a layer of warmth. Even in the middle of the night on a secluded rooftop, he’s focused on making sure you're cared for and cozy.

Damian adjusts his suit and re-secures his utility belt. Taking a cloth from his belt, he begins to wipe you down, removing any lingering traces of the night’s events. Once you're clean, he carefully tugs your suit back on, smoothing out any wrinkles and zipping it up with steady hands.

 ༻⊰───⋅ smut ends

“Thank you,” you rasp out, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

Damian’s response is tender; he nuzzles his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to your skin. His touch is warm and reassuring. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves your mask and hands it to you.

You tug it back on, but before you can pull it down completely, Damian leans in and kisses you. Smiling, you kiss him back, the mask only partially covering your face, leaving your lips and the lower part of your cheeks exposed.

!!!

You slowly push Damian back, a sense of alarm creeping into your consciousness.

!!!

A loud thud echoes in the distance.

DANGER.

Before you can process what’s happening, Damian is violently knocked away from you. He’s flung onto the ground with a forceful crash, the impact sending a shockwave through the rooftop. You watch, breathless, as he hits the surface hard, pain etched across his face.

Cursing, you try to move toward him, but a sudden, chilling presence makes you freeze. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the dark, sweeping fabric of a cape fluttering through the air. Your heart skips a beat as you turn, dread coiling in your stomach.

Batman.

For a moment, the world narrows to the figure looming before you, the embodiment of shadow and fear. The distant hum of Gotham fades, leaving only the thudding of your pulse, loud and insistent in your ears. The scattered light from the city below creates jagged contrasts on Batman's armor, casting him in sharp highlight. The black of his suit bleeds seamlessly into the surrounding darkness, making him appear more phantom than man.

He looks like a living nightmare.

Reacting on pure instinct, Damian scrambles to his feet, positioning himself firmly between you and the Dark Knight.

To Batman, this looks like betrayal.

Bruce's hurt gaze flickers briefly to Damian before settling on you, his eyes unreadable beneath the shadowed cowl. His voice cuts through the silence like a blade, deep and gravelly. “Step aside, Robin.”

Damian doesn’t budge, his chin lifting in stubborn refusal. “No.”

“I won’t repeat myself,” Bruce warns, his tone colder, more commanding. “Move. Now.”

“You don’t understand,” he snaps back, voice laced with urgency. “It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” Bruce’s gaze hardens as it shifts back to you, scrutinizing every detail of your vigilante form. He’s searching for something—anything—that might give him a clue to your identity. “Who are you?”

You remain silent, your mind racing to assess the situation. Revealing your true identity isn't an option—not now, not like this. You adjust your stance, preparing yourself mentally for whatever comes next, but Damian's presence in front of you is a steadying comfort.

“She’s with me,” Damian states firmly. “That’s all you need to know.”

But Bruce isn’t swayed. He takes another step forward, his towering form casting a long, ominous shadow over both of you. The authority he exudes is almost suffocating, a force that demands obedience and submission.

Bruce’s voice drops to a near growl, heavy with warning. “You’re making a mistake.”

Damian doesn’t waver, his stance firm, his resolve unshaken. “Maybe I am. But it’s my mistake to make. I’m not moving. Not until you understand—”

“Understand what?” Bruce’s voice, though controlled, cracks with an edge of hurt. “That you’re risking everything for—” His words catch in his throat, and his eyes, now seething, lock onto you with anger. The unspoken words hang in the air, heavy and accusing, as if he’s struggling to comprehend how Damian could make such a choice.

“Father,” Damian tries again. “Just listen, please. I’m not—”

But Bruce cuts him off sharply. “I don’t want to hear it, Robin. Stand down. Now.”

Damian grits his teeth, his jaw clenching at the command. “I won’t. You want me to move, you're going to have to make me.”

Bruce growls and his posture shifts, his body tensing as he readies himself for combat, cape swirling with a sudden, sharp movement, the dark fabric creating a menacing silhouette against the night sky. Damian rolls his shoulders.

The silent acknowledgment of the fight to come is all that’s needed.

The first move comes fast and brutal—a sweeping kick aimed at Damian’s legs. Damian barely manages to sidestep, but the force of the attack sends him stumbling slightly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Bruce presses his advantage. He lunges forward, delivering a powerful punch to Damian’s jaw. The blow connects with a sickening thud, causing Damian to gasp and stagger backward. He tries to recover, swinging a fist toward his father, but Bruce is already moving, effortlessly deflecting the strike and countering with a sharp elbow to Damian’s ribs.

Before Damian can recover, Bruce is on him again. He grabs Damian by the collar and delivers a powerful knee to his abdomen. The impact sends Damian sprawling, crashing hard onto the rooftop. The concrete shudders beneath him, and he struggles to get to his feet, gasping for breath.

“You’ve forced my hand. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to,” Bruce seethes as he advances. His fists come down in a series of blows, each strike aimed at disabling rather than harming. Damian blocks and dodges where he can, but Bruce's assault is relentless, each hit pushing him further back.

THWIP

A web snares Bruce’s arm, halting his advance. His head swivels toward you, confusion and fury flashing in his eyes beneath the cowl. He struggles against the webbing, but you seize the opportunity to yank him off Damian, pulling him forcefully to the side of the rooftop. The webbing binds him tightly against the edge, restricting his movements.

Without wasting a second, you rush to Damian’s side. His breathing is ragged, masked cracked. blood runs down his lip You kneel beside him, gently pulling him up against you. Your arms wrap around him, providing a protective, comforting embrace.

“Baby, are you okay?” you ask urgently, voice trembling with fear.

Damian rasps out a laugh, his grin weak but defiant. “At least I know he’ll do the right thing if I ever do you wrong.”

SHLICK.

You look up to see Bruce cutting through your webbing with a knife. The webbing disintegrates under the assault, and you curse under your breath. Without your web-shooters, your organic webs are noticeably weaker—a reminder that you'd need to ask Morgan for new ones as soon as possible.

Bruce continued his advance, his gaze fixed on you this time.

You raised a hand, trying to signal a truce, your voice shaky but earnest. “I... I don’t want to fight,” you said, the exhaustion evident in every word.

“Then take off the mask,” Bruce commanded, his voice cutting through the air with a harsh edge, leaving no room for negotiation.

The demand hung between you, making your heart pound louder. You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you. Slowly, you lifted a trembling hand toward your mask, fingers grasping the edge.

But before you could fully uncover your face, Damian's hand shot out, grabbing your arm and yanking it away.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses, eyes flashing with desperation. He turns to Bruce, getting back onto his feet.

“Don’t come any closer,” Damian warns as he unsheathes his katana, its blade glinting menacingly in the dim light. “I have the utmost respect for you, Father, but if you take one more step, I will have to engage you properly this time.”

Despite the weight of your decision, there’s no other choice. Your sole aim is to end this confrontation swiftly and with as little harm as possible.

With a sharp breath, you square your shoulders and raise your head.

“Nobody’s going to do anything,” you say firmly as you start to tear off your mask. The fabric pulls away slowly, the cool night air brushing against your exposed skin.

As the mask comes free, you are left bare to the elements, your face now fully visible under the moonlight. You hold Bruce's gaze directly, hoping that this gesture will be enough to de-escalate the standoff.

"It's just me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

ruh oh

mmmmmmmm yes 3-4 chapters left

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfamily #dc robin #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne imagine #selina kyle #bruce wayne #batman

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ms-demeanor · 12 days ago

Note

Is hypnotherapy on your psudomedicine shitlist or do you think it has validity? (To be clear, I'm not talking about 'hypnotic memory recovery' which is proven to be false)

It's worked for me and some other people I know, but I've also heard some people say it doesn't work.

I very badly want it to be on my shitlist but it gets slotted in next to meditation on the shelf labeled "infuriatingly, sometimes believing something hard enough makes it work." Some kinds of hypnosis seem to reliably create altered mental states that allow people who enter those states to internalize and process things that they might otherwise struggle with; I see this as somewhat analogous to, like, using mushrooms to feel a deeper connection to a shared sense of humanity or something along those lines. It does seem to have some reliably measurable effects but how well it works varies wildly from person to person is basically my take, which makes sense to me because I'm pretty sure hypnosis is just, like, extremely focused guided meditation.

Yesterday someone brought up an example saying that they had heard that a relatively recent study from a trustworthy scientific organization had proved the existence of one of the primary acupuncture meridians; searches for the name of the meridian, the name of the institution, searches for studies with those terms, searches for those terms and "proof", searches for only the meridian and scientific study only turned up low-quality studies that were exclusively from either acupuncture or alternative medicine journals.

A search for "hypnosis study" immediately turns up recent articles on the effectiveness of hypnosis from the American Psychological Association, Stanford University, mainstream behavioral journals, and discussion of at least one experiment that has been replicated by multiple people testing the validity of hypnosis (in multiple experiments on different groups of hypnotizable people, the stroop effect is noticeably mitigated by hypnotic suggestion). None of that is evidence that hypnosis "works" but it is evidence that something is actually happening there that *could* prove to be effective.

I'm still pretty skeptical, but there's enough evidence of an effect to say that it's not pure bullshit. Like I'll say that chiropractic is bullshit (subluxations don't cause asthma even if none of the chiros involved believe in ghosts; it's unscientific and wrong regardless of the origins) but note that I never said herbalism was bullshit - just that it's on my shit list and it's dangerous - many many many herbal treatments DO have effects and that's why it can be dangerous, doses and interactions are unpredictable.

I think that hypnosis is probably not inherently dangerous, and it seems like there may be some measurable positive effects, and even though it SEEMS really fake to me enough serious people have done enough serious looking into it that I don't feel comfortable calling it fake-like-souls-are-fake; it doesn't appear to be exclusively based on magical thinking and it has a lot in common with other altered states that people are capable of putting themselves into voluntarily through a variety of means.

So I guess tick the box for "I'm suspicious and skeptical but could be convinced if presented with enough high quality evidence, which I think it is likely possible to produce."

So it's not on my shit list but if I found out that someone I loved was using hypnosis as a treatment I'd be doing a deep dive on the person providing the hypnosis to figure out if they were a charlatan.

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maddie-dog-story-blog · 6 months ago

Text

The Birthday - 7

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

My stomach's rumbling woke me up. I felt incredibly hungry. Despite that, I hesitated before opening my eyes.

My dreams had been some of the most horrific I had ever had, and they felt real. One in particular I swore actually happened. In that dream, Melody found out about my ABDL fetish and then hypnotized and blackmailed me into becoming her adult baby. I had spent a day being diapered, pissing my pants, humping a teddy bear, and nursing on her tit.

But, despite how real that felt, laying here in bed, I knew it had to have been a dream. In that dream, I had fallen asleep in our living room on the couch. I could feel that I was sleeping in my bed now. There was no way that Melody could ever carry me from our living room back to the bedroom. Relief washed over me at the realization that that must all have been a creation of my subconscious at the same time my stomach audibly rumbled again.

Moments later, I felt a familiar hand reach over my waist and gently rub my belly.

"Oh, sounds like somebody has a grumbly tummy! Is it because the baby's hungry or is he working on a little present for Mommy?"

My eyes immediately shot open as my wife whispered in my ear. There was no way! That dream couldn't have been real! I felt my cheeks start to redden as I slowly came to terms with the fact that my nightmare may have been real and, worse, may not be over yet.

Hesitantly, I decided to talk.

"What'cha mean, Mommy?" My words came out in a lisp around the rubber nipple occupying my mouth. My worst fears were confirmed. My nightmare wasn't a nightmare. It was real life, and I was still living through it.

I felt a soft hand tug at the back waistband of what had to be a diaper strapped around my waist at the same time as another hand cupped my ass and pressed damp padding up into my body. Melody was checking my fucking diaper.

"Well, baby, I know there are two things you didn't do yesterday that all babies need to do. You didn't really eat anything and you haven't made messies for Mommy," my wife said with the condescending, motherly tone she has adopted this weekend. "The way that tummy of yours is grumbling, I bet it's a little bit of both."

"I'm not gonna poop my pants!" I lisped out indignantly. "How did I get to bed?" I asked, both genuinely curious and trying to change the topic of conversation.

As I asked, I moved to sit up and noticed two new pieces of clothing, other than the wet diaper and pacifier, for the first time. As I pushed myself up in bed, I looked down at my hands. Instead of seeing the long, slightly calloused fingers I was used to, I noticed I was wearing a pair of baby blue, padded, locking mittens that completely immobilized my hands.

"What the fuck?!?" I exclaimed, holding my mittened hands in front of my face. Next to me, Melody, wearing my favorite blue lace nightie, sat up and glared sternly at me.

"Language mister! I will not have my baby saying naughty words!" Melody chastised me. "Do not make me punish you."

I stared at my wife, fuming. Now I wasn't allowed to use my hands? I was not a fucking adult baby. I was not fucking helpless. I would say what I fucking wanted and do what I fucking wanted. That's what I thought to myself, at least, until I felt the sudden urge to have my morning pee. Suddenly, the irrational, horrible fear of the toilet struck me again, and I remembered what 'punishment' from 'Mommy' actually meant.

"Otay, Mommy," I said, defeated, as I made the disgusting, humiliating choice to release my bladder into my already soaked diaper.

"Good baby! Smart move," Melody said, grinning as the hissing sound of urine hitting already wet padding radiated from my crotch. "And good job for using your diapers like a good baby!" My wife then leaned over and gave me an encouraging peck on the cheek.

"As to how you got here," Melody continued, "Well, despite being a baby, you are too heavy for Mommy to carry. But, did you know your hypnosis doesn't just go away while your sleeping? In some ways, it's actually easier to use when you're already unconscious!"

I swallowed nervously as Melody leaned over to her nightstand and grabbed her phone. "Take a look, big boy!"

I watched as Melody pulled up the first of what looked like numerous videos on her phone. This one started with a shot of me half naked, except for the diaper I was currently wearing, laying on the couch. She pressed play. Her voice radiated out of the small speaker as the image started moving.

*"Baby, can you hear me?" Melody's voice asked from behind the camera. My sleeping body just grunted.

Melody tried again, "Baby, Mommy says answer my questions without waking up. Can you hear me?"

This time, I respond. "Yes, Momma."

"Mommy says crawl to the bedroom," Melody ordered.

I watch my body roll onto the floor, get on all fours, and crawl to the bedroom, completely unbothered by the fact that my wife is laughing at my swaying, diapered butt.*

Watching myself moving without having any memory of it was disturbing to say the least. I put my hand to my head in shock, only to be reminded of the mittens strapped to my wrist. Melody noticed my reaction and smiled.

"I have to admit, it was so fun to watch you be so compliant, I couldn't resist playing some more after you fell asleep. Do you want to watch more, baby?" My wife asked.

There was nothing in the world I wanted less than to watch another video of myself meekly and unconcernedly debasing myself for Melody's pleasure. I said as much to Melody.

"No, Mommy."

Melody put her finger to her lip in thought, then smiled. "No, I think you should watch them. They are pretty entertaining and show just how good of a baby you can be!"

I turned my head away from the phone as she hit play on the next video. Melody was not pleased.

"Bad boy! Mommy says watch the videos."

Involuntarily, my head snapped back to phone, forced to obey my wife's orders. She restarted the next video.

*I was sitting in the carpet in front of our bed, my legs spread in front of me, my diapered crotch on display. I sucked contentedly on the pacifier between my lips as I stared off in a clear trance. The crisp sound of another of my wife's giggles sounded from behind the camera.

"Do you need to go potty, baby?" Melody asked.

I answer monotonously from behind my pacifier, "Yeth, Mommy."

"Go potty for Mommy, baby," Melody instructed my hypnotized body.

I feel my eyes grow wide as I watch myself immediately scrunch up my face in concentration and lean forward a little. Then, as I, unfortunately, expected, I heard a tell tale hissing sound complemented by the yellowing of the once blue wetness indicator on the front of the diaper.

To my horror, the video didn't end when I finished peeing.

"Do you like how your wet diapy feels, baby?" the version of my wife video taping the scene asked. My tranced-out self on the screen smiled broadly behind the shield of the pacifier in his mouth.

"Yeth, Mommy," I said.

"Why don't you play in your diapers a little bit, I bet that would feel nice!" Melody's voice rang out again.

I wanted to tear my eyes away. I didn't want to watch what I did next. But, because of my wife's command, I couldn't resist it.

I watched as, just as I was told too, I began playing with my wet diaper. The video version of myself got onto his knees so the soaked padding was now dangling just off the floor. He began to poke and proud at the stuffing, examining the wet diaper. Then, disgustingly, he started to bounce.

Slowly at first, and then faster, the 'me' on Melody's phone quickly lowered all of his weight to the ground, landing on the urine soaked padding, letting out a wet squelch. The speed picked up as video-me found he enjoyed the sound and sensation. In mere moments, I was watching myself bouncing up in down on the floor in my wet diaper, uncoordinatedly clapping my hands like an idiot toddler.

"Good boy! Good boy to bounce for Mommy! Tell Mommy how much you love your wet diapy, love!" Melody's voice rang out again.

"I wuv mah diapies DIS MUCH," the me on screen said, holding his hands out as far as he could as he bounced.

The video cut off in the middle of Melody's torrent of laughter.*

As the video ended, I felt the pacifier drop out of my mouth as my jaw dropped in horror.

"No," was all I could say, my voice barely above a whisper.

I remembered from my hours of research and writing ABDL fiction learning that you can't get someone to do something under the influence of hypnosis that they didn't truly want to do. I didn't truly want to do that, did I? I didn't want to become a giant baby who wanted nothing more than to bounce around in his piss-soaked Pampers? Right?

Melody didn't let me dwell on my existential crisis. She wanted to add to my psychological torture.

"How about just one more?" She said as she pressed play on the device.

*I saw myself sitting in the same location and position as in the previous video. However, unlike the last video, my diaper, the same one I am currently wearing, is soaked.

"Do you want to play a game with me, baby?" Melody asked.

"Yeth, Mommy," video me blathered at the phone.

"Do you want to really act like a baby?" My wife asked.

Video me didn't respond verbally. Instead, he just turned his head to the side as he suckled his pacifier, looking like a confused dog.

"I want you to show me how much of a drooly, babbling baby you can be for me. Can you show me that you can drool and talk like a baby?" Melody asked.

My stomach dropped as I watched what looked to be a genuine smile cross the tranced-out version of myself's face. Instead of answering verbally, he popped the pacifier out of his mouth and let spit and dribble start to build around his lips.

"Pfffftttttt!" Drool and spittal flew through the air and dripped down my chest as video-me blew a raspberry. Then, to my horror, I started to blather mindlessly while continuing to drool. "Goo, gaaahh, ooooo, goo, gahh!" I watched myself say, each word accompanied by a gush of saliva.

"Oh, very interesting, tell me more, baby," Melody chuckled back as if she was talking to an actually infant.

I watched as the person occupying my body, as at this point, I knew it couldn't have been me, giggle in response to my wife's words then shove the four fingers on his right hand into his mouth, suck on them, then continue to 'talk.'

"Ooo, doo gah, maaaa, maaa, mamamamaaaaa," I watched my body yell out from behind my fingers.

"Such a good little talker!" Melody said condescendingly, "Do you want to give Mommy a big, drooly, baby kiss?"

No, was all I could think as I watched the past version of myself pull his fingers out of his mouth, prop himself up on all fours, and lean up towards the camera, drool covered lips puckered into a big circle. The scene screamed of a toddler kissing their mother rather than a sensual or even affection-filled kiss typical between husband and wife.

As I watched myself extend my lips up towards the camera on all fours, Melody's face briefly enter the frame before I saw myself reach up and give her a sloppy, drooly kiss. I wanted to vomit.

"Oh, that's my big, stupid, drooly baby!" Melody said on the video. The words cut to my soul.

As I watched, the me in the video happily settled back down onto his wet diaper, bouncing up and down and sucking on his fingers as he giggled.

"Whose my big stupid baby?! Who is it?" Melody continued. I watched myself giggle. "That's right! You are!"

The video me replied by smiling around his fingers, leaning forward, and letting out a resounding fart into his diaper.

The video ended, like the others, with my wife laughing at me.*

I felt a knot growing in my stomach as I sat on my bed, and Melody's phone cut to black. That wasn't me. It couldn't have been me. But it was.

You can't force someone under hypnosis to do something they don't want to. The phrase rang out in my head again and again. I didn't want that. I don't want that. But, that was me. And, hadn't I just wet myself with barely a second thought? What was wrong with me.

"Did you like my videos?" My wife asked with a big grin on her face. As she spoke, she tucked the pacifier--my pacifier?--in my mouth.

My stomach gurgled even louder than before. Melody reached over and rubbed it again.

"Well, that means one of two things, and I can only take care of one. Let's go get breakfast, baby boy!" She said cheerily.

Feeling broken, I got on my feet and followed her, wet diaper dangling between my legs, to the kitchen.

#ab/dl kink #ab/dl diaper #ab/dl couple #ab/dl story time #diaper stories #ab/dl caption #diaper regression #ab/dl mommy #humiliation kink #ab/dl boy #mdlb relationship #md/lb #md/lb relationship #the birthday

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appleblueberry-pie · 1 year ago

Text

Miles Morales

Warnings: I wanted him to be creepier, but I don't know how. He's creepy. He's a little delusional. He's a little possessive and a dash of obsessive.

Miles loves watching you from afar. He loves trailing his eyes down from your head to your toes. Loves taking in your clothing styles even though the school only allows uniform. He loves seeing how you style your hair every day. Especially if you don't change it, he'll always notice the little differences between each style. If you have a hidden part, if it's sleeker than it was yesterday, the scent.

Miles would pass by you on the way out of class just to smell you. Hell, he'll stay behind you just to see you up close. Staring at your back is just as good as staring at your front. He loves it when you glance at him for a moment, maybe giving him a tight-lipped smile before going back to work. He loves seeing you focused on your work. He loves seeing you try so hard in class. He fucking loves when you work for your high grades. He definitely wants to see you work for his love, if it'll ever happen.

You're his only motivation in life. After losing his dad and becoming the prowler, you're one of the few things he looks forward to seeing every day. Being popular at school just because he fine as hell restricts how close he could get to you. But lately, he's thinking about making moves. He'd make sure nobody would touch you when you're with him. He'll make sure you stay close to him at all times. He'll give you what you deserve, and finally, you'll be in his arms. He wouldn't ever let you go.

Sure, it might be creepy beating up niggas that start talking to you more frequently just so he can have a chance, but who fucking cares? Who gon stop him?

You thought you liked Miles, but you don't know how to feel anymore.

Yeah, sure, he's handsome as fuck, Afro-latino, tall, stoic, closed off, has beautiful and hypnotic eyes, but…you feel watched. You feel his eyes on you every. Time. He looks at you. It's creeping you out.

You and him have the same AP Physics class and when you walk in the classroom, he's already there as if he was waiting for you to enter the entire time. You avoid his eyes, but you still feel them when you sit in your chair. He sits behind you, and his gaze burns on your back. You know. You fucking know he's staring at you. His gaze trails from your neck, down, down, down to your waist. It stays there until it shifts to the lower spine. It's almost like he's undressing you with his eyes. Your knees connect in an attempt to comfort yourself, make yourself smaller, but it doesn't work.

When class is over, you stand up, rushing to the door, and you smell him before you feel him. His sweet cologne scent does nothing to comfort your frantic mind. You feel his uniform shirt brushing against your shoulder. You wouldn't dare turn around. He exhales, the breath from his nostril softly brushing your neck. You're disturbed. You're scared.

But when you finally make it to the crowded hallways, all feelings of tension disappear, and you can suddenly breathe again. You don't know how long this will keep going.

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em1i2a3 · 27 days ago

Text

Pieces of You (Bjorn One Shot)

Bjorn x fem!reader

Summary: After a night of confessions you and Bjorn stopped speaking to one another, but during one fateful get together when the both of you reunite things change significantly for the both of you, for better or for worse.

Author’s Note: Hey peeps. I am finally finished college, and thankfully I am going to be taking a bit of a break before going back and continuing my education, meaning I’m going to have so much more time to write! As a celebration I made this One Shot extra long. It was supposed to be out yesterday but I wanted to add more to it, and evidently it got out of hand lol. I hope that everyone enjoys this!

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, DNI if you’re a minor! There’s dirty dancing in this, smoking of the devils lettuce (weed), P in V sex (unprotected, wrap it before you tap it though, this is all fantasy here), swearing, oral sex (female receiving), and a little bit of best friends to lovers tropes but not really, you’ll get what I mean when you read it. Hopefully I didn’t miss anything.

A p.s from the author: Fucking love 070 Shake, and this song was so fucking good in setting the tone for the writing of this one shot! Such an underrated song.

Word Count: 8,734 (told you it was a big one….That’s what she said btw lol)

The club was electric that night. The smell of sweat, perfume, and cigarettes intermixed, and the air was thick with heat, combining with the hypnotic bass that shook the core of your chest as you nursed a drink at the bar. You stirred the ice around in your glass, taking a sip, allowing the sweet and bitter liquid to burn down your throat, watching the crowd of bodies move rhythmically to the music. The lights strobed in sync with the beat, pulsating streaks of neon blues, pinks, and greens bounced off the mirrors surrounding the dancefloor. The DJ had turned on the smoke machine, which caused the entire scene to have this haze over it, so all you could see was the shadows of the people who moved against one another, and the sporadic arms that popped above the crowd once in a while. A finger tapped on your shoulder, interrupting your observations, your eyes shooting over to your side where Tyler was standing, a smile draped across his lips as he leaned in.

“Sorry, we’re late! Got caught up!” He yelled over the music, motioning behind him. You peeked over his shoulder, seeing Navarro, Rain, Kay and Andy looking around at the crowd, enamoured by the action that was happening, and the buzz that was palpable in the space.

“It’s alright! I’m only one drink in!” You responded loudly holding up your glass and using the step on the stool you were sitting on to give yourself a little bit of height. He was looking down at your outfit, taken aback by what you had worn tonight. The top you had chosen was skin-tight, black and strapless with sheer lace detailing that left nothing to the imagination. The material hugged you in all the right places, showing off the figure that you hid under your work clothes most of the time, and it didn’t end there. The bottoms you chose were a pair of leather shorts that had silver zippers going down the sides and the front, with leather buckles along your thighs to simulate a harness effect. It was an interesting look, to say the least, and it was certainly eye-catching.

“You didn’t give me the memo that we were wearing BDSM stuff tonight, I would’ve busted out my assless chaps.” Tyler joked, causing you to playfully slap his arm, laughing loudly at his comment.

“Just wanted to try something different, that's all.” Tyler raised his eyebrows at the comment.

”Well this is definitely different, a good kind of different, but still a bit surprising coming from someone who bundles into those oversized sweaters all the time.” He responded, glancing down one more time at you with a little smile. He liked when you let yourself go, typically you weren’t one to be the life of the party, not one bit, ever since you guys were preteens you were this rule follower who didn’t want to disappoint anyone, but this change was definitely welcoming. Too bad your upbeat mood was going to change. You were about to say something, when suddenly a pair of familiar hands grabbed Tyler’s shoulders, the ring on the person's pointer finger that you had a matching one of gave it away, and your stomach lurched just at the sight. It was Bjorn. Your face fell, as all the joy was sucked out of the room, you didn’t want to see that guy, and you were going to make sure it wasn’t going to happen.

“For fuck sake.” Was all that came out of your mouth before you grabbed your drink and walked towards the smoking patio. You pushed open the door, and joined the small crowd of people who were leaning against the wall either getting some air or actually having a cigarette. You downed the rest of your drink, the burn of the alcohol now nonexistent at this point, a sigh escaping your throat as you put the glass down on the ledge beside you. The door opened again, revealing Tyler, his hands deep in the pockets of his straight cut pants, a remorseful look gleaming in his eyes. You were about to say something, but he raised a finger up, causing you to pause.

”I know you told me not to bring him…I get it. But y/n…We couldn’t possibly leave him at the trailer. It’s unfair what he’s been doing but we also live with the guy, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

”It’s more than unfair Tyler. I know I said some hurtful things but he fucking ripped my heart out and then decided to ignore me when I tried to make amends. Now he gets to intrude on plans and pick and choose when he wants to bite his tongue and come along with you guys?” You questioned, your throat tightening slightly “How is that right, and how the fuck is that fair to me when he refused to be honest with me?” You added, remembering the last time you spoke to him.

————

You had sat beside Bjorn on the couch as the both of you were watching some weird action movie he had chosen from the little collection he had built over the past few years. You weren’t really into it, you were just there because you wanted to be around Bjorn, that was the motivation for hanging out around him. You liked being in his presence, the way he made you feel, and of course the way he held your hand out of comfort, he used to always pay you a compliment on how warm or soft they were before intertwining his fingers between yours and it always made your stomach turn.

The both of you had been friends for so long that you knew everything about each other, if someone asked you to name off any fun facts about Bjorn you would have a never ending list. There were so many things people didn’t know about him, and if it wasn’t for how close you were to him, you would’ve never been able to see what he was truly like beneath the hard exterior he put on.

That night though you were determined to talk to him. Your feelings had been eating away at you bit by bit, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You were starting to think about him throughout the day, and every time you did you could feel your palms become sweaty and you visually looked flushed with a permanent blush red plastered on your cheeks. It was hard to power through your feelings, and you had high hopes that once things were out in the open it would allow the both of you to move forward together hopefully, that was not the case though, and you would come to regret the decision you made in telling him.

The credits rolled and he leaned back against the cushions with a sigh, one arm draped over the edge of the couch, looking over at you, seeing that you were deep in thought. He reached over, and grabbed your hand, running his calloused thumb over the smooth skin, over the little blemishes that were barely noticeable without feeling, which drew your attention to him.

“You alright?” He asked, shifting closer to you, “You seem like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” He added, his thumb drawing ovals around the skin on the back of your hand now, the heat slowly creeping up your chest. You took in a shaky breath.

”I…I need to tell you something.” His relaxed expression shifted, his eyes filling with concern, making your heart squeeze. He sat up a little bit more, his whole body now turned to you.

”You’re worrying me y/n…What’s going on?” Your stomach was churning. Yes, you had planned to tell him everything tonight, but now you were starting to grow anxious under his gaze, your throat feeling like it was closing around a giant lump that was beginning to form, pulling your eyes from his for a moment, letting them go down to his hand. You looked at the ring on his pointer finger, the engravement of Roman numerals of the day you guys had your first scavenging trip together glistening in the dim light,

“I…I like you…More than this.” You hesitated, feeling the air being sucked out of the room when the words left your mouth. A few minutes passed, until you decided to look at the frozen and unreadable expression that was plastered on Bjorn’s face. “I thought I could ignore it or that I would get over the feelings, but I can’t. It just kept getting more and more intense.” He looked down at your hands, there was a hint of hesitation that flashed from behind his eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line. The silence was overtaking the both of you again, every second breaking down the remaining composure you had.

“Can you please say something…” You pleaded, your voice cracking, feeling the warmth of his hands leave yours. There was a pang in your heart, realizing that this was not going the way you expected. You watched him closely, seeing the cogs turning behind his eyes, trying to choose his words carefully. His voice was quiet when he replied.

”I don’t feel the same way.” It felt like a blow straight to your chest, your gaze tore away from his, trying to process his response as level headed as possible.

”You don’t?” Your volume was just above a whisper, as tears began to brim your eyes, looking back at him, now focusing on his expressions.

”No,” He replied quickly, his bottom lip shaking a bit, not because of any overwhelming emotions, but because that was one of his tells. You knew him well enough, there were just things that he couldn’t control and that was the way his body involuntarily reacted when he was lying to someone. It made your heart break even more, knowing that he wasn’t telling you the truth, you thought you were friends, and friends don’t lie to each other.

”You’re lying…” Your voice was steady, and somewhat stern. It surprised you that even though you were going through your own set of feelings you still chased for answers. Bjorn’s brows furrowed.

”What?” His tone was laced with disbelief.

”You’re lying.” You repeated, you were hurting, and you could feel the anger bubbling in your stomach, burning in your chest, begging to be released. “You do feel the same way, you’re just too scared to admit it.”

“That’s not true,” He snapped back, scoffing at your accusation, standing up from the couch, now growing defensive. You raised to your feet as well, wanting to even up the playing field.

”I can see it in your fucking facial expressions. You can’t even look at me Bjorn!” You saw his fists clench at his sides, you could see the way all the emotions in him began to converge, brewing a storm over his face.

“I said I don’t feel the same way.” He repeated, his voice now cracking, another betrayal gifted from his own body.

“Bjorn…Why are you lying to me…Why can’t you just be honest with yourself and tell me the truth.” Your voice trembled, gulping, trying to get rid of the lump that still resided in your throat.

“Because it doesn’t matter y/n!” He shouted, the aggression making you jump in your own skin, flinching at the frustration, “What the fuck do you want me to say? That I fucking care about you? That I’ve thought about being with you? Fine. I have. But it doesn’t change the situation y/n.” The tears now welled up in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks, your heart fracturing into a thousand cracks.

”You thought about it,” You echoed his words with bitterness lacing your voice, “And decided what? That I’m not worth it? That I wouldn’t stick with you? We’ve been friends for years Bjorn.” He watched as you brought your hand up to your puffy eyes, pressing against the corners to wipe the tears that were forming.

”You d-don’t understand-“

“No, I don’t,” You interrupted, “I don’t understand why you’re running away, and I don’t understand why you’re fucking lying to me.” Bjorn didn’t continue with what he was going to say, his silence was louder than any excuse he was going to offer at that point. You shook your head at him.

”You’re a coward,” You said quietly, watching his face twist, guilt flashing in his eyes, as he watched you collect your things, stuffing them into your backpack, before pushing past him. By the time you reached the door tears were gushing down your cheeks, and as you opened it to leave you could hear Bjorn sniffle.

“I’m sorry y/n.” Was all he could say, but it wasn’t enough for you at that point, you slammed the door behind you, and he let you go.

———-

Tyler grabbed your shoulders, tilting your head up so he was in your line of sight.

”I know he hurt you, and I’m sorry y/n…I really am, but you can’t let this get you down, you have been so tough, you’ve been recovering and putting yourself back out there, and hey, look at where you are right now and how you’re dressed! Ignore that moron for the night, okay? Go have fun.” His words were encouraging, Tyler always had that sort of energy to him, he would take situations like this and make it easier to handle, and you were thankful for his words at that point. You leaned against him, wrapping your arms around his torso to give him a hug. He returned the gesture.

”Thanks Tyler.” You mumbled against his shirt, his hand giving you a gentle pat on your back as he pulled away.

”Now let’s get back in there huh?” He suggested, with you nodding in agreement. Tyler held the door open for you, allowing you to go back into the club first, letting the deep, chest thumping bass surround you again. The both of you walked back to the bar, and Tyler ordered you another drink as you slipped a few greetings to the group, avoiding Bjorn all together even though you could feel his eyes on you, watching you closely. He was shocked that you didn’t leave the building, apart from the little scene you had pulled just a few moments ago, but there was something in him that was glad you didn’t bail on everyone. He wanted to see you, it had been too long, and he needed this opportunity to try to mend the burned bridges.

For those two months of not talking you were diligent in following your plan of not being around him, and you had pulled away from the friend group because of that choice. Tyler was the only one who reached out and stuck around, but he did pass on the information to the rest of the group so they understood that it wasn’t something they did that caused the rift, you didn’t want them blaming themselves on the account of Bjorn’s lack of communication. You missed the dynamic though and you were glad that they accepted the invite you gave them even on such short notice.

”You’re looking really good tonight!” Kay yelled over the music, “It’s very…Different!” She exclaimed, looking down at your outfit. You smiled at her compliment, a blush forming on your cheeks as you took a sip of your drink.

”I thought I’d try out a new look.” You responded, “I’m glad it’s a hit.” You could see her laugh but you couldn’t hear it through all the bass that was drowning the high pitched noises out of the room.

“Well maybe you should test it out on the dance floor, I’m sure there’s a lot of guys here that are wanting to take you home tonight.” Your goal wasn’t to hookup with anyone but you were willing to step out of the box and see where the night took you, so you tilted your head back, and guzzled the remnants of your drink, wiping your wet lips with the back of your hand and shuddering at the sheer intensity of the alcohol that burned down your throat. Everyone was looking at you at this point, shocked by the way you had downed the filled glass that quickly, aware that tonight a different version of you was coming out to play.

“Guess there’s no harm in trying hmm?” You shot back, putting the glass down onto the bar, the person behind the counter taking it away quickly. You felt nervous staring out into the packed crowd, the way the women moved, and swayed, how they let themselves go, the rhythm overtaking them and their bodies. You took in a deep breath, before moving towards the sea of bodies, stepping down the set of stairs and sewing through the crowd to find a spot that was barely visible to your set of friends. You felt like you were swallowed whole as the people took you in, a mix of sweat, spilled drinks and sweet smelling perfume surrounding you like a warm hug, the bass a throbbing pulse against your chest.

You started off by swaying your hips to the music, your head rolling back exposing the sheer lining of sweat that was already glistening on your skin, as you moved your hands up the lace top letting them go above your head, like you were trying to seduce yourself in a way, twisting your torso to the beat. On the floor you didn’t blend into the crowd, you painted yourself into existence, and the people around you welcomed that willingly. Your back arched, and your hair caught the colours of the strobing light, like it was a spotlight on you. In those moments you didn’t feel eyes on you, you just felt alive.

Then you felt the presence of someone behind you, a faint brush of warmth running over your back, they didn’t touch you at first, they were taking caution, which was something you were surprised about. You smirked at the thought of being so tempting to someone that they wanted to be careful not to scare you off, and in turn you didn’t glance back at them, you wanted them to be sucked into your orbit, as you continued to sway your hips. The figure moved in sync with you, mirroring your rhythm, you could see the movements in the shadows the strobe lights caused, noting the build of the person.

He now stepped closer to you, the heat from his body practically radiating against your bare shoulders, the subtle pressure of his presence being felt as he continued to match the pace your hips moved at. His hands still didn’t touch you, but the close proximity was making your skin tingle, you felt electrified, and you couldn’t deny the energy that was flowing between the both of you.

The stranger brushed up against you, it was a subtle move, but you could tell it was deliberate, regardless of the intention it made you inhale sharply, a gasp escaping your throat. You were happy that the music was deafening at this point so they wouldn’t be able to hear your reaction. You leaned back against him, allowing your bodies to close the space the both of you had purposely left, arching your body against the sturdy figure.

Your hips rolled with the beat, teasingly slow, your bottom dragging against the front of his pants with a friction that made your breath catch in your throat. Finally, he placed his hands on your hips, the delicate touch searing its memory onto your skin, his thumbs brushing slow circles into your clothed flesh, the tips of his fingers teasing just beneath the hem of your top, testing how far you’d let him go until you pulled back. To the strangers surprise you leaned into the touch, allowing his fingers to ghost over your belly button without hiking the top up too much, your head tilted to the side inviting him to get even closer, feeling his hot breath against your exposed shoulders. He took the chance, sliding his hands up higher, his fingertips brushing against your waist, the touch sending shivers racing down your spine. In that moment, the both of you moved together, perfectly in sync, and you could’ve sworn you were one entity at that point.

The sway of your hips matched the grind of his, the connection between the both of you becoming electric as the dance floor went completely dark, the only thing lighting the room being the bar, but that was so far away by this point you were practically blind. The man’s arms wrapped around you loosely, continuing to feel your skin beneath the top, his hot breath ragged against your neck now, the faint smell of whiskey hitting your nose. You took the chance to reach your hands up behind you, tangling your fingers through the mysterious figures' hair. The length was short from what you could feel, but it was dense, good enough to pull, you thought to yourself, continuing your intoxicating movements against him as his fingers explored the curve of your ribs. The way he touched you wasn’t hurried, not in the slightest, it was like he wanted to memorize every inch of your skin like a map.

Neither of you spoke, afraid that words would ruin the moment, as the heat of him pressed into every inch of your skin. Your breathing was shallow, and you could tell the both of you were getting worked up. There was no denying that there was tension building, your stomach felt like a jar of butterflies had been crushed within it, and mixed with the alcohol you could feel your head spinning.

He unraveled his arms from around you but kept your body close, as the tips of his fingers ran down your stomach, trailing to the front of your thighs, his hands having a slight tremor while doing so, the touch stopping just above the harnesses on your legs. He settled them there for a second, your chest rising and falling at an irregular pace, his breath sticking to the curve of your neck as your hips rolled against him, earning a groan from his lips, his chest vibrating against your back. He dragged his fingers up your thighs again, settling one hand between them as the other went back to the waistband of your shorts.

You wanted him to take advantage of the darkness of the dance floor, nobody would see, nobody would even know, but you could sense there was some sort of hesitation behind his actions, and you didn’t want to pressure him, so you allowed him to be in control instead. His fingers traced just below your belly button, drawing circles gently, as you felt a pair of wet lips graze over your shoulder, eliciting a gasp from you. It was so soft you could barely feel it but the fire that it lit on your flesh almost brought you close to passing out, it was too intimate, but you couldn’t help but love the feeling it brought you.

The hand that was caressing your stomach slid around your waist, slipping into the back pocket of your shorts, as the other hand trailed up the soft skin on the inside of your thighs, not travelling up any higher, even though you were tempted to shift yourself down onto his touch. You were going to allow him to do anything to you at that point, there was no denying you would go home with him once the lights turned on. Then suddenly after one more open mouthed kiss against your neck, his touch disappeared from you, breaking the heat that was pooling between your bodies. You spun around on your heel, trying to catch a glimpse of him, but the crowd had eaten him up and the darkness wasn’t helping at that point either. Your body was still burning from his touch, but the feeling of disappointment was beginning to cool everything down, the memory of his hands on you fleeting. You reached up, pushing your sweaty hair out of your face, realizing how hot you had become from the interaction.

The quick escape had ruined everything, so just like the stranger you decided to retreat from the dancefloor, seeing Tyler, Navarro, Andy, Kay, and Rain sitting at the bar, a look of concern plastered on their faces as they yelled to each other over the music.

“We can check on him afterwards!” You caught Tyler’s words, now joining their confusion.

”Check on who?” You yelled, catching their attention. They glanced over at you, and Navarro replied.

”Bjorn, he just ran out of the place, I don’t know what’s going on with him tonight.” Your eyebrows knitted together, pulling up one of the stools between Tyler and Navarro.

“He probably saw me dancing with that guy out there and ran off.” You commented, sitting down on the seat, immediately feeling something in your back pocket. You pressed your feet against the bar, standing up momentarily to remove whatever was causing the discomfort, pulling out the all too familiar silver engraved ring with the roman numerals.

You could feel your heart stop. The stranger, the one on the dancefloor was Bjorn. You didn’t know if you should feel sick, or angry. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you hadn’t thought to look at who it was behind you, but at the same time you couldn’t believe the audacity he had to do such things to you after months of ignoring you.

“Isn’t that Bjorn’s?” Tyler asked, snapping you out of your trance, as you put it into your palm, folding your hand into a fist.

”Yeah. I better go return it to him. I’ll see you guys later.” Before Tyler could say anything in protest you left the club.

————

You walked to the trailer from the club, it wasn’t that far thankfully, but by the time you had made it to the front door you had your anger from the two months built up inside you, ready to explode. You used the side of your hand to bang on the hard metal of the door, standing on the steps with your arms folded over your chest. It took a few minutes for Bjorn to open the door, surprisingly he looked calm, cool and collected, as if he was ready for this confrontation. He had a joint hanging out of the corner of his mouth, the tip of it glowing a hazy orange while he took a deep breath, removing it from between his lips to blow the smoke out towards you, a smirk appearing on his face.

”Well, if it isn’t my favorite person, come to thank me for that dance?” You pushed by him, entering the trailer with such fury that you could imagine a string of smoke following you, not waiting for an invitation from him to come in.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You snapped, hearing Bjorn close the door behind him.

”What? No ‘hi’, no ‘how have you been Bjorn’? That’s not nice.” He mocked, as you spun around to race him, the ring tightly clenched between your fingers, holding it up to show him.

”Two months Bjorn. Two fucking months of silence, of you ignoring me, and you think now is the time to fuck around and make jokes? You’re un-fucking-believable.” His gaze stared at the ring, bringing his joint back up to his lips, taking a slow, calculated drag, his expressions unreadable. He crossed one arm over his torso, leaning against the wall behind him as he breathed out the smoke.

”I’m not joking.” He said lightly, “You looked like you needed a good time…I thought I’d oblige.” Your mouth dropped open.

”Oblige?” Your voice rising with incredulity. “You danced with me like-like-.” You gestured wildly, trying to find words to express your thoughts, as heat rushed to your cheeks, “And then! Then you just walked away and disappeared and left me to find this fucking thing.” You raised the ring at him, your hand now trembling with nerves.

”You kept it…How sweet.” You could feel the rage pumping through your veins at this point, searing your blood, making it boil.

”I didn’t keep it,” You snapped, “I came here to give it back and to ask what the fuck is wrong with you.” He scoffed.

”Wrong with me?” He pushed off the wall, pointing to himself while he stepped closer to you. “How about you? You seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine when you were grinding up against me.” Your breath hitched in your throat as he moved into your space, his familiar scent of smoke wrapping around you.

“I didn’t know it was you.” You hissed through gritted teeth, trying to restrain your anger, looking up at him, shooting daggers, his body leaning closer to you.

“You didn’t stop me though, did you?” His tone was teasing and dark, he was baiting you, and all you could do was bite, blinded by the rage.

”That’s not the point!” You shot back, throwing the ring at him, his reflexes allowing him to catch it in midair, “You don’t get to waltz back into my life, play your stupid little mind games, and then pretend like nothing fucking happened!” For a moment Bjorn’s smirk fell from his lips, his mask slipping just a little bit, a hint of sensitivity flicking through the cracks.

”Nothing happened huh?” He said quietly, “Funny…It felt like something to me.” You could feel your heart thumping against your chest, your palms growing sweaty.

”Stop trying to twist this around. You ignored me for months, Bjorn. Months. And now you think you can just…Just-”

”Just what?” He interrupted, his voice raising, the space between the both of you closing even more as he took another step towards you, putting his joint out in the process. His breath could be felt against your body at this point he was so close, “Just touch you? Just kiss your neck? Just tell you what I’ve been trying to bury within me since we’ve become friends?” His words hung heavy in the air, your eyes widening at his confession.

“What are you talking about?” You whispered, your voice barely audible to him. Bjorn ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated grunt escaping his throat.

”I’m talking about you, about how you’re always on my fucking mind…In my body…How you’re in everything I fucking see. About how I’ve tried to push it all down, ignore it, because…I don’t want to fucking lose you y/n, it scares the hell out of me. But it doesn’t matter at this point does it? Because even when I’m trying to do the right thing by trying to let you go…I can’t fucking stop thinking about you.” Your anger extinguished at his confession, and disbelief overtook you.

”Why did you lie to me then…Why did you act like you didn’t care?” Your voice was trembling at this point, as your heart raced in your chest.

”Cause like you said…I’m a coward.” He admitted, his voice rough “I shouldn’t have let you leave that night.” You looked up at him, feeling bad for what you had said to him, but still unsure of where to go from there.

”Bjorn I-“ Your words faltered, as Bjorn’s calloused hands reached out to cradle your face, holding it as if you might vanish if he were to let go. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that was all consuming, it sent a jolt of electricity through your bodies. Your gasp was swallowed by him, the searing heat of his mouth moving against yours in such a way that you could feel every inch of your skin light ablaze. The kiss wasn’t soft nor hesitant, it was devastating, Bjorn kissed you like a person starved for touch and attention. His hands slid down your jaw and held your neck, feeling the pulse points that thumped against his thumbs.

Your hands went to his shirt, feeling the steady thrumming of his heart against your palms, as your hands fisted the fabric of the top he was wearing, pulling him even closer, kissing him back with equal fervor. One of his hands travelled down your side to hold your waist, as his lips moved with a desperation that made your knees weak, you were shocked you were still able to stand at that point. Your fingers laced into his hair, mirroring what you had done on the dancefloor, earning a groan that vibrated through you. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, a soft, involuntary sound escaping from you, igniting something even more hungry in him. He pulled away briefly, his lips trailing down your jaw to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“God I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” His voice was strained, like he was barely holding himself together. You shivered, feeling his light stubble brushing against the skin of your neck.

“Bjorn…” You managed to squeak out, your voice a breathy mix of plea and protest, as he pressed open mouthed kisses to your throat, his tongue trailing across the sensitive flesh, tasting your sweat. The air between the both of you grew heavy, your breath intermingling with his, fighting to get closer, to consume each other. His hands slipped under your shirt, holding onto your sides, his lips returning to yours, hungrier than the first kiss that he had given you, a need so overwhelming that it was lighting the both of you ablaze. He pulled back, breathless, resting his forehead against yours. His lips were swollen, and his pale skin was a crimson red.

“You made me feel like I meant nothing to you.” You whispered, “And then you came at me with something like this…And made it so hard to resist you.” Your fingers gripped his hair lightly.

“It killed me every second I chose to stay away, and it hurt me as much as it hurt you.” He replied, his hands coming up again to cup your face, his thumb brushing up against your cheeks, looking into your eyes, searching them for answers. “Tell me to stop y/n…Tell me to stop and I will.” His voice was barely audible at this point, almost pleading with you in a way to not tell him such things. You could feel your heart pounding in your head as you surged forward, crashing your lips into his once again, giving him the answer without words, melting into him again, getting sucked into the black hole that was your love for Bjorn. You pulled back.

”I don’t want you to stop…Please don’t stop.” He shook his head, thumb trailing under your eyes.

”I won’t stop until you tell me to.” He replied, sliding one hand down to intertwine your fingers with his, “Come with me?” He asked, his eyebrows raising, his blue eyes glazed over, the weed beginning to run through him. You squeezed his hand and nodded, untangling yourself from him as he led you down the hallway where the bedrooms were. You hadn’t been in Bjorn’s bedroom, but you assumed that’s where he was taking you. His strides were unhurried but there was intent behind every step, his thumb running over the back of your hand trying to ease his own nerves. When the both of you stopped in front of his bedroom door he took a moment to breathe, before pushing it open.

Your eyes roamed over the dimly lit disarray. A large unmade bed was in the center of the room, it’s dark grey sheets half-tangled and rumpled, you assumed he was a restless sleeper just from the status of the linen. He had a wall of photos on a corkboard near his bed, all his memories pinned randomly, you could see a few of the two of you taken candidly by Kay. The scent of him lingered faintly in the air - warm, smoky, leathery, with a light cedarwood combining everything together in a musk that was distinctly Bjorn. A pile of laundry sat in the corner of the room, not overflowing but teetering on the edge of being chaotic for one person. A mirror leaned against the far wall, tall, and rectangular, it’s frame matching the dark wood of the headboard his bed had, it seemed out of place, but it was fitting for Bjorn. All in all you could say the room looked lived in, and every detail of it carried a hint of his character - uncomplicated, rough around the edges, but magnetic.

You moved into the room more hearing Bjorn close the door behind the both of you, locking it so there would be no interruptions. You turned on your heel, looking over at him, his hands slipping into his pocket as he kicked off his boots, pushing them to the side with his foot. You did the same, your eyes staying on his, watching him step closer to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you could feel his hands begin to work on the latches that held your top together, his trained fingers figuring out the mechanism without even looking.

“Do you trust me?” His breath hitting the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice low. You tilted your head to the side, looking up at him, your hand pushing his hair out from his face, cupping his cheek as you nodded. He gave you a soft kiss on your swollen lips, his hands splitting the back of your shirt apart so he could ease it off of your body. Your skin prickled in the cool air of his room, as he threw the lacy fabric to the side, his eyes roaming over the expanse of your bare flesh, taking in every detail, every blemish, every mark that your skin had displayed.

“You’re so beautiful.” You could feel your heart seize for a moment, his head leaning down to gently kiss the crook of your neck, “So so beautiful.” His lips return to yours for a brief moment, your nipples pebbling against his chest as the cool air begins to nip at your exposed skin, “Go lay on the bed.” He whispers against your ear, his fingertips ghosting along your hips, your cheeks turning hot at the instructions. You glanced over your shoulder at the bed, making your way over to it, letting yourself fall onto the memory foam, the sheets puffing around you. Your arms extended out over your head, your gaze trailing over to Bjorn, watching him remove his shirt, throwing it to the side to allow you to take in his pale skin under the yellow hue of the room. He walked around the bed, kneeling down on it, his hands sliding up your bare smooth legs, over the harnesses on your thighs, up to the waistband of your shorts.

“Move back a bit more…I want you to be able to watch me in the mirror.” He commented, helping you move yourself up towards the edge of the bed, your head hanging off slightly so your gaze met your own reflection. The angle gave you a perfect view of yourself and Bjorn, as his fingers hooked under the waistband of the shorts, tugging them down your legs, his knuckles dragging down the skin of your thighs. You helped him out by lifting your bum off the mattress, showing off the little flexibility you had, as the fabric was removed and thrown over his shoulder, “I want you to see everything I’m going to do to you.” He murmured, his body settling between your open legs. Your stomach tightened at his words, your eyes darting to the reflection, seeing his body atop yours. His lips brushed along your neck, trailing over your collarbones, his hands moving with such ease, sliding up the back of your legs, and up your thighs, tracing along the skin of your hips, goosebumps chasing the touch. His fingers hooked under the thin waistband of your black lacy panties, pulling them down slowly, looking at the skin that became exposed to him, his mouth watering at the sight, leaning down to kiss the soft skin of your hip, crumpling the underwear in his hand, his touch returning to your thighs moments later, holding them gently.

”God look at you.” He whispered, his lips trailing lower, peppering wet kisses down your thigh savoring each gasp you took. You arched into him, spreading your legs a little wider for him, your eyes locking in on the reflection, seeing Bjorn’s gaze shift to the mirror so he could look back at you, a smile coming up onto his face.

”Bjorn…” Your voice was trembling, surrendering yourself to him, feeling his hot breath fanning over your skin, his mouth brushing against your inner thigh, your hands running across his shoulders, trying to find something to ground yourself as he got closer and closer to your hot core. The image of him between your legs reflected back at you, a gasp escaping your throat as his tongue ran up between your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit, your fingers grasping his hair. His mouth worked expertly against you, his hands gripping your body as if you might disappear, your hips writhing beneath him, grinding yourself on his face, craving more pressure. He obliged, pressing his tongue harder against your soaking core, both of his hands reaching up to hold onto your wrists gently. You could see your skin begin to flush red in the dim lighting, the blood rushing to your head. The room was filled with your breathy gasps intermixing with Bjorn’s deep vibrating moans, sucking gently on your sensitive clit, moving his mouth down to lap at your soaked core, collecting your juices on his tongue, his eyes now looking up at you. His pupils were blown out, his face beet red as he watched you chant his name like a prayer, your body bucking up against him, chasing the release that was beginning to coil inside you. He intertwined his fingers between yours, holding your hands at your sides so he could continue to watch you in the reflection, his nose bumping against your clit with the way he pushed his face into you, slipping his tongue in your fluttering entrance fucking it with the firm muscle. You squeezed his hands, now bending upwards to look at him, amazed by the way he knew your body already without even exploring it, your gasps now growing in volume as your hips began to move involuntarily, your thighs twitching against his neck. His gaze met yours, lust, hunger, and passion burning behind his eyes.

”Please…Please Bjorn.” Was all you managed to get out, as you let your neck hang off the side of the bed again, giving yourself a headrush, the begging encouraging his assertive and meticulous movements, the wetness of his tongue moving in and out of you. Heat crawled up your skin, as your thighs involuntarily closed around his head tightly, your hands squeezing his, the warmth crashing down on you, leaving your entire body trembling. He kept his face against you wanting to get every last drop from you, every bit that you were willing to give over. You relaxed against the mattress moments later, out of breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your hands untangling from his, as Bjorn lifted his head, placing one final set of kisses against the inside of your thighs. He made his way up the bed slowly, his lips trailing along your body - your stomach, the slight curve of your ribs, the delicate line of your sternum, his rough hands never leaving your skin.

”You’re so beautiful,” He said, his voice a hoarse whisper, his face hovering above yours, your breaths mingling together. His expression was so soft you melted into it, his blue eyes searching yours slowly, your hands coming up to cradle his face, your fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw.

”Bjorn…” You murmured, your voice trembling, still trying to bring your heart rate down. Your hooded eyes looked at him. You didn’t know what you wanted to say - a thank you, an I love you, something to encourage him to continue to ravage you- nothing felt enough at that point. He leaned down, kissing you slowly, letting the connection deepen as if he was pouring the unspoken words into the intimate moment, your body arching towards him, tasting yourself on his lips. Your hands slid from his face to his shoulders, wanting to explore more of his skin.

”Are you okay?” He breathes against your mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist to draw him in closer.

”I’m okay.” You whispered, tilting your chin up to kiss him again, as your hands slid down the front of his chest, feeling the faint line of hair below his belly button that led to the waistband of his jeans. Slowly, you undid his belt, teasing him.

”You’re so patient.” You giggled, a smile playing on your lips as you unbuttoned his jeans, and tugged the zipper down.

“And you…” He countered softly, leaning in towards you, breathing against your mouth “Drive me insane.” He shifted back onto his knees, pushing his jeans and boxer shorts down, kicking them off the side of the bed to join the rest of the abandoned clothes. In the golden light your eyes roamed over him, looking at his already erect cock, the tip red and glistening from the precum. He was huge, there was no denying that, and you were shocked to find out the rumors were actually true.

“Y/n…” He called, drawing your attention back up to his face, a grin appearing on his lips, catching you in the act of admiring him, “See something you like?” He added, his hands on your knees, rubbing them gently with his rough palms. You nodded, spreading your legs for him, his jaw clenching at the sight.

”Christ.” He muttered under his breath, his fingers pressing into your skin, heat pooling behind his ice blue eyes.

“Come here.” You instructed, and without hesitation he leaned down, pressing his palms against the mattress on either side of your head, his body folding over yours. His weight was warm and solid, as his mouth found yours again. The pressure of him made you sigh against his lips, as your hands glided down his back, feeling the tension in the muscles that held him up, his hips grinding towards yours, his cock twitching against the wetness between your legs.

“Fuck I don’t have condoms…” He groaned, realizing he had not restocked on them. You shook your head, pointing to a scar on the back of your arm.

”I have an implant, don’t worry about the condom situation.” The thought of being inside you with no barriers, the feeling of your velvety wet walls gripping his cock almost made him cum right then and there. The fact you trusted him enough to allow him to do that turned him on even more. He leaned forward, taking your bottom lip between his, tangling himself up in you, pulling away.

”Look,” His fingers pressed against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head back so you could look at the reflection, your eyes watching as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck, nibbling on your collarbone, the overwhelming stimulation making your heart race. “So perfect.” His breath was hot, and it stuck to your skin, as one hand began to trace the curve of your waist. You reached down between the both of you, your hand wrapping around his cock, feeling desperation as you slid the tip up and down the slick your cunt had produced, gasping as his hips moved forward. In the reflection you could see his head dipping lower, his eyes closing briefly, savoring the moment he slipped between your folds, trying to keep himself steady so you could adjust to his size.

“Bjorn.” You whined, “Please…” Was all you could get out, his focus coming up to you, his free hand cupping your cheek.

”I’ve got you…” He whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your heart clenched at the softness of his voice, the hand on your waist trailing down to hold your thigh up against his torso. You swallowed hard, your hands sliding up his chest, his heart beating against your palm, “Look at how good you take me.” He complimented, his hips moving slowly towards yours. In the reflection it was as if you were seeing yourself through his eyes, watching the way you writhed beneath him as he stretched you out slowly. He slid his thumb into your mouth, dragging the saliva down your chin, his lips meeting yours in a sloppy, heated kiss, your tongues battling for dominance, taking the opportunity to swallow your gasps as he pushed fully into you, bottoming out, your nails scraping down his back at the stretch. Bjorn hissed softly at the sensation, but the look in his eyes was welcoming. The both of you stilled for a moment, wanting to adjust to the new feeling of being so close together.

”Breathe with me.” He instructed, his forehead resting against yours, his hand finding yours, threading your fingers together. You did as you were told, breathing deeply, relaxing into him. Slowly, he began to move his hips, watching your reaction to gauge what made you feel good, trying to memorize it.

”Every part of you….Feels so good.” You whimper, arching into the thrusts. Your words sunk deep into him as his hips snapped forward rhythmically, finding a pace that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. He held your neck, helping you shift down the bed so you had more support for your head, so the both of you can look into each other's eyes. The quiet groans he made mingled with the sounds that escaped your lips filling the air between you, his forehead meeting yours.

“You’re so fucking perfect y/n.” Your cheeks burned at his words, his tone stealing the breath from your lungs as he held you closely, his body moving with such a gentle force it made your head spin. His arm slid behind your neck, propping you up, his lips pressing against your temple, his thrusts slowing down and getting deeper. A knot coiled low in your stomach, another orgasm building in you, the wetness now audible in the room. Your eyes fluttered shut, allowing your body to give into him, his urgent and tender movements burning for you.

”Bjorn…I-.” He held your cheek,

”I know, I got you…Let yourself go.” He continued to thrust into you, your walls tightening around him, whimpering at the overstimulation, his forehead meeting yours as his movements and breathing became ragged, his cock sinking into you just a little more deeper before he stilled above you, warmth filling your tight pussy, his hand squeezing yours. The world outside of his room felt far away in that moment- absolutely insignificant to what you had both done. All that mattered was being with him, entangled on top of the sheets, holding each other as you came down from the high. He pressed a kiss on your forehead, the both of you letting out a content sigh together, savoring the afterglow. He looked down at you, a quiet affection playing behind his blown out pupils.

”You’re incredible.” He whispered softly, his voice was tender, “I never want to forget this.” You smiled at his words.

”I don’t think I could forget it even if I tried.” You replied back, the both of you giggling together, settling down a bit, legs entwining together, feeling him soften inside you, but keeping him inside.

”Stay the night?” He asked, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

”I was planning to.” You responded, a lazy smile engraved on your lips, letting your body relax against his, your hands still tracing along every inch of his skin, knowing that it was just the start of something new.

#alien franchise #alien romulus fanfic #alien: romulus #bjorn alien romulus #bjorn alien romulus x reader #bjorn x fem reader #alien romulus #bjorn smut #bjorn x reader #bjorn alien romulus smut #spike fearn

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thewritetofreespeech · 5 months ago

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hello, goodnight 🫂

prompt 7 with Kunikida, female reader, pretty please? 😻

7. Cuddlefuck

{part of this series: part i, part ii part iii}

The sun was starting to come in through the window. The start of a new day. A whole new chapter in his life it seemed.

Since yesterday’s events of being discovered by the President about his and [Y/N]’s relationship, Kunikida felt like a page had been turned in his life as easily as one of his notebooks. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the President found them, but it certainly wasn’t what happened.

“So, how long has this been going on.”

“Not long…” [Y/N] muttered. Not looking at her father.

“A year.” Kunikida answered honestly. “A little more, but on and off.”

The president growled low in his throat. Causing Kunikida to flinch and [Y/N] to finally look at him. “And you kept this from me because?”

“Well at first it wasn’t anything serious.” She confessed. Which was true. “Then it just sort of happened.” Again, also true. Kunikida could not legitimately pinpoint when their relationship became serious, or even an relationship at all. It just happened one night and then there they were. On and off until they were eventually on the whole time, even when she was away. “By then it seemed silly just to tell anyone, and it was also no one’s business.”

Fukuzawa-sama leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Kunikida?”

“I’m sorry for lying to you, sir.” Though he technically didn’t lie, the sin omission was just as bad. “It was not my…our..intention. Though our intentions with keeping it a secret were not honorable, I would like you to know that my intentions with your daughter are very honorable. I love her. And I will do everything in my power to re-earn your trust in me as a subordinate and partner to [Y/N].”

[Y/N] looked shocked and quite moved by his words, but Fukuzawa-sama was quite stone faced. “For what it’s worth now, I would not have disapproved if you had just told me.” The couple looked surprised, but the president just leaned over his desk with his hands clasped in front of him. “You’re right, [Y/N]. It is none of my business. This does not effect the agency, your path, or Kunikida’s standing in the organization. I just wish you would have told me.”

[Y/N] hung her head. “I’m sorry daddy.”

“See to it there are no more secrets between us. Times are getting more challenging for our world. We must trust each other if we are to rely on one another, in these dark times.”

“Yes sir.” Kunikida & [Y/N] chime together.

“Good. Now please leave my office. Kunikida, take tomorrow off since your time was cut short with this off the clock meeting.”

“Yes sir.” He repeated, and escorted [Y/N] out as they headed to his apartment for the evening.

That was where he was not. Back at his apartment, like they had been so many times before, but it was all so different now.

Kunikida turned to look over at [Y/N]. Still asleep. A peaceful expression on her face, one he could make out even without his glasses. It wasn’t a secret anymore. He could tell everyone that they were together now. Tell the world. Kiss her in broad daylight like he wanted to.

Over come with the thought, Kunikida leaned over to kiss [Y/N] on her sleeping lips. Soft and pliable, they hypnotically open up for him at his prodding to kiss him back. “Kunikida….” He smiled when his name left her tired, kiss puckered lips. Wondering if she knew it was him or if she was dreaming of him. “What time is it?”

“Early.” He hadn’t looked at the clock but the light coming in was still pale. And although he had the day off, Kunikida's internal clock always woke him up at the same time, as if to get ready for the day. “Go back to sleep.”

“I was trying…” Her voice is slurred with sleep. Seeming to teeter between indeed falling back asleep and waking up. He kissed her again. Slow and lazy. Their warm limbs tangle around each other under the blankets. [Y/N]’s hips rocked up against him to feel his erection brush against her thigh. “Kunikida…”

He knew what she wanted by the way she said his name this time. He wanted it too. Kunikida tried to pretend that he was above such baser needs. Closer to his ideal refinement, but in reality he was just like any other man. Or maybe that was just [Y/N]’s effect on him.

He slid down the front of his sleep pants and brushed his bare cock over [Y/N]’s panty covered pussy. They both gasp. The seam of them was already damp as he rocked his hips between her thighs against that spot. Had she been having a naughty dream before he woke her up? Was he in it? Was that why she said his name?

His fingers hook into her panties under the covers and pull them down. Only one leg comes out of them, but that was all they needed. Kunikida hooked her leg over his hip and slowly pushed inside her. It was wet, and warm, and inviting. [Y/N] moaned before she tucked her head under his chin. The two of them just rocking and coiling together. Holding on to one another. It was bliss.

The goal was not to cum, as Kunikida’s only real goal was to be close to her, but it happens eventually. Messy and warm, they lay together still kissing before [Y/N] seemed to fall back asleep for a little while longer in his arms. He held her there a little while longer before he fell back asleep too. They could go tell the world later he guessed.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#kunikida x reader #bsd x #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs scenarios #bungou stray dogs scenarios #bungo stray dogs imagine #bungou stray dogs imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd imagines #kunikida doppo #doppo kunikida #kunikida doppo x reader #fukuzawa yukichi #fukuzawa bsd #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut

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pinkthrone445 · 1 year ago

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-Distant wedding bells- Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Gary x Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:love, hurt, hurt

Warnings:Mention of cheating , insults

Summary:I don't wanna spoil it because I think it's good the surprise reading this fic like this.

-"Whether we like it or not, I'm still married to him" - she whispered, teary-eyed inches from your lips

-"I know, I can't fucking forget that" - You whispered and tried to kiss her again but she wouldn't let you, putting her fingertips on your lips to stop you

-"And I'm not a cheater..."-she whispered, and you sighed walking a few steps back, even if your soul ached for having to part from her after wanting to kiss her for so long. You knew why she said it, whether Gary was a bad men or not, he didn't deserve to be cheated on like her ex-husband did to her in her old marriage

-"I'll talk to Gary and then we will see where this could go... Would you be willing to wait for me?" - Melissa asked looking into your eyes and you barely smiled -"Always..."-You answered and arranged a strand of hair that had ruffled out of her perfect hair -"I'll see you tomorrow at school then... Please don't stay here, go back home and eat something and try to get some rest... And if Ava gets your transfer, don't accept it... Wait for me please or I'll go after you"- Melissa whispered and kissed your cheek, very close to your lips before leaving to talk to him.

The next morning, you walked into the teacher's room and made yourself a latte, it was the first morning in weeks when you didn't feel like garbage, the first morning you didn't need a strong coffee to wake you up, the first morning you felt relaxed and happy, the first morning you'd have breakfast again with the other teachers in the break room. The kiss you had given to the redhead kept playing like a scratched record in your head, making the smile you had on your face grow more and more.

For a few seconds the break room was quiet, until suddenly Abbott's entire team arrived for breakfast, including the redhead who drove you so crazy.

Your eyes immediately connected with the hypnotizing green orbs of the eldest, without being able to help it, you smiled at her and seeing how she completely swept over you with her gaze, you blushed slightly

-"Someone's happy this morning... It's good to see you with us again, I missed you" - Barbara commented, sitting in her usual place, at the same table you were sitting at, leaving a space between you and her for Mel, just like you usually sat when the 3 of you were together. It felt good that something felt like the old days before Mel got married.

Mel sat down next to you with a smile and brushed your hand on purpose, giving you a sneaky caress, implying that she also remembered what had happened the night before. No words beyond a 'hello' were shared between you and Mel, but Barbara had already noticed that there was something weird and different between you.

When you finished breakfast, Barbara walked down the hall with you, ready to get a little information out of you

-"Are you going to tell me what has made you change your mood so quickly? Yesterday you were in a very big emotional low and now you're almost jumping and singing through the halls"-Barbara asked and you smiled at her, unable to contain your excitement

-"Last night Mel and I kissed, not only did I kiss her, but she reciprocated everything"-You commented in a whisper with a smile from ear to ear. The eldest looked at you shaking her head with a hunch that this wouldn't end well

-"Be careful (Y/N)..."-It was all he said and you nodded

-"I know, I know... Mel will talk to her husband about divorce and then we'll be together. We'll do things right..."-You answered, and Barbara just nodded before entering her classroom.

Barbara later that day also spoke to Melissa, telling her to be careful with you and not hurt you because you were blindly in love with her and that could go wrong.

The week went by quickly, you wanted to ask Mel if she had spoken to him but you didn't know if it was too soon, so you decided to find out subtly

-"Hey Mel! Do you want to go out for a drink with me tonight?" - You asked her and felt the red-haired woman's hand brush yours as you walked together

-"I can't, Gary will be home and I have to make him something to eat..."-Melissa replied and you sighed, that meant she hadn't talked to him yet.

-"Okay, then I'll see you tomorrow"- You greeted her by kissing her cheek and went home a little disappointed. After you made yourself something to eat, your cell phone rang with a message from the redhead

-🍒Lisa🍒:"I'm so sorry I can't be with you tonight... I'll go take a bath now, I'll try not to think about how much I'd like you to be here helping me wash my back, I miss you" - Her message lit up your face and made you laugh like a teenager

-You:"I'll go to bed now, I'll try not to think too much about how delicious your lips feel on mine and how much I miss having you close. Good night Lisa"-You replied smiling and she was slow to respond back

-🍒Lisa🍒:"I'm sorry for not responding quickly, he's near me all the time. Good night sweetheart , have nice dreams"-The redhead answered and you left your cell phone on the nightstand to start eating.

The next few weeks continued like that, you asked her out but she told you that she couldn't because she had plans with him, which made you understand that they hadn't talked yet, and you would get all sad. Then you'd come home and get a message from her that gave you the slightest glimmer of hope and you'd blindly hold on to that and put aside the fact that she hadn't been honest with him yet. Days and days trying to make plans without any result...

-"Do you want to go dancing with me? Just dancing, I promise, I won't try anything else."-You consulted with the redhead but she denied it with some excuse, she always had excuses.

-"Want to go for a coffee? I miss spending time together"-You asked another day and she turned it down again. Then, when you home, she would send you another message that would revive your hopes.

Between those comings and goings, two months passed where the desire to be with her was almost consuming you, the sadness was coming back and you didn't like that .

How you wanted her to finally talk to him, so that you could at least kiss her again. But every day the possibility of her talking to him felt more distant.

In a particularly stressful week, you began to feel the need to be with her and hug her even more eagerly than before. Mel hadn't had the best day and neither had you, so you thought maybe it would be a good idea to go out together to distract yourself. When you saw her walking out of the school through the front doors into the parking lot, you hurried your pace to get to her side

-"Hi..."-You smiled looking at her and she greeted simply with a smile too-"Do you want to go home to see a movie or something?...I know it's been a tough week for everyone and I thought maybe we could be together, grab a bite to eat, snuggle up a bit... -You smiled excitedly and she shook her head looking at her phone

-"I can't, I have a date with Gary, He invited me to a fancy restaurant "-she whispered and smiled barely visible

-"Right... Have you had a chance to talk to him?"-You asked looking at her and she rolled her eyes

-"Not yet"- Her answer was short and dry

-"Do you plan to do it soon? I really want to go out with you, to be able to be together in peace, to hug you or kiss you..."-You answered truthfully and the redhead stopped in front of you squeezing her cell phone a little bit annoyed with your insistence

-"I don't know! Okay? I don't know when I'll talk to him yet, the time hasn't been right. How insistent you are with that! I'll do it, it's not an easy thing to say, I need time!" - The redhead hadn't had a good day and she had no patience left, causing her to treat you badly and scream even though she didn't want to

-"More time? I don't think there's the right time to say something like that... You have to do it and that's it, without hesitating so much or looking for the right moment when it will never come... I know you need time to do it, but it's been more than two months since you told me you'd talk..."-You spoke sadly and sighed

-"It's not crazy what I'm asking, I'll talk to him, just wait a little longer"- replied the redhead looking at you with a frown

-"Do you know how much longer you need me to wait? Because I've already waited two months for you and it's difficult, especially when you don't help... It's been two long months where you tempt me and when I want to be with you or kiss you stop me saying you're not a cheater or something like that. Two months in which you call me in the middle of the night to tell me how miserable your life is with him, that you need me by your side, that you want to feel my arms hugging you as you sleep and the next day at the entrance to work I see you laugh and kiss him like you love him with all your being..."-You sighed biting the inside of your cheek trying to control your emotions-" I'll give you more time, don't worry... You'll have all the time that you need, I won't bother you with this again"-You whispered and kept walking to your car leaving her alone there.

That night, Mel called you but you didn't answer her, she also sent several messages

-🍒Lisa🍒:"Hey hon, I'm so sorry how I treated you earlier, I was tired and with almost 0 patience, can we talk? Please"-Mel sent the first message with no response

-🍒Lisa🍒:"Please, I promise to talk to him soon..."- Message delivered, read and unanswered, the redhead sighed and tried again

-🍒Lisa🍒:"Did you go out drinking? Do you want me to pick you up and so we can talk quietly? Maybe we can go grab a bite to eat if you want, just you and me, what do you say? I miss you" - Delivered, Read, No Response Again

-🍒Lisa🍒:"I'm really sorry, please answer me..."-Message sent, undelivered, and unread. You had turned off your cell phone. Melissa ran her hands over her face in frustration.

The next morning at school, you ignored her all day, even though you were in the teacher's room together or even if she talked directly to you, you just ignored her.

At the end of the day when you were about to go home, she stopped you to talk

-"Are you going to ignore me all day?"-Melissa sounded annoyed but you just looked at her seriously, without any other emotion

-"I'm giving you space, it was what you wanted, I don't want to overwhelm you with my insistence" - You responded and tried to keep walking but she hadn't let go of your arm, you sighed and turned to look at her

-"Please... Don't act like that, it hurts me when you walk away from me and ignore me"-Melissa replied, moving closer to you

-"So you can ignore me, handle me as you please and stay away from me all you want, but I can't do it because I hurt you?" - You asked and laughed at the irony of the situation

-"Have a good day Melissa"-You answered and left.

-"I don't ignore you, it's just hard to respond when he's right there next to me, and it's hard to make up lies so he doesn't suspect anything so can be with you... I'm really really sorry"-The redhead replied by making wet puppy dog eyes, she knew you had a soft spot for that, but you just sighed without looking her in the eye

-"I don't believe you and I don't xare anymore"-You replied without much desire to argue with her, you just wanted to go home to be alone

-"I mean it, do you want me to show you how much I miss you and how sorry I am?" - Mel responded with pleading in her voice and tried to kiss you but you turned your face making her kiss your cheek and took her hand making her let go of you

The week went on like this, you ignoring her and her insisting, but nothing changed your mood.

A particular day, Mel came into your classroom attracted by all the children smiling, singing, dancing and giving you drawings they had made. It wasn't your birthday, but the scene was very cute to watch. Her initial smile turned to confusion when she saw a cake on your desk that said 'we'll miss you Miss (Y/N), come back soon'

-"Hey... What is this?" - The redhead looked at you in confusion as you said goodbye to the last kids

-"I'm leaving and the kids wanted to say goodbye, I'm going to change schools, I'm going to work somewhere else, I finally accepted my transfer, after having postponed it for more than a month..." - You whispered making a pile of all the drawings and gifts

-"What? Was that what everyone was muttering in the teacher's room? Why does everyone know you're leaving but me? Why didn't you tell me anything? You promised you'd wait for me..." - Melissa was confused and hurt, how could you make that decision without telling her, why did she have to be the last to know?

Melissa stood there watching you go, with deep pain in her body and feeling her heart go after you, the same thing that had happened to you months ago when you saw her marry someone else.

-"And you promised you'd talk to him and it's been almost three months... I promised I'd wait for you, and I did, I've had my transfer ready for a while and I didn't leave for you, but I will not wait forever... You already hurt me once without knowing it, but now you know what you're doing, you're hurting me and you know it and yet you keep going. And yes, I'm stupid, but not enough to let you hurt me anymore... You want to have me and at the same time you don't want to face Gary, but you can't have everything, not everything is going to be the way you want it to be. You have to make up your mind and act, or life will decide for you... But don't worry, I won't pressure you into talking to him anymore, you don't need to do it for me, because I don't want to be with you or see you anymore... I'll leave so you can get on with your stupid marriage without having to worry about me or the pressure I make you feel with my messages or questions. I hope you are very happy with your dear husband and please don't ever call me again-You angrily took your purse and walked past her without looking at her, carrying in your hands the parting gifts that the children had given you. You didn't want this, you didn't want to start from scratch again, you didn't want to get away from her either, but you couldn't keep hurting yourself waiting for love from someone who wasn't going to give it to you.

#melissa schemmenti smut #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #Melissa schemmenti hurt #melissa schemmenti abott elementary #abott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfic #abott elementary #abbott elementary #lissa ann walter #lisa ann walter #Lisa ann Walter fanfic

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bidisasterevankinard · 9 months ago

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Tease tidbit Tuesday

Tuesday for me and I can't wait to share . I back with bucktommy fic I posted on 7ss . I titled it I want to dance with you tonight (and for the rest of my life). he is Buck being completely soft boy in love:

Buck really can’t keep himself from being as close to Tommy as possible, craving his touch any time they are together.

He never felt so content in exploring his relationship, in making them more serious, as he is right now with Tommy.

Buck likes everything about them. How good they look together. How easily they understand each other or how perfectly their bodies feel being close. He likes how they can just exist together and he never feels out of place.

He likes Tommy. Everything about him.

How tender, gentle and patient he is with everyone, but especially with Buck. Buck enjoys Tommy’s humor and how he can talk about the book he read just yesterday for hours, explaining all the details the writer put, which Buck would not even look at. Buck even enjoys listening to Tommy talking with him about basketball, cars and any martial arts.

He will not admit it to anyone but during those moments when Tommy talks about anything he is passionate about, Buck can zone out, admiring how beautiful his man is when he is relaxed and happy to share with Buck. Around Tommy’s blue beautiful eyes, which look at him with so much joy, tenderness and adoration, wrinkles go deeper because man is smiling and Buck absolutely adores it. His pink plump lips move in a hypnotizing way, making Buck from time to time interrupt Tommy just because he's too weak to stop himself from kissing his boyfriend. When Tommy is so handsome (in Buck's absolutely biased opinion Tommy is always handsome), happy and right here with him, Buck can’t stop himself from kissing him.

He likes how Tommy is passionate about the job as much as Buck, which means they never argue or hurt each other's feelings about dates not happening because of the schedule.

Buck even starts to believe he loves Tommy.

It’s too soon to say. But he is happy with the man. Tommy makes him feel safe and happy, wanted and cared, and Buck simply wants to embrace all those feelings and let them envelope his heart and keep him warm.

Tommy is warm. Tommy is someone he never imagined meeting, but always missed, while their lives went separate ways.

tagging @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @ebdaydreamer @evanbuckleysarms @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @theotherbuckley @tizniz @transboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @pirrusstuff @smilingbuckley @spotsandsocks @spaceprincessem @steadfastsaturnsrings @devirnis @dangerpronebuddie @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck @hippolotamus @jesuisici33 @loserdiaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @bibuckbuckley @bi-buckrights @neverevan @monsterrae1 @bewilderedbuckley @buckstommy and anyone who wants

#fic: I want to dance with you tonight (and for the rest of my life)#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #my wips #tuck #tevan #kinkley #911 #evan buck buckley #911 abc #bucktommy wip

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megalomaniacz · 1 year ago

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ELECTRIC LADY… 💋📺🚬

pairing: 70s!ellie x reader

synopsis: today is nothing like yesterday.

author’s note: whipped this up kinda quick while watching ash asylum.

part one. > part two. > part three.

⋆˚✿˖°

“and more on the shocking news we covered earlier tonight, the man found dead was 36 year old Benson Standold. not much on the fugitives that killed him, but a witness has disclosed that they saw two young women running away from the scene—“

the radio whirrs as ellie turns the channel.

“got on board a westbound 747…”

“dammit shit fuck!” you scream. she’d pulled the cigarette out of her own mouth and handed it to you, the unkept ashes falling onto the skin of your thigh. you wince, taking a drag. “what have we done?”

“listen, he was gonna hurt you. and you didn’t do anything, i was the one holding the knife.”

you shake your head, holding back a river of tears. “weren’t we just two kid in love yesterday?”

you’d both gone to get breakfast and were on your way back, when ellie noticed a car following in her rear view. she took a couple harsh lefts, sharp rights, and stopped over to the side when it was still there. she’d gotten out to confront him when he threw a string of slurs at her. hollering about his perverse thoughts. hollering about you.

he went to attack her and she fought back. ellie fought to win, nothing less. this was something he’d been forced to learn the hard way. now you were speeding off to god knows where with your things still at the hotel. a small sum of money, gum, and a pack of cigarettes on your person.

“that was yesterday, doll. if you ain’t noticed already, things have changed.”

you bite your lip. “what if we just tell the police what happened?” ellie chuckles. “we ran. and they wouldn’t believe me anyway. listen, we can play this like i kidnapped you or something? murderous frenzy? way outta my mind? that might work.”

you stare at her like she actually is way outta her mind. “goddamnit ellie! i’m not letting you go to fucking jail for me! now shut up and keep driving.”

⋆˚✿˖° 7 years prior

you were dazzling in the low light of the bar. the music seemed to flow through you, overtaking your body. your movements, effortless but enchanting. hauntingly beautiful. hypnotizing.

ellie had up and gone and come back about 20 times (if you were counting right) and you were sure you were the reason she kept returning. never a moment in her reappearance had she missed the chance to sit and talk with you. smiling at you with so much love in her eyes you thought it might change your mind about her. about not getting too attached to a balloon that was facing the wind.

you’re startled by another presence, and by the change in music you can tell it’s her. she never fails to come back with a present. pretty key chain dangling on her index finger while her thumb points to the booth. how could anyone say no to that smile?

“when do you leave again?” you ask, conflicted on how you should react to the answer. she was doing what she’s always wanted to, but not seeing her was killing you inside. you couldn’t get over all the love you had for her. she tosses a toothpick around her mouth, then smirks showing that damn dimple. “in a couple days. you free?”

it was never just sex, though the sex was incredible. she’d take you on sweet little dates. she’d show you things you that you wouldn’t even know to go looking for. she’d talk to you about how the city was her heart but you were the blood running through it. how much she…

“want you there with me, but i know that you love this little shithole town.”

you scowl at her. “don’t call it a shithole. i love this place.”

“i know.” she sighs. “that’s why i keep coming back.”

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marrycv · 9 months ago

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cry baby

warnings : mention of sex on strap! fingering reader!receiving. angst, smut, toxic!ellie and addiected!reader. mention of drugs, alcohol. mention of drug addiction, mention of cheating. tell me if i missed anything:)

requests are open

the night was cold, colder than the previous ones that you remembered through the dark memories you had in your mind. flawlessly coming back as flashbacks you never meant to remember. it felt like every time, you had to revive that moment. it was so intense, so hurtful, yet so comforting at the same time. ellie was your comfort person, yet the person that made you curl in your bed to cry until your lungs hurt. she was just always playing with your heart that you let it into her hands, already too corrupted to be saved. only her could do something about it. and it wasn’t like she was gonna give it back to you, no her hands, playing with your heart was glued to it, no matter how hard you tried to take it away from her it was impossible, only was doing you and her more damage than ever.

she’d always come home in the middle of the night saying sorry, almost begging for it to finish with her strap deep filling you whole. you moaning her name like a song in repeat, beautiful like poetry while her actions and words were such a dirty sin to remember looking at, yet so good it made you remember why you stayed. you stayed because you’d fall for her words, her charm, the way she made you feel. as it could be with her skilled fingers or with her mouth. words and actions that were only to use your body as her biggest sex toy.

today wasn’t any different, a cold night, ellie knocking on your door to excuse herself under some intoxicating liquid or something else that you probably couldn’t name it. her brain wasn’t functioning like it would’ve.

it was draining knowing what will happen

that you’d wake up lonely again. yearning for more.

that was why she loved being with you, you’d open the door each time she knocked it.

but how could you know itll be her standing in front of it waiting impatiently for you?

in a way you always knew it was her, but you preferred finding an excuse to save yourself from you hypnotized self.

“im sorry yn”

“please leave it always happens like this”

you couldn’t do it tonight. not when last time you saw her was in the arms of another girl a month ago. her excuse was that she looked like you. you and ellie weren’t even together which in a way hurts more than it should’ve, she wasn’t yours, but you needed her to be.

you needed her to love you like you loved her. you needed her to put her life aside like you did for her.

at this point your days looked like laying in bed in a suffocating loop only because of her addiction.

the high was high and the down was a goddamn crash and you couldn’t recover from it only with some help. and it was another dose of her drug that would let you get up from your bed to open the door at 1am, needing that little high of her again.

you knew that when she’d leave, the down would be worse than it was yesterday. and you knew that the high would be less than yesterday too, but you couldnt help but think you needed it more than oxygen.

you couldn’t help but letting her devour the insides of you- quite literally.

she was so dangerous for you, like the nitrogen dioxide, you couldn’t resist to it in every way possible.

you just needed to pass out with the warmth feeling of her embrace, while your lungs and eyes were burning due of crying because of the such negative emotions she’d make you feel and how you got attached to the such rare ones.

“baby i got you flowerssss!!”

“Awwww!! Ellie this is literally so cute im gonna cry!!”

for the next second you two got into an argument and you threw the vase into her face, glass, water and tulips all over her face for reminders that you just figured out that she relapsed. lying to you that she was doing okay all this time.

leading you on.

she was intoxicating herself but it was contagious, and she could never see it.

“im so sorry yn! but i feel worse sober. i dont know what to do!!” she’d yell at you

you’d just fall in the act, like everytime.

you’d just open your arms to wrap her body around you.

but she was Ellie, she was broken, you needed to be here for her even though it meant dying for her.

you’d do anything for her to feel okay.

even though you never did with her.

she was still your whole world, she got your heart… remember?

#ellie williams #the last of us #ellie fanfic #tlou fanfiction #wlw post #ellie smut #ellie x reader #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #ellie x you #toxic love #toxic relationship #toxicity #tw drugs #sex and drugs #angst #Spotify

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vickyvicarious · 2 months ago

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At sunset I try to hypnotise her, but alas! with no effect; the power has grown less and less with each day, and to-night it fail me altogether.

The hypnotism has been getting steadily more difficult/less effective ever since Dracula tried to shut off their connection. So in that sense, this is just an inevitable result of a process that has been going on for days now.

But the timing of when it fully stops is really interesting because of where they are when it happens. When they arrived at the Borgo Pass yesterday morning, he was still able to hypnotize her. But shortly after this, they left the main road to begin traveling on the turnoff that eventually leads to Castle Dracula. And right around then, things started to get weird.

Mina awakens from this last hypnosis full of energy and knows exactly the way to go. This can be explained by Jonathan's journal (since it is the only turnoff), but the way she gives that explanation seems oddly like an afterthought. Then, as they begin to travel down this way, the path gets confused and there are many options that may or may not be roads. Mina sleeps so hard that Van Helsing is unable to wake her, just like on the 25th. It's unlikely Dracula is actively in her head this time around, so what is happening? Whatever it is seems to possibly be affecting Van Helsing too, because he also drowses off while they are traveling.

They stop for the night. Mina can't be hypnotized, and laughs about it. She claims she's already eaten and takes no food, with a smile. She never tries to write anything in her journal. She stays awake all night. He keeps drifting off to sleep throughout the night, and every time wakes to her watching him. In the morning she passes out so hard he cannot wake her again. She looks super healthy now, just like Lucy did after death.

Obviously, Mina has crossed some kind of threshold in her slide into vampirism, and is now being much more affected than she has been thus far. As we have only seen her journal for the past few days, it's possible some of these new symptoms have been creeping up more gradually and she simply hasn't mentioned them, but honestly I don't think that's the case. Van Helsing is so scared by them, and he talks about them as something new. He never says "as she has done the past three days" or whatever; he is talking about yesterday only. Similarly, you could argue that his own drifting off to sleep is simply due to exhaustion. But while they have been setting a fast pace, as of the day before these events they were trading off driving specifically so both of them could get enough rest. Him drifting off during the night of the 3rd after Mina slept all day and didn't help him drive makes sense, but falling asleep during the day less so to me.

So I cannot help but link both Van Helsing's weariness while trying to find the castle, and Mina's abrupt shift closer to vampirehood, to them crossing an actual threshold. They are now in Dracula's lands, approaching his castle. They've entered his domain. And just like Jonathan slept repeatedly and was confused of the exact route taken to the castle, so too is Van Helsing. As for Mina - the vampiric influence is much stronger here. She cannot spy on Dracula anymore, not now that she is in his lands. That was the final nail for that waning possibility - Van Helsing lacks the influence to make it happen now; the only kind of hypnotism that can be done here is vampires hypnotizing their victims. And her descent into vampirism is accelerated just by being here.

#dracula daily #mina murray #van helsing #i've talked about this before partially #but mostly focusing on the sleepiness and the idea of the castle/area around it having basically absorbed some dracula magic #not how it affects mina in this entry

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ellaenchanting · 10 months ago

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WHAT IS MINDFULNESS VS HYPNOSIS ACCORDING TO ELLA ENCHANTING (haver of opinions)

One misconception that I often hear amongst hypnosis geeks is that "mindfulness" is basically a normie-safe word for "hypnosis"- that hypnosis and mindfulness practices are essentially the same thing.

This is a hard misconception to disprove- in fact, "hypnosis" and "mindfulness" are often defined really vaguely and in different ways by different people so- they could often very well be refering to the same thing!* I know when I first learned about mindfulness practices, I dismissed them as "just" repackaged hypnotherapy- something I already knew a lot about. However, in doing so, I was neglecting ideas that turned out to be a really useful self-improvement tools.

If you're of a similar mindset, drawing a distinction between the two may also be really helpful for you.

MINDFULNESS:

So, the end goal of mindfulness is learning a kind of grounded way to self reflect. It's a potentially really helpful skill for people who get caught in thought spirals** or overwhelming emotions. A big goal for people learning the skill is to be able to observe thoughts and emotions without entirely buying into them OR dismissing them. Let's say I have a train of thought that keeps looping in my head- I'm worried about something stupid I said yesterday at work, for example. Imagine that train of thought is an ACTUAL train- maybe a toy train running on a looped track. Normally, when you're having the work worries it's like you're on that thought train- riding it around and around in circles while you're getting increasingly anxious and kind of limiting yourself from doing other things. With mindfulness practice, the goal is to get you OFF the train- it's not gone, but you're kinda watching it from the sidelines instead of ON it. It's still happening but with a bit of distance you can see the thoughts more clearly and better take care of yourself while that thought track is running.

Another example- let's say I have a big feeling. I'm going to pick overwhelming shame***. In mindfulness practices, the goal is usually not to ignore the shame or entirely give into it but to be able to sit with it and understand it without DROWNING in it. So, in that state of mind, I might sit with the shame and kind of question why it's there and what it wants from me. I might find some kindness for myself as someone who is experiencing shame (which is harder to do when I'm more inside it). I might work to conceptualize the shame differently- what does it look like, what sounds does it make, etc. In that way, I'm paying attention to an emotion that might be helpful- but not overly giving into it.

If I were teaching someone mindfulness techniques, the goal there is for them to be able to use the techniques entirely on their own whenever they need to. I'm not really trying to overly influence or control what's happening for them- I'm keeping my language as permissive as possible and encouraging them to accept whatever comes up. "Notice what's there without feeling like you need to change it" is a common mindfulness instruction. The practice encourages curiosity and bravery in the face of the overwhelming STUFF of life.

HYPNOSIS:

There are lot of different ways people do and experience hypnosis- and I'm definitely not going to be able to address all of them here. But, at least in kink, my goal in hypnotizing someone is to directly influence their thoughts. In fact, when I'm hypnotizing someone, a lot of my "induction" is convincing someone that I'm already in their head- that they're responding automatically to my suggestions. There's the kinky control fun of that and also the mutual shared feeling of intimacy- we're so close we could be one. (Or, in more D/s-ey terms, we're so close that now you are an extension of me!) In 101 classes you'll learn about the pacing and leading technique- basically matching your subject's experience and then taking them a step further. (Ex. You're reading my words and focusing on the screen and that reminds you to take a deep breath NOW.)

Explaining it by cold control hypnosis theory****, during an induction I'm helping someone kind of flip OFF their awareness of their agency- creating the illusion that things are happening internally because I'm MAKING them happen (and disguising the part where they're in complete control of their actions).

Especially in kink, what we're doing in hypnosis play is often a really conscious power exchange. You're giving me power over your thoughts because you want me to have it. I direct them where I want them to go and away from where I don't want them to be (ex. the actual reason why you're relaxing is, in part, because that's a natural thing that happens for most people when they close their eyes for more than a few seconds). (That's an excellent babysitting/parenting pro tip from me to you btw.) It's not that subjects aren't actively contributing their own images/ideas/metaphors/desires to the suggestions and play (really often they are!) but usually their whole goal is to be directed.

Even in hypnotherapy, that directedness and control is implied. You're not coming on (nearly) as strong as you would in kink, but your goal there is usually more in direction (with teaching self hypnosis techniques as an added bonus).

Sometimes the hypnosis and mindfulness methodologies can be incredibly similar with really subtle differences! For example, I might start a mindfulness-teaching body scan in the same way that I might start a progressive muscle relaxation induction- "Go ahead and get into a comfortable position and close your eyes". But continuing with the hypnosis induction, I'll usually be more directive ("Notice your feet. As you're noticing them, imagine sending a wave of relaxation down to your toes.") whereas with the body scan I'll be more exploratory. ("Notice your feet. What do they feel like? Are they hot or cold? Do they want to move or stay still? Whatever is happening for them right now is fine- just notice them") The pmr induction is intended to move someone into a suggestible state, the body scan is intended to teach someone a particular mindset and focusing skill they can use later. *****

Like I stated before, things that I consider "hypnosis" ideas and techniques and "mindfulness" ideas and techniques get mixed up all the time- with both lay folks and the actual professionals who teach them. There's a lot of surface similarities. "Mindfulness" has become such a therapy and corporate buzzword that it often DOES become synonymous with things like guided relaxation. Both concepts are vague enough that there's a lot of things that can easily be either/or- I'm thinking self hypnosis specifically here******. But- I hope if you're curious about mindfulness at all, you'll find this explanation useful and will maybe go out and explore some helpful resources for yourself.

Good mindfulness 101 books:

Full Catastrophe Living- Jon Kabat Zinn

The Mindful Way Through Depression- J. Mark G Williams et all

Just an FYI here at the bottom- like all self-help techniques, mindfulness stuff can be extremely helpful to some and not at all helpful to others. If it hasn't been personally helpful to you that's fine! I hope you've found some other things that are. Also, you can feel free to take my self help advice just as seriously as you would of any other kinky fetish blogger. :p I'm not your therapist, feel free to check in with them about things that might help you.

*I think people expanding the definition and ideas around both of these can be really helpful, in fact!

**Of the not-fun kind

***You know, like I normally do

****One of many hypnosis theories! And often not the best one for kink! If hypnosis doesn't feel like this for you, that's perfectly ok!

*****OK, in actuality both probably do both things! But the emphasis is different.

******A big difference in my mind- if you discover pain or discomfort, hypnosis-style techniques are usually directing you away from that while mindfulness-style techniques are usually directing you towards curiousity about those things.

#mindfulness #hypnosis #hot takes #I'm a bit pedantic on this one #but that’s because I think mindfuless can truly be helpful #just takes some practice to learn #curious to hear any thoughts people have!

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riotwritesthings · 22 days ago

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An Agony We Deserve (Throwing Off Sparks)

WinterIron - M, 9.9k, WIP - reluctant soulmates, thriller/horror?, CW salt, not particularly Steve friendly, violence

There are legends. Soulmate bonds have started and ended wars, they used to reshape the world without any warning. People would change in an instant, abandon and betray everything, become completely unrecognizable, but those are just legends- It can’t be- But they are.

This chapter got a wee bit long, but hopefully it was worth the wait! and yes I took some liberties with the Mark XV armor, but only a couple.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

~~~

Chapter 5: what will I do

An awful mechanical rattling sound snaps Tony awake.

He flails his way upright, his back immediately complaining about the position he’d slept in. His elbow collides with something hard and Bucky grunts beside him.

Tony blinks into the dark of the cabin around him, trying to remember moving to the couch, or when night fell-

It finally clicks that the loud clanging sound is coming from the ancient phone on the wall, and there’s only one person who’s likely to call here.

Bucky’s hands reach out to steady him as Tony climbs clumsily to his feet. He barely detangles their legs in time to avoid falling on his face, and he’s not sure when that happened either.

His head pounds in time with the ringing of the phone as he stumbles across the small shack. When he lifts the receiver the noise finally cuts off, and Tony is pretty sure that Bucky echoes his relieved sigh.

He clears his throat and presses the phone to his ear, trying to ignore the awful taste in his mouth. Like liquor and a mix of the preserves he half-remembers finishing both jars of, and just a hint of vomit.

“Big Bob’s Burger Hut,” Tony says in greeting, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

“Bad news,” Rhodey says without preamble.

"I can’t believe you woke me up for bad news," Tony grumbles, his nose wrinkling as he smacks his lips. He needs water-

He hasn’t even finished the thought before Bucky pushes himself off the couch and heads for the kitchen. The wave of gratitude that rushes over Tony makes him sway on his already unsteady feet, and he watches avidly as Bucky starts filling two glasses of water.

Even in the dark, with just the glow of the moon filtered through the window and the cracks in the roof, watching Bucky move is almost hypnotic. The bunch and pull of his shoulders, the shift of muscle along his back as his tips his head back to down a glass of water in one go.

Tony can still feel the warmth of where they must have been pressed together as they slept, along his legs and his entire left side. As Bucky turns towards him, he’s struck with a half-memory of falling asleep to the steady pattern of Bucky’s pulse beneath his ear-

“And I can’t believe you didn’t answer with a restaurant more on-theme for Lithuania, which is where I know you are,” Rhodey shoots back pointedly, breaking into Tony’s wandering thoughts.

“What?” He demands, his spine straightening in alarm.

“Ross traced your call yesterday, he-”

"How?" Tony interrupts, “how did he get the okay for that? I thought you and your phone both have super-top-secret clearances that keep Ross up at night with jealousy?”

“I don’t know,” Rhodey says with an audible roll of his eyes, "it seemed more important to figure out what he knows, rather than how."

“Good point,” Tony allows, “please continue.”

He gratefully takes the glass of water that Bucky hands him, then shakes his head minutely when Bucky gives him a questioning look. So instead of pretending he’s not listening, Bucky stays close as Rhodey starts to explain.

"It doesn’t seem like he got the content of the call, although it might just be that you told me a grand total of nothing useful," Rhodey says. He sounds tired, and it occurs to Tony that if Rhodey is still in Germany it’s also the middle of the night for him. “What I do know is that he tracked down exactly where you are, and he’s already sent a team to pick the two of you up.”

“Shit,” Tony says with feeling. He flicks his gaze up from watching Bucky’s thumb tap anxiously against his glass to meet the man’s eye, and Bucky nods. “Okay,” he says as as Bucky wordlessly steps away, “okay, we’ll get moving again-”

“That’s not all,” Rhodey interrupts, “apparently Rogers found out too, because he and Wilson just busted out of custody in Berlin.”

“Great,” Tony groans and Bucky pauses in gathering supplies to glance at him.

“Ross has the resources, but Rogers is a man possessed, and my money is on him finding you first,” Rhodey says. “So if I were you, I’d be getting ready to explain why you stole his other half.”

That choice of wording has a strangled laugh bursting out of Tony’s chest. Rhodey has no idea just how right he is, and Tony doesn’t know how he’s supposed to explain it.

Bucky flinches a little as he stands at the sink filling spare jars with water.

“Don’t be jealous, SourPatch,” Tony says, his voice tight despite his best efforts. “I have no idea what to say to him either.”

He’s not sure which would be worse, being caught by Ross' team or being confronted by Steve.

Either way, he’s pretty sure someone is going to try and take Bucky from him. He can’t let that happen, they- They decided to stay together. He won’t let anyone separate them.

But all Tony has on him is a prototype watch gauntlet, which could really use a charge after their last fight to escape. He needs something-

“How soon can you get to one of my workshops?” He asks in a rush, shoving his fingers through his hair.

“I’m almost back to New York, heading there now,” Rhodey replies without missing a beat despite the long pause. “Pepper and I are going to see what we can find and actually share from SI and your files to continue fighting the Hydra rumors.”

Bucky’s lips pull into a frown, guilt flooding through him again. Tony can feel it filling Bucky’s chest as he gathers up the shirt and suit jacket Tony scattered around the shack.

“Perfect,” Tony says, his attention on the tense line of Bucky’s shoulders. “And while you’re at it, tell FRIDAY to run Find My Friend, version 3.15.”

Rhodey huffs, but doesn’t ask. “Will do. Stay safe, Tones.”

“You too,” Tony says distractedly. He hurries to hang up so he can turn his attention to Bucky and say, “Stop being sorry.”

That has Bucky’s head jerking up, and he looks at Tony wide-eyed for a second. Then he drops his gaze and starts loudly gathering up an armful of jars.

“It’s not your fault that people think I might be with Hydra now,” Tony insists as crosses the shack to start grabbing jars too. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long for those particular rumors to start, I’ve heard just about everything else. Plus, it’s not even your fault that people think you’re Hydra, so stop feeling guilty over things that aren’t your fault. It’s really bumming me out.”

Bucky doesn’t reply, but his worried frown lessens a little and his shoulders relax.

They load up their stolen truck without talking, focused on moving quickly. More than once Tony catches Bucky pausing to stare out into the night, like he’s listening for something.

Last thing before they head out, Tony leaves most of the cash from his wallet on the table, more than enough to cover all the jars and the samanė. Just in case whoever owns this place ever intends to come back, although he’s pretty sure it’s abandoned.

As he tucks his wallet away he realizes that Bucky is watching him, an odd look on his face. But he just shakes his head when Tony raises an eyebrow at him.

Without a word they agree that Bucky should drive, and they pull away from the shack with all of the truck's lights turned off.

---

“Are you sure this is apple?” Tony asks, his nose wrinkling.

He squints down into the jar of preserves. Dawn has barely started to glow on the horizon, and in the weak light he can’t quite make out the color.

“Pretty sure,” Bucky says with a snort of laughter. He doesn’t turn his gaze away from the dark of the dirt road in front of them, but when Tony starts to stick his fork back into the jar he protests, “Quit stealin’ my apples if you don’ even like 'em.”

“Excuse me, we both stole these from some poor unsuspecting farmer, I can eat and not enjoy them if I want,” Tony argues. “Plus, I haven’t decided yet. I’m still not convinced this isn’t- crabapples, or something.”

“Give it here,” Bucky demands, holding a hand out.

Tony considers protesting, but whatever fruit is preserved in this jar is leaving a weird aftertaste on his tongue. So he shoves the fork into the jar and hands it over with a final ‘ick’ noise.

Then he has to try not to stare as Bucky shoves the jar between his thighs, pulling the denim tight across thick muscles.

Now that Tony is more awake, last night is less hazy. He remembers moving to the couch when his back started to complain about sitting on the floor. He remembers the liquor hitting him again, and he’s pretty sure Bucky had wrapped an arm around him without protest when Tony tipped over into him.

He definitely remembers their legs tangling as Bucky made himself comfortable, too. Bucky's fingers carding through his hair as he drifted off.

And now Tony is having trouble thinking about anything but Bucky’s warm weight against him, wrapped around him. Their newest stolen farm truck isn’t big, but Bucky still feels entirely too far away.

But not so far that if Tony were to reach out-

“Then what?” Bucky asks, and it takes Tony a second to remember what the hell they had been talking about.

“Right,” Tony says.

He tears his gaze away from the jar shoved between Bucky’s thick thighs, and even manages not to get caught up staring at Bucky’s mouth as he takes another bite of preserves.

“So the UN got together,” Tony says, forcing himself to stay focused. “And 117 of those countries agreed that maybe The Avengers- maybe we shouldn’t be able to run around the world doing whatever we think is best and making, just- a giant fucking mess everywhere we go in the process.”

He starts digging around on the floorboard for one of the jars of water in a useless attempt to hide the way his hands have started to shake, the tremor in his voice. Like there’s a point in trying to hide anything from Bucky.

“I thought they had a decent point, and that we should at least be part of the conversation,” he continues, pretending that opening the jar takes all of his attention. “Steve- He disagreed, we argued, as we do. Then the ratification of the Accords was interrupted by a very convincing frame job. And then Steve and I argued some more, you broke out of confinement, and now here we are. Boom, you’re all caught up.”

Tony takes a big drink of water, although this hasn’t been quite as upsetting to get into as he expected. Sure, the guilt is just as overwhelming, all of his mistakes still weighing heavily enough to crush him if he let them. But the pain of leaving the team, of fighting with Steve-

The wounds are more than healed, they’re completely scarred over. No more painful to think about now than the friends he made and lost way back in college.

He cares way more what Bucky thinks of all his mistakes.

Not that it matters, Bucky is stuck with him. Tony learned the hard way last night that they can't even stay mad at each other, no matter the fucking reason. Bucky can’t leave him.

A sick feeling of relief is trying to grow in Tony’s chest again, and he viciously shoves it down.

When he finally glances over Bucky has a thoughtful look on his face. He must have heard the very basics of what happened with Ultron and Sokovia, but Tony can’t blame him for wanting to know exactly what he’s found himself in the middle of.

Bucky opens his mouth, and Tony braces himself for all the familiar questions. Maybe Bucky can't stay mad at him, but he’ll still probably want to know what the hell were you thinking? How could you let that happen? Why didn’t you know better by now?

“An’ what exactly was the battle of New York?” Bucky asks.

It startles a sound out of Tony that’s caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

“Not relevant at the moment,” he says with a quick shake of his head. “So we are definitely not getting into that whole story right now.”

Bucky’s expression doesn’t change, but Tony can tell that he’s pouting. Which is a little unfair, since Tony can’t exactly interrogate him back.

They’ve already determined that Bucky remembers basically nothing between being taken into custody by the anti-terror taskforce and running into Tony. And touching anything Bucky remembers before that feels- dicey.

“How long have we been on the road? About two hours?” Tony asks instead.

The sun still hasn’t risen, but the sky is light enough now that he can make out the empty fields around them. Apparently it's also light enough that Bucky can finally look away from the road to give Tony a curious look.

“A lil’ over that, yeah,” he replies.

“And we’re going- North? Ish?” Tony guesses.

"No, East," Bucky says with a huff and shoots him another look. “We’re drivin’ into the sunrise.”

“I don’t know, I’m an engineer, not a navigator,” Tony defends himself, glaring at the haze of fog that turns the entire horizon into a glowing golden line. “And for all I know those crabapple preserves are making me fucking- hallucinate.”

Bucky snorts and pointedly shoves another forkful of preserves into his mouth. Tony ignores him in favor of doing some quick mental math.

“Good,” he finally decides, “pull over here.”

"What?"

“You wanted to know what ‘Find My Friend’ means, right? Pull over and you’ll find out,” Tony says with a smirk.

Bucky looks doubtful, but he pulls over to the side of the dirt road.

Tony considers getting out of the truck to wait, but that seems like a good way to get spotted by a satellite. So he rolls the window down instead and turns off the rattling heater in the truck, listening carefully.

All Tony hears though is the soft sounds of wind through the dry grass around them. He can feel Bucky’s curiosity spiking, and Tony keeps his gaze fixed out the window to hide his smirk.

The minutes tick by without another sound. Even the wind dies down, and Tony’s confidence wavers.

Just as Bucky starts to get twitchy in response to Tony’s growing worry that something has gone wrong, Bucky’s attention jerks around to the right. A second later Tony can hear it, too.

The dull roar gets louder, quickly moving closer, and Tony grins when Bucky shoots him a worried look. Within seconds the sound descends on them, whipping the air around before dying out with a soft crunch of grass. Because he’s looking for it, Tony can barely make out the distortion of the air a couple of feet from the passenger side of the truck.

“Found you,” comes FRIDAY’s familiar voice from the spot of shimmering air.

Bucky sucks in a sharp, alarmed breath.

“Took you long enough,” Tony says to the empty air. “Now get in the car before you give the old man a heart attack.”

Tony glances over in time to see Bucky shoot him a quick, unimpressed look.

The back door of the truck opens, and the suspension groans in complaint as a heavy weight settles into the back seat. Once the door has closed, the air shifts and the dark gray Mark VI armor is revealed as it drops its visual camouflages.

The quiet sound that Bucky lets out this time sounds much closer to impressed. Tony doesn’t bother trying to hide his smug grin.

"Bucky, meet FRIDAY, my AI, currently playing the part of my armor," he says, gesturing to the mass of metal awkwardly crammed into the backseat. Then he turns his attention to the armor and says, “FRIDAY, meet Bucky, m-my- Apparently, we are s-soulmates.”

Tony is a little surprised to find himself still stumbling over the word, after their conversation last night. Almost like ‘deciding’ to stick together doesn’t change how goddamn weird it is that he has a soulmate. To find out that soulmates are real.

FRIDAY takes a split second longer than usual before replying, “A pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Nice- uh, nice to meet you too,” Bucky says slowly.

His eyes flick from Tony to the armor and back again. He’s trying to play it cool, but Tony can feel Bucky’s awe as a warm ball in his own chest. He tries not to let his smug grin get too wide.

“Any trouble?” Tony asks the AI.

“None, Boss,” she replies, “there were lots of eyes on the tower, but Colonel Rhodes ensured I was not detected leaving.”

“Good-”

“How’d- how did she find us?” Bucky asks quickly, looking torn between being confused and concerned.

“Homing devices under my skin,” Tony says dismissively, but Bucky’s concern spikes. So he adds, “Don’t worry, the suits are the only things that can access them.”

Bucky looks like he wants to ask more questions, but Tony waves him off and turns back to FRIDAY.

“Hand over the helmet, I need to check the news,” he says, turning a little more to face the backseat.

“Of course,” she says and the arms of the suit start to lift before pausing. FRIDAY’s voice sounds almost hesitant when she adds, “Boss, Captain Rogers has been trying to reach you near-constantly on the Avenger’s emergency channel, and I have several messages from Agent Romanoff-”

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Tony cuts her off quickly, shaking his head. “We’re not dealing with that right now. Just the news, thank you.”

He’s aware of Bucky watching with fascination as FRIDAY has the armor nod shortly before grabbing either side of the helmet. There’s a hiss and clack as latches open, and then the helmet lifts away.

“Wow,” Bucky mutters under his breath, craning his neck to get a better look down the empty neck hole of the suit. His voice is distracted as he asks, “So that’s th- that’s your armor?”

He’s more than just impressed, Bucky is awed and almost painfully curious. Tony has to struggle to fight down his smug grin as he twists forward and drops back down in his seat.

“One of them,” Tony says, holding the helmet up for a moment. “This is the Mark VI, codename Sneaky.”

“Sneaky?” Bucky repeats slowly, quirking an eyebrow.

“What? Tell me that wasn’t sneaky!” Tony protests with a huff. “Radar, sonar, pathetic human eyes, nothing can track this baby.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully, then points out, “We did hear it comin’, though.”

Tony nearly chokes on his offended gasp when he can’t completely fight down a laugh. He knows that Bucky is teasing, and for once there’s no tiny part of him wondering if there’s a hidden barbthat he’s missing. If Bucky is just waiting to catch him off guard.

“Yeah yeah, well you let me know when you figure out completely silent flight,” Tony mutters and slouches down pointedly in his seat. He drops his chin in an attempt to hide his twitching lips as he continues grumbling loudly under his breath.

“Will do,” Bucky says easily. He ignores Tony’s top-notch pouting in favor of pulling back out onto the road, the truck’s suspension creaking much more loudly than before.

“Mean to me,” Tony accuses, shifting his grip on the helmet so he can cross his arms. He’s still struggling to stop a smile from spreading across his face.

Bucky isn’t fighting down his grin at all and Tony’s breath catches to see the way it crinkles the skin around his eyes, the hint of a dimple in his cheek. It’s a real smile, one that Tony vaguely remembers seeing in photos of Bucky from before the war. Seeing it in person, because of him-

Then Bucky glances over at him just long enough to wink and blow him a kiss.

Tony chokes on nothing as his heart lurches in his chest. Bucky’s gaze is fixed firmly on the road again but Tony can see the way his eyes go wide, like he hadn’t been expecting himself to do that either. There’s a faint pink rising in Bucky’s cheeks, and Tony can feel a matching warmth on his own face.

He quickly yanks the helmet down over his head in a useless attempt to hide his blush.

Everything is dark for a second, and then the internal battery kicks in and the familiar lights of the helmet’s HUD fills his vision. FRIDAY has already pulled up a multitude of news sources on the display for him, and he starts to pour over them. But in the back of his mind Tony can’t think about anything except how dangerous this is.

Talking with Bucky- being with him, it’s just-

It’s easy.

He knows exactly when Bucky is teasing and when he’s being genuine. He knows there’s no actual judgement in Bucky’s dry tone, and he knows that Bucky isn’t playing up how impressed he is just to stroke Tony’s ego. He can feel all of Bucky’s emotions somewhere in the complicated mess that’s taken up residence in his chest.

They’re not always clear, but Tony is quickly learning how to decipher them.

Tony is so used to second-guessing everything, every move someone makes and every single thing they say. He’s been doing it his entire life, but now- Now he can’t even force himself to go through the familiar routine of over-thinking all of Bucky’s motivations.

He knows why Bucky is here, why they’re both here. He knows what Bucky means by every single thing he says.

It’s all dangerously easy.

Even if the bond would let them stand to be separated, why would Tony want to?

Why would he want to be away from this feeling of easy familiarity, even if it isn’t real? It feels real.

And there are so few people that he can read completely, that he can trust completely. Why would he not want to stick with Bucky? Even if talking to Rhodey hadn’t felt so- so different than it did before, it wouldn’t compare to what he’s feeling now- The level of connection-

How could he want to walk away from that?

When they ‘decided’ to stick together, they both knew that it was for show. They just needed to pretend for a second that they have a choice. In any of this.

But he’d also heard the sincerity buried in Bucky’s voice when he’d agreed. And Tony had felt the strange mix of resignation and relief that had flooded through the other man.

So does it matter how real the choice actually is?

If the soulmate bond was only half as strong, if it did give them some semblance of a choice-

At this point Tony is pretty sure that he would choose to stay right here. In a stolen truck, on the run from everyone he knows. With Bucky and this easy familiarity.

He isn’t sure how he feels about that realization.

---

It takes Tony a couple hours to go through all of the info he can find, and by the end he can determine that Rhodey was wildly sugarcoating things.

The gossip mill is running rampant, as expected, and no one can even begin to agree on why they ran off together. Tony is a little amused that not a single person, from reporter to blogger, has guessed the truth.

But Tony is much more concerned with the military response to their little escape. Basically everyone is looking for them, the US, Wakanda, and every country in between. All things considered, he’s a little surprised they haven’t been swarmed by half a dozen strike teams yet.

The only upside is that SI was quickly cleared from any suspicion of ties to Hydra, which makes one more reason he was right to put Pepper in charge. The ratification of the Accords has also been delayed until the ‘mystery bomber’ is caught, and at least that buys him a little more time on that front.

He already has a couple ideas about how they can fix this, how to clear their names and maybe even make some progress on the Accords front. But all of his possible plans start with figuring out who’s trying to frame Bucky, and why, and then actually finding the asshole.

And they can’t exactly do that here, without access to any of Tony’s computers or equipment. There’s only so much he can do from the suit without pinging an alert and drawing attention to themselves. They can’t even stop long enough for Tony to rig up some kind of relay that will let him do a little more digging.

All of his ideas require them to be not on run, which means at some point they’ll have to stop. It’s just a matter of who will find them first when they do, and hoping like hell they’ll at least let Tony get on with one of his many plans.

As if to really drive that point home, he gets a notification that Steve is calling on the emergency line. For the fifth time in the past hour.

Tony rejects the call for the fifth time in the past hour.

Talking to Rhodey was one thing, but he is not ready to talk to Steve. He’s not ready to- to have to finally explain all of this to someone else. And Steve will definitely demand an explanation, he won’t settle for ‘I’ll explain later’ after- after everything that happened with Ultron.

He can’t put it off forever though, and he’s pretty sure Steve and the Avengers will be their best best to actually solve this mess. He’s just-

He’s not ready yet.

The helmet isn’t exactly stuffy, but the rush of fresh air over his face when he pulls it off is still a relief. Tony drags in a deep breath and then lets it out slowly as he rests the helmet in his lap, his mind still racing.

“We still most wanted?” Bucky asks, the words casual but his tone soft.

He can probably feel how quickly Tony’s thoughts are spinning and colliding into each other, and Tony feels a little bad. No one should be subjected to the inside of his head.

"The most wanted," Tony says with faux-excitement. “Not to brag, but hanging out with me is probably one of the few things that could make you more dangerous and wanted. And here we are.”

“Hooray,” Bucky says dryly, and Tony laughs.

The sun is high in the sky now, and Tony glances around at the identical fields around them. Not quite identical, he realizes, the randomly scattered houses have increased in frequency. He glances into the backseat to make sure the armor is still cloaked.

“Where are we going, anyways?” He finally thinks to ask.

Bucky snorts and glances over at him with a grin as he asks, “Did you get kidnapped a lot, as a kid?”

“Haha,” Tony says, rolling his eyes, “three and a half times. Now answer the question.”

"‘An’ a half?’ How does that work?"

“Keep dodging the question and find out,” Tony warns, reaching for the handle of the car door.

The laugh that Bucky lets out is deep and rolling and so real. Warmth spreads through Tony’s chest and spirals out through his limbs, melting away a lot of the tension that built up in his muscles as he read through the news.

“There’s a safehouse near the Russian border,” Bucky says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. "One of th’ generals kept it- It was off th’ books. An’ that was years ago, so- I don’t think anyone still knows about it. If it's still there."

“That’s the spirit,” Tony says, and Bucky snorts again.

“Dunno how old they’ll be, but these should still be a computer or two lyin' around,” Bucky adds, glancing over at him with a small grin.

Tony clutches at his chest and slumps back against the door, pretending to swoon. Bucky smiles wider, until his blue eyes practically shine with it and crinkle around the corners.

“And what are the odds we’ll find some old weapons lying around?” Tony asks knowingly as he sits upright again, and Bucky smiles innocently. Tony shakes his head with a chuckle and then asks, “So, where near the border, exactly?”

Bucky’s expression pinches again as he haltingly admits, “I’m not- I don’ remember, exactly. But I- I know I can get us there s’long as- as I don’t think about it too hard.”

That raises the question of how often Bucky had to navigate his way to this ‘off the books safehouse’, but Tony knows better than to voice it. He doesn’t need the bond to tell him to keep his mouth shut, it's obvious in Bucky’s tight shoulders and the haunted look that’s completely replaced his smile.

Tony is once again flooded with the urge- the need to reach out to him. It’s just like when he saw Bucky sitting miserable and dejected in the corner of that one-room shack and Tony had been physically incapable of not doing something. And when he’s not futility trying to keep hold of an unfair anger, he doesn’t want to resist.

But he still doesn’t know what to do. For all of the ‘need to comfort’ that the bond throws at him, it doesn’t exactly come with instructions on how to comfort a stranger. Especially one who used to be, and sometimes still is, a deadly assassin.

“Well, three cheers for muscle memory, I guess,” Tony says after a pause that stretches just a little too long.

A weak smile twitches at the corner of Bucky’s lips. Much more importantly, Tony can feel the chill receding from Bucky’s mind as he lets go of the half-memories. As he realizes that Tony isn’t going to ask him to drag them up.

Bucky relaxes back in his seat minutely, and Tony gets a little more brave. Under the flimsy guise of getting a look at the dash, he scoots awkwardly across the bench seat until his shoulder brushes against Bucky’s.

“We’ll need more gas before that,” Tony remarks, fighting down his grin as Bucky shifts to lean against him the tiniest amount. “And by gas, I mean a new car.”

“There’s a town not far from here,” Bucky says with a small nod.

His fingers tap against the steering wheel for a second, and he starts to lift his hand away before quickly wrapping it tight around the wheel again. Like he was going to reach out but then stopped himself. Tony has the strangest urge to pout, but he settles for leaning a little more heavily into Bucky’s shoulder.

When Tony drops his gaze he catches sight of the helmet still clenched between his hands. He’d almost forgotten he was holding it, and his grip tightens as reality tries to make itself known.

There’s a good chance he’s missed at least one more call since he took the helmet off. And he still hasn’t even looked at the message from Natasha, it makes his chest pull tight just to think about after he- he attacked her-

Tony is fighting and running from his own team. He’s running from everything, all of his responsibilities. And Steve apparently thinks he’s abducting people for unknown reasons now, that’s how low his credibility has fallen. It’s no wonder people think he’s gone rogue, or that he’s working for Hydra.

He doesn’t even realize that he’s started anxiously tapping his fingers against the metal of the helmet until Bucky’s hand spreads over his, his fingers slipping between Tony’s to gently still them.

Tony drags in a shuddering breath as warmth rushes up his arm and through his chest, trying to wash reality away again.

It nearly works. The amount of calm he gets from the simple contact is absurd, honestly, but it’s hard to care about the why when Tony can literally feel his heartbeat steadying.

“I- We should- Once we get to this safehouse, we should probably call Steve back,” Tony reluctantly bites out. He curls his fingers around Bucky’s, making it clear he has no intention of letting go, and uses his free hand to set the helmet beside him on the bench seat.

“‘We?’” Bucky asks, glancing over at him with one eyebrow raised. Tony doesn’t miss the pleased warmth that floods through him at the word, though, or the way Bucky’s fingers tighten around his.

“We,” Tony agrees with a firm nod, trying to pretend the word doesn’t make him a little breathless too. “You are not getting out of dealing with this with me. And by this, I mean your best friend. Who thinks I kidnapped you. He’s going to want proof of life.”

“Okay,” Bucky says easily. “Should we pick up a paper with today’s date, too? Send 'im a photo?”

Tony lets out a snort that turns into surprised laughter, once again caught off guard by Bucky’s dry humor. Bucky keeps his attention fixed on the road, but he’s also not trying to hide his wide grin as he carefully twists his hand in Tony’s grip until their palms slide together. Their fingers slip together again easily, and now they are officially holding hands.

The heat that floods Tony’s face and the way his heart skips in his chest over hand holding makes him feel like a pre-teen again. But that doesn’t stop him from tightening his grip on Bucky’s hand. He settles back in his seat a little more, pressed a little more firmly against Bucky’s side.

They fall into comfortable silence as a small city starts to grow in the distance. Bucky’s thumb drags absently along the side of his hand, and Tony smiles as he tips his head back against the seat.

---

The town seems to have already quieted down for the evening as they drive in. They find a delivery van is an empty alley, and its suspension complains way less about the weight of the armor in the back.

Spending this long in a vehicle that he’s not driving is making him a little crazy, but Tony slides into the passenger seat without complaint. The passenger seat that is entirely too separate from the driver seat.

Tony’s left side feels cold, and his hand feels painfully empty. It doesn’t matter that Bucky is less than two feet away in the other seat, navigating them out of the narrow alleyway. Without that physical contact Tony feels-

He feels untethered.

And he knows that should freak him out. It would have just a couple days ago, but Tony-

He can’t care about that right now. He has so many bigger problems right now than the urge to hold hands, so why worry about it?

Especially when he also knows- knows it to his core- that when he sticks his hand out and wiggles his fingers expectantly, he only has to wait a second before Bucky’s fingers are lacing with his. Instantly he feels calm and grounded again, and Tony lets out a slow breath.

As they drive out of town without incident, he makes a mental note of yet another place on their tour of Europe that he’ll have to make a little anonymous donation. The list is getting pretty long.

Tony ends up dozing on and off as Bucky drives them through Belarus. The entire time, Bucky's fingers stay laced through his, thumb running absently over the side of Tony’s hand.

The sun is going down when Tony wakes up, but there’s still enough light to see that they’re driving through a sparse forest. Tony’s arm kind of aches from hanging between the seats, but he squeezes Bucky’s hand and smiles to himself.

“Pretty sure I’ve seen this horror movie,” Tony says, his voice thick with sleep.

Bucky huffs out a laugh and squeezes his hand back as he asks, “So what’s your fate gonna be?”

“I- do not actually remember,” Tony admits, “but I’m pretty sure I’d rather be found by a strike team.”

“Think we’re about there, so let’s find out,” Bucky says, still grinning as he pulls off the small dirt road and onto a smaller dirt road.

“Uh-oh,” Tony says dryly. Then the house comes into view, and he says, “Oh.”

It’s not nearly as bad as he was expecting. Instead of a creepy log cabin, the house looks like it’s been plucked out of a suburb and dropped in the middle of a forest. There’s only one story, but it looks solidly built and probably has multiple rooms, at least. And indoor plumbing.

As much as Tony is looking forward to that, he’d also sworn to himself that he’d stop putting off calling Steve as soon as they got here. He probably owes that to Steve, he did run off with the man’s oldest friend, and all of their best chances to find the real bomber involve getting some kind of help.

But still, he really doesn’t want to call Steve.

Bucky does a couple sweeps around the perimeter of the house while Tony uses the armor to scan the woods for any signs of life, and eventually they determine that the place is about as abandoned as they can hope for. Another quick scan tells Tony that the house doesn’t have power for any kind of security system, so he waves Bucky on and the man easily rips through the multiple rusted locks on the back door.

“From farm house to weird, forest safe house,” Tony says as he looks around the dark kitchen. “We’re really moving up in the world.”

“Next time I’ll find you a safe-mansion,” Bucky promises, sounding oddly sincere.

Tony clutches his hands to his chest and flutters his eyelashes, but he knows Bucky can tell that his heart isn’t in it.

All of his thoughts are on the phone call that he has to make. And figuring out what the hell he’s even going to say, because he still hasn’t done that. The idea of saying to someone that he has a soulmate is still- It still doesn’t feel quite real.

Tony is way past trying to deny the bond between them, but- But if it gets out, other people will. He has no doubt there will be demands for some kind of proof, despite the fact that no one has ever found hard proof of the soulmate bond. There are only stories, and now Tony is living one of them.

Who is even going to believe him-

“I need a shower,” Tony decides, using the helmet like a flashlight and pointing it down the narrow hallway. “Shower, and then dealing with things.”

“I’ll try’n fix the power,” Bucky says, peering around the corner into the living room. When Tony hesitates Bucky turns to him with a small smile and says, “Save me some water, if there is any.”

“We’ll see,” Tony says, but they both know he will.

He’s halfway through a dark, cold shower when the lights flicker on, and apparently Bucky found the generator.

Spending the day eating preserves while driving down rural roads has left his suit pants flecked with bits of fruit, and Tony winces as he pulls them back on. Even with the lights on, he doesn’t really want to go raiding the closet of a Hydra general, so dirty slacks it is. His button-up is a lost cause though, and he has to face the chill of the house in just his undershirt.

Bucky blinks at him as he walks into the living room, then hurries off to the bathroom himself with his chin ducked low.

After getting the suit inside and making sure that turning on the power didn’t trip any of the out-dated security systems, Tony manages to dig up some old military rations while he waits.

When Bucky does come back, it’s with a wide grin and a large knife that he must have found somewhere. Tony shakes his head with a huff and doesn’t ask.

They eat in tense silence, sitting across from each other with their legs tangled under the small kitchen table. When they’re done, Tony solemnly sets the helmet in the center of the table.

No more putting it off.

“Ready?” He asks.

“No,” Bucky says with a weak attempt at a grin, and Tony nods in agreement.

“FRIDAY,” he says, “get me- Get us Captain Spangles on the emergency emergency line.”

The eyes of the helmet light up, and Tony drags in a steadying breath.

“Tony!” Steve says in a rush of air as soon as the line connects. His strained, frantic voice fills the small kitchen as he demands, “Where is- what did you do to Bucky?!”

"What- nothing," Tony says with a roll of his eyes, “why would-”

"What did you do?" Steve interrupts to demand again, sounding beyond panicked.

However low Steve’s opinion of him might be at the moment, Tony can’t imagine what Steve thinks he’s done that has him this worked up. When Tony glances up at Bucky, he seems just as confused.

“Steve,” Tony tries, “what-”

"It wasn’t his fault," Steve cuts him off again, and Tony huffs. “He wasn’t- you don’t understand, you- You can’t blame him,” Steve insists, skipping from one thought to the next without finishing any of them. “It wasn’t his- he’s-”

“I know,” Tony interrupts this time, his annoyance spiking to match his confusion, “Dammit Steve, I’m trying to tell you that I know he wasn’t in Vienna.”

“You- Vienna-” Steve repeats slowly, “That- okay, good. Right. That’s good.”

Tony gets the distinct feeling that they’re having two different conversations. Talking to Rhodey had felt like- like talking to a stranger, but at least a familiar one. This, though-

This is something else.

“So, so where is he?” Steve asks and he’s trying not to sound panicked now, but he’s not fooling anyone.

“Right here, drama queen,” Tony huffs, distracted. Steve hadn’t been talking about the Vienna bombing, he’s sure of that, but what-

“'M here, Stevie,” Bucky chimes in, his voice hoarse.

Tony fixes him with a look, trying to convey that he’d hoped Bucky would sound less like an abused hostage during this phone call. Bucky’s lips twitch weakly and his legs shift against Tony’s as he clears his throat.

"'M fine, I swear," he adds and Tony is all too familiar with the complicated mix of emotions behind the words, because he’s feeling it too.

They are fine, but they’re not sure that they should be. They’re more fine with all of this than they were yesterday and they should be concerned about that, right? But Tony isn’t, and he can tell that Bucky isn’t either. Why would he be, when he hasn’t found a reason yet that he wouldn’t choose this? Choose Bucky? When it feels so-

Right.

“You- g-good,” Steve stutters, clearly caught off guard. Like this conversation isn’t going the way he expected, and Tony knows that feeling too. “T-That’s good, so wh- What happened? I mean, w- why’re you-”

He trails off, struggling for words, and Tony is pretty sure he should be offended again.

Bucky bites his lip so hard the skin goes white and Tony is momentarily distracted from trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Steve. He’s already reaching across the table to pull Bucky’s lower lip free before he catches himself and drops his arm back to his side.

“Why’m I with Tony?” Bucky asks, his gaze flicking up from the helmet to meet Tony’s and the tiniest smile pulling at his lips.

Tony’s breath catches and he wonders if Steve can hear the same thing he can, the way Bucky’s voice curls warm and familiar around his name. Like he’s been saying it forever.

A surprised inhale from the other end of the line means that Steve probably did.

"Well, yeah," Steve says in a hard rush, like all the air is being knocked out of him. “I mean, I thought-”

He cuts himself off, but Tony is dying to know what exactly Steve had thought was going on. Before he can ask, though, Steve is talking again.

“I know I told you about Tony, but I didn’t think you’d hit it off quite that fast,” Steve says with a strained laugh, and Tony isn’t buying it.

Something is off-

“Uh, yeah, we-” Bucky starts and then his voice cuts off as he looks up at Tony again, like Tony has any idea how to start explaining this. Bucky abruptly laughs softly and shakes his head as he says, “You’re not gonna believe me.”

Steve lets out a frustrated, incomprehensible sound that almost manages to make Tony smile.

“Listen Stevie,” Bucky says and then pauses, swallowing hard.

He blinks rapidly, expression twisted, and Tony’s heart clenches in his chest at the sight. When Bucky’s right hand starts to creep across the table Tony doesn’t hesitate to reach out and wrap his fingers around Bucky’s again.

Bucky jolts slightly, like he hadn’t even realized he was reaching out. But then he grips Tony’s hand back tightly and his lips curl up at the edges. Tony has no idea what Bucky is going to say, no idea what he would say. But he knows they’re in this together.

“I had to leave with Tony,” Bucky finally says simply, like that explains it.

To them it does, and Tony feels a small smile spreading across his own face. Steve makes another confused, frustrated sound.

"I don’t- I don’t understand, " Steve says slowly, "why- I mean, is that- are you sure-"

It’s obvious he’s trying to choose his words very carefully, and now Tony is sure there’s something Steve isn’t saying. Before he can demand answers, however hypocritical that might be at the moment, Steve is cut off by another voice in the background.

For a minute all Tony can make out is hushed conversation. Bucky frowns down at the helmet, like if he just focuses hard enough he’ll be able to identify voices or words. It might be working, because Bucky’s frown deepens a second before a new voice comes on the line.

“Start from the beginning and tell us exactly what happened,” Natasha says briskly.

The air rushes out of Tony’s lungs as the image of the last time he saw her flashes through his mind. Crumpled against the wall in that brightly lit building, her hair a mess, unmoving. He hadn’t even known if she was still alive when he’d turned and left with Bucky, hadn’t even thought to check, he’d just-

Tony can still feel the burn of the repulsor against his palm and he flexes his hand anxiously, stomach churning. Bucky leans across the table and captures Tony’s shaking hand in his.

It’s almost like they’re having some kind of strange seance, sitting on either side of the table with their clenched hands framing the glowing helmet. The image makes Tony smile weakly, and Bucky smiles back as he drags his cool metal thumb over Tony’s palm.

After dragging in a steadying breath, Bucky says, “I- I remember bein’ in custody.” His expression twists as he struggles to remember, that same deep chill creeping over his mind again. Tony clings to his hands tighter. “I- someone must’ve a-activated the solider-”

“We’re pretty sure it was someone disguised as a doctor,” Steve interrupts, his voice getting louder as he no-doubt leans over Natasha’s shoulder. There’s a soft ‘oof’ as she elbows him in the gut.

"Do you know who? Or why?" Tony can’t resist breaking in to ask.

“We’re working on it,” Natasha says, a subtle iciness in her voice that Tony hasn’t heard in- he doesn’t know if he’s ever heard it directed at him. “Vision is trying to track where he went after Berlin,” she continues, "so if you can remember anything-"

She trails off pointedly and Bucky’s forehead creases as he squeezes his eyes closed. His foot taps against Tony’s as he thinks, and the cold is sinking deeper.

“The doctor-” Bucky says slowly, his voice hoarse, "he- he wanted to- to know something."

Bucky’s grip tightens on Tony’s hands. The cold is sinking deeper into his mind, deep enough that it sends a shiver down Tony’s spine.

Tony has to bite his lip so he won’t tell him to stop, that it’s not worth it. He knows they need answers, he just- he doesn’t care.

On the other end of the line he can hear Steve whispering to someone, still sounding a little more worried than Tony thinks the situation really calls for.

Bucky’s eyes abruptly fly open wide, so blue and fixed on Tony.

“Siberia,” he says shortly and the other end of the line falls silent. “The base, the other soldiers in cryo- He wanted to know where it is. And I- I told him.”

Steve swears colorfully in the background of the call, but Tony isn’t in the mood to tease him about it.

Natasha gets what Bucky can remember of the coordinates and then asks, “Anything else?”

Bucky nods silently, then huffs when Tony squeezes his hand.

“Yeah. He wanted to know about one of my- my missions,” Bucky says, dropping his gaze. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself, and then looks back up at Tony. “He asked about- about December 19th.”

Tony feels his expression pinch as he tries to figure out why this doctor-imposter would want to know that, and he’s about to ask-

On the other end of the line, Steve sucks in a sharp breath. Alarmed, almost panicked.

It doesn’t make sense.

Unless-

There’s a buzzing starting in Tony’s ears.

He can feel Bucky watching him with concern, but Tony is staring at the helmet on the table. Like he’ll be able to read Steve’s face through it.

There is one reason Steve might be so damn worried about Bucky being with Tony, but he shouldn’t know about that.

Tony only found out about his parents yesterday, there’s no way that Steve- He would have said something if he-

“Did you know?” Tony asks, his voice flat. He can barely hear himself over the roaring in his ears.

“About the Winter Soldier program?” Natasha asks, sounding caught off guard by his tone. “Yes, I-”

Tony isn’t listening to her though. He’s listening to Steve in the background, breathing a little too quickly. He can hear Steve coming up with some excuse.

Tony knows him better than most, after all. Or at least he used to. He thought he did.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rogers!” Tony snaps and Natasha cuts off abruptly.

There’s a shuffling sound as she apparently hands the communicator over to Steve.

“Did you know?” Tony grits out, his voice rough.

Steve swallows audibly and then says, “I didn’t know it was him.”

The laugh that tears its way out of Tony’s chest startles even him, harsh and edged with hysteria.

Someone in the background of the call gasps.

When he looks up again Bucky’s eyes are wide, pained and surprised.

“Tony, listen,” Steve starts, like he’s going to explain himself.

"That’s worse!" Tony snaps, cutting him off. "That’s so much- you knew that Hydra had my parents m-murdered and didn’t tell me on the chance that it was your brainwashed best friend?! That’s fucking worse!"

Steve is silent, and Tony can just picture the flexing of his stupid jaw.

“How long have you known?” Tony demands and he’s dimly aware that he’s shaking. Bucky’s hands are still clutching his tightly. “Did- Did you know while you were giving me shit for keeping secrets?”

“I- I thought-” Steve starts, which isn’t a no.

“Stop, I don’t care what you thought,” Tony hisses, “you should have told me, I-”

‘I talked to you about them,’ Tony doesn’t say. ‘I told you that I blamed Howard for the crash and you just kept letting me.’

“No wonder you didn’t want my help looking for him,” Tony says instead, shaking his head.

Laughter is trying to bubble up his throat again, but it can’t make it past the thick knot of hurt. Even with the artificial distance of the bond, he’d never questioned if he could trust Steve-

But Steve hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him. Steve never intended to tell him.

“Tony,” Bucky says softly and Tony blinks, dragging in a ragged breath.

His lungs burn. His eyes burn. Bucky is watching him with that same sad, guilty look.

Apparently this is another thing Bucky is going to blame himself for. Tony wants to tell him to stop, but he can’t get any words out past the lump in his throat.

“Buck,” Steve says and Tony is sure that his sad, hopeful tone would have made him feel something, before.

Now he just feels angry. And he feels the gentle warmth of Bucky’s thumb running over the back of his hand.

“You should’a told him,” Bucky says softly, shaking his head. “He deserves t’ know.”

In the background, Natasha is trying to insist that they get back on track. Someone else is demanding to know what they’re talking about.

Bucky meets Tony’s eye again, one eyebrow raised in question and a tiny smirk pulling at his lips. Tony nods in relief, letting out a hard breath.

“I didn’t know if- I wasn’t sure-” Steve is saying as Tony reluctantly lets go of Bucky’s hands.

He grabs the helmet and disconnects the line, cutting off Steve’s excuses.

Silence falls over the kitchen, broken only by Tony’s still unsteady breathing. He grabs for Bucky’s hands again almost desperately and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together.

“That-” Tony says slowly, “did not go the way I expected.”

Bucky huffs out a soft laugh and taps his foot against Tony’s again as he asks, “You okay?”

“Nope,” Tony says easily, “you?”

“Been worse,” Bucky says with a shrug and a tiny grin.

Tony manages a weak laugh of his own, and then sighs.

“So, Siberia,” he says, and Bucky simply nods. After a second of thought Tony admits, “I know Steve and the others are probably going to be heading there now, but-”

“You don’t wanna just leave it to 'em?” Bucky guesses when he trails off, and Tony smiles a little wider. “It’d take us a couple days to drive there,” he warns.

"Or, we could fly," Tony suggests. “We might be spotted, but I’d rather that than more Winter Soldiers running around.”

Bucky doesn’t look at all thrilled with the idea.

“I would never drop you,” Tony adds, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Okay,” Bucky says reluctantly, “okay, we- We can fly.”

He still looks far from excited, so Tony resists the urge to cheer.

“We probably won’t get there before the team,” Tony admits, “but at the very least we’ll hopefully get there in time to have a chance of tracking down loose murder puppets.”

Bucky nods, looking thoughtful, and then that guilty expression starts to creep across his face again.

“Stop it,” Tony says seriously, and Bucky doesn’t even need to ask.

“Fine,” Bucky says with a weak laugh. “I just-” He sighs and his expression turns grave again, “I can’t believe he didn’ tell you.”

Tony can feel the mix of emotions tangled in Bucky’s chest, but picking out individual feelings is difficult. Disappointment and confusion and something that- it might be loss.

It’s similar to what Tony felt talking to Rhodey, but more. Like a wire that’s been cut, too short to be reconnected.

Bucky sighs and shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear it. When he looks at Tony again his eyes are clear, a small smile on his face, and it takes Tony's breath away.

“I’m gonna eat more before you fly me through the Russian skies,” Bucky says with a tone like he might as well be facing a firing squad, and Tony laughs. “Want anythin’?” He asks, grinning and pleased with himself.

“Crabapple preserves,” Tony says without hesitation, smiling wide.

“You and the apples,” Bucky huffs as he starts pushing himself to his feet, “you-”

The small window above the sink shatters.

Bucky falls silent, his eyes going wide.

Red is spreading across the front of his shirt.

It’s blood, Tony realizes slowly.

Everything is happening so slowly.

Shards of glass are still falling to the tile floor with oddly musical sounds.

The fingers of Bucky’s right hand are still tangled with Tony’s, and they start to go limp.

Distantly, Tony can hear a door slamming open. More windows breaking.

Bucky’s eyelids flutter and start to close.

It’s blood, it’s blood, it’s-

Tony doesn’t remember getting to his feet. He doesn’t remember speaking, but he must have. The armor is closing itself around him even as he tries to catch Bucky’s falling weight.

He can hear approaching footsteps. Someone is shouting.

More muffled gunshots ring out.

Tony barely feels the impact of the bullets bouncing off his armor.

He tries to curl himself around Bucky protectively, but there’s red spreading from his stomach and his leg.

Red.

It’s blood.

All Tony sees is red.

The charge and blast of the repulsors sounds like screaming.

Gunfire.

His HUD inside the helmet flashes warnings and Tony ignores them.

Men dressed in all black continue pouring into the house. Holding rifles. Firing them.

Red.

Shell casings rain around the feet of the armor as Tony moves.

Someone is shouting. The repulsors scream.

Red. Red. Red.

The roar of gunfire.

Repulsors scream. Or maybe it was a person.

All Tony can see is-

Shine of metal. Muzzle flash. Light and sparks.

And red.

Red.

Red-

Tony yanks the helmet off ungracefully and gulps in fresh lungfuls of air.

His hands are shaking.

He blinks rapidly, trying to clear the red from his vision.

Everything is too bright again and he needs to find Bucky- he needs to feel settled-

Tony’s eyes land on a blood splattered figure and he gasps, going tense until he realizes that it’s- It’s him.

His reflection stares back at him. His armor is splattered with blood, standing out bright against the Mark IV’s shades of gray.

He was in the kitchen, but this- there’s a dusty mirror and chipped sink in front of him. Where is he?

As he continues staring at himself Tony realizes that there’s blood on his face, somehow. It must have gotten there before he put the helmet on, which means-

It’s Bucky’s blood.

Bucky.

Tony remembers Bucky falling, the red- the blood spreading across his clothes.

What happened after that? He remembers-

Red.

Tony’s breath wheezes in and out of his chest. He needs to find Bucky- He needs- he needs to remember-

“Tony.”

The weak croak makes Tony jump again and he spins in place. The heels of his armor make an awful sound as they drag against the tile.

Bucky is slumped against the wall in a walk-in shower that looks vaguely familiar. Blood is running sluggishly down the drain. Bucky’s eyes aren’t quite focused as they move over Tony.

It looks like they’re back in the bathroom of the safe house, but how- When- Tony doesn’t-

“Wha’ happened?” Bucky asks, his voice weak and wet.

“I- I don’t-” Tony chokes out, his own voice breaking, "I don’t remember."

#my fic #winteriron #starkbucks #bucky/tony #riot writes #an agony we deserve #buckyxtony

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