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mercurial-chuckles · 5 months ago

Note

is smutober still open? if yes can i ask for stucky x f!reader + 17. "seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place"? i thought maybe steve or bucky seeing the marks the other left on reader? or even better, steve or buck seeing the marks reader left on them. anyway, up to you, i love all of your stucky works, you make their relationship feel so real and i love how you don't focus solely on the boys with reader but on bucky and steve and their love for each other as well.

Wanton Affairs

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Overloaded Fluff Galore | Domestic Supersoldiers | Poly relation | Language | THE SMUT galore | Threesome | Fingering | Littleshit supersoldiers on the loose | Irresistible Bucky | One torn bra | Supersoldier Sandwich | Soft!dom Steve | Soft!dom Bucky | ~6k of fluffy n filthy goodness | I've broken the fic into three parts with breaks if you wish to stop and continue later | Unedited. If you find any errors (you will), please kindly ignore them for the moment. I typed as I went. I'm too disoriented to edit, but I will as soon as I can | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: My first threesome. I mean, first time writing a threesome. I'm already whimpering in dread. So, be gentle with me. Treat me tenderly, and some validation would really ease me. Thank you for sending in the ask for SMUT-BER FEST. My apologies for how--embarrassingly--long it's taken to get to your ask. I hope you enjoy reading it, my sweet anon! And thank you for your kind words. This is also my submission for Stucky Bingo | Prompt: Napping | @stuckybingo Most importantly, I've added a small dialogue prompt inspired by Trick or Treat wheel of potential doom. @yenzys-lucky-charm I'm sorry this thought has been marinating in my head for so long, love. I'm way past the due date, and this isn't technically my submission. Since you mentioned how excited you were about this prompt, and now that I've FINALLY gotten inspired, I wanted to tag you. Please feel free to ignore it if any elements of this fic aren't your forte ✨ Hope I did it justice 🩷 Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner and Divider made by me. Picture credits to internet! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Bucky gets what he wants, even if it means seducing fighting an annoyed Steve Rogers

Bucky, as per Steve's entirely unqualified yet riveting diagnosis, was a little shit with a severe case of cuteness aggression.

Why, you ask?

Well, it was 2 p.m., and Bucky had just returned home from the compound. And when he walked in and saw you peacefully napping, he absolutely couldn't resist his joy.

Despite Steve's firm warning that you needed rest after pulling an all-nighter, Bucky just couldn't help himself. He'd missed you terribly all day--too many hours apart.

So, like the true, needy mess that he was, he decided to be obnoxiously loud, hoping you'd stir awake, give him a warm smile that would relax him in no seconds, and let him curl up next to you.

Those were the hopes of the brunette man.

But his other love--the too-practical, too-Captainy--was already dousing his plans in cold water.

It wasn't that Bucky didn't understand the importance of your sleep--he did. He knew you'd been putting in extra hours, working on the analysis of some foil, and you hardly slept the last few days and that you didn't sleep at all last night.

Stupid Project!

But you, in all your serene, angelic glory, just looked so irresistible lying there.

Not to be too dramatic but he was desperate and downright itching for you to hold him.

Last night had been miserable. He'd tossed and turned all night, and with Steve holed up at the compound, there was no one to hold him while he slept. Which, of course, meant sleep was out of the question. Steve had tried convincing him to come over, mumbling something about hologram testing and training updates--like that was supposed to be enticing.

A bunch of lies, if you asked Bucky.

Steve was a really needy puppy. The man could hardly stand being away from you for too long without either of them keeping watch. And sure, the offer had been tempting, but Bucky had backed off, figuring he'd crash on the couch with some trash TV instead. The last thing he wanted was to deal with Tony along with his sizable ego and the others when he was in a mood. Not that he disliked any of them--he just wasn't in the headspace for socializing. So, he let Steve play the responsible Captain at the Compound while you worked and he decided to stay back and suffer in peace.

In the early hours that morning, he went to his scheduled training session, running on barely any sleep. You had texted saying you'd be home in the evening, but when he saw you both back earlier than expected, he just couldn't resist, could he?

Thus, he proceeded with his noisy campaign to wake you up, much to Steve's horror.

"Bucky," Steve hissed from across the room as Bucky slammed the bathroom door.

"Stop that," he warned, half-amused by the exaggeratedly loud noises Bucky had been making since the moment he arrived home. Steve's enhanced hearing only made it worse, amplifying the noise tenfold. But Bucky had the same enhanced hearing, and Steve knew how stealthy his lover could be. That meant Bucky was intentionally making a racket to wake you up--and that annoyed Steve.

"Stop what?" Bucky huffed, raising an eyebrow as he marched toward Steve, intentionally stomping every step.

Though it had plenty of closet space, the walk-in closet attached to the bedroom was far too small for the two of them. Steve had dimmed the lights to avoid disturbing you and even drew the curtains in the bedroom to block out the intense afternoon light pouring through the windows.

"Shh... she's sleeping," Steve shushed, flinging a shirt he was folding toward Bucky in an attempt to get him to stop. But Bucky caught it mid-air, tossed it back into the laundry bin with a grin, and, without missing a beat, yanked Steve toward him by the collar of his undershirt.

Bucky cradled Steve's jaw with an exaggerated air of seriousness, murmuring lowly, "Ya know, I just saw a picture of a grumpy cat online that looked exactly like you."

Bucky's grin widened.

Steve's frown deepened, and the playful glint in Bucky's eyes only intensified.

Rolling his eyes, Steve swatted Bucky's hands away from his cheeks and snorted in amusement. "You sure it wasn't you?" he deadpanned, picking up clothes one by one and sorting them into fold piles and hangers.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled Steve by the neck, his lips nearly grazing Steve's.

Poor Stevie couldn't resist now, could he? Because Bucky looked irresistibly handsome, and he was a weak man when it came to Bucky or you.

Steve felt his resolve slip, and before he knew it, his lips were gravitating toward Bucky's as Bucky leaned in for a soft, teasing kiss. A low moan escaped Steve, and before he could deepen the kiss, Bucky pulled away, leaving Steve with nothing but a rush of warmth and utter annoyance.

Steve groaned, rubbing his face. "You're such a jerk," he muttered, irritated by the half-assed kiss and desperate for more.

Bucky's grin widened wickedly. "What? Do you need me, punk? All you gotta do is ask," he teased, "Nicely," he added, his voice thick with amusement, before leaning in again--this time intently, pushing Steve against the tiny space of empty wall beside the door. Their lips collided, groaning at the taste, deepening the kiss as they moved closer, instinctively pulling each other tighter. The arousing kiss continued, building and building until…

The unmistakable tear was heard.

Both of them exchanged a look.

"Oh, shit!" Bucky laughed, pulling away just enough to look down.

Steve followed Bucky's gaze and froze, his face going pale. There, in Steve's hand, were the torn remains of your favorite bra. It was a cute piece, too, with little dinosaurs and cacti prints. You looked adorable wearing it.

"Son of a bitch, that's her comfy one," Steve muttered in exasperation, turning it in his large hands to see if it was remotely salvageable, but the fabric was in tatters.

"Eh…" Bucky hummed, plucking the fabric from Steve's hands, and inspected the shredded piece with little sympathy, "I hate these traps," he muttered.

"Nope, gotta say goodbye," Bucky sniggered, putting the ripped fabric back into Steve's hands. Steve groaned in defeat.

Bucky patted him on the shoulder with exaggerated pity, and taking advantage of Steve's guilty reminiscence, he slipped out of the closet and into the bedroom, leaving Steve standing there, still processing the carnage.

Bucky plopped himself on the bed with zero resistance from Steve whatsoever. He quickly discarded his joggers, cursing himself for deciding to put them on after the shower. He threw them, aiming for the chair, but Steve caught them mid-air, a frown returning to his face.

Bucky's smile widened at the sound of Steve's angry grunts, whispered under his breath. Ignoring all of Steve's warnings, Bucky turned his focus entirely to you, snuggling comfortably beside you, and wondering how best to announce his arrival.

Steve seemed to read his thoughts because he snapped, nearly shouting, "James, get your ass over here and fold the laundry with me if you're so bored!"

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes. "I'm not bored, Steven. I'm sleepy," he declared, finger traced gently down your cheek, and you made a soft noise in your sleep.

Steve's patience ebbed away all at once. He cast one last look at your peaceful, slumbering form, Steve had just managed to help you fall asleep, and he wasn't about to let Bucky mess it all up.

With a determined stride, Steve marched over, grabbed Bucky by the waist, and hauled him off the bed without warning. Bucky let out a surprised laugh, but Steve anticipated the noise, quickly pressing his hand to Bucky's mouth to silence him as he began marching him out of the room.

"What the hell?" Bucky grumbled, his brain catching up.

Steve only made it two steps into the living room before Bucky, like a reflex, tackled him to the ground with a booming laugh.

"You're really not listening. Let her sleep," Steve hissed, his voice strained from holding back his irritation and laughter.

"I wasn't doing anything," Bucky guffawed, straddling Steve and pinning him to the floor.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Bucky, now the one in control, held both of Steve's wrists to his chest, completely enjoying the struggle.

"GET UP!" Steve grumbled, pretending to be annoyed, but the amused smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

"Is that all ya got?" Bucky mocked, raising an eyebrow. "For a man who pulled a helicopter…" He tutted in mock disappointment. "Bad, Stevie. You gotta replenish your big boy energy."

Bucky placed a teasing kiss on Steve's jaw, his breath warm against Steve's skin. "I think you need a nap, too," he whispered.

Steve narrowed his eyes, and as the smug grin on Bucky's face fully registered in his mind, "You look quite energized Buck, and you definitely don't need a nap," Steve remarked flippantly.

Bucky's grin faltered, but only for a second. He kept Steve pinned with his metal arm, his face now just inches from Steve's as he leaned in closer. With a soft chuckle, Bucky pushed off Steve, sliding away from him smoothly and practically leaping off the floor and onto the bed in two long strides, knowing fully well that Steve wouldn't repeat the same mistake of hauling him off the bed a second time.

Bucky mentally counted to five, and sure enough, Steve appeared in the doorway, a frown marring his adorably stupid face.

Steve walked in fully intending to get the rest of the laundry done, however, he glanced at the bed, eyes greedily taking in Bucky's overtly happy and awfully comfortable expression snuggling beside you, and Steve sighed, conceding defeat. With a roll of his eyes, he finally walked over to the bed and carefully settled on the other side.

"You're folding the laundry later," Steve mouthed to Bucky, his voice just above a whisper. He then carefully slid his right arm around your waist, almost instinctively, and settled it over Bucky's side of the bed.

Bucky chuckled proudly, satisfied with himself. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before slowly slipping your hand from beneath your pillow, gently resting it on his own. Your familiar scent filled the space between them, soothing Bucky like the pleasant sound of rain.

Steve peeked at Bucky, a small, affectionate smile tugging at his lips as he felt your feet worm their way between his legs. Bucky's right arm found Steve's on top of your pillow, and without a second's delay, Steve interlaced his fingers with Bucky's, letting out a quiet hum of satisfaction.

"Such a punk," Steve murmured, squeezing Bucky's hand affectionately.

Bucky snorted. His eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the soothing calmness of both you and Steve.

"And no funny business," Steve added softly, his voice almost teasing as he kissed the top of your head, his breath warm on your skin. Bucky smiled to himself, too content to bite back with a reply.

The absolute nerve of Steve to question Bucky's purer, entirely innocent intentions of cuddling and falling asleep peacefully.

****

Steve is sometimes ALWAYS right

Still groggy and barely awake, you blinked open your eyes--only to be met with two bright blue ones and a wide grin. It scared the shit out of you, and you let out an ungraceful squeak.

"Fuck you, Bucky," you mumbled in surprise, but your cry was quickly muffled by his cold metal palm as he hushed you.

You blinked a few more times, adjusting to your surroundings, finally registering the cozy, familiar position you were wrapped in. The warmth of Steve behind you, his face pressed into your shoulder blade, his nose tickling your skin as the unmistakable sound of his snoring reverberated through your back.

"Stevie's snoring? Aww." You cooed, a sleepy, contented pout pulling at your lips. Bucky grinned beside you, nodding.

It was rare for either of them to snore--what with the serum taking most of the brunt of their bodies--but once in a while, exhaustion got the better of them.

"I recorded it, too," Bucky told you proudly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You sighed happily, licking your lips--his kiss felt like the sun's warmth on a cold winter day.

"Of course you did," you chuckled, a yawn slipping out before you could stop it.

Just as expected, Bucky tried to slip his fingers into your mouth mid-yawn, but you swatted his hand away before he could pull his usual antics. He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that charming, divinely gorgeous way that always made your heart flutter.

"What's the time?" you murmured, tugging at his t-shirt. Bucky slid closer, effortlessly molding against you as you hooked a leg over his hip, his thigh slotting between yours. His warmth, his scent--you savored every bit of him.

God, you'd missed him. Missed them.

"4:15," he whispered, voice low and soothing. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his metal fingers brushing your cheek, tucking away a few stray strands. At some point, your braid must have loosened in your sleep.

"How was training?" you asked, voice drowsy. Bucky grunted in response, lips trailing lazy kisses along your skin. You hummed, fingers idly playing with the fabric of his t-shirt, knowing exactly what that grunt meant. Training without Steve usually had him in a mood.

Bucky shifted just an inch away, his eyes locked on yours. And you smiled at him, watching his eyes twinkle with love. Unable to resist, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his chin. A comfortable silence settled. Bucky and you got lost in each other's touches, eyes blinking slowly.

"You really haven't been sleeping much, have you?" Bucky murmured, his brows twitching into a concerned frown.

You reached up, smoothing your fingers over the crease between them, watching as the tension melted from his face. He sighed under your touch, and you only shrugged slightly, a small pout tugging at your lips.

"I guess," you whispered, your fingers drifting down to gently massage his jaw. Bucky let out a low, satisfied hum, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

It was during these rare silences--filled with unspoken love you pondered how far you had come. You were so grateful. So unbelievably proud of the choices you had all made, of the life you had built together.

Bucky's expression softened even more as he grumbled, "I'm sorry." His lower lip jutted out just enough to make you want to suckle on it--so you did.

He let out a pleased hum, pressing a soft peck to your lips, his warm breath tickling your senses as he continued, "For trying to wake you up while you were sleeping. I'm such a jerk sometimes."

You let out a quiet laugh but quickly stilled when you felt Steve shift behind you, his forehead pressing snugly against the column of your neck as he instinctively pulled you closer. You waited, holding your breath to see if he would wake. When he didn't, you relaxed and turned your attention back to Bucky, your fingers trailing along his cheek, savoring the contrast between his soft skin and the roughness of his stubble.

"You think I even noticed? I was out like a light," you teased, grinning wide. "Besides, nothing to be sorry about… I know you're my Sugarpuss."

Bucky's eyes widened in mock offense as he dramatically gestured toward Steve. "He's Sugarpuss."

"No, he's not. He's the wise and responsible one of us. He keeps us in line. Besides, he'd only ever call you Sugarpuss," you teased, winking.

Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Though… you're more of a sourpuss most of the time," you added with a playful smirk.

Bucky let out a dramatic grunt before suddenly pulling you closer. Steve shifted behind you, now sprawled out on his stomach.

"I'd beat his ass if he ever called me that," Bucky muttered, tossing a leg over you and tugging you flush against him.

"You'd beat my ass too?" you teased, grinning as you pressed soft butterfly kisses along his neck.

Bucky moaned in satisfaction, the deep rumble of his throat vibrating against your lips.

"You're my pretty girl. You can call me any shitty name you want," he murmured, eyes crinkling with affection.

Before you could fawn over that, another snore rumbled from Steve, and Bucky turned his head to glance at him.

Shaking his head in mock disbelief, he huffed, "And he said he didn't need a nap."

"Yeah?" you asked, unable to resist the giggle bubbling up.

"Yeah. Hell-bent on me not lurking around you," Bucky said, shaking his head.

You laughed, snuggling deeper into his warmth.

"Guess what? He came by the lab... Captain mode," you whispered, your fingers threading through Bucky's hair, tugging just the way he liked. He let out a happy sigh, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"Really?" Bucky rasped, his voice thick with interest. His hand found the band of your panties, and he snapped them. You squirmed, feeling the warmth bubbling.

"Yeah! He announced that there was a meeting and that I was needed," you continued, chuckling. "Carried me home and put me to sleep."

Bucky hummed his palm kneading slow, lazy circles into your hip. His touch was heavy, possessive. His metal arm slipped underneath your shirt.

"Bucky…" you warned, shaking your head slightly.

But Bucky grinned, squeezing and massaging your tit, flicking your nipple. You squirmed, breath hitching at the sensation.

His smirk was downright sinful. "Put you to sleep, huh?"

Bucky seemed to take pity because he moved his hand away, but only for his fingers now trailing along your collarbone, then down the length of your neck. The cool Vibranium warmed instantly against your skin as he pushed your--Steve's--t-shirt off your shoulder.

"He left marks, didn't he?" you asked, tilting your head slightly, your face reddening up at the memory of Steve taking you apart after you denied that you were not sleepy.

Bucky huffed in mock offense, his fingers ghosting over the faint hickeys. "And he tells me, 'No funny business, Buck.'" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Wise, my ass. I'm the wiser one." The words were more for himself than for you, his lips trailing along the column of your neck.

The way your body responded to him was crazy.

"And I feel absolutely left out," Bucky murmured against your mouth, the warmth of his breath making you shiver.

The need to taste him, to pull him closer, was overwhelming.

"We can't have that, Buck," you whispered.

And then, as if reading each other's minds, you both moved at once. The kiss was passionately satiating yet a consuming hunger overwhelmed you. His tongue trailed inside your mouth, lapping at you hungrily, sucking on your bottom lip.

"You're a goddess, you know that?" he rasped, moaning at the taste, revving you up just right. "Fuck, I missed you so much," Bucky growled lowly. Your dismissive protests of his praise were captured by his mouth, kissing you more while he trailed his metal fingers down your stomach, slipping them into your panties.

Beautiful dilated blues gazed at you, and you arched into him, pulling at the short strands of his hair at the back when he cupped your heat and squeezed it. The moan that escaped you was hungrily captured again, hushing you by kissing.

And Steve shifted behind you, making you still in realization.

"Steve is sleeping," you murmured half-heartedly, feeling Steve shift slightly behind you, but Bucky chuckled, the absolute menace that he was, his fingers prodded at your slick entrance, "Gotta be real quiet then, hmm?" he groaned.

"Buck…" You started, only to be shut off by one finger inching inside, and your breath hitched.

"These are not helping," he groaned, caressing and nipping at the marks Steve left on you earlier.

You gripped onto his back, fingers digging into his skin as retribution for the pleasure he was providing you. Bucky nipped at the skin right under your ear, making you squirm. He pushed his second finger inside, setting a languid pace, and let out a rather low growl.

You moaned into his ear, licking the skin on the side of his neck, nipping. God, he smelled like temptation, and you felt weak.

You cried in delight as you felt his fingers hit the spot he was privy to.

You felt parched, and you needed him.

"I know, I know. Good fucking girl," he rumbled, shifting onto his back and pulling you effortlessly on top of him. You stumbled against his chest, breathless, limbs tangled.

You froze for a second, glancing at Steve, but he was still fast asleep, his steady breathing undisturbed.

When you looked back at Bucky, he was grinning up at you, dazed and smug, his eyes glinting wickedly.

You had a good retort ready, but he curled his fingers, turning the words into a moan, and his other hand weaved into your hair, bringing you close to his mouth and sucking your lower lip.

"Quiet, pretty girl. Don't wanna disturb him. Do we?" You bit onto his jaw, holding back the moans that were trying to escape.

Bucky adjusted you in his arms, pressing you against his strong chest, his fingers fucking your wet and welcoming heat. "Hmm. Fuck, you smell divine," he grunted.

Your teeth grazed his skin, his scent hit you tenfold, and the pleasure made you heady.

"Beautiful," Bucky mumbled, his fingers curled expertly inside, and you teetered on the edge of pleasure, breath caught.

"And mine. Ours," Bucky added, moaning against the corner of your mouth, his hips thrusting up against your thigh. The tickling sensation of his hardness made you squirm, and Bucky's languid thrusts turned faster.

"Bucky," You moaned, and he captured your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

"Yeah? Gonna cum, aren't you? Fuck. My perfect girl," he encouraged, and you nodded, mouth falling open, speechless, while your pussy gripped onto his fingers. The sensation hit you fast, clutching you into the depths of pleasure.

Bucky held you tightly, kissing your jaw as you rode your orgasm. He pulled his fingers out slowly, and you whimpered when he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean. His eyes shut for a moment. "Bucky," you breathed. The sight always mortified and did things to you.

"I wanna eat you," he muttered hoarsely, his voice humming through his chest, making your heart flutter.

"But I know you can't keep quiet if I get my mouth on you," he chuckled condescendingly, pushing his boxers down, and your eyes widened, looking at him pointedly.

You shook your head at him, this time more vehemently, but Bucky's smug grin only widened as he adjusted you properly, and your hands held onto him for stability. He nudged you with a wink, giving himself a stroke and slotting his tip at your entrance. Your hesitation vanished with how good it felt.

You both could be quiet, right?

Your breath hitched as he slowly rocked from underneath, and you collapsed onto his broad chest.

"Are you close already?" He cooed, completely sheathed inside you. Bucky gritted his teeth when he felt you clench him.

Your breath caught as your fingers gripped at his t-shirt, and your mouth muffled with bites.

Bucky was making you speechless, wild, and a moaning mess.

A loud guttural groan escaped him, and you hushed him pointedly.

"Fuck, I can't help it," He remarked.

****

When Captain Rogers wakes up. Teehee!

Feeling the knot in your stomach tighten, you nipped at his collarbone. Bucky's palm flexed on your hip, pulling you more into him, and the slight pain it caused made you clench onto him tightly while pleasure rippled through your body.

Bucky hissed, muttering how perfectly you milked him. When his tip kissed your cervix, you moaned.

"Mmm…feels like heaven. Doesn't it?" Bucky hissed, pushing your t-shirt to the side harshly and biting your shoulder. Your nails dug into his biceps, metal and flesh alike, tightly. The contrast urged you on more.

Your t-shirt--Steve's t-shirt--rucked up high with all the thrusting, and you pushed Bucky's t-shirt just a bit up to feel his skin against yours--taut, muscular, soft, scarred, and all yours. "You're so pretty, Buck," You sighed happily, his hardness feeling so full and fulfilling, and you felt the familiar rush as you careened into pleasure.

A sleepy snort broke the moment, followed by a large, steady hand wrapping around your waist, halting your movement. The pleasure that had been building crashed just as fast, leaving you teetering on the edge. You almost wailed in frustration.

You and Bucky turned at the same time, cheek-to-cheek, to face the culprit.

Steve was awake--barely. Propped up on one elbow, his face was adorably scrunched, hair sleep-mussed, eyes narrowed at the two of you with faux disapproval. He let out a deep, raspy chuckle, the sound rolling through your body teasingly, making you squirm against Bucky.

You unknowingly clenched him just a bit, and Bucky groaned, rocking into you.

Bucky's stubble tickled your cheek as he spoke, his chuckle vibrating through his chest.

"Hands off, Steve. We're in the middle of something," Bucky growled, emphasizing his point with a deep thrust. No one could stop the moan coming from you. The pleasure building again.

When Steve tapped your cheek, you opened your eyes to see his amused grin. In the next instant, Steve straddled Bucky, towering over you from behind. His hand tightened around your waist before you were haphazardly lifted off Bucky.

Both you and Bucky hissed at the sudden loss of contact.

You expected Steve to throw you onto the bed, but no. Your eyes widened as you looked at Bucky, who looked back with an expression of both amusement and irritation.

Steve smacked your butt, and you squealed, trying hard to steady yourself on Bucky.

Steve didn't give you time. He pulled you up against his warm chest, discarding your--his--t-shirt and throwing away his to the side. Bucky's gaze shifted to your tits, and he grinned, his both hands coming up to squeeze them.

"Can't help yourself, Buck. Can you?" Steve taunted. Bucky cursed, throwing empty threats at Steve. Steve angled your hips, rubbing his tip against your slick.

Oh, Fuck! Your eyes widened.

You collapsed on Bucky at the sensation, and he steadied you.

"STEVE…Holy…" You gasped as Steve entered you slowly from behind without much resistance, simultaneously bending you onto Bucky.

Bucky was still hard, and he twitched against your tummy, hot and wet.

"Gotta teach him a lesson," Steve said, and honestly, you didn't care. You just want them to stop edging you.

Bucky bared his teeth in sweet agony as he moved to touch himself, but Steve was faster, and he swatted Bucky's hand away.

"Nuh-uh, you're gonna watch while I make our pretty girl feel good," Steve chuckled darkly, his broad frame engulfing you as he nuzzled your neck, placing soft kisses on your shoulder.

"Steve," Bucky gritted in annoyance, trying to squirm away.

"Can't take one order," Steve mocked, riling Bucky up, his hand splayed on the inside of your right thigh and spread you some more, firmly adjusting you on Bucky's torso.

"Fuckkkkk," You cried.

"You're not my boss," Bucky growled challengingly. You could feel him squirm under you both.

"Is that so?" Steve hummed from over your shoulder, too pleased with himself. His hands loosened the grip around you and moved to Bucky's jaw while Steve's other hand held your waist, hoisting you up just a bit. You held onto his forearm with both hands as you felt your knees wobble.

"You're such a punk," Bucky chuckled, his eyes blown in hazy lust. And with a single tap against his lips, Bucky sucked onto his thumb. The sight was hot and was making you delirious with need. You clenched around Steve, and a breathy gasp turned into a moan when Steve pulled out and thrust into you.

Your nails dug into Steve's arm harshly as the pleasure wrecked you.

Bucky pulled you and Steve on top of him and Steve eased you gently onto Bucky and pinned his hands beside him. The angled thrust had you almost coming. Almost.

Their weight and warmth added to your pleasure. Steve adjusted your hips as he pounded you from behind.

Steve nudged against your neck, propping against your shoulder as he leaned toward Bucky.

"I said no funny business. Didn't I?" Steve reminded Bucky, their banter holding nothing back as Steve pounded into you without breaking pace while Bucky kissed your parted mouth.

Bucky winked. "You have no right demanding shit from me, punk." he traced the slightly dark marks on the expanse of your chest, ones that Steve took his time leaving earlier.

Steve's breathless laugh tickled your throat as he pulled Bucky for a kiss, effectively squishing you between them. The angle only made you scream as pleasure shot through you.

"Easy there," Bucky warned Steve.

"FUCKK…" Steve lifted you off Bucky slightly, his one arm wrapping around you carefully, firmly, resting both of your weights on his knees, straddling Bucky.

"Don't worry, Sweetheart. I aim to please. You know that," Steve said to Bucky while adjusting Bucky's cock directly where you were connected, rubbing it gently on your clit, and you gasped, squirming away from his grip. The sensation was driving you nuts.

All three of you moaned in sync. A litany of curses spewed.

You threw your head onto Steve's shoulder, both hands gripping his forearm as he rocked into you.

"Eyes on me," Bucky demanded, squeezing your tit and pinching your nipple. It felt like a Herculean task to open your eyes, but you did, meeting his darkened blues. He parted his lips, tongue peeking out as he forced you closer. Steve loosened his grip, maneuvering you closer to Bucky.

"You smell so fucking good," Bucky grunted, taking you in a searing kiss.

"Look at you. So needy. Fuck, I could do this all day," Steve moaned, increasing his pace. Despite the pleasure coursing through, both you and Bucky rolled your eyes at him in sync, and a few breathy chuckles escaped you.

"Shut up," Steve exclaimed, chuckling. Steve unwound one of his forearms and trailed it up Bucky's chest, carding through Bucky's short locks as he tugged them.

"OH FUCKKK…" Bucky moaned lewdly, baring his teeth and biting his lower lip.

"Can't take one order now, can you?" Steve hissed as his pace faltered, he was close, fucking sporadically.

Bucky intertwined his fingers with yours with a squeeze that spoke of love amidst the filthy, noisy mess you all were making. Steve placed an open-mouthed kiss on your neck, nipping as his fingers from Bucky's hair moved to place his large palm on his chest, right above Bucky's heart.

Bucky's erection rubbed against you and Steve hard and fast, right where you were joined.

"You're close, aren't you, Buck," Steve grunted as he rolled his hips, pressing you sensually against Bucky.

The manly groans, their scent, and their warmth, added to the sweet sensations…Holy Shitz! You were coming for the second time that day around Steve.

"I love you both. FUCK!" Steve moaned, thrusting a couple more times before you felt the hot white ropes filling you up, and you came tumbling down as white-hot pleasure throbbed your senses as you milked him, clutching onto both of them so tightly that it would have left their bones broken were they not supersoldiers.

"Oh shit!" Bucky groaned as he rocked upwards, cumming all over your front and his.

Your body flailed as you collapsed into Bucky, and so did Steve. Steve's taut, sweaty, muscular chest weighed you down onto Bucky, and his partial weight felt heavenly on you.

"I love you," You breathed, eyes closed as you nuzzled into Bucky's soft t-shirt, the stars still exploding behind your lids.

You felt euphoric!

The three of you laid there for a while.

You didn't--couldn't--open your eyes when you were readjusted, now lying on Steve.

Steve's laughter rumbled against your back as you felt Bucky move over you.

"Open 'em, sweet girl," Bucky cooed against your mouth, and you did. He grinned widely.

"You got one more in you, don't you, doll?" Bucky asked. His cock was hard, tip nudging your slick heat.

You bit your lip, not directly answering, but rocking against his tip. Bucky gave a dazzling smile as he inched inside you.

Oh, you were going to be sore and would need all the rest, but you couldn't deny your man, could you now?

"Good girl," Bucky groaned as he gently adjusted you above Steve.

"I love me some supersoldier sandwich," you managed to utter, your words broken and mostly turning into a moan.

"Oh, we're aware," Steve quirked, placing kisses alongside your neck, spreading your thighs wide, and holding them firmly as Bucky fucked you in missionary on Steve.

"Feels good, Buck? Is my cum warming you up well?" Steve taunted, revving Bucky up a bit more.

Steve moved strands of hair out of your face and brushed Bucky's forehead, and you could feel his hardness poking your hips.

Bucky groaned as he fucked with much more vigor. Dear Heavens! You felt every thrust, and it also made you conscious of your weight pressing into Steve.

A thought, while quite stupid, crept into your fucked out mind unknowingly.

"Hey, hey…too much?" Bucky asked, stalling his movements. You blushed, shaking your head, and tilted behind and looked up at a concerned Steve.

"Are you okay?" You asked him. You saw the look of recognition in his eyes, and his concern etched away.

"I am, sweetheart," Steve sighed, adjusting you more firmly, and you squealed. Bucky tapped your cheek, and you met his gaze reluctantly.

"Buck, love some sense into her, harder," Steve chuckled, placing a kiss on your temple, his hands massing your thighs.

You gasped. "I didn't mean…OH FUCKKKK," You started, but Bucky's thrust cut you off.

"BUCKY," You moaned.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Captain's orders," Bucky chuckled, fucking you maddeningly fast.

"Oh, now you follow his orders." You cried and arched on Steve's naked body.

Steve's hand tugged at Bucky's hair. And Bucky moaned, biting onto your chest. Steve turned your knees, helping you wrap them around Bucky's, and you clutched onto Bucky tightly.

Steve's hand crept between you and Bucky and rubbed your overstimulated clit. It really didn't take long before you felt the orgasm consume you.

"I'm…"

"Cum for me." Bucky breathed against your skin, his stubble rough and sensual against your chest as he sucked on your tit.

You were thankful that your home was far off civilization, completely private, because the way you shouted, you bet people would have surely freaked the fuck out.

"Holy Shit!" Bucky's hips stuttered, and soon he was filling you up, moaning loudly in that deep voice that made your pussy flutter.

"I love you," Steve whispered reverently, and you hummed blissfully, unable to form any words in response after those body-shattering orgasms. You fell into a dreamless void almost immediately, ears ringing as your body trembled in the aftermath of pleasure. You had no idea how long you slept.

"Come on, doll, gotta clean you up." You were barely aware of the events that followed, only remembering being carried to the guest bedroom vividly.

"Gotta change the sheets, doll. Sleep here," Steve said as he gently adjusted you on the queen mattress. Steve and Bucky's muffled voices sifted through your foggy mind.

"You're a fucking idiot, Stevie. I love you," you heard Bucky laugh, and you chuckled, mentally agreeing with him, though you weren't entirely sure what they were talking about.

Steve scoffed playfully, muttering something at Bucky that only made him laugh harder. Then, Steve tucked you in with a warm blanket, placing a tender kiss on your cheek.

"Get going, Buck. You promised to finish up with the laundry. I'll make dinner," Steve said.

"I'll help, too," you mumbled into the pillow.

Steve chuckled, peppering your neck with kisses that made you squirm from the sensation. "You're going to sleep and get all the rest. Understood?" he declared.

"Yes, Captain Rogers," you breathed, relaxing as your weight sank into the mattress. Steve's kiss lingered on your cheek long after, and you heard the floorboards creak as he shuffled away. The door groaned softly when he stepped into the living room.

God, one of you seriously needed to oil the door. The croaking was getting creepy.

Moments later, the bed dipped beside you. Bucky's warm fingers slid through your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, gentle strokes.

"Don't make me come in there, Bucky," Steve's voice carried from the living room, laced with warning.

Bucky chuckled against your neck. "He's such a prick sometimes," he groaned, his breath warm against your skin.

"I heard that," Steve's voice was much closer now. You chuckled sleepily.

"Steve tore your favorite bra," Bucky stage-whispered.

"Huh?" you mumbled, confused. You weren't wearing a bra, though. You blinked your eyes open, only to see Bucky being dragged out of the room.

Ummm…I'll be hiding and working on those amazing ASKS in my inbox, if you need me… 🫣🤭🙂‍↕️

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jasminerva · 7 months ago

Text

“does Nagumo have kinks and if so what are your favs for him 🎤”

So I was asked the above by Lao (@herringstrait)... And I thought I'd just list off a few off the top of my head, but in the end I had enough for a full post lmaooo (and then some - I added more and it just got away from me orz)

Welp... here ya go!

Nagumo x gn!Reader (w/ a few femme-gendered parts as indicated by ♀) Want more? Check out my SakaDays Masterlist! 🍑 Comments, reblogs, tags appeachiated~! 🍑

🎤🧐

mic check one-two (takes in a deep breath)

Nagumo x Reader NSFW headcanons

I feel like Nagumo would prefer to be in control even when he "relinquishes" it lol he wants to show you who's boss (it's you - if you really want you can even make him cry and drool and beg for it) he'll (learn to) crave it 😏 like a special once in a while treat. Honestly, he convinces himself he needs control because that's secure & safe to him. When he gives you control, that's basically saying he feels super safe with you! And if that ain't the sexiest thing ever, I don't know what is.

I personally don't feel like he's got any extravagant kinks like rope play or whips or wax / pain play (he'll try everything once, and he'll do stuff that you like for you)

Now, that doesn't mean he won't go crazy if you wrap yourself up like a present with your/his favourite-coloured ribbon! Or - better yet - let him wrap you up!

Food play for sure tho. One of the smut fics I have drafted up for Valentine's Day involves chocolate in lieu of clothing lmao

Nagumo likes little challenges cuz he's childish like that - throw him a bone every once in a while. Dare him to keep the cuffs on no matter what (god knows he can break outta anything). Let him get creative in stripping you and he'll surprise you (hint: it involves teeth).

I do think he'd like it a lot if you call him "good boy" - he likes praise. Nagumo will for sure reciprocate.

I think he really likes jiggly parts lol so he'd get mesmerized and purposely slam harder and maybe slap it a bit just to see it wiggle lmao (also them slapping sounds mmmph)

Mirror sex

Orgasm control lol but not too crazy he's a soft guy (for the most part). Mostly, he's a sappy romantic and he wants to cum isshoni together with you, so he'll do his darndest to get you off at the same time. In reality, you could probably control him better than he thinks he can control you.

He can be a little possessive but it's not to possess rather than the feelings behind it. If you time it well and tell him you're "his" he could very much cum prematurely 🤣 (he just wants you to know you're his and he's yours okay???)

I also have a smut that I don't know when it'll be released but… it involves an annual hunting excursion in the wilderness lmao (where YOU are the prey - so yeah) [Lao mentioned the face he made while threatening Yotsumura so I HAD TO INCLUDE IT]

(hack-coughs)

(takes in another breath)

Nagumo would be amazing at role play (dude is a master of disguise) but at the end of the day all he wants is to be himself / vulnerable and with you 🥹

I shared this before where Nagumo keeps his eyes open for everything lmaooo his FOMO is bad. You have to get used to when you accidentally peek while he's kissing or you're trying to cover your O face - nope, he will pry those hands off your face or lean very forward - he wants to see it ALL with them big boba eyes.

Just like his eyes are made for eyeing, his fingers are made for fingering. You can act all cocky and crack a joke about how his knuckle tattoos will wear out so much faster at the rate he's going, but he'll just tell you, "worth getting them retouched if I get to touch you like this" as he nearly sends you to heaven (showing off the real reason he has his gold assassin license).

On that note, he's not afraid to probe (literally and figuratively) you, even while you're already stuffed. "Y-Yoichi, t-too much... I don't think that'll fff—" "Shh... don't worry, baby, you can take it all."

[♀] For my womb-sisters, I can see him pressing down on your lower abdomen while he's thrusting into you, feeling you from the outside-in (inside-out?), driving you crazy. Hit that g(uaranteed good time)-spot-on accuracy.

He knows how to use his tongue too. You might even prefer it because it means he'll shut up for once, but ultimately you love his silver tongue-in-cheek as much as you love his other appendages. I think he still prefers leaving his mouth free for kisses and cracking wise.

[♀] Bonus food play, he will kill two birds with one stone by taking in some sugar-free candy or mint beforehand to eat you out. We know how much he loves his sweets after all~ ;) plus the minty tingle would keep things quite literally fresh. (warning: don't mix actual sugar with the vajayjay — not worth it)

Look up BJ blast pop rocks and tell me that won't be the best way to get back at him.

He loves it when you tangle your fingers in his hair, hold him close while he ravishes you. He keeps his hair messy for a reason (wants you stuck for as long as possible).

[♀] Just like he has the bobas, if you have the boobas, he loves to motorboat tease them and rest his face between them (even outside of R18 times). There's something about how nipples perk up that he feels real satisfied about.

[♀] Holding onto them while he's hitting that spot? The peaks between his tattooed fingers and feeling the jiggly movement under his palms? That's one of the rare times he has difficulty concentrating on your face.

Aftercare

This can be pre-/post-/in between, but he likes to trace your hip or stomach or other part with his fingers. Maybe solve some math puzzles like a nerd (scenario included below).

He'll clean you up really well. Maybe too well. Don't take up his offer to clean you up in the shower or bath if you're short on time.

I can see him as the big spoon, or even little spoon. Best would be the pillow-talk position, where he just holds you right against him, face-to-face, eye-to-boobage.

Whatever position, just picture him holding you with his fingers interlocked.

He'll tangle his legs with yours and lock you tf in. Need to go to the bathroom? Best of luck. Dude is a clingy Cancer.

He might wax poetic, saying something cheesy like "we fit together like puzzle pieces" or "you're a problem I'm still trying to solve" - feel free to bonk him. Then you'll have some mandarin oranges to share!

Nuzzles & cuddles & kisses, oh my!

He'll fall asleep with his chin resting on your head, or nuzzled against your chest. (omg Memi @toyboxterror shared this art by ivy_rt_ w/ me which is perfect)

Extra for those familiar with cloud8.

re: hunter-prey play - you don’t particularly like nature, but you’ll do it just to outlast him as long as possible (you can be stupid competitive and it reminds you of JCC times) - plus maybe you like the adrenaline spike haha. He makes a convincing predator.

re: orgasm control / rare dom time - you will get some use out of your kill heels after all (psst don’t tell Tenju).

If you’re into consensual somno - the perk is that you don’t have to do anything PLUS it makes Nagumo feel trusted and desired and that gets him off. WIN-WIN & WINK-WONK.

Nagumo may hate his stuffy work wear, but you've convinced him the necktie is a must. To tug on, motioning him to come hither, pulling him into a kiss, he'll pin you down between his arms and deepen it. It becomes ceremony after a long day's work. (thank you Memi for reminding me!!!)

Extra (forgot I had this drafted in Oct - figured I'd include it here)

SakaDays headcanon: Nagumo “I solve Sudoku puzzles in my downtime” Yoichi does rapid mental math in his head and most likely even uses his fingers (wink-wonk).

shared in the ch1 end notes of c o n t r a i l s (Nagumo x F!Reader ***nsfw smut*** fic). [tumblr post link if you wanted to like + reblog]

Probably traces Sudoku on your bare skin, too. The nerd. Here's a smol scenario of a time when you first noticed:

(You and Nagumo are snuggled up) Nagumo: (hand lingering on your hip, he starts tracing patterns on your skin) You: Are you playing tic-tac-toe or something? Nagumo: Hm? Nope. You: (after a few more movements, realizing) Seriously? Sudoku? Nagumo: Yeah, well, I left the book in my other coat, but may as well continue where I left off~ You: Wow. Is that where your mind immediately goes? Lucky me. Nagumo: (slowly moves mathematical ministrations towards your core, purring) Feeling lucky now~?

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nanivinsmoke · 10 months ago

Text

✩ Take Care .

✩ logan ‘wolverine’ howlett x mutant!femreader

hate is a strong word, but not stronger than the feelings you have for him.

✩ tags: sexual tension, enemies to lovers (?), mentions of blood, you and Logan both get hurt, passionate sex, creampies, logan has nightmares, rough sex, etc…

note: nightmare scene heavily inspired by the first x-men movie with rogue and logan. cr: plutism for divider <3!

“Did you hear? Ms. Y/N slapped Mr. Logan in front of her whole class!”

“I heard that he called her a bitch. I don’t know, that seems deserved.”

“Those two are definitely in love with each other. I don’t even have to use my powers to know.” Professor Xavier shook his head as he wheeled by a group of students, talking about his two hard headed staff members; who can’t seem to get along. At least that’s what they’ve been trying to claim.

Being a telepath has its perks, but it also has its disadvantages, and right now the professor wished he couldn’t read people’s minds. As he rolled into the science class, he wasn’t surprise3: to see the two of you there—keeping distance from one another.

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you two.” Charles announced, causing the two of you to look at each other, an eye roll from you while Logan groaned. Using his telepathy, the professor closed the classroom door; rolling closer to you both.

“Why are we here, Charles.” Logan spoke, getting ready to light his cigar—however you swiped it out of his mouth, using your powers. He shot you and look and the two of you began to bicker, but that immediately ended as the Professor got into your heads; silencing you both.

“Sorry professor..” You mumbled and the old man nodded his head.

“This is the third time the two of you had got into a fight, not counting the ones off school grounds. You two are teachers, adults better yet, and you two are setting a bad example for the kids.” Even though he didn’t look angry as he spoke, it was evident that the Professor was. It was hard for you both to look him in the eyes, he was disappointed with you two.

“If the two of you don’t clean up your acts and realize the truth behind your feelings for each other, then I’m going to put you both on leave; until I deem fit.” The Professor turned and wheeled himself out, not bothering to hear an explanation from either of you—since he made himself clear.

You turned to look at Logan, his hazel eyes on yours before he turned away—following after the professor’s steps, leaving you alone. You sighed and began to clean up your classroom, Xavier’s words replaying in your head; especially what he meant about your feelings. ‘Did you actually hate Logan?’

That question played in your mind for the next couple of weeks, wondering what were your true feelings for him. The two of you stayed out of each other’s way, taking the Professor’s words seriously; you two couldn’t afford to get into another fight.

The only time you two saw each other is during x-men meetings or as you passed each other in the hall way. It was for the best and everyone could see the change, especially Charles.

However, things took a turn during one night in the mansion…

It was real late in the night, almost everyone was asleep; except for you. You had just got out of the shower, a silver colored towel wrapped around your nude body—excess water dripping off of you as you rummaged through your closet for something to sleep in. Settling for an oversized t shirt, you slipped it over your head, tossing your towel on your vanity’s chair—before climbing into your bed, getting comfortable.

And as you reached over to turn off your lamp, your ears perked up to this low groaning, followed by some yelling. You rose an eyebrow and climbed out of bed, slipping on your slippers before coming out of your room, checking to see where that noise was coming from.

And as you followed the sounds, with it becoming louder as you approached, you found yourself outside of Logan’s room. With a soft knock, you entered and tip toed inside—the room covered in darkness, yet you could see the man writhing in his sleep. You frowned at the sight, it wasn’t uncommon for mutants to have nightmares about their pasts. However, seeing him like this hurt you and you walked over to the bed, lightly tapping him to wake him up from this terrible dream.

He continued to shake and mumble, his hands clenching the sheets below him and when you reached over once more—tapping him, he shot up from his bed; yelling—claws unsheathing and piercing your skin. You were stunned, mouth agape like you were going to scream, however nothing came out—you couldn’t.

And as Logan slowly came to, he had realized what he had done, his hazel eyes still wide like saucers—claws retracting back into his knuckles.

“Mr. Logan? Oh my—im going to get Ms. Grey!” A student who happened to hear everything, appeared in the room—shocked by the horrifying sight. You gasped and kept your eyes on Logan, before responding to the student, “No need, just go back to bed. I’m fine.”

Your healing factor had now kicked in and your wounds slowly started to close, the pain fading away as well. You turned your head and gave the student a smile, reassuring them once more. “I’m okay, really! You can go back to bed.” The kid looked over at you once more before nodding, retreating back to their room and leaving you two alone.

Turning back to Logan, his eyes had softened and he had grabbed your waist—staring at you.

“I’m sorry….I didn’t mean—“

“I know. You were just having a nightmare.” You cut him off and gave him a smile small before he pulled away, getting up from his bed and grabbing a t-shirt from his dresser—tossing it over to you. “Since i ruined yours…”

You smiled once more and turned in your heels, headed for the door before you felt his hand on your wrist, pulling you back.

“Stay with me….if that’s alright with you?” His voice was soft, just like his eyes. There was something about this that made your heart swell, so you nodded your head and dipped into his adjoining bathroom—changing out of your bloody t-shirt, into the clean one that he had given you—which smelled like him. Warm and musky, with hints of spice. It was comfortable.

Reappearing from the bathroom, you saw Logan lying on his bed, looking up at the ceiling until his eyes fell onto you. You gave him as soft smile, before climbing into bed with him, creating a distance between you two as you stayed on one side of the bed.

It was quiet as you laid there, trying your hardest to sleep, however it was just too cold. You shivered and tucked yourself further under the blanket, yet it still wasn’t enough. You looked over at Logan, his hazel eyes closed, and scooted over towards him—his body heat radiating off of him and warming you up. He felt you next to him and he didn’t protest or push you off—instead he pulled you closer and wrapped his arm around you, relaxing into his spot.

And after a few minutes, you could hear him snoring, sound asleep once again. You sighed and closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep in the comfort of his arms.

From that day on, everything changed for you.

You had found yourself in his room almost every night, sleeping in the bed with him, arms around each other; having the best sleep of your lives. He didn’t mind it either. You would find him awake every time, almost like he was waiting to fall asleep with you.

And in the afternoon, during your breaks, he would treat you to lunch. Sometimes you guys would eat at the academy, other times he would take you for a ride into the city, buying you something to eat out there.

Almost like your perception of each had changed and you weren’t going to question it. You liked it and deep down you knew he did too. But, there was something about this that had your heart thumping and skipping a beat. Is this what the Professor meant? Was the truth behind the hatred really something else?

Those questions scrambled in your mind and as you entered Logan’s bedroom, your heart caught in your throat. The sight that was plagued upon you was shocking, Logan and another woman in his bed—kissing each other. “Oh.” You let out, startling the two.

The woman parted from him and excused herself out of his room, brushing past you as you stood near his doorway. You kept your eyes on him, a million emotions running through your body as his demeanor changed, standing up and coming close to you.

“Look, I don’t need a fucking babysitter and im damn sure not your boyfriend. You’re fucking suffocating me!” His words were harsh and eat one felt like a personal slap to the face. You could feel your eyes watering and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop your tears from falling. After all the things the two of you said to one another, this was one of the worst.

“You’re a dick. Go to fucking hell!” You stormed out of his room, tears falling down your face—head tense from thoughts of him; and you soon realized what Charles meant. Without using your powers to connect with the Professor, you knew he was listening to your thoughts anyway—shaking his head as he listened to your heartbroken mind. He was disappointed, especially in Logan.

Days turned into nights and nights turned into days as time went on, the two of you never interacting with each other. You passed by each other like two stranger’s on the street and evens thought the two of you worked together—that didn’t mean you needed to interact with one another.

You did your best to avoid him, during team missions you made sure to be paired with someone else and if you were paired with him; you would handle the mission practically on your own. When it was real late at night and you went into the mansion’s kitchen for a snack, and saw him there, you would quickly grab whatever you were looking for and headed to your room—never acknowledging him.

You even went as far as getting a set of ear plugs so you wouldn’t hear him at night. You were done with him. You focused on yourself, your teaching and trainings—riding him of your mind.

As you sat in your class after the last one, grading papers, Charles entered, catching your attention. You smiled at him, but from the look on his face you knew something was wrong. Using your telepathy powers, you listened to his thoughts, your facial expression changing by the second.

You shook your head and stacked your papers together, “He can go to hell and back, Professor. I don’t wanna hear about him.” The older man wheeled closer to you, and placed his soft hand onto yours, a half smile on his face.

“I’ve read his mind, he thinks about you a lot. He’s been miserable with out you, ever since that night.”

“Yeah? Well that his problem, im not the one pushing people away. Im not the one who’s scared of letting people in! Im not the one who’s not scared to admit how they feel!” You yelled, heart thumping out of your chest; overwhelmed with emotions.

“And how do you feel?” Charles inquired and your eyes widened, but before you were able to respond a cloud of blue smoke appeared in the room; allowing Kurt to pass through—a frantic look on his face.

“Professor! Come quick, Logan’s been hurt! He isn’t regenerating and he’s not waking up!” The sound of his voice along with the news, made your heart drop to your stomach. You quickly grabbed onto Xavier’s chair and teleported with both him and Kurt, appearing in the academy’s infirmary. Your eyes widened once you laid sight on him, his half naked body hooked up to wires and machinery, while Jean and Hank worked on him—trying to find anything to get the male up.

Your eyes were filled with tears as you ran over to the table, looking at every wound he had, heart breaking by the second. You cupped his face and sobbed, at that very moment you weren’t afraid to admit how you felt. You were in love with him. Deeply in love with, Logan.

“Fix him! Please!” You begged Jean and Hank, watching them trying to repair his body; but the wounds were deep and without his regenerative factor—nothing would heal.

“We’re trying, but he doesn’t seem to be there either. Like his mind isn’t conscious—I can’t connect with him telepathically,” Jean spoke, patching his bloody body with gauze, hoping to soak up everything.

By now, tears poured out of your eyes as you looked at his lifeless body, “How did this happen?” You asked, eyes never leaving Logan’s body.

“He was on a mission. His car flipped multiple times—totaling everything, injuring him gravely.” Charles explain and you blinked out tears, cupping his face, before you turned back over to the Professor. “Have you tried to tap into his mind?”

“I have, but it’s like he’s not letting me in…I think you should give it a go.” Charles suggested and you took a look at Logan, leaning down to kiss his temple—taking in his musky scent before placing your hand onto his forehead and closing your eyes.

‘Let me in Logan’ You whispered, before you heard his voice in your mind.

‘Princess, is that you?’ His deep voice asked, the nickname making you melt, before you continued.

‘It’s me. I need you to wake up for me okay?’

‘I fucked up, Y/N. I hurt you….fuck im such a dick’ The hurt in his voice made your heart pang, while more tears left your closed eyes:

‘I know baby, but you have to wake up for me. Okay?’ You didn’t hear a reply back, however you were quickly shot out of mind, hearing him groan out in pain as he finally returned back to his body. His wounds started to close up, stopping his crimson red blood from pouring out. Logan’s hazel eyes connected with yours and he started to pull out the wires in his body.

“Wait Logan! You shouldn’t—“ Hank was cut off when he seen the wolf like male reach over and pull you into a kiss—a deep and passionate one.

“I think we should give these two some privacy.” Charles suggested, with everyone agreeing and following him out of the infirmary. The two of you stayed just like that, kissing each other, lips melting onto one another’s—making your heart swell. And as he pulled away from your addictive, plump lips, a spit trail followed; which you happily slurped up.

Logan pulled you close, ignoring the soreness in his body, arms wrapping around your waist—while his head lied on your shoulder, “I fucked up, I ended up hurting you twice…all because I couldn’t say I Love You.”

You were quick to pull back from him, scanning his face for any misconceptions, however his face remained the same; and you kissed him once more—hand reaching up to tug on his hair, eliciting a growl from him. His huge hand traveled from your hips to your ass, giving the fat a nice squeeze through your skirt, making you whine.

“Could smell you the moment I kissed you. I should’ve known how needy you’d be~” You whimpered as his hand trailed under your skirt, ghosting your soaked panties—eyeing you like you were his prey. “Please…Logan~”

“Please what, princess?” He began to rub you through your panties, your slick seeping through and onto his digits. You moaned softly, looking at him with low lidded eyes, “Please, fuck me.” A smirk etched on his face, pulling you into a kiss before he pulled your panties to the side and started to toy on your clit.

His fingers worked numbers on your swollen bud, pinching it and rubbing it in circular motions, making you whine in the sloppy kiss he was giving you. He pulled away from your lips, thick fingers now inside of your aching hole—pumping in and out of it; stretching your walls.

You were in pure bliss, you had yearned for this for some time and now you were getting your wish fulfilled. “Don’t tease me, Lo’~”

“Gotta prep you. Need you to take all of me, princess.” He pulled his fingers from your pussy, a whimper escaping, before he tore your button’s off your top and pulled your skirt off—eyes glued to your navy blue matching set; his favorite color.

You watched him, hunger in your eyes while he undid your bra; your plump breasts falling—nipples standing at attention just for him. The more you watched him take his time with your body, undressing you, the more needy and impatient you became; causing you to take matters in your own hands.

Using your powers, you pushed his back onto the infirmary’s bed, catching him by surprise; eyes locked on your body as you climbed onto of him; hovering right over his crotch. You moved the white blanket, mouth watering at the sight of his heavy cock—cunt becoming more slick with arousal when you grabbed it at the base and eased it into your entrance.

He was just as big as he looked, fatter too, as he stretched your pussy to fit around him—clinging to him like a glove. “Fuck, would’ve been an idiot to give this up,” Logan cursed, big hands clinging to your hips—pushing you all the way down on his length; filling you to the brim. You didn’t bother to try and get used to his size, instead you began to grind and bounce on his dick—tension building in your core; a whine slipping from your lips.

“Slow down, princess. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” You shook your head and continued your movements, tip rubbing against your sensitive spot.

“Need to cum on your cock right now.~” your lewd words, along with the squelching from your cunt, had Logan bucking his hips up to match your movements—allowing a louder, sexier moan to escape from your mouth. “Right there, bub. Sit there and take it.” He pushed your back down, closing the gap between you two and proceeded to drill your pussy.

You were a moaning mess, face on his hairy chest, drool spilling out the sides of your mouth and the coolness form his dog tags stabilizing your body temperature—while he proceeded to make it rise with each stroke.

You were taking it like a good girl, the bubble im your stomach at its peak, seconds away from bursting—you craved the pending orgasm. “G’na cum! Please please please—I love you!” Lips crashing onto one another, his cock twitching; craving a release as well.

“Cum for me….” His tone had came off like a beg and you couldn’t hold it anymore, your walls clung onto him—spasming like crazy, creaming all over his fat dick. Logan watched as you came undone, the pretty mewls and moans were a perfect melody to his ears, perfect enough to help him cum—buckets—into your womb.

He let out grunts, thick ropes of cum pouring inside of you—filling you up while you rode out your high. Your legs shook while he continued to thrust underneath you, bottoming out into your cunt.

And just like earlier, as Charles sat outside the infirmary’s doors, he shook his head—wondering why out of all the mutant powers in the world, he was stuck with telepathy. He unfortunately heard everything, including the two of you going for round two.

However, he was happy the two of you finally got together—his two favorite mutants.

#wolverine x mutant reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #xmen wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #Logan howlett x mutant reader #wolverine x female reader #xmen logan #xmen

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holysupesbatman · 11 months ago

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SuperBat Fic Recs

Woaaaah boy. I was in the Superbat tag and saw someone asking for recs and I got about 5 fics in before I realized that wouldn't fit in a reply and decided I should just make a whole post. I feel like I've read half of the Bruce/Clark tag on ao3 at this point and yet I still find more every time I look.

As a note, this post is heavily editorialized. These are all fics I've personally read and are here because I liked them and they come from my ao3 bookmarks. If you want better details about the fic, follow the links and check them out 🤷‍♀️ I'm a picky reader so the fact that it's on the list says a lot, though our tastes may vary.

Onto the recs! I'll organize them by ratings and then by length for simplicity and at the end I'll recommend some of my favorite SuperBat authors for further reading!

🦇

Rated: G

Uno Reverse by WixenBurr (~7k rated G) is really cute and fluffy

Summary: The batkids are trying to set Batman and Superman up. Unfortunately Bruce Wayne wants to date some rando news reporter named Clark Kent.

Rated: T

Know You Better by rotasha (~6k rated T)

super fluffy and cute. I adore this fic. Summary: Clark asks Bruce on a date, not knowing he’s a famous billionaire. Bruce says yes, because this is the first time this has ever happened to him.

I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am by Mardiaz173 (~13k rated T)

This one is SO much fun – Nobody believes Clark after he meets the supposed "flirty, stupid, entitled drunk" playboy billionaire Brucie Wayne when he says he's actually "clever, mischievous, and sober with an indecipherable ulterior motive."

Saudade by liodain (~20k rated T)

OK THIS ONE MAKES MY HEART MELT IT'S SO FLUFFY AND SWEET I CAN'T. Like put this on your re-read when you're sad and need to feel like love and goodness exist list. Bruce breaks down in Kansas in 2006 years before BvS and meets young Clark.

fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace by Resacon1990 (~23k rated T)

It's just 20k of Clark simping for Bruce. That's it. That's the fic. He's a golden retriever and he's in love, Your Honor. Bruce is not unaffected, but the pining is glorious.

summary: Or, five times Clark finds himself falling for Bruce, and the one time he does something about it

Mr. Romantic by Pandamomochan (~24k rated T)

ft Established Relationship SuperBat. Summary: Clark gets tasked to write a Valentine's Day article. The end result has every single women throwing themselves at him. Clark has always been patient with the drove of Brucie fans. Will Bruce be as mature with Clark's sudden popularity?

How to Date a Superhero by @solomonara (~25k rated T)

Technically a series of fics. Pure fluff. 1. Someone spots the Batman kissing Mild Mannered Reporter Clark Kent. Hijinks ensue. 2. Superman kissed Bruce Wayne in full view of several dozen phones. Now the whole world, including Lex Luthor, knows Superman has a boyfriend. But that's okay. Batman has a plan. 3. Deleted scenes from the How to Date a Superhero series, ruthlessly cut in most cases to prevent the Robins from taking over.

In every sense of the word by froggy-o (bobafiend) (~29k rated T) From the author's summary: Alternatively titled "Why Wonder Woman is on the verge of losing her fucking mind."

I swear this fic is just Diana's eyebrow twitching as she watches Bruce and Clark start dating and she's let in on both their civilian identities meanwhile Superman and Batman are on the watchtower arguing and disagreeing about basically everything on the daily. In the name of Justice, of course. The identity porn is on a whole other level and it was done so well.

Get Over It by rotasha (~32k rated T)

heh this one has plenty of identity hijinks. Sooooo funny. Summary: Bruce needs to get over his inconvenient feelings for Superman and he meets an attractive reporter who he thinks can help him do just that. Little does he know...

the cost of being a good dad by Mawiiish (~96k rated T)

hehehe... the batkids set up a dating profile for Bruce and catfish Clark. It's more of a blind date for Bruce (not that he had any idea he was going on a date at all), but who has Clark been texting for the past several weeks??? Oh yeah. The kids. What follows is as follows. Still with capes!

Rated: M

Guardian Dog by BombusBombus (~22k rated M)

Summary: There's something wrong with Clark Kent. He has to be a villain, right? A threat? He doesn't behave like a normal person, no matter how handsome or clever he may seem.

grasp his heart (once and for all) by liodain (~32k rated M) soulmate AU fic. Pretty emotional LOTS of identity issues going on there like so much. Kinda high on the drama and angst there honestly but it was a cute read. Summary: Bruce Wayne doesn't believe in fate.

tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by susiecarter (~33k rated M)

love me a fake dating AU. Summary: It takes a while for Batman and Superman to work things out, once Clark comes back from the dead. Pretending to date each other in order to explain why Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are in the same place so often? Doesn't help as much as you might think.

Strangers When We Meet by Trista_zevkia (~63k rated M)

ANOTHER soulmate AU! This time feat. Kryptonian Biology hehehe. Summary: Clark Kent thought he was straight, until Batman kick started something. The question is what did Batman start? Is Brucie Wayne able to explain it to him?

ship-to-ship combat by pomeloquat (~77k rated M)

OK NO LISTEN this is one of my all-time favorite fics EVER. It's so meta and so funny. Clark is us. We are Clark. Clark is writing RPF for the Bruce/Batman ship and he's very convinced it's real EVEN THOUGH he has a huge crush on the Batman... let the hijinks BEGIN.

Rated: E

Embracing Destiny by Mithen (~8k rated E)

This one is just really really cute. Summary: As a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes in the 31st century, a teenaged Clark learns a stunning secret about his own future: he and someone called "Batman" will be legendary lovers.

perfect strangers by susiecarter (~15k rated E)

like. bruh. susie did it again. This tag says it all: communication failure. I love this one though. Summary: Batman and Superman are fucking. Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are a great cover for fighting crime, and also might be dating. Bruce and Clark have no idea what they're doing; but they definitely aren't going to be able to talk themselves into stopping.

Relinquishing Control by foxyk (~25k rated E)

afsfwsdfhishdfksj no words. Read the authors summary and then just go read the fic:

Superman worries that if he lets go he'll injure his partner. Batman knows better. Batman worries that if he lets someone else in, he'll hurt them. Superman knows better.

Picture Perfect by TheSaltiestDog @the-saltiest-dog (~26k rated E)

this one is cute and then horny on main but also just so fluffy. Clark sees Bruce in a new light through candid shots, then proceeds to take lots of candid shots as they begin a relationship. Cue schmoop, fluff, smut, and – you guessed it! –Miscommunication!

A Night Off and sequel A Day Off by Mawiiish (~37k combined; first part is E, second is T)

One of my all-time favorites. My bookmark says 10/10 would read again soooooooo... 👀🤷‍♀️😅🥵

Bruce is enjoying one of his few nights off when a very persistent young man offers to buy him a drink. At first he's apprehensive; he's just here for a good time and this Clark seems to be looking for more than that. Then again, what harm can one drink do?

Clark wakes up to an empty bed and despite Bruce being honest from the start, he's still disappointed.

The Downsides to a Secret Identity by liodain (~42k rated E)

I'm currently reading this one – the summary from the author says it all, it's so good but sooo drama:

Bruce Wayne has taken a shine to Clark Kent, but Clark is more interested in the Bat of Gotham. The Bat, however, has it in for the Superman in a big way. Clark should probably have considered that before falling quite so hard. They're working together to track down some missing Kryptonian weaponry, after all...

50 Shades of Wayne by susiecarter (~161k rated E)

No but listen, this is actually so full of plot and emotional depth and not as much smut as you might think. It's a full-scale retelling of Batman v Superman but without them knowing each other's secret identities. I read it in one go... the reveal? Maybe the best I've ever read. Soooo many emotions. It's one of the few times I've read BDSM in a fic and it actually felt in character. I wasn't sure I would read it when I started, but it was a compelling read and extremely well done. Honestly, I'd read it again.

SuperBat Author Shoutouts:

susiecarter @susiecarter

liodain @liodain

Resacon1990 @sassyresacon1990

shipyrds @burins

Mawiiish @superbattrash

rotasha

Mithen

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princesa-querida · 6 months ago

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Pairing: Loid Forger x Fem! Reader

CW: nipple play, fingering, slight breeding kink

WC: <1K

Summary: You're feeling low and your darling husband comes home to make it better.

Tags: @pixelcafe-network, @himenoakuma, @blackfire2013, @lethargiccryptid

Thank you @awkwardchick87 and @lazyjellyfish300 for the beta read.

Early January can be tough for you. You haven’t been motivated by much; you have done the bare minimum to support your family during the first week. You prepared lunch and dinner, and you cleaned and maintained the household. However, when it’s quiet and lonely, you find yourself feeling low and tired for most of the day. You mask how you feel for the time being to not burden anyone, but your darling husband, he’s observed a shift in your behaviour.

You woke up today with a soreness in your chest and the cramps remind you that it’s nearly that time of the month. Your motivation to look presentable has gone out the window this week, and when you’re home, you opt for an oversized t-shirt and panties. You took your afternoon nap, sighing over the melancholy that was coursing through you. You hear the door open out of nowhere and you look up from the couch to see who it is.

“Loid?”, your face looks at him curiously. “What are you doing home?”

“I figured I should stop by and check in with my wife to see how she’s doing.” he gives you a small smile.

“Oh, well I’m okay. You didn’t need to check up on me!” As you’re getting up, you groan from pain.

“What was that?” he asked, acknowledging that something wasn’t right.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Your face indicates that you can’t mask your pain.

“Tell me where it hurts,” he commands.

“Oh darling, you don’t have to worry,” you say with hesitation.

He sits down next to you and lowers his voice but with a hint of a growl. “Tell me where it hurts, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Your face turns into a crimson colour; you can’t find the words to tell him that you’re feeling discomfort from your cramps, so the best you can do is point towards your breasts.

“I see. I think I can help with that,” he smirks.

“Darling, you don’t need to…I…”

Before you can finish your sentence he plants a kiss on your lips. You quickly melt into the kiss as now his hands are finding your waist to pull you closer to him. You moan as the kiss grows deeper and hungrier. He pauses the kiss and picks you up in his arms to carry you to the bedroom. You feel hungry for him, but you don’t know what to expect. As he sets you down on the bed, he removes his blazer and his gloves as he lies down next to you.

“Now where were we?” he says playfully. “Oh yes.”

He starts the kiss again, with his hands going underneath the shirt. They feel cold from being outside, but the sensation feels amazing as his fingers caress your left nipple. You gasp in between the kiss as his fingers begin to roll over your nipple. You feel wet from the sensation of his hands and the kisses that you’re exchanging. Your gasps turn into moans, quickly removing his tie and unbuttoning the vest. You’re eager to feel his skin on yours. There’s a pause as he helps you undress him. He removes the shirt you’re wearing and he pulls you close to him as he sits up and pulls you towards him, with your back facing him.

“Loid...what are you…” you say in between gasps.

“Shhh, trust me. I’ll make you feel good,” he whispers into your ear before nibbling it.

His hands caress your outer thighs, working their way towards your inner thighs, making you hungrier for him. You ache to feel him in between your legs, but he kisses your neck as his hands roam to find your breasts. You groan again from the pain, and he takes note of what he needs to do to make you feel good. He gently starts to massage your breasts. He kneads his hands on the adipose, creating relief for you. You sigh as his lips place tender kisses on your shoulder, finding their way to your neck.

“Ahhh…that feels really nice, darling,” you say in between gasps of air.

“I told you, I’d take care of you…” he whispers.

His fingers shift to find your nipples and he continues the kneading motion as he gently sucks on your neck now. You’re unsure which part feels the most pleasurable, his hands or his mouth, as you grasp at his thighs from how good he is making you feel.

“I…need more…” you start to moan.

His hand releases your breast as he gently grabs your chin to turn it towards his mouth and plants another kiss. His hand now continues to explore south to find the elastic in your panties to start pulling them downwards. He lays you down as he now has you completely exposed. Moving on top of you, you love how his skin feels on you. You place kisses on his neck and shoulders, playfully nibbling on his skin. His fingers find your warmth as his mouth finds your nipple. His hot tongue laps as he curls his fingers deeper inside of you.

“LOID!”, is the only thing you can manage to say as your back curls from the ecstasy that you feel. His tongue licks across to find the other breast, repeating the same motion as his hand motions faster into your warmth. His thumb manages to find your pearl as you begin to feel an uncontrollable urge to release yourself.

“Don’t hold back, darling, tell me how good it feels,” he says in between the licks. Your hands now tug at his hair as you come, his lips finding your mouth to absorb the orgasm that he just produced.

You gasp for air as you feel yourself calm down; He kisses your face gently as you smile before muttering.

“Ready? I think I want to try for a baby now…”

#Loid Forger x reader #Loid x reader #spy x family fanfiction #spy x family smut #Selfship Stuff #Loid Forger x you #Loid x you #Loid Forger smut #Selfship: Lophie #sxf fanfiction

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godmadeaterribleerror · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 4 - Too Much Green

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Chapter 4 doing what it always does in my writing. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from Fame < Infamy by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 12.3k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Bucky has a talk with Sam, and you adapt. Contains usual tags.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Read on A03!

Bucky didn’t know who decided Sam should be allowed to have an office, but he needed to have very firm, loud words with them.

Steve had never gotten an office, and he’d been perfectly fine. Sam barely even used the office. He kept it because he liked saying my office with a smug expression, and making Bucky sit in the waiting room like this was a doctor’s appointment and not a serious, time sensitive meeting.

Because the sun was going to rise soon, and Bucky wouldn’t be following Her to work. He’d go back to his apartment, and do flat, mundane things to fill his time. Sam would find someone else to trail Her around, and She’d probably make their lives living hell, and they’d stick around because they knew how to do that.

Bucky had warned Sam he wasn’t made for this. That he’d literally been designed to hunt and kill, not shield and protect and care for. This was how it would’ve ended anyway, but he’d hoped—just for the sake of his own, fragile anger and resolve—that it would’ve crumbled because She caved. Because Bucky would’ve been right. But he hadn’t even lasted three weeks before everything had fallen apart, and She’d shot him in the gut like a sick dog.

He’d shot himself in the gut. He’d been the paranoid asshole, and She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted. Bucky didn’t have enough will to push it, and he didn’t have the strength to push Her. She was… stronger than he’d expected. And he could still see Her shaking slightly, still hear the fury in Her voice echoing off the vacant, blank walls of his apartment.

It wasn’t guilt or shame, burning and crawling over his skin. It couldn’t be. He had nothing to be guilty of, because he’d been doing his job. Checking all the vulnerabilities. Making sure everything was in its proper place, including Her. It didn’t get to matter than She was beautiful and smart and bursting with a wrath that seemed bigger than the world. It mattered that She’d been lying, and hiding things.

Things that didn’t seem that important now, when he’d been so goddamn wrong, and the image of Her in the office—in the dark, burning up from within in a way Bucky could see—seemed to be branding itself onto his brain.

Things that really didn’t have to matter to him at all anymore, because Bucky was done. He’d gotten out of it. He wouldn’t be breaking his word to Sam—She’d kicked him out, he hadn’t just abandoned his post—and he could just keep going through the motions until things, slowly, became better again.

And this would be fast. He’d tell Sam that the little arrangement had been a disaster—he’d throw in a I told you so, just to really sell it and bury down how he still felt Her teeth marks over his lungs—and go home. Maybe go to the grocery store. He’d never have to step foot in that godawful Subway again, or pretend he couldn’t see all those old, skin-sagging assholes scanning over Her body as she moved, because that wouldn’t be his business. He’d hear Her name in passing in the future and think nothing of it. Sam might mention one day that they’d worked out the Hydra thing, and Bucky would shrug because it wouldn’t be his fucking problem.

He definitely wouldn’t check, because he’d have other, more important things to do.

He couldn’t think of any right now, but he would. He’d find some.

That was how this whole getting better thing was supposed to work, and Sam was always on his ass about it anyway, so really this was an improvement for everyone. Sam got to find someone who would actually be good at watching Her. She’d probably have a lot of free time on Her hands, now that She wasn’t putting an impossible amount of effort into making Bucky go insane. Bucky would… Maybe he’d take another online college course. He’d heard Her say a lot of big, weird words and phrases that couldn’t possibly be real while he’d stood guard at Her door. There was probably an English class or something, and he could learn a bigger word that She didn’t know, just so he could throw it in Her pretty, annoying face-

He wasn’t going to see Her again. He didn’t know why his brain kept acting like he’d walk behind Her to the subway in the morning—he’d almost walked to Sam’s office instead of using his motorcycle, as if he’d been ready to go to Her apartment after—because he wouldn’t. He was free.

He kept seeing Her eyes, staring at him in an imprinted, faded picture in his head—full of that thing, narrowed in anger and unblinking, like She could shred him apart with a thought—but he’d never have to hold Her glare again.

Everything would go back to normal.

The clock in Sam’s waiting room kept ticking. On and on, taunting Bucky and making his hands fist in his lap. He hated that sound. It pushed itself deeper and deeper and deeper into his brain, and it was like the click of a safety on a gun, or the tap of a doctor’s pen against their paper as they watched him. Observed him. Looked into him and saw the Solider and nothing more, figured out how to grab his anger by the throat and pull it to the surface, until angry was all Bucky could manage to be-

Something snapped through the air, and when Bucky looked down, he’d broken his water bottle.

Sam had given him that water bottle. Something about hydration being important for robots too.

Now Bucky was going to have to tell Sam two bad things. And they only had two damn hours until someone had to walk Her to work, because Bucky wasn’t going to but if the Hydra threat was real, She shouldn’t be allowed to just wander the Subway alone. She could be scary—unreasonably so, a little like a bird morphing into a dragon without warning—but Hydra wouldn’t care.

If they knew who She was, the dumb little disguises of sunglasses and baseball caps wouldn’t work, and Bucky didn’t trust Her not to do something stupid like put in earbuds so She couldn’t hear anyone coming.

She listened to Her music too loud, all the time. It was another thing in his log, that Sam should tell Her to stop doing that, because it was a health hazard, and if She got kidnapped because of it, that would be really fucking annoying. Sam would get all angry, and they’d have to deal with all the assholes at Stark Industries for capturing their princess, and Bucky would probably have to save Her, and she wouldn’t even say thank you because She hated him-

His pants were wet. Cold and sticking to his skin, because he hadn’t stopped squeezing the broken water bottle, and the clock was still ticking, and Sam still wasn’t opening the goddamn door-

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. It was 3am on a Monday, and Sam’s office has very ugly, gray carpets. He liked that he’d been able to ride his motorcycle here. He disliked the little cactus Sam had put in the corner of the room, because it felt like it was taunting him. He needed Sam to open the door now, before he broke the clock and the crushed the cactus. He wanted this to all be done with, so he could go back to a routine that didn’t make him want to jump off a building and drag Her down with him.

“Buck?”

Bucky’s head turned to see Sam frowning at him from in front of the elevator, a soft ding ringing through the air as the doors closed behind them.

Sam hadn’t even been here. Bucky could’ve just broken into his apartment.

That was annoying.

“Man, it’s two in the morning, what are you doing here?”

“Three in the morning.” Bucky grunted, pushing to his feet, and Sam just rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and that’s such a big difference-“

“Sam.” Bucky crossed his arms, keeping his voice as flat as possible. “We need to talk.”

Sam only raised his brows. “Do we?”

“Yes.”

“If this is about what I think it is,” Sam moved past Bucky, opening his office door with a shrug. “I don’t think we do need to talk. I think you should be headin’ home, Buck, before-“

Sam said Her name, Bucky felt a muscle in his jaw tick, and he cut Sam off before this dragged on longer than it needed to. This should be quick. Bucky should be home—alone and bored and back to routine—before the sun was up.

“I’m not doing that anymore.”

Sam stopped in his steps, running a hand over his face as he turned to Bucky with a glare.

“Bucky, you promised me you wouldn’t fuckin’ quit on this-“

“I didn’t quit.” He snapped. “I got fired.”

“Fired? Nobody can fire you, man, that’s not how this-“

Bucky said Her name, and it sounded a little smoother off his tongue this time. But now it was bitter, laced with a memory of Her spitting at him with cold hatred that he’d really, truly earned. “She fired me.” Bucky muttered, forcing himself to hold Sam’s gaze. “Said she’d do the lockdown, but I don’t believe her, so I’d send someone to make sure she’s-“

“Bucky.” Sam’s voice wad low. Firm. Serious. That couldn’t be good. “What’d you do.”

“Why do you always assume I did something-“

“Cause you usually do something! What did you do-“

She’d told Bucky he could lie. Tell Sam She was impossible to work with, or had thrown a stapler at him.

It was an incredibly specific example. It would probably work just fine.

Bucky couldn’t manage to say it. He’d been the asshole. He’d crossed a line, and part of recovery was supposed to be telling the truth. He didn’t want to tell the truth, but he also tried to let a poorly crafted story fall out of his mouth, only to stare at Sam as the words lodged in the throat.

Lying had always made his gut twist just a little. A little voice that sounded like Steve would always whisper that good men didn’t lie.

Bucky wasn’t a good man.

And that just made this so much fucking harder.

“Bucky.” Sam grunted, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t start talking now, and I’m gonna call her in so we can all have a chat together.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “So she’s allowed to be up at three-“

“She’s up at three anyway. And she’s not waiting for me in my office like a stalker-“

“I am not a stalker-“

“You’re lookin’ at me like one. Just-“ Sam sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Spit out whatever you did, man, I’m sure it ain’t that bad-“

“I broke into her office.” Bucky grunted, the challenge of not that bad somehow spurring the truth out of him in a second. “She caught me. I got fired.”

Sam blinked at him. “You- is breaking into offices a full time job for you now or somethin’?”

Bucky scowled. “No. And I didn’t break into your office, Sam, I was in the waiting room-“

“You were the only asshole in the damn building, I’m counting it. And that’s not the point, Bucky, what the fuck were you doin’-“

“Thought she might be Hydra.” He muttered, his words pushed through his teeth. “Was looking for evidence.”

“Evidence.” Sam repeated, his voice low and taut, and Bucky nodded.

“Desk seemed like a good place to find it.”

“And did you?”

Bucky blinked at that. He’d expected the yelling to a start here. “Uh-“

“You find the evidence that she’s Hydra, Bucky?” Sam’s voice was too flat. Bucky was pretty sure this wasn’t a real question. “Find her red ledger, the big file readin’ I’m Hydra?”

He actually had looked for that.

Sam didn’t seem genuinely interesting in hearing about it, though.

“No.” Bucky muttered. “Like I said, she caught me and tossed me out-“

“You tell her you thought she was Hydra?”

Bucky managed to hold Sam’s firm, unwavering gaze, to shrug like this was nothing, and ignore the turn of his stomach as the vision of Her—almost feral in the dark—flared in his mind.

“Maybe, yeah.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky.” Sam ran a hand over his face, and he wasn’t angry. Bucky had seen Sam angry before.

This felt more like disappointed. And that was louder in Bucky’s brain. Heavier. A weight on his chest that he had fucked this up, that Sam obviously did care about Her, that She’d probably—somehow—earned it more than Bucky had, and people liked Her when nobody liked Bucky, so of course Sam was disappointed. Bucky had been tasked with watching some sort of fucked up, insufferable, living goddess and he’d let his goddamn emotions and paranoia and how something about her just seemed impossible—too something, too beautiful, or loud, or angry, or smart, or likable—get in the way.

“You’re gonna need to apologize to her.” Sam snapped, moving to stand behind his desk. “Get her some flowers. Pick them, don’t buy them. She’ll know the difference.“

Bucky gaped at him. “Why the hell would I get her flowers, Sam, I-“

“Because it’s part of the apology, dumbass. You fucked up, you say I’m sorry, and we all move on.”

“Did you not hear me?“ Bucky braced his arms on the desk, narrowing his eyes. “She fired me. You’re gonna have to find someone else-“

“You promised.” Sam shrugged, and Bucky scoffed.

“I don’t think she cares about my promises.”

“And I don’t care if she fired you, Buck. I’m rehiring you, and you’ve got work in,” Sam glanced at his watch with a small frown. “An hour ‘till your girl is gonna be up. Get the flowers. Tell her you’re a paranoid old asshole, and you’re sorry, but she’s not dyin’ to Hydra so she’s stuck with you.”

“Sam.” Bucky hissed through his teeth. “She fired me. There are- You’re Captain America, you have other options that aren’t me-“

“Maybe I do,” Sam raised his chin, giving Bucky a firm, pointed glare. “And maybe I don’t give a shit about those other options, because I’m trustin’ you with this.”

“I told you-“

“Yeah, I know. You’re not a fit, you don’t wanna do this, she fired you, I don’t care.” Sam let out a long breath, dropping down in his chair and glancing over Bucky’s shoulder. “Lock the door.”

Bucky frowned. “I locked it when I came in-“

“Good.” Sam muttered, glancing around the room like he was checking for ghosts or bodies pushing out of the walls, listening to their conversation. “Look, Buck- It’s gotta be you. I don’t trust anyone else, and you’re a paranoid dickbag-“

“That’s fucking rude-“

“It’s true, Sargent Snooping in a Girl’s Desk.” Sam snapped, and Bucky’s frown deepened. She wasn’t a girl. She wasn’t even a woman. She was something a step above, that was made of the longer shadows of his bedroom and the worst fire that pushed up his throat.

“I was being careful.” Bucky grunted, holding his ground. “We’ve been burned before, Sam, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But she isn’t a threat. I told you that, and-“ Sam cut himself off with a shake of his head. “That’s not the point of what I’m sayin’ Buck. This is- This might be big, man. Hydra- I got something.”

Bucky felt his whole body go rigid.

He’d known Hydra never really died. They’d crumbled with SHEILD, when he’d been freed, but they’d been international. Huge. Even Bucky hadn’t been entirely sure just how deep they ran, but he’d known that they were out there. Weakened, but out there.

Sam had said that like they were growing.

Like this was more than just a threat.

“Sam,” Bucky muttered, keeping his words low and careful. “Say what the hell are you’re talking about.”

“When you were with them, you ever hear about somethin’ called Project Ouroboros?”

The Soldat scratched at the base of his skull. It would’ve been one of those memories, if Bucky did remember. The ones that were washed over and fogged with electricity, the Soldat programming buzzing and in control as Bucky just folded, fading into a ghost in his own mind. Not himself, and not seeing and hearing anything Hydra didn’t want him too, the whole world lined with a white-hot frost that kept most thoughts in a shattered stasis.

The fact the Soldat was stirring at all meant that Sam’s words meant something. But they all were in that fractured haze.

So Bucky shook his head. “No, not that I remember. But you know memory isn’t my strong suit, Sam-“

Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up, man. Just thought I’d ask, cause it’s seemin’ like something Hydra woulda had Mr. Murder on.”

“You gonna tell me what it is, or am I just supposed to wait until it’s a problem-“

“It’s a problem now,” Sam sighed, and Bucky felt his fists clench. “The working theory is that, when Hydra was workin’ in SHIELD, they had some, uh, extra projects.” Sam said slowly, watching Bucky with a weary expression. He wasn’t afraid of Bucky—if Sam got credit for anything, it was that he’d never been afraid of Bucky—but he was cautious of his reaction. His words were too carefully chosen to not be.

Another really bad sign.

“Of course they had projects.” Bucky muttered, the knit of his brow starting to form a small headache. “They were 90% crazy mad scientists, Sam. Just say was Ouroboros is-“

“We’re not sure.” Sam said, rubbing at his jaw and effectively ignoring Bucky’s glare. “All the shit is redacted, and I’ve only found it buried under a million other projects, but it’s seemin’ like, maybe, they were makin’ something called the Leviathan. You-“

“Don’t ask me if I heard about it.”

“I wasn’t gonna-“

“Yeah, you goddamn were.”

Sam paused, and raised his brows. “Well, have you?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.“

Sam chuckled raising his arms in surrender. “Sometimes it’s too easy, man. Like candy from a baby-“

“Don’t give candy to babies.” Bucky snapped. “They don’t have teeth.”

Sam snorted. “You’re always just a bundle of fun, Buck-“

“The Leviathan.” Bucky grunted, because if he kept entraining this, they’d be here until noon. “You brought it up, Sam. Say what the hell it is.”

There was a long pause, and Sam let out a heavy breath as he glanced back to the door, dropped his voice, and gave Bucky an almost apologetic look.

“No smashin’ anything.”

“Sam-“

“All signs are, currently, pointing to Hydra making a doomsday device, and puttin’ it on standby ‘till they need it.”

Bucky felt like there was a plate of iron, crushing down on his chest. “A fucking doomsday device.”

Sam grimaced, his nod tight. “Yeah.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face. The iron was going to weigh down on his spine, bury him too deep in his own body. “If Hydra’s had a doomsday weapon, where the hell have they been hiding it?”

“Don’t know yet.” Sam muttered. “That’s part of the workin’ theory. All of this is- Right now, it’s hypothetical. Hydra may have finished the Leviathan, but there are almost no records that project Ouroboros was ever completed. It could just be scraps in a warehouse-“

“Or it could be a doomsday device.” Bucky hissed. “In fucking Hydra’s hands-“

“Not in their hands yet.” Sam shrugged. “That’s what we need to work out. Over two dozen previously dead Hydra projects have been uncovered in the past six years, Buck. If there is a Hydra doomsday weapon, they might not have had the manpower to use it during the blip, but they sure as shit have it now, and we need to find it before they do.”

“Then why are you still making me stick with babysitting.” Bucky raised his brows, drawing to his full height as he held Sam’s gaze. “If Hydra’s gaining ground, you need me in the field, Sam-“

“I’ve got guys in the field.” Sam didn’t balk, his words set. Firm. Unmovable. “I need you watching the civilian who’s gotten tangled up in this cause-“

“Cause?” Bucky jaw clenched, and an impossible amount of further strain entered his body. “You think she’s tangled in this, Sam? You think-“

“I don’t think you’re right, Bucky.” Sam said, voice flat. “You know you ain’t right. There are some- It’s complicated. Even she don’t know why they want her, but they want her, and that’s all we got to go on right now. Hydra’s wakin’ up, she’s the only thing we know they want, and I am not losing her just because you two can’t play nice.“

Bucky rolled his eyes, lowing his voice to under his breath. “She started it-“

“I know she did, that’s why I said you two.” Sam let out another long sigh. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “Bucky, I’ve told you, man. You’re the only one I trust here. If it helps you can think of it as protecting a package, I just need to not lose someone I care about to a bunch of fuckin’ nazi assholes. Okay?”

Bucky grunted, and it wouldn’t help to think of it as a package. He’d been trying to think of it as even less—just a mission or case to crack—but it kept just moving back to being Her. She was too loud, too attention demanding, too entirely consuming of Bucky’s brain for him to just pretend She was nothing.

That might the most annoying thing about Her. How She might only be crude and taunting to Bucky, and he still may not believe that Her whole human goddess thing wasn’t an act, but he had yet to see a part of Her that didn’t draw the entire world in like She was made of something heavier than gravity. And Bucky was—tragically—still a part of that world. He wasn’t machine enough to be exempt from how She’d laugh, and it would be an almost musical, siren-like sound.

And She laughed a lot. That was another annoying thing about Her.

Pretending She was a package wasn’t an option, and if not because of the laugh, because he could still hear the venom in Her voice when she’d spat doll right back in his face like the word was a bullet. Package and doll seemed to fall into a similar category Bucky didn’t have a name for yet.

He didn’t want to think of Her as normal and human—it would make him picture Her curled up and pallid on that bathroom floor, force him to think about the bags under Her eyes that were somehow heavier than his—but package felt cruel.

It was almost 4am. She’d be up soon, and he needed to make a game plan to tell Her they were stuck together—Bucky had a feeling if he kept arguing, Sam would pull the part of your pardon card and mean it—in a way that didn’t get him hit with a stapler.

“Bucky, I’m gonna need to hear an okay-“

“Okay.” He grunted. This was important to Sam, and would help fuck with Hydra. He just had to keep repeating that this was important to Sam and would fuck with Hydra, and he’d be able to handle it. “Sam?”

Sam raised his brows, and Bucky chose his words very carefully, starting with Her name. He needed to practice that one. It still sounded like a code.

“How long you known her?”

“Long.” Sam shrugged. “Met the kid when she was-“ He cut himself off with a frown. “In a weird place is the best way to put it, I think.”

Bucky kept his face neutral, adding weird place to his log. “Weird place?”

“Yeah. Complicated place. For a while.” Sam sighed. “Good she got in with Stark when she did. Even if it was Stark, better than...”

Sam trailed off, shook his head again, and Bucky frowned.

“Better than what?”

“Not my shit to say. I ain’t a snitch, Bucky-“

“I’m not asking to you to snitch-“

“Yeah, you are, and I’m more afraid of her than I am of you. She’ll kill me, you’ll just bitch and whine.” Sam gave him a pointed look. “You gotta stop fishing for information and do your damn job.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Stupid job.” He muttered under his breath, moving to the door. “Glad I crushed that damn water bottle-“

“You crushed what-“

“Get over it, Sam. You can have me guarding that fucking wolf of a girl, or I can keep that water bottle in one piece. You don’t get both.”

Bucky opened the door, and when he looked back Sam was watching him with a frown.

“So you’re gonna watch her?”

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Bucky muttered, glancing at that goddamn clock on the wall.

The sun was almost up.

She’d be up with it. Probably—if Bucky had been reading the slump of Her shoulders and unreasonable amount of coffee and energy drink She consumed right—before it.

“See you later, Sam.”

“Try not to kill each other!” Sam called as Bucky closed the door. “Get the flowers!”

——————

The Boy is purring on your lap. It’s low and smooth and grounding.

You need it right now. You need the reminder that for at least the Boy, he can be alive and have it not hurt. That you’re not burning and destroying everything you touch, because the Boy is happy and content here. With you.

It’s going to break your heart to move him, but you can see the frosted shapes of sunlight starting to break through the windows and dance over the floor. You’re going to need to be up soon, make a pot of coffee, and go to work. Because that’s what you do. You sit on the floor in a self-imposed exile from your bed, and then you light up for the Show and pretend the world isn’t eating you alive.

But you can feel it. You can feel the pain of the long, long night—longer shadows and heavier air that no amount of coffee is going to be able to cure—and you can watch the light on the floor and know that it’s not shining on you.

If you moved your foot an inch to the side, it would.

But that feels blasphemous.

So you’ll stay here a little longer until you need to animate yourself, and pretend you feel nothing painful or impossible or irrational at all.

Sam hasn’t called you to check in on the lockdown, so you’re going to go to the office. Maybe he’s assuming you’ll just go into lockdown, but Sam’s not that stupid—and he knows you too well to think you’d just roll over like a bitch—so he’s either put a new detail on you, of he’s had a moment of clarity and realized that you’re really not worth the resources to protect.

Maybe Barnes didn’t tell him at all, but you don’t really care. That sounds like a Barnes problem, not a you problem.

You hope he didn’t tell Sam.

You hope Sam finds out of his own, and Barnes gets his ass thrown off a building. You hope Sam waits until the last second to rescue him.

Fucking Barnes.

You hadn’t intended on going to the office, but you’d forgotten some papers, and Happy never had to know. And there he’d been. Snooping and calling you Hydra, acting like you’d crawled out of the depths of hell instead of just faked your way into whatever type of cruel heaven this was.

You aren’t Hydra. You’re not keeping any Stark Industry secrets, because you’re just the sweet charity girl. The pretty face that offsets all the previous war crimes, that Pepper throws money at so you can turn it into something good.

And you do, and nobody looks at you any further because you’re not Hydra. You’re not important.

Hydra will learn that, if they come for you. Barnes should’ve already known it from the start, but it seems you’d played your part too well, and he started to see shadows in you that weren’t there.

Because you do have secrets. Big, loud and haunting secrets that end you on the bathroom floor, watching the light leak into the room and swallowing down the bile on your tongue from another night that’s too lonely and dark.

But they’re not the secrets Barnes thinks.

You’d lain in bed with the lamp on, before you ended up curled on the tile with your head tipped back against the wall. You repeated, over and over and over, that you didn’t need to call him. You’d be fine without him. You’ve been fine without him, and you can feel the bond start to fray once more, but it’s only a few more weeks. And they’ll hurt, and the time will be long and feel infinite, but you’ll just keep fucking going until you crash, or he comes home.

You’d been alone, and that was fine. You couldn’t open your eyes without little black spots dancing over your vision, but that was okay. Not normal, but okay, and there was an invisible, burning poker being driven into your skull but that didn’t matter, and you couldn’t breathe but no one can breathe when there’s molten iron being poured into their lungs.

You’d called him. You’d been alone, and there’s really never anything to prove—you could try and prove it to yourself, but doing things for yourself has never been effective—so you’d called him.

It had taken a few tries. He’d picked up of the seventh ring of the fourth call, and when you’d barely whispered that he needed to be home, and snapped that you should just stop whining.

“I’m busy,” he’d drawled your name, and you’d swallowed. He was busy, he didn’t need you bothering him, and this wasn’t his pain. It was yours, and you should be able to handle and push through it yourself-

Something had felt like it was tearing and bubbling up your spine. You can’t keep going. You’re weak and inconvenient, but you need him. It makes you pathetic, but this is the one thing you can’t do alone.

“I just- Please.” You’d whispered, hating your own voice. “I’ll do anything, please-“

“God, you’re-” He’d cut himself off a groan, and He’s refused before. Made you wait a little longer for some sort of lesson you never seem to learn. You might be doing that lockdown anyway, because you can’t fucking move-

“Plea-“

“Shut up. There’s a douchebag here, keeps telling people I’m a dick, and ‘impossible to work with’, and you know I’m not, honey, so I need you to make him stop.”

You’d swallowed, pressing your brow to the cool porcelain of the toilet. Your voice was a little softer when you spoke again. You could—kind of—think. “I can’t do that when I’m in New York. You know that-“

“Then you’re fucking useless!” He’d shouted your name, and you flinched, but barely. It was hard to move at all. “Just- Jesus, fine. Do the future thing.”

You hated the future thing. It was harder than he seemed to think it was. More complicated and clouded over your vision, because there was so much of it, but he only ever wanted to hear one future. The one you’d made the mistake of telling him about the first time, because you’d been a naïve little idiot who thought she could be safe.

And in a way, you were safe. You’d found that future—dull in the corner of the web—and told him about it, so the pain was alleviated. Washed back into nothing, your whole body settling as the bond forged itself back together.

Now you had no excuse not to move. Not to stay here—on the cold floor with the Boy in your lap—for the rest of your useless life.

You need to make that coffee. Get on the subway and watch the graffiti blur past as you sit, and revel in sitting because fucking Barnes had always made you stand.

Only two protestors today. One yelling about aliens, one claiming Iron Man never really died, and he’s being held captive by the government. Other than that, it’s an easy ride. You can listen to you music until you’re deaf and cross your legs under your body, spacing out because Barnes isn’t here the be annoying to, and whole day can be like this, if you’re lucky.

You’re not.

You step out of the elevator, into your office, and-

“Fucking-“ You let out a long breath, and the Show has to flip on. You need to be bored and amused and annoying, and nothing more or less. Barnes can’t see you, no more than he did when you shattered and cracked and showed him a little too deep.

You’ve spent the weekend trying not to think about it. How you’d screamed at him like a child, and said too much. How he’d seen you—a little too much of the full, raw, bitter and angry and delicate you—and now there might not be going back. He’ll be able to see all the flaws in you, because he’ll know exactly where to look. What parts of the Show shine too bright to draw attention, and what parts shine too bright make people blinded. To force them to look away because there’s something real beneath it, and they’re not supposed to see it.

It hadn’t been something to worry about, when you’d thought you’d never see him again.

It’s going to be a problem now.

“I thought I fired you.” You raise your brows, your voice as dry and indifferent as you can manage, and Barnes shrugs.

“Looks like you don’t have the authority to fire me.”

You narrow your eyes. “I can ban you from my building.”

Barnes snorts. “Give it a shot. See how it goes. I’ll be right here ‘till you work that one out, and-“

“What about fired,” you drawl, angling your chin to hold his gaze. “Don’t you understand, James?If you’re not gone in thirty seconds, I’m calling security and making sure they send the old war drones-“

Grace clears her throat from her desk, and her apologetic expression looks a little too close to pity. “I- Um- Mr. Wilson called. He said to tell you that, if you try to kick Sargent Barnes out, he’ll tell Mr. Hogan you came in over the weekend again, then lock you in a room with Barnes until you both- ah-“ Grace swallows. “Grow the fucking hell up.”

You scowl, shooting Barnes a glare. “Did you tell Sam what you did?”

“Yep.” Barnes holds your gaze, a look on his face that you can’t read, but still want to punch off. “I’m not exactly allowed to leave you to fend for yourself, d- Kid. Deal with it.”

You feel your face twist into a sneer, your voice dropping to a hiss. “Deal with it?”

“That’s what I said.” He crosses his arms, jerking his head back to your office door. “You gonna go do your job? Or are we standing here all day like fucking idiots? Cause I can do either, sweetheart-“

You don’t let him finish before you’re storming past him, making the gamble that—if you’re fast enough and he’s still too absorbed in his taunting—you can slam the door in his face.

It doesn’t work. Barnes catches the door with his metal arm, and now there’s a fucking indent on the wood.

You’re going to start crying. He can’t be allowed to see you cry.

“Get out-“

“I’ll fix that,” he mutters, closing the door behind him with what seems like a slight amount of care. Likely a trick, or a measure to make sure nobody pays him any attention. “We need to talk.”

“We just talked.” You snap, dropping behind your desk without sparing him a glance. “I tried to fire you. It didn’t work. But if you’re going to be here, you’re not allowed in my office anymore-“

“That’s-“ Barnes lets out a long breath, running a hand over his face. “Fair. But it’s not happening.”

“You-“

“Listen. That,” he nods to your desk, something brimming on the edge of his expression that almost seems like an emotion. “Won’t happen again. You’re not Hydra.”

You snort, wrinkling your nose at him. “Oh, really, I wasn’t aware-“

“And I,” he lets out another breath, as if the words are an act of physical labor. “Should not have done that. I was being careful, but it was over the line.”

He pauses, like there’s supposed to be more but he can’t work out what it is, then closes his mouth. He’s looking at you like you’re suppressed to say something.

You’re not even sure what the fuck is happening.

“Was that…” You trail off, scanning over Barnes’ braced stance with a frown. “Was that supposed to be an apology?”

“It was an apology.” He grunts, and you snort.

“Are you- Jesus Christ, dude, you are shit at this-“

He rolls his eyes. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“The traditional thing is say sorry, you old fuck-“

“Sorry.” He snaps, tone hot and mocking as he holds your glare. “Is that better?”

“Am I allowed to say it’s worse-“

“You can say whatever the hell you want, kid.” Barnes leans against the wall with another shrug. Sam couldn’t be that annoyed if you through your mug at his stupid face. He’s handsome enough that a scar really wouldn’t do that much harm- “What are we doing today?”

You scowl at your mug, turning it between your hands. You can’t throw it at his face. “Nothing.”

“Look, we’re stuck together, so if you want to be a fucking brat the whole time-“

“I’m being literal, dumbass.” You snap, watching the screen of your computer slowly blink on. “No meetings or field trips. It’s grant day, I’m doing a lot of reading.” You shoot him a too-sweet smile. “I’d ask you to help me, but I’m not sure you know how to read.”

Barnes’ eyes narrow. “You know I can read-“

“I don’t know anything.” You hum, looking back to the computer. “I was born twenty minutes ago. This is my first day on earth, ever.”

“Then how the fuck can you read-“

“Shut up.”

Barnes, shockingly, listens. He sits silently in the corner for the majority of the day, so unmoving that there are long moments where you forget he’s there. Sometimes he’s clear his throat, and you’ll glance up to find him staring right over your head.

He’s a strange man. It would be more amusing if you still didn’t want to cause him physically harm.

Because he won. The asshole didn’t even really try, and he won. You’d played better, and you’d been so far ahead, and you may have slipped a little when everything was dark and it was just you and Barnes in the whole world—his every word still hitting so deep in your body, grabbing and flaying a hot nerve nobody else has ever managed to find—but you still should’ve won.

But you didn’t.

And now you’re stuck with him. Your alleged safety is more important than Barnes breaking into your office and calling you Hydra. You’re the same as you’ve always been, trapped. Contained. Too much to be trusted to watch and control yourself, and nobody—yourself included—sure how to handle you beside a leash and muzzle.

Even when you stand and try to go to the bathroom, Barnes follows you. Like Hydra will be waiting to grab you from inside the toilet.

“What are you doing.”

“My job.” He grunts. “Pretend I’m not here. Cry on the floor, vomit, I don’t give a shit, long as-“

You raise your hand, and he cuts himself off. You stare at each other for a second, and if this becomes a pattern—you tell Barnes to do something, and he listens with wide eyes and a confused expression—you’re going to need to figure it out and take advantage of it.

“I’m taking a shit.” You keep your voice flat, and get two blinks in return. “Wait outside, buddy.”

He stops the door with a hand, frowning down at you. “If you’re worried about having a panic attack in front of me, I’ve seen far, far fucking worse-“

You roll your eyes, and duck right under his arm. “If you need proof of my shit, I’ll hand you all my toilet paper when I’m done.”

Barnes grunts behind you. “That’s fucking disgusting-“

“I know. Wait.”

He listens, again. And when you get out of the bathroom, he’s looking at you. Right into you with an almost searing gaze, as if he’s trying to pry something like the truth from your body. To make you turn and fall to your knees and whine that he was right, that you’d spent all your time in the bathroom without him sobbing and taking ragged breaths.

And you need to gain something like a hold over that. He can’t just be allowed to keep seeing you. He has to taste something bitter in the back of his throat, to have his skin feel too tight just as yours always does. And you’re tired, and Barnes needs to stop looking at you, stop seeing you, and to fucking hurt like you do, if he insists on clawing his way into your head.

“They’re not panic attacks.” You mutter as you return to your desk, and Barnes frowns at you.

“I never said they were-“

“You were thinking it.”

He scoffs. “Didn’t know you were a mind-reader, sweetheart.”

“I’m not.” Something pulls and wraps around your spine. You’re good at ignoring it. “But you were.”

Barnes doesn’t say anything for a long minute, and when you look back up from your computer, he’s fucking staring at you again.

“What?” You snap, and he doesn’t flinch.

“Nothing.” He shrugs, face still painfully unreadable. “Not panic attacks, huh?”

You pull your lower lip between your teeth—biting back a sneer that Sam would say doesn’t help the situation—and look back to the computer. “No.”

“You just cryin’ in the bathroom for fun?”

Your fingers freeze on the keyboard, and you shoot him a glare. “What was my first rule, Sargent?”

“I’m not asking as your friend.” He gives you a pointed look. “I’m asking as your bodyguard.”

“How is that bodyguard information-“

“Just is.” He shrugs, giving you another expectant look, and you take a deep breath.

Barnes is stuck here. He won. Sam would tell you not to push things for no reason. That being angry is valid, but it’s good practice to know when you’ve lost, and adapt.

You can adapt just fine.

You can be a compliant little animal from Barnes, and still piss all over his shoes.

“I have a…” Another long breath. This is so fucking stupid. “Chronic condition. It’s… idiopathic. Incurable. And if I don’t treat it, I get sick.”

You can see Barnes frown from the corner of your eye. “Idiopathic-“

“It means nobody knows what caused it-“

“I know what it means.” He snaps, something slightly edged in his voice. “What is it.”

“Chronic.”

“Yeah, I got that, what’s the condition-“

“Incurable.”

Barnes snaps your name, and you bite your cheek to stop a smirk. “You having fun?”

“I am.” You give him another sweet smile, and you think his glare might be branding over your ribs. “Thank you so much for asking.”

Two blinks. Nostril flare. “You’re not going to tell me the condition.”

“Nope.” You shrug. “You need to tell me a secret too, by the way.”

He frowns. “I- You didn’t tell me a secret-“

“Only five people know my condition even exists.” You give him a pointed look. “You just made it six. That’s the definition of a secret. Your turn.”

“I didn’t agree to those terms-“

“Well, I didn’t agree to this.” You gesture between yourself and Barnes on the couch, keeping your features bored. “We’re all making sacrifices, James. Tell me a secret.”

He doesn’t have to. You think he knows that, with how he’s watching you. Like you’ve fallen from space, and have started to spew pure fucking nonsense in his face. You’re out all your advantages. He’s already won, and you can’t make him say anything, so there’s literally no reason for Barnes to even acknowledge you-=

“I don’t like roller coasters.”

You stare at him, your mouth falling slightly open as he holds your gaze, and you try to put together what the fuck he’s talking about.

“What?”

“Roller coasters.” He repeats, as if it will suddenly make more sense. “I hate ‘em. Always have. They’re loud, and rickety, usually pretty shit engineering, least in my day-“

“Everything was shit engineering in the forties, Barnes-“

“Yeah, Stark’s flyin’ car was kinda horrible-“

“And,” you push on, watching him carefully. “That isn’t a secret.”

“I’m getting to the secret,” he grumbles your name, leaning further back on the couch. As if he’s settling in. “You need to work on your damn patience.”

You start to sneer something at him—you’re not sure when you open your mouth, but you’re sure you’ll find it on the way—but Barnes cuts you off before you get the chance.

“I hate rollercoasters, but Sam thinks I like them.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why-“

“Patience.” He drawls, and you could swear that was a smug, amused glint that flashed over his eyes. “Stevie needed to do somethin’ that fed his adrenaline and didn’t get him beat up, so I made him do all the roller coasters. He thought I liked ‘em, and he told Sam I liked them, and I’ve been living a lie for the past hundred years about likin’ rollercoasters.”

“Just…” You don’t know what’s happening, or why Barnes looks so comfortable, but your words are slow and careful as you hold his gaze. “Tell Sam you don’t like rollercoasters.”

“Nah. Not worth it.”

“It’s-“

“It’s not that important, sweetheart. I can deal with one or two, when Sam makes me. That an acceptable secret?”

He raises his brows, that’s definitely a look of amusement, and you don’t feel like you won this conversation. This seems, somehow, like Barnes got the upper hand again.

He looks to human and talking, sprawled on your couch in more than grunts. No part of him is mechanical in a way that makes you tense. Even metal of his hand, glinting in the light, looks more alive than half the people you’ve seen on the subway.

He’s looking at you again. It sparks something in your bones that’s not good or bad, but foreign. And all you can do is shrug and turn back to your computer, mumbling out an agreement and trying to pretend he hasn’t successfully thrown you.

People never throw you. You always adapt, and rationalize, and keep moving in a steady dance nobody else can ever keep up with.

But Barnes has been matching your steps. Every single thing he says and does pushes itself deep into your body, flying into the cavity of your chest and hitting a wired, soft thing that you can’t name, because it’s never been hit before.

But all week, Barnes keeps fucking hitting it. Matching your dance in perfect pace, and the Show isn’t breaking, but it’s like he’s not even seeing it.

At every meeting, he sits with carefully slumped shoulders in the corner, looking between you and whatever suit you’re talking to, his expression back to the unreadable, stoic mask.

“Is he- ah-“ One of the men—on the younger side, leaning at little too far across your desk as you discuss financing—glances over his shoulder at Barnes, tone and expression weary. “I don’t think we need him in here for this-“

You shrug, ripping at the corner of the paper under your hands. “If you can move him, he’s your to take home.”

The suit looks back to you with a frown. “I just want him out while we’re talking, sweetheart, I don’t want to take him home-“

“Good thing, then.” Barnes grunts, and the suit starts in his seat. “Cause there’s no way in hell you’re moving me.”

It takes an active effort to cover your gape before the suit looks back to you. He’s never spoken to the suits before. You’ve been certain he just spends the whole time trying to disappear into the wall or something. You don’t think you’ve heard him say more than a sentence to anyone but you, and that was because you pretty much made him.

“If he had moved you,” you ask after the suit leaves, testing exactly how far you can push it. “Would you have gone home with him?

“No.”

You give him a taunting smile. “And here I was, ready to charge people fifty dollars for the chance to win James Barnes and take him home-“

“Uh huh.” Barnes cuts you off with a flat expression, and he’s looking at you again. “You wouldn’t charge them. You’d let someone take me for free, kid, don’t lie.”

You wouldn’t have charged them. You wouldn’t have done that at all, not even as a joke. Partially because you don’t think anyone could move him, but mostly because if they did, taking him is a little too close to home for pressed down and suffocated memories in the corners of your brain.

“Shut up.” You mutter, looking back to your computer. “Do you think if I put you out on the curb, someone will just pick you up? Or should I list you on eBay first? I’ll pay for shipping if you take my first-edition, reformed Winter Solider. Comes with a brand-new metal arm and he’ll watch you take a shit.”

There’s a long second of silence, and when you glance up, Barnes is frowning at you again, his brow drawn together and that same, odd emotion brimming over his expression.

“eBay is…” He pauses, never breaking your gaze. “Online marketplace.”

“Good job.” You hum, trying to make your smiling almost sickening. Full-lipped and mocking and saccharine, maybe enough to erode a little of his seemingly concrete will to not even blink at you anymore. “You want a sticker?”

His frown deepens. “What would I possibly use a sticker for.”

“Fun, James. Sorry- That’s this thing people do to experience joy-“

Barnes rolls his eyes. “I experience joy.”

“Sure. Is that setting just...” you raise your brows at him. “Off, right now?”

His jaw twitches, you fall back into your slowly well-tread pattern of silence, and you don’t like that it’s comfortable now. You keep really, truly forgetting that he’s there. You shouldn’t be forgetting that he’s there, not when he’s supposed to be a disruption. Something to avoid, not grow used to.

But Barnes is stuck here. You’re stuck here. You keep trying to text Sam—to get him to look you in the eyes and tell you that he doesn’t care what Barnes does, you need his protection and that’s that—but the asshole won’t pick up, and you’re stuck with Barnes.

You can’t get used to him. One of the largest rules you have for yourself—Barnes or no Barnes—is the rule that you can never get used to something. The only things you know will be the same—all the time, no matter how everything changes around—are that you will be alone, and you will be you.

And you’ve been you with Barnes too much this past week. Sitting with him in your office. Having him follow you around like a shadow. Trading sharp words with him that are always a little too close to the truth, always trying to stay that pace ahead and faltering when he catches up to you with seemingly no effort, fucking looking at you and matching your every step with infuriating ease.

“Do you even eat?” You ask him on the Subway—a more empty morning than most—spinning off the pole as you give him a wide, teasing grin. “Or is it like, jet fuel? Gasoline? If I give you batteries, and you going to tell me you like triple A better than double?”

Barnes doesn’t even flinch, only glaring right over your head at the blurring Subway walls. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “I don’t use batteries. I run on natural fuel.”

You pause, watching him with wide eyes, and there’s a small tick of his lips. Up. Like a smile.

“Was that a joke?”

“Not my best bit.” He says, still not looking down to meet your gaze. “But yes.” His brow draws slightly, and then—as if he can’t help it—he adds, “I eat at home.”

You hum, continuing to swing off the pole. “You have a home?”

“Where do you think I go at night?”

“I think you stand outside my apartment like a weirdo. You always wear the same five things.”

He finally looks down at you, the small furrow in his brow deepening.

“I can’t do my laundry.” He grunts. “My washer needs coins, and I don’t fuckin’ have any.”

“Go to the bank, genius-“

“The bank doesn’t like me. Apparently being an international terrorist lowers your credit score.”

You tilt your head at him. “Weren’t you pardoned?”

“Doesn’t seem to matter.” He grumbles, still staring at you, and you shrug.

“Should matter. Being pardoned for any crime is supposed to revert your credit score back to what it was before your conviction.”

Barnes blinks at you. “Really?”

“No.” You spin around again “I made that up.”

“Why the fuck would you-“

“But you can get coins from like, arcades.” You ignore his glare and sharp words, fixing your eyes back on a dent in the subway car as you continue to spin. If you get dizzy and slam into Barnes, you’ll kill him and then yourself. “Or, if you give me fifty bucks, I’ll get you a hundred quarters.”

You can see Barnes in your periphery as you spin, and he’s looking at you like you’re a specimen again. “Your math is… disgustingly wrong.”

“That makes sense. I’m bad at it.”

He just grunts, still staring at you, so you push on.

“And I think you’re lying about having an apartment, by the way. I think you spend all night staring at my windows.”

Barnes snorts, and you keep spinning. “How the hell would I even know which ones are yours-“

“Some super-spy you are.” You throw him a wide smile as you turn, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m at the top.”

You point up—just in case he doesn’t know what top is, and because it’s funny to watch his eyes flick up on instinct as you spin past—and continue.

“I like to imagine you glaring up at me all night, thinking about different ways you’d like to kill me.”

He shrugs. There’s the weird fucking smile again.

It’s the most off-putting thing you’ve seen yet.

“I can do that from home, sweetheart.”

Your grin widens. You keep trying to look at him while you spin, and it’s a little dizzying. “So you do think about me-“

“You said you think about me first.” He drawls, his brow furrowing once again as he watches you. “Was that a joke?”

“What, that I think you want to kill me-“

“That you didn’t know I go home. You should’ve known I wasn’t out there, kid.”

You give him a flat look when you spin again. “I know I seem like I know everything, James, but usually I’m just making stuff up and I end up being right-“

“I got that.” He grunts, and you don’t love how he says it so quickly. “But you said you already have good security at your apartment. If you have good security, you should know who’s outside your building at all times.”

“I don’t own the building. Happy can see it, that’s all I need-“

“Happy has a job.” Barnes snaps. “And his security wasn’t strong enough to work out who the hell put that letter in your mailbox. If you don’t have real cameras and security, do-“ He cuts himself off, and before you can slow enough to get proper look at him, he’s grunting your name and moving on. “We need to talk about me adding some. Now.”

You hum, smiling at him again as you come around. “No.”

Barnes snaps your name again. “I’m being serious-“

“So am I. My apartment doesn’t need an upgrade.”

You don’t need Barnes snooping around your apartment. Your office was enough, and you have no interest in him looking around your living room and somehow putting together that you sit on your couch once every month, and spend time on your bathroom floor at home as well.

He doesn’t seem to be giving up that easy.

“It’s for your safety-“

“And I’m fine-“

“You won’t be if Hydra breaks into your apartment,” he hisses, and you don’t stop spinning. Your head feels a little light, and your heart moves to your throat at the thought.

You can’t let him see that.

“I think I could reason with them.” You say, keeping your voice dry. “I think we could bond over our shared love of octopi. Did you know that their mouths are also their asses-“

Barnes grunts your name. You think he might be practicing it, because it sounds better every time. “That’s not funny. They’d kill you.”

You open your mouth to say something that probably would’ve been smart, but your fingers slip on the pole, and you slam into something warm and firm.

Barnes.

Barnes caught you.

He’s staring at you as he puts you on your feet, and you can’t stop grabbing his arm because the world is still moving in waves and circles, and this is so fucking annoying-

“Think about it.” He grunts, and you shoot him a glare.

“I said n-“

You squeak as Barnes loosens his grip ever so slightly, and lets you fucking fall a foot down before hauling you back up, a stupid, smug look on his face.

“What was that?” He raises his brows, your nails dig into his arm, and you’re certain it’s the one with skin, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“I hate you.”

“Uh huh. You gonna answer me?” His smirk returns, and your glare deepens.

“I’m going to push you onto the train tracks-“

“I’m sure you are, Sweetheart. Answer.”

He’s not wavering. You’re still a little dazed from slipping and falling, and you haven’t really touched anyone that didn’t feel like they were a danger in… a frightening amount of time.

That’s what you blame, when you mutter, “I’ll think about it.”

Barnes grins again.

You feel like you’re losing your mind.

And when he picks you up the next day, he has a backpack. You’ve never seen him have anything but his jacket and gloves.

It’s weird. You spend most of the crowded subway ride—Barnes rigid with a clenched jaw at your side—staring at it, trying to figure out what the hell is inside. When you walk through security you even fall a pace back to stand at his side, hoping to see when they open it, but your dumb, frightened guards mutter Sargent Barnes and let him past without question, only wincing when the metal detector blares at his arm.

“When did you get friendly with my security guards?” You ask in the elevator, and Barnes shrugs.

“They know Sam. Respect him, enough to trust me.” He glares at the elevator doors. “And they’re smart enough to be afraid of me.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Alright, you old fucking Emo, I’ve seen scarier pigeons than you, so let’s calm down.”

“Emo, like the bird?“

“No, it’s like-“ You sigh. “It’s a subculture, you can google it. I’m saying it to mean you’re being dramatic.”

He shoots you an odd look. “I am not being dramatic-“

“Yeah, you are. What’s in the bag?”

Barnes doesn’t answer, only moving forward to hold the elevator doors as they ding open, and staring at you until you roll your eyes and step ahead of him.

You don’t get to know what’s in the bag until lunch. It sits at his side on the couch, and whenever you glance up to see if he’s opened it and you somehow hadn’t noticed, he’s staring at you.

And when it’s finally unzipped, he pulls out a thermos. A little, hot pink thermos and single plastic spoon that he holds between his teeth as he twists the thermos open.

“Stop staring.” He mutters your name, muffled through the spoon, and shoots you a glare. “I’ve heard it’s rude.”

You just raise your brows, looking between him and the thermos with a pointed expression. “What’s happening here?”

“Lunch.” He grunts, scooping what seems to be brown mush onto the spoon. “That a problem?”

“No, I just-“ There are too many questions. Too many possible things to say, too many angles to attack this from, and Barnes isn’t helping. He’s looking at you with a slight smirk, as if he’d somehow known this would fuck with you more than it should.

Because it really shouldn’t be fucking with you. It’s just a thermos. A hot pink thermos. Barnes’ hot pink thermos, that he’s keeping brown mush in. Brown mush he’s eat with a plastic spoon, because it’s his lunch, a day after you made fun of him for not eating-

“You all good, kid?”

“Uh, yeah.” You meet his gaze once more, your words careful and slow. “Is there… anything else in the backpack?”

“No.”

“And what is lunch, exactly?”

“Oatmeal.”

You gape at him. “With like, sugar and honey? Marshmallows? ”

Barnes makes a tight face of what’s likely disgust. “Why the hell would I put that shit in oatmeal.”

“I-“ You let out a long breath, and force your gaze back to your computer. Too many things. Not enough time.

You have a job. Your priority cannot be Barnes, and his borderline depressing eating habits.

The weekend comes and goes—you hole up in your apartment, make no progress on your own Hydra research, and the pain begins to ebb and wax once more the longer you’re alone, every night somehow longer and the sun never leaking into the bathroom soon enough—and Barnes is still using his dumb little thermos as the next week begins to pass.

It’s almost like a ritual. He opens the backpack at the same time every day—you don’t even think he has a clock—and frowns with a plastic spoon between his teeth, twisting off the thermos top in half a second before eating his oatmeal.

It’s driving you insane. It’s feels like another game that he’s winning, another part of the Show that he’s somehow cracking past without effort, and you don’t even know why. It’s oatmeal. Sad, pathetic oatmeal that he eats like it’s a chore. He’s built like a truck and he’s eating oatmeal. He’s been alive a hundred years, and somehow the only thing he can think to eat is oatmeal.

Even on days that you go out for meetings—walking around a Stark funded museum, pretending you’re listening to the finance reports when really you just like looking at the art—Barnes still eats his oatmeal, at the exact same time as, apparently, always.

“I can do the apartment security this weekend,” he grunts in your ear a little while after, walking one pace behind you through the gallery, and you shrug.

“I never agreed to that. And maybe I’m busy-“

“You’re not.”

This time, you shoot him a glare over your shoulder. “You don’t know that-“

“I do. Sam told me you’re not exactly social, and unless you’ve been lying to me about staying home for the past three weeks-“

“Shut up.” You mutter, and you could swear you hear Barnes make a sound that’s dangerously close to a chuckle. “Sam’s a fucking snitch-“

“Was he wrong?”

“I said shut up.” You run a hand through your hair, keeping your gaze focused on the floor as you walk. “You never apologized, you know.”

You can hear the frown in Barnes’ voice. You’re back on steady footing. “For-“

“Breaking into my office. Maybe I don’t want you in my apartment because you broke into my fucking office, and then never apologized.”

“I said it wouldn’t happen again.”

“That’s not an apology-“

“Do you want an apology that I wouldn’t mean?”

That makes your steps pause slightly, and you glance back to see Barnes looking right over your head. “What?”

“I’m not sorry. I could’ve…” He pauses, frowning at the air. “Handled it better, but I was taking precautions.”

“Precautions-“

“You’re too smart to want a fake apology, sweetheart.”

Barnes finally looks down, a challenge buried in his gaze, and you scowl. Your heart is moving in your chest, and there’s something warm over your skin made of smart.

You are smart. You fucking know that, and you don’t need Barnes to tell you, but people never-

He doesn’t get to do that. Just because those words are close to a compliment, and you don’t ever really get those and believe them, but you believe Barnes—he doesn’t seem like a liar, just an asshole—doesn’t mean he gets to move you at all on how he’s not apologizing for fucking breaking into your office.

“Well,” you whip around, making sure Barnes can’t see how he managed to ram himself too deep past your defenses again. “You’re not forgiven.”

Barnes snorts behind you. “Didn’t think I would be-“

“Shut up.”

“Sam said to get you flowers.” He continues as if he never even heard you. “Seemed like overkill, but if it’ll get you to stop being so damn stubborn, trying to get yourself fucking kidnapped-“

“I don’t want flowers from you, James.” You shoot him another glare over your shoulder, and this time, he’s still looking at you. “But I’d forgive you with gummy sharks.”

Barnes blinks. “What the fuck are gummy sharks.”

You don’t answer—that’s another step forward in your favor, even if you aren’t even sure what your favor is any more—continuing on through the gallery, and the next day, Barnes is still eating his fucking oatmeal, and you’re going to lose your mind.

You snap at the end of the week. It’s the same bag. He always puts it in the same place. And there’s a reason scratching at the back of your head for why Barnes is eating like that, and it’s getting too raw and heavy, impossible to ignore.

You want to throttle him. He’s eating his sad oatmeal, and now you have to message Grace to—when she goes out to get lunch—buy some sugar and honey. Brown sugar, and good honey. Maybe a honeycomb, because you’re paying.

If you can’t do the Show with Barnes—can’t annoy him into quitting—you can at least stop making him take up so much of your attention. You’re busy. You have things to do, you need to focus on what matters, and his habit of making the you you rear her head is a fucking problem.

You’re small and rabid, that’s not supposed to be visible like this—in full, clean daylight—and keep aching whenever the dumb thermos pops open. You know it’s because you can piece together why. Because you could be whipped and flayed and shredded to bit and you’d never be the most important thing in the room, so Barnes needs to stop doing this—stop making himself another thing you can pull a part of yourself out to help—so you can go back to ignores the pangs of your spine starting to burn once more.

When Grace gets back from the deli, she passes the sugar and honey to you along with your lunch, a small frown on her face. You only grimace in return, and march over to Barnes the moment the door is closed.

“Put these,” you toss the sugar and honey into his face, and jerk your head to the oatmeal. “In there.”

He stares at you. “What-“

“Stop eating like you’re a solider and use some fucking sugar, dumbass.”

One blink. Nostril flare. “I don’t know what you’re-“

“Shut up.” You cross your arms, raising your chin slightly as you hold his gaze. “Do it.”

“What the hell is it to you what I put in my oatmeal-“

“If you do it.” You cut him off, because he doesn’t get to see more. Hit you further and deeper after he made you do something dumb like this. “I’ll fully forgive you for breaking into my office.”

He scans over you, his brow fully drawn, and you feel like a specimen again.

That's fine.

Anything to let you all just move on, and the annoyance of caring about Barnes end.

It’s not caring about him. It’s about him, being a person eating sad oatmeal.

But it’s still Barnes.

And that’s so fucking annoying.

“I don’t need you to forgive me,” he mutters, and you shrug.

“Well then, I don’t trust you in my apartment.”

He scowls. “How can I even know you’ve really forgiven me.” “I will. I don’t say things I don’t mean.” You snap, and Barnes gives you a flat look.

“You’ve lied twelve times today, for fun-“

“That doesn’t count, I owned up to it immediately. You want me to have security?”

Barnes’ jaw ticks, but he nods.

“Then use the fucking sugar, James. Deal?”

He doesn’t respond, and you let out a long breath. You tried. You failed, and that’s going linger under your skin, but you really fucking tried.

You go to move, but he catches your arm.

“You’ll forgive me.”

“That’s what I said, yeah-“

“Fine. Shake.” He holds out his hand. “If it’s a deal, we shake.”

“Are you fucking serious-“

“Deadly. Shake.”

You lose the staring contest. You shake Barnes’ hand, and you only realize after you return to your desk that it was the metal one.

That feels important, but you can’t work out why.

Why doesn’t feel like it matters, though. You watch Barnes put his sugar and honey in the oatmeal, eat it, and then fail to disguise the fact that it tastes so much better the second the spoon is in his mouth.

You won. And the next morning, there are four things in the backpack. The thermos and spoon—molded into one thing in your mind—come out as always, before being joined by sugar, honey, and-

Barnes stands without warning, marches over your desk, and slams a small box of gummy sharks in front of you.

“We’re square.” He grunts, and you sigh.

“Are you asking me if we’re square, or telling me?”

He scowls, and lets out a long breath before grunting, “Askin’.”

He’s started to slur more words, his accent slipping out in small, odd ways. You don’t know what it means, but it’s been making your brain hum in a strange way, because it sounds nice. Objectively, he has a nice voice. And you did say you’d forgive him if he got you gummy sharks.

You’ve backed yourself into a corner.

And when you nod and pull the gummy sharks across your desk, Barnes stands a little taller. As if he’s proud.

It’s kind of adorable. And the lighting I n your office makes his jawline look sharper.

“You got to good kind,” you mumble, and he shurgs.

“Didn’t know there was a bad kind of gummy-“

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Obviously there’s a bad kind of gummy. We really need to start broadening your food horizons, James.“

He hums, and the small smirk pulls back at his lips. It looks too real.

It’s kind of dangerous.

“We?” he drawls your name, and you flush.

You haven’t flushed in years.

All you can think of is to flip him off, and stuff your mouth full of gummy sharks so you don’t have to respond. But when Barnes goes back to his couch, and eats his oatmeal, the only thing you can think of is how he said your name.

He said it like it was a name. Like it was you.

“You can call me Bucky.”

You blink at him, your words muffled by the sharks. “What?"

“If we’re square, you can call me Bucky.” He raises his brows, almost in a challenge you don’t understand. “Okay?”

You can’t tell if he’s asking again. You don’t know what he’s testing you on, but it seems important, and when you nod and swallow so fast it hurts your throat, he sits a little taller.

“Okay, Bucky.” It’s odd to say. Too easy. Snapping on the right syllabuses, and round in the right place, and knowable.

It’s too knowable.

And somehow, you fucking lost again. This is becoming a problem.

Bucky hums when your say his name, and you have forgiven him because why wouldn’t you. He said it wouldn’t happen again, and you believe him. He’s seeing you, but he’s not folding away, and he’s even been listening to you now.

And you’re not above a grudge, but you’re also not above anything at all.

Bucky doesn’t seem to be either. Nobody is. You forgive him because nobody is above anything, and Bucky might not have apologized, but he won’t pretend to either.

There’s no Show with him. It’s an odd, clear type of relief. Bucky just knows that whatever you are, he can see it, and then match it.

And that, as he settles back into the couch and grins at you again, is the most dangerous thing of all.

End Note: Old Man Bucky with his oatmeal I love him.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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cool-lesbian-is-here · 6 months ago

Text

Intro post!!!!!

My fav song rn (I change this frequently): Red Light Indicates Doors Are Secure by Arctic Monkeys

Hey I’m katya :D

I was born in Ukraine and lived there for two years before moving to England with my family. I also had like a weird year where we lived in Luxembourg but whatever. So yeah I speak Russian and English fluently and I can understand ukrainian but not speak it fluently.

Also I have a tag on my blog which is #learning russian with Katya, and I guess u can figure out what goes on there, but yh if u want u can check that out :)

I am a cis lesbian MINOR (14).

I love music, I listen to it all the time so here are some artists I like 😁😁: David Bowie, queen, Rolling Stones, the smiths, oasis, Måneskin, the Runaways, the Beatles, T. Rex, Aerosmith, Jon Bon Jovi, AC/DC, Billy Joel, deep purple and pink Floyd, ABBA, girl in red, Chappell roan, Olivia Rodrigo, Ayesha erotica, K$SHA, Britney Spears, mccaffferty, Alex G, Penelope Scott, Rio Romeo, the front bottoms, Mitski, Laufey, Madilyn Mei, the cardigans, Sufjan Stevens, Kimya Dawson, Conan Gray and arctic monkeys

TV Girl has my heart

There are obvs more but I can’t remember them all, anyway, moving on, fandoms!

BBC Sherlock, the marauders, LOTR and The Hobbit, dead boy detectives,the dead poets society, wicked, a series of unfortunate events, Good omens, Percy Jackson, gravity falls, house md

Books that literally changed my brain chemistry: the Perks of Being a Wallflower, dead poets society, Girl, interrupted, the catcher in the rye, Solitaire, and a separate peace.

Movies I adore wholeheartedly: tell it to the bees, Girl, interrupted, Dead Poets Society, mamma Mia, say anything, the rocky horror picture show, imagine me and you, I saw the TV glow, but I’m a cheerleader, the incredibly true adventure of two girls in love, moonrise kingdom, the miseducation of Cameron post, the perks of being a wallflower, the whole ass LOTR series, We’re all going to the world’s fair, CALL ME BY YOUR NAME, Juno

Shows or series I love!: gilmore girls, Brooklyn 99, the office(US), friends, Lucifer, a series of unfortunate events, The Good Place, House MD

Obsessions I had when I was younger(please don’t laugh): Ed sheeran(I KNOW, OK.), Katy Perry (her songs r still kinda fire tho) and of course “The Land of Stories” (that shit had a hold on me)

Hobbies: reading, crochet, playing guitar, and making random shit

Style: I’d say I dress grunge so my clothes all have like a little bit of each marauder in them

Marauders!!!: my moonshine says I am a James kinnie, I have also been told I’m a marlene kinnie, so do w that what you will, my fav marauder is sirius tho and my fav ship is wolfstar(nothing is better than the original in my opinion). Honestly, I think I lean towards fluffy fics more when I’m looking for a wolfstar fic and also there’s this random lore Abt me that I have read ATYD twice and also ATYD-Sirius’s perspective twice.

Random lore: when I was 11, my brother and I exploded a power bank together so now I have this big scar on my leg from the burn. My favourite colour is cherry red. I also have a fake name that I give to ppl who I don’t rlly want knowing my name. I’m allergic to gold but I look rlly good in it 😔😔. I annotate my books.my fav dinosaur is the triceratops. I love to quote random songs on here ✨✨. Also I rlly wanna play guitar but I have zero musical talent 😭😭 EDIT: MY DAD IS LETTING ME GET LESSONS AND IM GONNA START SOON!!!. Also I love death note!!!

I have a tortoise named Bowser, but in Russian, we call him Боря (boris) :DDDD

This blog has a lot of random, uncensored thoughts that pop into my head, so be ready for the randomest of statements without tags being on your dash

yes I am hater and I hate Taylor Swift with a passion. BUT IF U LIKE HER IDRC ILL JUST KNOW THAT U AHEV A SHIT MUSIC TASTE

IVE BEEN TO THE ABBA MUSEUM SO IM LIKE OFFICIALLY COOL

I am a person that fully believes you must like a band to wear that bands merch

I am forever a user of YouTube music, no amount of disappointment in me will change this, so don’t try.

This is my random depressed thoughts side blog: @the-katya-is-sad-show

I honestly think that’s everything, so um yeah! That’s me :)

ALSO GUYS JS QUICKLY, IF I CALL YOU “girl” OR “bitch” IM NOT TRYNA CALL YOU AN ACTUAL GIRL OR AN ACTUAL BITCH ITS JS SMTH THAT I USE AS GENDER-NEUTRAL THINGS TO ALL PPL. IM RLLY SORRY IF I MISGENDER U, I RLLY DONT MEAN TO, ITS JS A THING I SAY!!!

This is a cool funky collage of my vibes 😁😁, a courtesy of my beautiful, talented, cool, funky, awesome sauce moot: @dont-turn-left

✨my moonshine✨: @corvibb

my fav girlies:

Little ball of sunshine <3: @permetutotheworld Professional crash outer <3: @theheightsarewuthering

some guy that keeps telling me to drink water: @st4rboyloser

a very dear friend that gangs up w Cael to bully me into drinking water :(( : @jammahanna

Cool girl Elora she listens to me yap :DDD : @agirlsgirlwink

WATERMELON IS PINK, FUCK YOU @corvibb

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

Text

I'm always over the moon (Lando Norris)

A look into your and Lando's little life moments

Note: english is not my first language. It's fluffy, so you know I pratically melted (and am now feeling single in about seventeen different levels)✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions accident drop of a glass and possibility of injury

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Today's training session was particularly hard, Jon having Lando run a considerable amount of kilometres more than the usual distance followed by a weights session. By the time he was finished his cryotherapy session, he was more than ready to go home and snuggle up to you in the sofa.

Setting his keys on the little bowl by the door, Lando left his shoes on the coat cabinet by the door before walking to the ensuite bathroom where he heard noise from.

"I'm home, baby", he said, crossing the corner and resting his body on the side of the door, watching you rub product on your face.

"Hey, Lan", you smiled at him through the mirror, putting the lid on the pot you were using and storing it away.

Approaching him, you laced your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the curls ay the nape of his neck, "how was your session?", you wondered before kissing his lips.

"It was a killer, Jon set out to push me to the limit today", he hummed, hands finding your waist and holding your body close to his, "and you?", he checked.

"I worked all day, finally finished the prototypes for the next Quadrant campaign, then I worked out and I was just finishing my shower when you arrived", you added.

"I should've come home earlier, I could have joined you in there", he smirked, lowering his head to your neck and kissing the skin softly, earning your giggles as you squirmed.

"You're tickling me", you smiled, curling yourself closer against him, "but it's alright, baby, we'll do it another time".

When you separated yourself from his slightly, Lando noticed what you were wearing, "ugh, baby, I don't know what would be better, getting home when you were in the shower or this", he complimented.

"What do you mean?", you scrunched your eyebrows, looking down at your outfit. Because you had moisturised your whole body, from head to toe, after your workout, you decided to put on your tiny pyjamas shorts and one of Lando's t-shirts, the bottom piece fitting your thighs loosely while his t-shirt fit snug on your hips and chest, the fabric leaving little to the imagination. Even though he knew everything it kept away, he loved the way your curvilinear body looked in his t-shirt.

"I love it when you wear my clothes, they look so good on you, too god even", he nibbled on your ear lobe, hands tapping your thighs so you knew to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

"I thought you were too tired, baby", you brushed the curls away from his eyes, "I am, but that doesn't mean I won't spend the evening glued to you", he winked, carrying you to the sofa in the living room, laying you both down and wrapping you both in a blanket.

"Can't have you feeling cold, baby", he mumbled, fixing the blanket before his hand travelled under the t-shirt and settled on your tummy, making you hum in content, "I love you, baby", you cooed.

"Alright, let's get to work!", Lando clapped after setting the last box on the living room floor.

When you moved all of the things you wanted to Monaco, Lando insisted you should bring your favourite books, reasoning that the apartment should also have some of your things instead of just his helmets for decoration. So, three boxes were shipped with your favourite book collections and stand alones and, you and Lando took the afternoon to organise them.

"I get this can be boring for you, Lan, I can do it myself if you want to go stream or just game", you added, kissing his cheek lovingly.

"Absolutely not, baby, I want to help you! So, how do you want this?", he asked as he looked at what was in the boxes, "do you want to do this by colour? Genre? Date? The ones you've read and the ones you haven't read yet", he suggested.

"We can go a bit with the colour schemes you already have with the helmets", you tried, looking over at the colour palette the books made up.

Wiping the shelves one last time, you sat on the floor and handed the books over to your boyfriend, guiding him through the order and way you wanted to display them.

"Oh, I remember this one - I read it to you the first time I spent the night at your place! You didn't want to seem weird and admit you needed to read a little before going to bed and thought you could go without it for one night!", he smiled at the memory, "Little did you know that it was another one of the things that attracted me to you and I was more than happy to read to you", he winked, leaving you flustered as you handed him the next book, "very smooth, Mr. Norris", you blushed.

"I like to keep you on your toes", he chuckled, "next, there's room for that big collection there", he pointed to the eight books that shared the same design, "might be a tight squeeze, but I think it's fine", he muttered as you handed him the books.

By the time you finished, the living room looked like a good mixture of you and Lando. The books added a pop of colour and softer tone along with the new picture frames you scattered.

"It looks great", Lando said, pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, "our home is coming together nicely", he kissed the side of your head.

"They can spend the day, of course I don't mind", you smiled as you out the cutlery away in the drawer.

"It's your home too, baby, just wanted to make sure you're fine with it", Lando reasoned as he wiped the counter.

It was still weird to refer to the apartment as your home, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Closing the door and moving to the cups drying on the counter, you grabbed a tea towell and started drying them before setting them in the cupboard.

"I'll make sure to not make too much noise, or I can go and work at the café down the street, it's - shoot!", you cursed as the glass slipped from your hold, falling on the floor and shattering into little pieces.

"Careful, darling, you might hurt yourself more", Lando urged, stretching his arms and helping you stand where there were no glass shards.

"I'm sorry, I thought the towell wasn't that slippery", you said as Lando scanned your hands for any cuts or injuries, moving to your feet and ankles.

"It's okay, baby, I don't care about the glass, I care about you", he kissed your fingers, "there's a little graze here", he pointed to the small nick on your skin, "go wash it off while gather these", he kissed your cheek and looked for the broom.

Making sure he had sweeped all of it and then passing the vacuum cleaner just to make sure, Lando finished putting the glasses away as you stood by the door, "it's fine,Y/N, we'll go to IKEA and get a new one", he conforted, "now, are we ready for bed?", he wondered as he held your hand as you walked to the bedroom.

"My shoulders are killing me, I think I slept funny", you mumbled, trying to find a good position against the office chair, Lando's look questioning your movements.

"Are you in pain? You should've said something", he tutted, hands coming to rub the muscles along your shoulders and neck as Ria went over the latest filming plans.

"Y/N, are you okay, girl?", Ria asked, concerned at the faces you were pulling, "are you sure he's helping you rather than making it worse?", she teased.

"Hey!", Lando yelled, "I'm trying to be a great boyfriend, making sure she's feeling well and taken care of! I think that's jealousy", he smirked, poking his tongue out at her.

"It's feeling good, handsome, especially right there", you groaned, earning a whistle from Max.

"If you guys need a room, I'm sure they can find something relatively kept away!", he laughed, luckily missing the pillow your boyfriend threw at him, "no need to resort to violence, guys!".

"Bring that pillow over here, please, I actually need it", you asked him, taking it from his hands as he quickly walked away, "what, are you afraid I was going to make you trip?", you giggled.

"I don't know, the two of you are never up to any good!", Max raised his hands in defense as Lando kissed your forehead, "He's just jealous because we're a great team and P isn't here with him".

Weekends with no racing and no plans quickly became your favourite because you were able to spend as much time as you possibly could with Lando, the triple header ahead of you already promising to make spending time just with him on your own a bit difficult.

When Lando woke up like clockwork, he stretched his neck just enough to watch you sleep cuddled up to his side, your hand grabbing a handful of the sheets that were keeping you warm as you peacefully slept, and knowing how much Quadrant had kept you up late that past week, he thought it would be nice to let you sleep for a bit longer.

Carefully getting up to not wake you up, Lando kissed your cheek soflty and made his side of the bed, tucking the sheets around your body as he lightly kissed your head one last time before he went to the ensuite to change into his workout clothes.

Heading to the kitchen, Lando filled his water bottle and grabbed a pre-workout snack to take to the home gym. Looking at the equipment in the room and the cardio indications Jon had sent him, he decided that he was going on the bike, figuring that, even though the sound isolation was pretty good, it would be the least likely to make too much noise to the point of waking you up, following up with some weights and then stretching.

He was all sweaty when he walked back into the bedroom, ready to have a shower when he heard the sheets ruffling, "hey, baby, good morning", he smiled, "you can go back to sleep, I just need to take a shower, I'm sorry I woke you up", he pouted.

"Morning", you yawned, "I'm going to shower with you", you smiled sleepily, getting up and joining him in the ensuite.

Leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, Lando got the shower started, making sure the water was warm as you both liked before stepping in with you, letting the water wash away before you grabbed your shower gel, lathering it on Lando's hands and then on yours as you both helped the other wash off, stealing kissing and caresses along the way.

When you got back to the bedroom and dressed in lounge wear clothes, you were ready to have breakfast, finding the overnight oats in the kitchen, "I don't mind if you want to eat something else", Lando offered.

"These are good, I don't mind it", you said, "but I am going to make my latte because my brain can't go without the caffeine", you scrunched up your nose, earning his giggles as you turned on the coffee machine.

"Can I have a little sip, please?", Lando asked once you frothed up the milk, "of course, here baby", you encouraged, bringing the mug up to his lips and having your hand form a shell under it just in case it spilled.

Lando was left with a little foam moustache, earning a giggle from you as you kissed him, "my little frothy man", you cupped his cheek before kissing him properly, "I love you, Y/N", he whispered, pulling you into his embrace.

"You pick the movie, I have to go pee", you said to your boyfriend, letting him walk inside the living room as you continued down the hall to the bathroom.

For tonight's plan, you and Lando decided to stay in and cook together, wanting to enjoy the small task without rushing or heating up something from his meal plan, still making something healthy and approved by his team.

When you got back to the living room,

Lando had his Spotify app on the TV, a slow song you recognised from his brother's wedding playlist ready to play, "would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?", he asked, kissing your knuckles before looking up at you, eyes sparkly as you replied, "yes, I will", you smiled, allowing him to push you flush to his chest, slowdancing in the living room once he started the song, your head in his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

"Everyday I thank my lucky starts that we met, that I was bold enough to ask you out and that you've stayed with me all of these years", he broke the silence as he unattached his lips from your temple, "and I never want to loose this, little touches, giggles, wins and losses, all of it", he smiled.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me, Lando", you cupped his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks as he smiled, "I can only hope you feel as happy as I do when I'm with you".

"Darling, with you, I'm always over the moon", he giggled, kissing your lips softly as he stumbled you two into the sofa, roaming hands and tongues battling eachother as a night of love and passion unfolded.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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asdfghjklmals · 2 years ago

Text

ACCIDENTS✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff, angst. no smut. mentions of pregnancy, sex, injury, blood, and abortion. suggestive comments. WORD COUNT: 4.5k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, boyfriend!gojo, pregnant!oc, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: during oc gojo girlfriend's yearly check up with shoko, she finds out she's pregnant. how will satoru act when he finds out? AUTHOR'S NOTE: i did make some changes to the beginning compared to the preview that i posted! thank you @mdnxghtjj for staying up late with me to try to make up scenarios on how oc gojo girlfriend would be pregnant by accident lol my google search probably thinks i'm the pregnant one. here is the official start to my version of dad!gojo and the official start to the baby gojo chronicles 🥹 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, instead please do!

your least favorite time of the year was when shoko had everyone visit her office for a yearly check up. that was a full examination for everyone.

“here, pee on this.” shoko handed you a pregnancy test. you looked at her with confusion written all over your face.

shoko saw your facial expression and reassured you, “it’s just part of the protocol, (y/n). would you rather pee in a cup? last time you told me you hate peeing in cups because you don't want to accidentally pee on your hands.”

“fine... it’s gonna be negative anyways.” you said confidently. you took the test from her hand reluctantly and went to the bathroom.

as shoko gave you a thorough examination, you couldn’t help but peer at the white and blue pregnancy test sitting in the corner next to the sink. it wasn’t your first time using one, but it was always strange taking one. especially for no reason.

"alright, you're done. have you been feeling better since you caught that cold?" shoko asked as you hopped off the examination able. she went back to the sink to remove her gloves and wash her hands. you had caught some horrible cold or stomach bug over a month ago, and it left you with fever, chills, and non-stop vomitting for weeks. you were so sick that you told satoru you wanted to write a will to leave everything to megumi and tsumiki because you didn't think you were going to make it.

“yeah. i haven’t been that sick in so long. i was vomitting like every other hour. satoru thought he was going to die when i wouldn’t let him sleep in our bed. he slept in tsumiki's old room for two weeks, poor guy. i didn't want him to catch whatever it was,” you chuckled at the thought of your 6’3” boyfriend sleeping in a baby pink decorated room.

“(y/n)…”

“yeah?” you turned to face shoko.

shoko asked you cautiously, “are you on birth control?”

suspicion filled your eyes as you peered at the amber-eyed doctor, “yeah, i’ve been on birth control since i was 21… why?”

“your pregnancy test came back positive.”

you stared at the digital screen. the words “pregnant” screamed at you inside your head. were you really pregnant? this was something you never thought would happen, at least not right now.

“that’s not possible, shoko.” you laughed nervously in disbelief.

“according to the test, you are.” shoko looked confused. as a doctor, she was determined to figure out how one of her bestfriends, who was on birth control, got pregnant. she studied your charts and medical records as she chewed on the tip of her pen.

you tried to retrace your footsteps for the past month. you had a very specific routine, and you took your birth control every morning after brushing your teeth and washing your face. your package of pills sat in your bathroom drawer just below the sink as your daily reminder to take your birth control.

shoko folded her arms and cleared her throat, “uhm, i hate to ask you this because i truly don’t want to know, but when was the first time you and gojo had sex after you got sick?”

you thought it was a strange question because wouldn’t shoko want to know when the most recent time you were intimate with satoru was?

“well…” you looked at her sheepishly, a face full of embarrassment, “we had sex right when my cold symptoms went away.” it would’ve been uncomfortable for your aching body, so you made satoru wait. and yes, he complained about it for two weeks.

shoko massaged her temples as she realized what the problem was, “god, (y/n). remember you were literally throwing up all the time when you were sick?”

your jaw dropped, “does that mean i threw up my birth control…?”

“that could’ve been the case, but if you throw up 1-2 hours after taking your birth control, your body might not have the chance to absorb it. your body was technically missing dosages since you were vomiting almost every day for a week…” shoko explained.

you stared at the doctor. your heart was racing and your mind had a million thoughts running through your head. you couldn’t believe that you were pregnant. there was just no way. as much as you and satoru joked about having kids, you knew deep down that satoru wasn’t ready. and you didn’t think he’d ever be. but you were okay with that. you had spent most of your young adult life raising two kids, so you felt like you weren't missing out on much.

“please, don’t tell satoru.” you quietly pleaded with shoko.

“don’t tell gojo-sensei what?” megumi asked from the office door. he dropped his backpack and his gym bag on the floor, walking towards you and shoko.

your eyes widened as you discreetly shifted the pregnancy test under your thigh, “hi kiddo, don’t tell gojo-sensei that i bought him his favorite kikufuku as a surprise.” that was a horrible lie, you're usually better than that.

shoko cleared her throat to try and change the subject, “hi megumi! you’re early for your exam.”

“yeah, i finished jujutsu practice early.” he replied back to shoko as he reverted his gaze back at you, “(y/n), what’s going on?”

“nothing, i just finished my exam. shoko says i’m as healthy as a horse!” you laughed nervously.

“you’re pregnant, aren’t you?” megumi asked you straightforwardly, “you were complaining about your boobs hurting the other day, you felt sick yesterday morning at breakfast, and you complained about being bloated at lunch today. not to mention, you’re always throwing up in my bathroom at home.”

you stopped to think about the symptoms that megumi just listed. you didn’t even consider that being pregnant was the reason why you were experiencing those symptoms. you always thought you were in the clear with those stupid tiny birth control pills.

you sighed, lifting your thigh to grab the pregnancy test. you showed it to megumi. “satoru doesn’t know… and we’re going to keep it that way.”

“why don’t you want to tell him?” he asked you, “are you guys fighting?”

“no, we're not fighting. this whole thing was an accident because of my cold last month... and to be honest, i don't know if your sensei even wants kids.” you smiled halfheartedly at megumi.

“i won’t say anything.” megumi promised. he couldn't imagine satoru gojo not wanting to reproduce and to have mini-satorus running around to terrorize the jujutsu world.

you warned him, “that means you can’t tell tsumiki either, i don’t want her to rush back home from her study abroad program just because of this.” (read 'wherever you are' here)

megumi reached his pinky out to you and you locked yours with his, both of you kissing your thumbs to seal the seal. he wrapped his arms around you in a warm hug. you needed that comfort right now.

“if i do the math, you’re about 5 weeks pregnant, (y/n).” shoko said, “so stop taking your birth control if you want to keep your baby.” megumi’s green eyes peered over at you, interested in what you had to say about that.

“what if i want to get an abortion…?” you asked quietly. megumi’s eyes now wide in horror. 'how could you even think about abortion?' he thought.

shoko sighed, “i think that’s something you should have a serious talk with gojo about. it would be unfair for him not to know.”

you weren’t sure if you should feel excited, nervous, or scared. you were excited because who wouldn’t want to have a child with the love of their life? you were nervous (and scared) because you didn’t know how satoru would react if you told him. you were scared because your unborn baby would be a target to all rival clans, inheriting all of yours and satoru’s enemies. not only that, but also a target for all intelligent curses as well.

later that night: the gojo/(l/n) household

“how was your yearly check up?” satoru asked as you poked at your medium rare steak that you probably shouldn’t be eating now that you were pregnant. he watched you as you rolled a roasted baby potato around your plate with your fork.

“it was fine. healthy as a horse.” you recycled your joke from this afternoon. satoru furrowed his brows, he sensed something was wrong. you were fine this morning, so what happened between the time you went to work and the time you got home?

“are you sure…?” he started to pry.

annoyance starting to rise in your tone. you kissed the back of your teeth, “i just don’t feel well… and the steak is too rare.” you lied. you always ate your steak medium rare. rareness did not bother you, the cow could still be mooing and you’d eat it.

“i can always put it back on the grill, babe. want it medium?”

“well-done, please.” you mumbled, “thanks, sweetheart.”

satoru picked up your plate, extremely confused on why all of a sudden you would eat a well-done steak. it was very unlike you. he kissed you on the cheek to try to ease whatever it was that was bugging you. you wanted to tell him so badly that you were pregnant. you never kept secrets from each other. you watched him slide on his slippers, opening the door to the patio with catoru following behind him. he slapped your steak on the grill again while looking out at the tokyo skyline.

during this time, you wondered what kind of father satoru would be. you imagined he would be the carefree type of dad. he would be the fun, loving, lenient father while you were the one to lay down the rules. that’s how it was when you were both raising megumi and tsumiki. your eyes started to well up with tears at the thought of satoru possibly becoming a father. was this the pregnancy hormones getting to you?

you quickly wiped your tears as satoru made his way back into the apartment with your steak. he closed the door behind him and sat down next to you at the dining table.

“why were you crying just barely?” he asked softly. he could sense your cursed energy wavering from the patio. he knew every mood you were in just because of how your cursed energy looked to his six eyes.

“i wasn’t crying,” you said adamantly, “my eyes were itchy.”

satoru understood that whatever was bothering you, you didn’t want to talk about it. normally, he would pry and pry until you would finally tell him what was wrong, but tonight, he felt that he shouldn’t. he cut your steak into bite-sized cubes for you, just like how you always did before you started eating.

you caressed his cheek with your hand, giving him a soft smile in appreciation.

“should we go get some ice cream with the kids tomorrow? i promise i’ll treat.” he asked, knowing that ice cream always made you feel better after a shitty day.

“yeah. i need that dairy-free double scoop of chocolate ice cream right now.” (read ‘seeing red’ here)

the next day

you had taken half a day off to meet satoru, nobara, yuji, and megumi in shibuya to grab the ice cream that satoru promised you last night. you and satoru walked next to each together as your spirit birds flew overhead. the students were following behind you with their ice cream cones.

“i still can’t believe gojo-sensei has been dating (y/n)-sensei for over 10 years.” nobara hissed at her two partners as she watched you and satoru walking together in front of them.

“why is it hard to believe? sensei is a pretty good looking dude.” yuji said nonchalantly.

megumi sighed and explained, “that’s not the point, itadori. the point is that (y/n)-sensei is way out of his league.”

“you seem pretty close to her, fushiguro.” yuji pointed out, noticing that megumi always defended you no matter what the topic was.

“i kinda owe her and gojo-sensei my life.” megumi grumbled, “they took me in when i was five.”

nobara looked at him, wide-eyed, “you mean… they adopted you when they were 18?! and (y/n)-sensei is basically like your mom?! oh my god! he needs to put a ring on her immediately for all he puts her through!”

megumi knew the reason why you two weren’t married yet. it was for your safety, not because gojo-sensei didn’t want to. he would’ve married you right after high school graduation if that was the case.

you giggled to yourself as you scooped chocolate ice cream to feed to satoru. he grabbed the spoon from you, licking it clean.

“their conversation is so funny.” you said to him.

“are you listening to them with your shikigami? you’re so nosy.” satoru playfully chastised you.

you called back your birds with your hand signal as they flew closer to you and satoru. they seemed to be flying happily as no danger was around. “your students are wondering why we aren’t married yet.”

“you already know why.” satoru put the spoon back into your ice cream.

“you don’t want to make me a target.” you recited back to him. satoru gojo believed that if you were to marry him, you would be a target and gain all his and the gojo clan’s enemies. that would make you the achilles' heel to the strongest sorcerer known to man.

“it’s not like people don’t know that we’re together.” you rolled your eyes, “i can take care of myself, satoru. i'm pretty sure the kamo clan is out for my head as we speak.” (read ‘love at first fight’ here)

“i know you can take care of yourself. i just think it’s safer this way.” he shrugged.

“but i want to have kids too. i’m not getting any younger.” you inserted, hoping he’d take the bait to talk about having kids.

“what are you talking about? we have two kids, megumi and tsumiki.” satoru said nonchalantly, you wanted to face palm your forehead to how oblivious he was.

digging deeper, you added, “i want kids with white hair and blue eyes running around.”

“hate to break it to you sweetheart, but they won’t be getting blue eyes. there can only be one six eyes in a lifetime, you already know that.”

“what about your white hair?” you tip-toed to ruffle his hair as he laughed, grabbing your hand.

“what about your black hair and beautiful green eyes that i love so much?” satoru grinned at you, “if you want, we can practice reproducing later tonight?”

you threw an ice shard at him, hitting his infinity. “no inappropriate jokes around the students, please.” you chastised him as he winked at you. you scooped another bite of ice cream into your mouth as you frowned.

“so feisty… i’m in for a world of trouble if our future kids ever get your attitude.”

“if that’s the case… you better get ready.” you muttered under your breath.

satoru didn’t hear your comment. “hmmm? what’d you say?” he asked.

“nothing, eat your ice cream.” you replied, quickly shoving another spoonful in his mouth.

"ouch, brain freeze." satoru grimaced.

one week later

time was ticking as the baby in your stomach was growing. you had to tell satoru you were pregnant.

your morning sickness was horrible. you didn’t want satoru to catch onto anything, so whenever you felt sick, you ran to the bathroom near megumi’s room across the apartment instead of your master bathroom. (see the apartment layout here)

“babe?” satoru found you in the guest bathroom, hurled over the toilet, dry heaving. “are you okay?” he crouched down to pull your hair back, “do we need to go see shoko?”

“no, it’s fine.” you pushed him away, “leave me alone, please. i don't want to you see me like this.”

“and why would i leave you alone? there's clearly something going on with your health again.” he comforted you, rubbing firm circles on your upper back.

after your morning sickness session in the bathroom subsided, you miserably dragged your feet back to your bathroom to brush your teeth. satoru leaned against the bathroom door frame, arms folded. you turned to face him.

“don’t you have a mission today?” you asked him, hoping that he'd leave soon.

“yeah, i do. but don’t change the subject. what is going on? are you sick?” satoru asked. the past week you had unintentionally become distant and avoided having deep conversations with him. he felt the cold shoulder from you emotionally and he hated it. he was starting to get fed up.

“no. i’m not sick.”

“do you have some type of terminal illness or something that you’re not telling me about?”

“no, satoru!” you scoffed in disbelief. he was so smart and cunning in battle, how could he not put 2+2 together for something as simple as this?

“do you want to break up with me? is that it? are you tired of me?” he asked quietly.

how could he ask you that after 10 years of putting up with him?

“no!!!” you shouted at him.

“then what is it, (y/n)?!” he finally snapped after a week of trying to be patient, “what are you hiding from me?” satoru’s voice raised an octave as he got more frustrated as the conversation was going nowhere.

you couldn’t handle it anymore. you clenched your fists, water started pouring out of the apartment faucets and showers from your raging cursed energy.

“i’m pregnant!” you shouted back at him.

satoru lifted his blindfold, his blue eyes widened, jaw dropped. it was as if time stood still for him. the only thing he could hear was the sound of your angry breathing and all the faucets flowing throughout the apartment.

“what…?” satoru whispered, “that can’t happen. you’re on birth control.”

“that’s what i thought too. but shoko confirmed it.” you told him as tears started to form on your long dark lashes.

“damn it… damn it. damn it!” satoru hissed. he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing off his blindfold and throwing it at the bathroom counter. “why didn’t you tell me?”

his reaction hurt your feelings, “because i didn’t know what your reaction would be and clearly you’re not happy about it.”

“how far along are you?” he asked, ignoring your comment. he walked towards you to stand beside you, putting his hand on top of yours. you flinched as you took your hand back to wipe your tears away.

“6 weeks. it’s early enough that i can get an abortion.” you sniffled.

“just… don’t make any decisions right now.” he said. it sounded like he was begging you, “we can talk more when i get back from this damn mission.”

satoru leaned towards you. he grabbed the side of your head to kiss your temple, “i love you, (y/n). i'm not mad at you.” he whispered.

satoru’s mission

it took everything in satoru not to leave you behind at the apartment alone after the way he reacted. why did he have to be assigned such a lowly mission? any of the students could’ve handled it, so why did it have to be him out of all people and out of all the days?

he teleported to shinagawa where it was reported that a curse was terrorizing an elementary school. it looked deserted when he arrived at the front gate.

satoru raised two fingers to put up a veil, “emerge from darkness, blacker still. purify that which is impure.”

he walked into the school, his six eyes sensing the curse right away. it couldn’t have been more than a grade 2 or 3. he heard a bloodcurdling scream, leading him to the gymnasium.

“please help!” a woman’s voice screamed and begged as the curse towered over her. satoru teleported in front of the woman and swiftly blasted the curse away with sheer force, exorcising it immediately.

“are you alright?” satoru turned to ask the woman. he stopped dead in his tracks.

she was pregnant.

“please sir, save my baby.” she begged as she was bleeding from her abdomen. her hands and arms shielding her womb protectively. the curse must’ve already injured her before satoru arrived. he kicked himself for his late arrival. he could’ve prevented this if he came earlier.

he lifted the injured woman in his arms, “don’t worry. i’ll save you. nothing will happen to you or your baby.” he promised as he teleported to the closest hospital.

tokyo shinagawa hospital

“it looks like the patient and her baby will be fine. she was close to full term. if she lost any more blood, her and the baby would’ve died.” the doctor reported back to satoru as ijichi stood next to him, documenting everything for the report that he would have to fill out later.

satoru was deep in thought about how this woman begged him to save her baby and not herself. it was the fact that she so selflessly put her baby first that really got to him.

he thought about you and what you would’ve done if you were in that woman’s shoes. he knew that you would protect your baby with your life because he would do the exact same thing. satoru felt his protective instinct skyrocket now more than ever.

satoru’s heart felt heavy. he immediately felt guilty knowing that you thought he didn't want to have kids and how hard this must have been for you the past week. he wanted to be there for you, but he was terrified of the unknown. would he be a good father? would he be able to protect this baby? and were you even happy being pregnant with his child?

“ijichi, can you take care of the rest? i have somewhere i need to be.” satoru asked impatiently.

ijichi complained, “are you sure you’re not just trying to pawn off your work to me?”

“there are two people who need me right now.” satoru waved as he teleported back to the apartment. the two people in question? you and the baby that was growing in your belly.

back at the apartment

you felt satoru’s cursed energy appear as he teleported back into the living room. he walked towards you and hugged you tightly, surprising you.

“can’t. breathe.” you said as your face was squished into his firm chest.

he immediately let go of you, scared he hurt the baby by embracing you so tightly.

“i know what you're thinking, the baby is fine.” you said as you hugged him back even tighter in return, “did you know the baby is the size of a sweet pea according to my baby tracking app? so they wouldn't have even felt that hug.”

“that’s pretty small.” he said, chuckling softly. he paused to take a deep breath, he then looked down at you, “can we talk?”

you nodded as he guided you back to the couch, sitting down in the soft white cushions as he sat on the floor in front of you, holding your hands.

he looked you in the eyes, “don’t get an abortion, (y/n).”

you blinked twice, “well, that’s not what i was expecting. what changed your mind?”

“i never said i didn’t want kids, babe.” satoru said defensively.

you mumbled as you folded your arms, “you made it sound like you didn’t. and your reaction when i told you i was pregnant earlier today doesn’t support that statement.” avoiding eye contact with him.

he grabbed your hands again and explained his point of view, “i was upset that you hid it from me. and i was surprised because you were on birth control which is supposed to prevent pregnancy. and i was really fucking scared.”

“scared? the satoru gojo scared of a baby the size of a sweet pea?” you emphasized. he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“i had a come-to-jesus moment during my mission.” he started to say, “(y/n), i’d do anything for you. just like you would for me. but now… we can’t put each other first anymore. we have to set our priorities elsewhere.”

“what do you mean by that?”

“we have to think of this baby and how this baby will always come first now.”

you were quiet, processing what satoru just said. yours and satoru's lives were going to drastically change. this baby would be your number one priority in life. you and satoru spent the last decade caring deeply for each other and being each other's prime concern, now this baby would come first.

you realized that he was terrified of having this baby be the center of his universe, knowing that the baby would be defenseless without you and him. satoru wanted to protect this baby with his life, just like the mother he saved today who wanted to save her baby's life.

being a parent meant that you would always have your heart living outside of your body, and that would make you vulnerable to extreme pain, but also let you experience indescribable love. and that was something you were willing to risk experiencing in life with satoru.

“you're right, babe. i agree.” you said softly, you held his cheek in your hand. “you really want to do this? you really want to be a dad?”

“hell yes i want this.” satoru said confidently, holding your hand against his cheek.

“how dare you get me pregnant, satoru gojo.” you jokingly reprimanded him.

he kneeled forward into you as he kissed you softly, “sorry, it was an accident.”

EXTRA:

“babe! show me this baby app you’ve been using this past week.” satoru demanded playfully as he pulled you into his lap. you grinned as you grabbed your phone to pull up the ‘what to expect’ app.

“so! baby gojo is the size of a sweet pea or a nail head. and they’re .25 inches small.”

"baby gojo... i like the sound of that." he smiled at the thought. he nodded, a signal for you to continue.

“it says that baby gojo’s face is forming and taking shape! i hope they don’t get your big head...” you laughed as satoru frowned.

“my head is not big!” he defended himself, “moving on.”

“it says that the heart starts to pulse around this time and we should be able to hear a heartbeat at my first pre-natal appointment…” you said with a smile.

“i’ll make sure i request that day off.”

“you better! or i’ll have a word with principal yaga.” you smacked his chest playfully with the back of your hand. “baby gojo supposedly looks like a tadpole with a tiny tail. and i won’t feel any movement for awhile.”

“so you can’t feel it move or anything?” satoru asked curiously.

“no, but i’m feeling these pregnancy symptoms.” you complained, “my boobs hurt, my heartburn is worse than usual, and the morning sickness is killing me.”

“okay, so basically, don’t touch your boobs anymore, carry extra tums for you, and hold your hair for you when you throw up in the morning. got it.” satoru noted.

you glared at him with your emerald green eyes, “please stop talking.”

wanna know how the rest of oc gojo girlfriend's pregnancy goes? read the next chapter, ‘milestones’ here.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 11 months ago

Text

Eddie Munson's royal scandal

Written for @astrangersummer, week 15

Words: 1,633 (also on AO3)

Prompt: Royal and/or Modern AU

Relationship: Steve/Eddie

Rated: T

Tags: Modern AU; Royal AU; Rock star Eddie; Royal Steve; Secret relationship; Fluff and angst

Notes: Previous part | Part 1

The fucking photo is everywhere.

Eddie knows he should stop checking, should probably delete all his social media accounts and drop his phone in the ocean, maybe throw himself right after. Maybe he would, if that would change anything. He groans, slamming the phone down on the table and burying his face in his hands.

They've been so careful, and for what?

One second of weakness, one stolen moment by the backstage entrance of Eddie’s last gig, and everything is falling to pieces. He should’ve known better. You're never really alone, no matter how safe you deem yourself. Steve even less than Eddie.

“I mean, not to be a smartass,” Chrissy’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She's seated on the opposite side of his kitchen table, laptop in front of her. “But you do realize you could've just waited until you got to your hotel room?”

Eddie stops pulling at his own hair to give her a tired look.

“I missed him, okay? Between my Europe tour and his stupid state visit to Asia, it was the first time in months that we saw each other. It was literally just one kiss.”

Chrissy gives him a look.

“Eddie, I love you,” she says flatly. “But it looks like you're trying to suck out his tonsils with your tongue.”

Eddie’s forehead joins the phone on the table.

“I know,” he groans. “Fuck. What do we do now, Chris?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and that scares him more than anything. Chrissy always knows what to do.

“Maybe it won't be as bad,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “I mean the picture is quite grainy. You're pretty recognizable with your stage outfit and the tattoos, but Steve? He could be just some guy, really.”

“Yeah, no,” Eddie huffs, picking up his phone again. His private messages are blowing up, but he doesn’t find it in himself to open them. “Have you met those royal fangirls? Batshit crazy, man. They have the shape of his moles memorized and all.”

“You have the shape of his moles memorized,” Chrissy provides.

Eddie glowers at her, and her face goes soft.

“Hey,” she says, shutting her laptop and taking his hand. “We'll figure it out, I promise. I know it looks bad now, but-”

She's interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

“That'll be the pizza,” she smiles. “I'll get it, you stay seated. Let's talk about this after dinner, I'm sure things will look a lot less dire on a full stomach.”

Eddie has half a mind to ask her how pizza is supposed to fix a single one of their problems. But he knows she's only trying to help, so he doesn’t say anything and shoots her a tight smile as she flounces out.

The door opens.

“Oh, hi,” Chrissy says, and Eddie knows from the way her voice goes strained that it's not the pizza. “Eddie didn't mention you were- hey, wait, you can't just-”

Eddie is already out of his chair and halfway around the table when Hopper comes stomping into the kitchen. He looks intimidating as ever in his shades and dark suit with the royal sigil pinned to the lapel. Today, he's also looking particularly pissed.

“You!” he barks as soon as he spots Eddie. “You're coming with me. Move.”

Behind him, Chrissy hovers in the doorway, wide-eyed and pale.

“I can't,” Eddie says lamely. “I have pizza on the way.”

Hopper looks at him like he's silently regretting all career choices that have led him to this moment.

“What you have,” he says,” is an appointment at the palace. Now c’mon, or you're paying for my parking ticket.”

Eddie hasn't been to the palace more than a few times, and as on all of his previous visits, the paintings and the chandeliers and the gold and brocade of it all make him feel uncomfortable and on edge. So what if he's been secretly dating the crown prince right under the nose of the public for months? He's still allowed to think that the exaggerated splendor surrounding everything royal is a remnant of a long dead feudal system and a waste of tax money with no place in the modern world. It's called nuance, thank you very much.

Hopper nudges him into a lavish salon or drawing room or whatever the fuck they're called - one with a crackling fire and plush armchairs and a small fortune in antiques lining the walls - and wordlessly pulls the door shut behind him. In one of the chairs, gazing at his phone, side profile lit by the golden firelight, is Steve.

“Remember all those times Munson said fuck the monarchy?” he says without looking up. It takes Eddie a very confused second to realize he's reading from the comments under the damned photo. “Never realized he meant that literally. Charming. They even got creative with the emoji, look.”

He flips the phone around. Eddie sinks into the armchair across from him and winces. “I know, I know. So, on a scale from one to ten, how bad is it?”

“Hm?” Steve says. He's in jeans and a cable-knit sweater, thin wire frame glasses perched on his nose. He looks utterly biteable. Except that's what got them into this mess in the first place. “Oh, very bad. Apparently, you've brainwashed me with some sort of satanic magic to overthrow the monarchy. Either that, or this is a slandering campaign against you, involving a carefully picked doppelganger and-”

“Steve,” Eddie groans.

Steve finally lowers the phone, putting it down on the small side table sitting between them and folding his hands in his lap.

“Eddie,” he says.

Eddie winces. He knows this tone, this aloof, barely interested drawl. Knows the way Steve holds himself - spine straight, shoulders slightly pulled back, chin up. Eyes so much dimmer than what he's used to. Distant and detached.

This isn't Steve. It's Prince Steven.

Eddie hoped he'd never have to see the fucker again.

There's a pile of documents lying on the stupid, fancy side table, right next to the phone. Eddie squints at them, catching the royal sigil at the top, the words non-disclosure agreement below, and his stomach fills with lead. When he manages to speak, his voice sounds hollow in his ears.

“So this is it, huh?”

Steve sighs. “Father would've loved to speak to you personally.”

The heavy, molten thing in Eddie’s guts twists.

“Would he now?” he grits out, trying to match Steve’s bored tone and knowing he's failing. Unlike some people, he hasn't been drilled into burying his feelings under a layer of ice all his life.

Steve nods.

“He had more important things to attend to, though” he says. “Instead, he told me to have you sign this.”

“Did he now?” Eddie says. It comes out hollow, words snagging in a too-dry throat.

Steve picks up the documents, leafing through the smooth, white pages. Even the fucking paper is fancy in this place.

“He's instructed our PR team to get me a watertight alibi for the night of the concert. Said we'd deny any acquaintance with you. Forbid you from ever so much as speaking my name in public. I told him to go fuck himself.”

“Did you no- … Wait, what?”

Eddie snaps his head up just in time to see how Steve tosses the papers into the fire. The rage on that pretty face is pure, unbridled and undisguised, and Eddie’s heart tugs painfully in his chest.

“I'm not gonna put a muzzle on you. You can damn well say whatever you want about me. I trust you, and that won't change. Not even if you don't want to continue this-”

“Woah, woah, wait,” Eddie blurts. “Hold on a sec. You think I'm breaking up with you?”

Steve blinks at him. “Um, yes? Are you not?”

Eddie can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of him. The weight that has been tearing at his insides ever since the damn photo dropped is gone. He feels like he needs to tether himself to something or he'll float off towards the ugly painted ceiling with the chubby, winged babies.

“No, you stupid dickhead,” he says, and finally, finally takes Steve's hand in his. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”

Steve gapes at him. “Why would I- … I'd never do that!”

“Well, good,” Eddie says. “Cause neither would I.”

Steve chews on his bottom lip, hope and doubt warring in those lovely eyes of his.

“I don't think you understand what's at stake here,” he mutters. “If we make this public, it'll be the greatest scandal this country has seen in decades. The press will be all over us, your fans will hate you, my family will tell you to give up your career, they'll-”

“Honey,” Eddie interrupts him, not bothering to hide the grin that's threatening to split his face in half. “If there's two things you should know about me by now, it's these. One, I'm terrible at taking instructions. And two, I don't give a rat's ass about what anyone thinks about me.”

Steve's eyes are large and round behind his glasses, but Eddie imagines the hope is winning over the doubt.

“I wanna be with you,” he says, squeezing Steve’s fingers a little tighter. “And to be frank, I think the system could do with a good shaking-up. Don't you agree?”

Steve snorts a reluctant laugh, and his entire face lights up with it. “You can say that again.”

Eddie thinks he's never seen anything as beautiful as Steve’s smile as he slowly lifts their entwined hands to his lips.

“If it's a scandal they want,” he murmurs, holding Steve's gaze and pressing a long, lingering kiss to his knuckles, “I say let's give them a scandal to remember.”

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #a stranger summer #hype's ficlets #the rock star and the royal

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tuliptired · 11 months ago

Note

Ello! Hope Im not a bother, but i was hoping to make a one-shot request? I looked around and it looks like you are still taking requests as of the moment, very sorry if I missed something.

Anyways, if its not too much trouble, could you write Egon Spengler x Baker Y/N? I think that would be a fun dynamic!

If thats not to your liking, what about Egon x Shy Y/N?

Love your works, I check the ghostbusters tag daily to see if youve written anything new. Thank you so much, love ya have a great day and night!!!

How Sweet It Is (To be Loved by You)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Baker!GN!Reader

It's never too much trouble...no idea if I've used this gif before

did yall hear about the SNL biopic btw oh my gahh...

Better formatting on Ao3! (italics)

Your relationship started with a cupcake. As the story goes, told lovingly by your now mutual friends, there was a bust at a retirement home, and one of the caregivers insisted on sending the boys home with a treat in addition to the hefty bill. Demanded, actually, practically shoving a metal tin full of pastry into Egon’s hands as he attempted to discreetly sneak away.

“Jackpot,” Peter leaned over, happily surprised as nimble fingers opened the lid. The smell of sugary sweets wafted through the car, prompting Winston to extend his hand to the backseat, palm soon full of muffin. Egon was patient, letting everyone take something for themselves, before finally deciding on a blue-iced chocolate cupcake, sweet tooth waiting to be satisfied.

“Where’d this come from?” Ray, Peter, and Winston stood in the kitchen, confused at the spread of different colored boxes and containers. Upon further inspection, they were full of even more cupcakes, each the same blue iced chocolate flavor. Egon sat with his hands folded on the countertop, unfazed at their reactions to his display like any true man of science would be.

He made a tick mark on a long list of names, clipboard somewhere in the organized, delicious chaos. “If you must know, I’m testing every bakery in the area to find the one I ate that evening. I’ve yet to find it.”

Ray shrugged, taking note of just how many locations he had procured food from. “Not the weirdest thing you’ve done for a result,” he admitted.

“Good food’ll do that to you,” Winston laughed, Peter reaching over to gauge how mad Egon would get if he tried to take a sample from one of his possible matches.

Egon didn’t look up, flipping to the next page. “Go ahead, those are the rejects. They'd end up in the trash, anyway.”

Peter peeled away the paper, going through the motions of ripping the bottom of the cake and placing it over the top of the frosting. “Rejects.” he parroted plainly. “What’re you gonna do when you find the right store? Stand in the window?”

He glared up at him above his glasses. “No, I’ll buy a half dozen and go on with my day,” he unfolded a wax lined box, “so if you could leave me to my research?” Research being, going down a line of cupcakes. They each exchanged glances, before filing out. Egon could be just as tenacious as everyone else, when he felt like it.

Except, that tenacity wavered in the face of unfamiliarity. The only reason Egon was willing to go in your bakery to begin with is because the others had forced him. “Don’t be a baby,” as Venkman had put it. He finally found the match, in fact he had found it a few days ago. But he took a glance at the bustling establishment on the day in which he set out on his own, and got cold feet. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the smiling artisan while he just stood in the window.

His friends had managed to shove him towards the counter without a second thought. The same person he’d seen through the tall window was behind the counter now, greeting them all kindly. The bandana you had used to keep your hair in check must’ve been failing to do its job, evident by the flour near your temple, caught in a few strands. Egon’s fingers twitched.

Peter flicked him on the lower back when he failed to respond like a typical customer, making Egon come-to and clear his throat. “May I get a half dozen chocolate?” he asked robotically.

“You may,” you grinned at his grammar, “but, chocolate what?”

Egon’s ability to speak stopped short at his misstep, unable to let out anything but unintelligible stammers, and Egon never stammers. “Cupcakes, please,” Ray spoke up for him, catching wind.

You nodded, moving to the display rack to place his order in a smaller, blue box. Peter wasn’t content with how smoothly this interaction was going as he watched on with a bored expression. “Funny story, actually,” he caught your attention through the framework.

You laughed at how it made him look like he was in a horizontal jail cell. “Yeah?”

Peter raised Egon’s stiff arm for him at the elbow. “We walk in one night and catch Egon with at least 20 different cupcakes, trying to find yours ‘cause he missed it so much.” he regaled.

He may have caught you blushing. Were you blushing? He shouldn’t stare at business owners when they were just trying to work. “Well,” you started folding the corners of the parcel, “assuming you liked them- and you guys are pretty important to the city…” You held them out to him with two hands. “Just take them. No charge.”

Egon felt like there was smoke rising from the top of his head, or the espresso machine, as he shuffled out, and you leaned over the counter to call after him: “Come back anytime, for whatever! On the house!”

The rest happened slowly, but surely, and you enjoyed it thoroughly. On an earlier morning, you and your pubescent employee were handling the typical rush you got around breakfast. Between prepping, a small burn from the oven, packing orders, ringing people up, and a quick trip to the corner-grocery for more milk, you finally had a spare minute to breathe, both hands pressing into the counter.

A blur of beige and a trail of smog put an end to your mini-relaxation, and you hurried over to the door. “Stantz! Spengler!” you beckoned before they could turn the corner.

Like children, they found their way to your storefront, though Egon looked rather apprehensive with a used trap dangling from his gloved fist. “Good morning, guys,” you urged them inside, “did you eat yet?”

“We really should get going.” Egon said after Ray greeted you. Most of the sickly smell from the trap was left outside, and it was too covered up by the scent of sugar and warmth that everyone but you swore clung to the bakery for you to worry about it driving away customers.

You ignored his protests, crossing behind the counter. “Eat in the morning or you’ll crash in the afternoon,” you started pouring two cups of hot coffee.

“There’s no need-” you interrupted with a hand. “We’re fine,” he continued anyway.

Ray’s stomach betrayed his friend’s wishes. “Something small wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Listen to your friend, Egon.” you warned, adding a bit of whipped cream to both cups to literally sweeten the deal. “You need to eat.”

He frowned, but you didn’t care much. “We have a Class lll in our hands, now is hardly the time for-” you cut him off again, stuffing his mouth with a blueberry danish. As he annoyedly chewed, you procured a paper bag from the back, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“Too bad I already packed for everyone,” you patted his knuckles when he acquiesced, catching sight of what was inside with a small smile. “You’re crabby when you’re hungry.”

Egon opened his mouth to respond, but the contraption in his left hand started beeping. Are they supposed to beep? You’d never seen them do so before. It seemed as if the two experts themselves hadn’t either.

You stood on your toes to give him a parting kiss, Ray grabbing both paper cups in the meantime before you could start shooing them out. “Go, go- don’t let that thing loose in here. And swing by later, okay?”

He followed your lips when you pulled away, but the ominous beeping drove him to the door and down the street. You sighed to yourself, already missing him. None of the regulars in your store seemed to pay any mind to the local celebrities- or the weapons they had strapped to themselves, as Egon floated in and out during different parts of his day at least once a week.

Egon knocked on the glass door, soft light and music slipping through as he got your attention. When you let him in, the distinct whiff of cookies enveloped him like the warm temperature of your little shop. It was his favorite part of visiting you, apart from actually getting to see you. “How was today?” he spoke over the soft jazz that you apologetically turned down.

“Better,” you were about to run a Crisco covered hand through the front of your hair before you stopped yourself, “better.” Egon only then noticed how many cookies you had managed to make for having only closed an hour ago. “I have more in the oven,” you said from the back wall with the smaller front oven while you hurriedly took out a hot tray with a mitt and put a cool one in.

It wasn’t just cookies, but brownies, sweetbreads, and cinnamon rolls. “Are you…restocking?”

You laughed, a quarter manically and another quarter incredulously, and started to peel cooked pastry off of baking sheets. “If anything, we have too much stock.” you paused your fervor, frowning at your display case’s abundance. “I’ll send you home with some- give them to your clients or eat them or something.”

You were barely done shutting the sliding glass when you popped up, clapping your hands once and frankly startling him. “Pies! I know what I need to make now! I’ll make some pies and maybe a cake and we can head home.” Before you could disappear into the kitchen, he stepped in your way, two soothing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stress baking.”

Egon couldn’t hide his amusement at your familiar despondent expression, as if you were coming down from a high. “Was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” he stroked up and down your arm, steering you to the stool you kept tucked away behind the register and pulling up a chair for himself on the other side. “What’s wrong?”

He enjoyed the chairs you had because of their structural variety, and the fact they didn’t make him feel like a giant.

You slumped your head into your since-dried hands, groaning out of frustration. “It’s just the season, I guess. A ton of people come by, bringing their dumb boyfriends-” you paused, realizing what you said, “no offense.”

“None taken.”

“-And they come looking at our stuff to see if we’re good enough for, like, baby showers and weddings and all that.”

A car passed by on the street, definitely above the city’s speed limit for a business area. “I assume that’s a good thing?”

“It’s great,” you sat up, “we want people to pick us. But it means everything has to look great, and we have to get ready for half a million custom orders.”

That would be a partial reason for the sudden uptick in inventory, combined with the pressure to make a good first impression. But you were working so aimlessly hard that you looked crazed, all by yourself. “Your employees aren’t willing to help?” Egon questioned.

You stood, addressing the heaps of different cookies, the only creation of yours without a home. “They are. But they’re kids- I can’t work them that hard. It’s probably illegal, too. They won’t be around for the next couple of days anyway.”

He could sympathize with your plight- backed into a seasonal corner that business owners just had to get used to. “I’m sorry,” Egon offered, “I’m not as skilled in your trade, but is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

You smiled your first genuine smile since he arrived. “There is, actually,” your tone was excited as you moved to the freezer, “just let me finish these and I’ll fill you in.”

Egon would’ve stopped you from continuing to try to work, but he relaxed when you brought out pre-prepared bags of icing and miscellaneous confectionaries, knowing that decoration was the more relaxing aspect of the art.

He both sat in comfortable quiet as you put all your focus into icing, piping, and arranging. It was pleasant, knowing that you had something so ardent that you cared so deeply about, even if it was dismissed as a mere hobby while you were close to collapsing to exhaustion in the bakery you financed on your own. It was a mix of career and craft- one of the many reasons he had grown to give you his utmost respect.

You were eventually done, making the task of embellishing countless treats look effortless. You handed him a cookie, which he gladly took. “I need you to be honest,” you counted on his affinity for sweets. He took a bite, surveying the dessert after the initial pleasure your baking always brought him.

“Raspberry compote,” Egon took a second, “and coffee icing.”

“Good job!” you scribbled something down on a spare slip of paper after springing the register drawer open. “Rating?”

“10/10”

“Honest.”

“That is my honesty. But if you wanted the unweighted scale, 7/10. The two flavors balance each other very well.”

You passed him another, which he promptly ate without being asked to. “On the crumbly side. Is that intentional?”

A nod. “A little less butter than usual. Old ladies tend to like those.”

He put a hand on his chin contemplatively. “6/10- marmalade. A softer version would get a higher placement, it would be a shame to lose interest from those who don’t fit the demographic.”

You copied down what he said, seemingly happy with any sort of feedback. “And here I thought I’d have to help you cross the street.”

The night went on like that for a while, and Egon grinned to himself at the parallels he had only just noticed- another mix of career and craft, now inquiry and indulgence. You looked like a proper scientist- or, a food scientist, scrawling down notes and numbers that he’s sure only you would be able to decode. He felt the corners of his face dimple in a familiar smile while he watched you- something he’d found himself doing much, much more.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his joy.

“Nothing,” Egon excused himself, “you just look incredibly nice.”

You squeezed the hand that he rested on the counter, silently appreciative. “Thanks- for that, and for helping me out. Let me get you home before you barf.”

He’d learned to live with the indecencies, helping you tidy up the best he could without breaching the system of organization you had. When you returned from the back with your personal things, he let you loop your arm around his for the semi-short journey home.

Egon only let you go so you could lock the door, and he stared at your back for the entire time that you did. “If I were having a baby shower, I’d come here.”

There were practically stars in your eyes. “Really?”

“Really.” You planted a gratuitous kiss to the side of his face, before setting off towards his apartment.

Over the course of a few days, your boyfriend showed up earlier in order to take you into work, and keep you company as you tried to quell the impending anxiety. When regulars faded out and new faces came in- possible clients, you assured him with a non convincing tone that he had a job, too. If your ego was bigger, you’d be bragging about the compliments and inquiries your store got, not to mention the referrals to friends regarding special upcoming events. But, entrepreneurship had taught you to be humble, so you were resigned to spilling it all over a phone call to the firehouse.

One morning, you forced Egon out before anyone could arrive, asserting that he had a day off and he should find a way to relax. He asserted that this was how he relaxed, but you had a key to the front door and he didn’t, so that solved that.

Not long after he was gone, you were hastily punching his number in, bouncing on your heels and out of breath.

“Hello?"

“Rich girl- eloping- needs a wedding cake- lots of money,” you forced out like you were out of air, already seeing dollar signs in tandem with the minutes you were losing. “But I have a crazy favor to ask.”

Very soon, “OPEN” was flipped to “CLOSED (sorry)” and you put on your serious business apron. Egon stood behind you, unsure of what to do as you jumped from here to there, double checking that you had absolutely everything you needed.

You only stopped when you realized that he wasn’t in the proper attire. “C’mon, Spengler,” you chastised him while cinching the strings of a smock around his waist.

“Game plan,” you led him to the back where all the industrial sized equipment was, “three tiers, green and pink, white cake. She gave me creative freedom, so I’m kinda flying blind.”

Egon’s eyes were on you as you laid out a few large bowls. “Have you ever…made a wedding cake on such short notice? I assumed they take days.”

“They do! And they’re the one thing I swore to never sell!” He looked disappointed in you, but you weren’t fazed, grabbing both of his hands. “$1,500,” Egon’s eyes widen as you continued, “think of what that could buy.”

He pushed up the bridge of his glasses like a flustered schoolboy. “That’s…a lot of copper wiring.”

“So many new mixers! And without the down payment! That’s why we need to start while we already have the time.”

Realistically, it was more of you starting everything while Egon was subjected to measuring or throwing away eggshells. But, you eventually gave him bigger responsibilities, as there was no way you’d be done in time for the impromptu-wedding if you worked one-by-one.

You turned from what you were doing after instructing him to mix the batter for the top layer, being met with his bare forearms, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“What?” Egon noticed your commotion halting. “Am I overmixing?”

You didn’t answer, still staring at his toned arms. He should help out more often- your stand mixer cutting out on you must’ve been a blessing in disguise. Your blatant ogling was cut short when he stopped his ministrations, resting the whisk against the lip of the bowl.

“Don’t get distracted.” He tried to sound condemnatory, but it was hard to feel scolded when the scholar had on one of your teenaged employee’s spare pink bibs around his front and he was almost bent over the edge of the counter space in the midst of his focus.

You could breathe a little easier when the timer went off for the tiniest layer’s completion in the biggest oven. You took the searing pan out carefully, and your worry spiked again when you saw how dark the unfrosted dessert was along the top. You went through a list of things that might’ve gone wrong- was the oven at the right temperature? Setting? You definitely let it bake for the right time. It wasn’t until you saw a pair of little cylinders, tucked away in the havoc, that you put two and two together.

“Which one of these did you use?”

Egon looked like a mix of confused and concerned. “This one, baking soda.”

That’s how he got put out your kitchen for a considerable amount of time, until he knocked at the round window separating you both.

“Are you sorry?”

A pause. “Not anymore than I was 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m locking the door.”

He was allowed back in after a long and rehearsed apology. Soon, all tiers were baked, except for the base, and you were aching all over. The whole cake process never got any less demanding on you.

Egon must’ve seen how you stretched your arm across your chest before you tried to continue on anything. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’ll be fine- just sore.” you answered truthfully, before slightly jumping at the feeling of hands wrapping around your middle.

“Take a break,” he herded you to a folding chair you kept in there- the only chair. You were slotted in between his knees, thoroughly confused. He only got like this every blue moon.

It did feel great to be off your feet for a second, despite your cushy sneakers. “What’re you getting at?”

His strong hands made work of your tense biceps. “Nothing lascivious. I just think you should save your energy for the important part,” you stifled a noise at his doctoral tone and the way his thumbs kneaded at the space in between your shoulder blades, “and you’ve been working very hard.”

“Baking makes you a freak,” you scoffed, but hedonistically let him continue to dote on you.

Soon it was time to keep moving, attractive masseuse or otherwise. You put Egon in charge of coloring the buttercream while you ran out to the store for the second time in only a few days, making a mental note to use some of the bride-to-be’s payment to keep a consistent supply of the little things.

When you returned, though, it wasn’t as you had expected. You picked up the metal bowl full of neon icing incredulously. “I said green, not snot!”

“I made green,” he didn’t budge, not seeing how gaudy this would look in the middle of a reception hall.

You pushed a finger in between his brows. “You’re such a guy,” you remarked, regardless of your own gender, as you hassled him out of the way. “Watch.”

With a bit of red, the bright green dulled into a paler color, fit for a wedding. “Can I trust you with pink?” you asked as if he was a child.

Egon’s expression was unreadable. “No promises.”

Half of the green was shoveled into piping bags when he was finished, presenting the baby pink mixture to you like a project would be presented to a teacher. “That’s better,” you started, taking the bowl while he kept the spatula. You’d assumed that Egon was going to wash it or scrape off the excess or something, but your eyes squeezed shut as something cold and tacky hit your nose.

Frosting, pink frosting. His audacity. You took the green spatula, getting him back on the cheek. That led to him getting you back on the forehead, ear, chin, and eventually some strays ended up in the corner of your mouth, which he was more than happy to take care of. Baking really made him a freak, you thought. You probably shouldn’t be kissing over someone’s wedding memorabilia, but you shortly noticed that was the icing for each tier and its decoration. You lost an hour cleaning and starting from scratch on the buttercream, steering clear of each other in a respective corner each.

You had another hour to eat a late dinner while each tier chilled in the freezer, setting the white icing you painstakingly leveled to their surface area. When you returned, it was time for the assembly, the second most dreaded process. “I’m scared,” you confessed, just about to push down the first dowel.

Egon got eye level with the top, squinting. “You’re just about perfect.”

Your nerves got the better of you. “How can you tell?”

“I calculated.”

He was to keep calculating until all three cakes were secure on each other, bringing on the actually grueling part: decoration. You could design anything easily, after years of practice on your skills and ability to freehand- but a wedding cake was just so intimidating. That was part of the reason you vowed to never try again, how easy failure was staring you down in the form of little white fondant flowers. Egon let you take the reins on this, disappearing from your narrow field of vision. You honed in your knowledge of swirls, mini roses, and the drape style that was still in fashion among traditional couples. You were bent in all sorts of ways to make sure every bit of sugar that left the tip of the plastic bag came out perfect, for a perfect pair of newlyweds. Or newlyweds with perfect pocketbooks.

Time got away from you when the final detail was placed, and you stepped away like it was a bomb. “Is it done? Are we done?” you looked for confirmation. “How does it look?”

Egon’s torso stopped you from running off somewhere. “It looks perfect.”

The giant thing was stowed away to wait until you were scheduled to drop it off the next morning, and a weight was taken off your chest. You let the faucet run over materials, mind somewhere else with the rush of running water.

“It’s so sweet when it’s all done,” you spoke up, scrubbing crusted batter off of a tin, “weddings feel so magical.”

You thought back to the agreement you made with your boyfriend of a handful of years: nix a big ceremony, celebrate with friends when the time felt right. The time always felt right to you; you’d drag him to the courthouse at the drop of a hat. Perhaps there was an even right-er time out there, written somewhere in your future.

Egon wiped down all the surfaces. “I agree.” he voiced from across the counter, taking a pause. “You’re not…angry with me? For taking as long as I am?”

You laughed at that, drying your hands. You crossed over to him, a hand on his chest. “Not at all. I trust you.” He had ditched the tie at some point after you had to make a new batch of icing. “If you’re offering…”

“Give me some more time to make it special.”

You brushed away some of his hair that had come loose in the heat of your scullery. “How much more time?” your voice was soft.

Egon thought about it for a moment. “What’s 5 more years?” He laughed heartily at the groan you let out, resting his head on yours.

“Really?” your voice broke over the phone. “I’m sorry…I’ve never- I don’t know,” you forced yourself to take a shallow breath, “I’ll work on getting your deposit back.”

You didn’t know what to think or feel when you ended the call, but thoughts of wasted hours, materials, lost profit, all flooded your mind as you attempted to calm yourself. You rested your head underneath where the phone was mounted on the wall, rubbing at your temples to sedate an oncoming headache.

“What happened?” Egon asked at your back, with you again in the early morning as he scored another day off. You didn’t turn to face him, trying your best to blink back embarrassing tears.

“She canceled. We made the cake for nothing- there’s no wedding, I-”

Egon was on a knee, in the middle of your homely bakery. Your frustration evolved into pure confusion. “What’re you-”

There was a blue, velvet box in his hands with a glinting band inside of it. Before he could get a word out, you were on the floor too, tears free flowing. “You can’t do this now,” you clutched the fabric of his pants when he moved to hold you. “I look horrible.”

His free hand dried your tears, though more would keep on appearing in their wake. “I’m sorry this is so overdue.”

Your hands gently held onto his jaw to know this was real. “When was the right time?”

“A long, long time ago. I just needed to find a way to make it special.” He looked hesitant before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind having made your own wedding cake.”

You blinked. “You’re the worst!” you joked exasperatedly, falling with him into a hug on the floors you were happy you mopped. “That was all you?”

“Why do you suppose her down payment was a multiple of 18?”

“They didn’t.”

“Consider it a group gift, I suppose.” Egon smiled underneath you. You sat in the giddy silence of two people, soon to be wed, when he gingerly asked the question

“Will you?”

Your boyfriend- fiancé, went through so much trouble to make the moment one you could look back on happily. Who could refuse?

“I will.”

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1989 #ghostbusters 1984 #egon spengler #egon spengler/reader #egon spengler x reader #egon/reader #egon x reader #oneshot #fanfic #ao3 author #ao3 writer #ao3 link #ask box #open requests

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shlonguru · 1 year ago

Note

hey omg I’m not sure if your still taking smut fic/shot requests but I saw your alastor one where he fucked y/n in his booth and broadcasted it and now I need a Vox version if you haven’t already!!! (obviously no rush and I apologize if your not taking requests thank you anyway and I am obsessed with your fics and fanart keep up this absolutely amazing work 🗣️❤️‍🔥)

Hi! Thank you so much for your request I love it 😭 I'm so glad you enjoyed my work 🥹

I'm so sorry for the delay guys school's been rough and I've been sick but I'm back on track and ready to report ! o>

Thank you all for your patience and I hope you like this one! I have more coming up but I wanted to finish this one first.

On another note I’m not sure this series has passed the Bechdel test yet T^T

But without any ado, I present to you :

Alastor x Fem!Reader x Vox 3 - Sealing the deal !

Credit of the gif : @SSerenitytheOtaku on DeviantArt

Summary : Waking up ready for round three but how does one get the attention of two busy men ?

Warning/Tags : 18+, Smut, Oral, cumshot, pussy eating, dirty talk, teasing, brat taming, edging, cum eating, oral creampie, double penetration, hair pulling, piv, anal, brat taming, praise, rough, spanking, threesome, toys.

Word count : 6368 words (Idk what to say) -> Not proof read yet but I'm on it o/

You woke up in a better state on this day. It had been a few days since your last encounter with the two demons. You had been quite exhausted from your activities and had been lounging around Vox's bedroom, resting. You looked around the room and had no idea whether or not he had come to bed to rest or had just continued working until now.

Within minutes of you waking up, a butler walked in with a tray full of what looked like a fancy breakfast. Your stomach informed you verbally that you were hungry, starved even. You wondered how they always had such a perfect timing to bring you breakfast and remembered the cameras you had noticed in the corner of the room, it felt like Vox was monitoring you but there was nothing much you could do about it. You hadn’t even seen Vox since the last time.

After feasting you asked yourself where he might be at.

You turned on the giant TV screen in his room and saw him presenting the news, with a poorly drawn picture of something that looked like Alastor. From how he spoke at your last trio encounter you thought Vox would be all over you all day everyday but reality was, he also happened to be a busy man. That made you question what you were truly expecting out of anything that had to do with him and Alastor, you weren’t the type to beg for attention, but you usually knew how to draw it to yourself if needed. How do you do that when the two men are out of reach?

After a while you felt bored in his bed, you had grown tired of just looking at him on his TV. You were trying to think of a way to get his attention, when you heard a loud bang, making you jump and bringing your attention to the door of the bedroom which had just flung open.

‘Damn, do they ever open this door normally ?’ You thought to yourself.

A little lady walked in alone, not looking away from the phone she was texting on. She was pretty with a very nice and voluminous hairdo. Her fashion was also impeccable. You were staring as she walked in then stopped in front of the bed, still typing without acknowledging your presence. She eventually finished what she had been doing and looked up.

“Oh, so you’re the current hyper fixation?” She cockily announced before staring you down for a few seconds. “Yeah, that checks out.”

“Hi…?” You asked not knowing what her intentions were at this moment. “You are?” You inquired.

“Ah! I’m Velvette sweetheart, one of the Vees?”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah! I just wanted to see you for myself you know? Vox can’t seem to shut up about you these days.”

“Really?” You asked poorly hiding your excitement.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” She inquired with a slight grin.

“Well, I haven’t been able to get a hold of him pretty much since I got here.”

“Oh…and that makes you…sad..?” She smirked seeing what was happening. “Sit down with me and let’s have some tea while you spill yours for me thank you.” She pointed at the table not too far and started heading there while texting again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Damn, I still don’t understand how he bagged such a hottie.” She declared before laughing out loud.

“Well, he has his charms…” You looked aside sipping your tea slowly getting your point across.

“Oh…oh!” You both laughed.

“Still, if I can’t get a hold of him what’s the point of staying in this tower?” You questioned.

“Listen Sweetie, that prick knows you need rest and is keeping himself busy in the meantime but don’t sweat it, you will get him.”

“Yeah…” You sighed.

“You know, we have a gala tonight and I don’t know if he invited you or not but if you’re feeling well rested you should totally come.” She sipped her tea.

“That asshole, he didn’t tell me about any gala!” You exclaimed angrily.

“Oh, it’s a Gala to help post-extermination orphans but it’s pretty much a front to sell more V-tech products. “

“Sounds about right” You responded unimpressed.

“Don’t worry I got you, I’ll make sure you’re dressed for the occasion.” She smirked then winked at you. “You’ll get back at him. #Fuckhim am I right?”

“#InMoreWaysThanOne !” You added.

You smiled back and you both laughed maniacally.

You paused your laugh.

“Will Alastor be there?” You asked.

“Probably not, unless Vox invited him, which I doubt.” She chuckled.

“Aww…” You whined before resuming your maniacal laugh together.

~~~~~~~~~~

For all you know he might have tried to give you space to rest just like he might have just been too busy, but now was not the time to speculate, it was time to shine.

Velvette hadn’t been lying, you looked absolutely stunning. But then again, if you look expensive, you probably look good as hell, and Velvette being a fashion designer, she knew what she was doing.

Your hair was up in an elegant hairdo and the royal blue, diamonds studded dress fitted you like a glove, it had been sewn on you after all. You hadn’t felt this fancy since…well, the first night you had met the both of them. You were excited at the idea of spending a good evening and of course seeing Vox.

You arrived at the party with Velvette. The party was thrown at the rooftop of the Vees Tower and it was as big as you would expect. People were mingling and Velvette quickly disappeared after showing you around.

You headed for the bar and there, you met Charlie. You were surprised to see her there but then remembered the initial reason for the gala and it all made sense.

“Charlie oh my god hi!” You exclaimed excitedly.

“Y/n! Omg how are you? How is it at the Vox Tower?” She asked just as excitedly.

“It’s good! I do miss the hotel though!” You smiled.

“You are welcome to come back whenever you want!” She hugged you.

You both chatted for a bit at the bar until all the lights of the rooftop went black, then a spotlight illuminated, shining on the scene where the musicians had been, now making place for the main host, Vox.

He looked gorgeous, or was it that you had missed seeing him in real life?

He was wearing a nice tuxedo. He looked elegant and very well put together. You could tell it was his public persona but nonetheless, it did something to you.

Vox opened with his speech about how terrible the situation for the orphans of hell was then slowly and cleverly morphed it into a full-on advertisement of V-tech products. You were expecting it but still felt a little impressed.

Vox was staring at the crowd, talking confidently.

“-you can trust that none of this would have happened in the first place if everyone had been equipped with our bullet-proof V-ests and-“ He stopped for an instant while he was scanning the crowd, a dumbfounded look on his face.

You realized after a couple of seconds he had been staring straight at you. Red went to your cheeks as you made the realization he had noticed you for the first time and it had probably taken him by surprise as well. You smiled and blew a kiss at him.

He coughed and adjusted his bowtie before attempting to finish his speech.

“Hmm…where was I…haha…it is HOT in here…yeah, orphans, let’s help them, donate and invest, and most importantly, trust us!” He gave a very obviously fake smile before everyone applauded, visibly impressed by the speech anyways.

People went back to mingling and you could see Vox being swarmed by people asking him business related questions.

Charlie had gone and blended with the guests, and you were still at the bar enjoying your drink and the view when you heard a cough from behind. You turned around and met the eyes of a man you had never seen before. He looked elegant and kind of cocky.

“Hey babe, wanna grab a drink?” He asked.

You hesitantly tried thinking of ways to turn him down when you gave a quick look around and noticed Vox staring at you two, his eyes glowing red and black with anger.

A devilish idea crossed your mind at that instant. Seeing as he had basically abandoned you for days after all, he deserved a little backlash for neglecting you.

“I’d love to have a drink with you!” You smiled.

While drinking your cocktail you laughed exaggeratedly loud at whatever this man was saying and laid your hand on his chest. You weren’t checking on Vox but you had a feeling he was witnessing every minute of it.

After a little bit, you turned slightly, checking the crowd surrounding him but he was nowhere to be found.

You turned back to the man facing you only to notice Vox towering over him.

“Hey, buddy!” He said with an aggressively kind tone. “You might wanna go find yourself busy somewhere else yeah?” He smiled, slightly bent with his arms behind his back and a smile on his face.

The other man didn’t even look behind him and kept looking at you.

“Yeah…I’m already busy but thank-“

Vox grabbed him by the collar violently.

“GET FUCKING LOST.” His eyes radiating again and his voice sounded static-y. Your eyes widened at the sight of him and you felt an familiar urge to have him ravage you.

“Fuck, Mr. Vox I’m so sorry, of course I’m leaving.” Exclaimed the man before leaving running out of this situation.

“Aww no, my distraction.” You whined resting your face on your wrist as your elbow rested on the counter of the bar, witnessing him run for his life. “See you in hell!” You cheered holding your glass up in the direction the man had gone running to.

“Huh-hmm.” Vox fake-coughed.

You turned to him.

“Oh hi there, fancy seeing you here.” You smiled looking at Vox.

“Y/n, are you drunk ?” He asked.

“Nope, just bored, and lonely…” You look up at him with puppy eyes as you said that last part. “How’s your fancy gala?” You asked with a hint of bitterness in your voice.

Vox’s face stared for a second.

You felt something grab your arm and were swiftly pulled in the isolated spot between the bar and the plants behind it. It all happened so fast, next thing you knew Vox’s whole body was close to yours, his hand resting on the wall against which your back laid.

“Is someone mad they weren’t invited to the gala?” He smirked.

Hearing him tease you ticked you off.

“Actually no, my good friend Velvette invited me.” You smiled cockily.

“Of course this is Velvette’s doing…You’re supposed to be resting! If I find this cunt I swear-” He mumbled under his breath, looking away, trying to find her in the crowd.

You grabbed the edge of his face, bringing his gaze back to you.

“Hey there, don’t you think I know how to take care of myself? I’m a big girl you know.” You declared.

His screen glitched.

“You sure are.” He composed himself focusing back on you. “By the way Y/n, you look ravishing tonight…to be honest with you, you look so good I don’t think it’s fair to have you out here for everyone to enjoy.”

“Well, it’s not my fault, I’m more than well-rested and the people I craved the attention of were both nowhere to be found…” You rested your hand on his chest, slowly rubbing it. “Such a shame if you ask me…” You looked up at him knowing damn well the effect it would have on him.

“Oh….Y/n….you shouldn’t do that…” He cautioned you lightly bending over you looking like he was trying to hold himself back.

“Or what…” You slowly moved your leg from the slit of your dress, leading your knee into Vox’s crotch and ever so slowly rubbing against it. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Vox threw his head back, groaning before he slowly brought his face back to yours, levelling his eyes with yours.

“Someone is eager tonight~” He teased. “Missed me?”

“Of course I did, your room might be big but if I’m alone it’s boring.” You snapped back.

“Sorry, I assumed you’d need more time to recuperate from our last session, you had practically passed out from the pleasure remember?” He smiled.

You blushed.

“Well, I guess you overestimated yourself” You replied, snarkily.

“I’m sure.” He grinned.

You slowly wrapped your arms around his neck and planted your lips against his. You gave him a slow, yet passionate kiss which he reciprocated immediately, the gentle kiss quickly turning into a heated one as you both fed off the energy of the other and couldn’t get enough. His hands travelled down your body, feeling all its shapes as your tongues melted together. You then pulled away from the kiss and he took in the sight in front of him, admiring your flushed and visibly eager figure.

He proceeded to kiss down your neck, pulling you closer and earning a soft moan from you.

You hand boldly cupped his now very hard member, making him grunt before looking at you.

“Alright we’re outta here.” He muttered and before you could react you saw him disappear into pure electricity yet somehow lift you up then move faster than you could process (or anyone else for that matter) before landing you both into the terrace that led into his office.

His office had a massive desk off which he threw everything to the floor and sat you on it. He immediately went back to kissing you more aggressively. You pulled out of the kiss panting.

“I thought you had a busy night.” You asked.

“Yeah, well they can all go fuck themselves, I’m busy now.” He pulled you closer, his crotch pressing against yours.

You moaned softly, feeling how sensitive you were.

“Oh, I like that sound.” He murmured. His hands went from your hips to your waist. He took a second to look at your whole figure.

“You look drop-dead gorgeous in this dress…” He almost salivated. He kissed you gently but you didn’t let him as you kissed back more aggressively, he noticed and immediately matched your energy. His hands went to your breasts and cupped them gently, earning another soft moan from you. It quickly changed though as you felt a jolt of electricity tease both of your breasts in a soft yet intense way, transforming your moan into a louder one. He had his way of being rough yet soft at the same time, and all of his movements were smooth, though you could feel him get eager and tense. He pulled away from you.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. I gotta pace myself.” He looked out of sorts and tried to compose himself back into his eloquent persona. “Y/n, may I offer you a deal.” He asked.

“A deal?” You panted and asked suspiciously.

“Well, more like a bet.” He noticed you looked interested and continues. “What if I broadcasted you, to that idiot radio bastard, and if you can hold it in like a good girl and not come until he gets here you get to ask whatever you want.” He smiled viciously.

“Hmm…I mean he did do the same last time so that would only be fair…” You thought. “But what’s in it for you?”

“Well, first of all, I get to tease that asshole and that in itself is a win, but if you fail and come before he joins us, WE get to do whatever we want. How does that sound? Probably pretty good, considering how cocky of a brat you are huh?”

You rolled your eyes before grabbing Vox’s jacket, pulling him closer. “Bring it on TV boy.” You arrogantly declared, smirking.

He chuckled and you noticed immediately after a little red light blinking on top of what looked like a camera in the top corner of the room, indication he was probably broadcasting everything to Alastor. His hand had moved behind your neck and he kissed you deeply as his tongue slid inside your mouth, you kissed him back with fervor as he bend over, laying you down onto the desk. He was still kissing you while his hands travelled down your body, resting on your hips before one of them moved to your crotch, softly rubbing it, making you moan.

“Damn Y/n you’re so fucking wet, I barely need to touch you.” He gloated.

Your eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of his dexterous fingers rub your entrance.

“Careful there, at this rate you won’t hold until I touch you raw dear.” He teased.

“I’m good V, just do your thing.” You panted.

You weren’t paying attention but it was an actual struggle for Vox to see you in that state. He eventually moved your panties to the side, exposing your dripping parts. He kneeled in front of you, spreading your lips before digging in, making you practically cry out in pleasure, realizing you were closer to the edge than you thought. Vox was savoring you, licking every nook and cranny of your pussy, his long tongue coming in very handy as he kept sending small jolts of electricity while eating you out, making the whole ordeal much harder to withstand than you thought.

“Fuck…” You moaned. “When is Al coming…” You whined, staring at the camera.

“Not before you sweetheart.” Vox declared before attacking you once again, diverting your attention back to him. He looked like he was greatly enjoying himself.

Moans were pouring out of your mouth as well as Vox’s name and you grabbed the edge of the desk, trying your best to hold it in, but you felt it inexorably get closer, that dreaded yet craved orgasm.

“Vox…I’m think I’m gonna…” You moaned.

“Come? I can tell.” He responded still eating you out yet this time pressing hard on your G-spot with his tongue and simultaneously sending a bigger jolt through his tongue, sending you fully over the edge as you gritted your teeth tightly before exploding into a moaning mess, clenching and arching your back. You finished coming and collapsed on your back.

“That’s what I’m talking about, good job Y/n that’s a hot way to lose.” Declared Vox standing back up.

“Fuck off…” You panted, upset.

You heard hands clapping coming from another corner of the room.

“Beautiful darling…” You heard. You turned your panting face to the corner of the room and noticed a shadow displaying red eyes and a wicked smile. The shadow came out of the corner, turning into none other than Alastor.

“No… you asshole, when did you get here!?” Whined Vox.

“Actually, I got here just on time to witness the absolutely delightful view of Y/n giving in to pleasure.” He replied enthusiastically making gestures before switching to a cold tone. “And don’t ever send me any of your stupid screen technology again I’ll appreciate it.” He tossed on the floor towards Vox what looked like a little drone with a broken screen as well as a broken propeller.

“Aww fuck, well that means we both lost, idiot!” Replied Vox angrily before rolling his eyes. You smiled in victory, still recovering though.

“Nonsense, how can witnessing our sweetheart reach a climax be considered anything other than a victory, plus if I followed your little bet correctly, Y/n still gets to ask whatever she wants.” He walked close to you. “I’m sure she’ll choose wisely.”

Having recovered enough to think more clearly you took a second to think of what you were gonna ask. It clicked and you sat up on the desk as the tall figures stood before you.

“Ok, so I noticed that the both of you are busy men, correct?”

They both nodded.

“However, as busy as you both might be, I do not enjoy being treated like a side piece.”

They both looked at you curiously.

“It is not okay that I basically have to beg for either of you guy’s attention, so what I’m demanding is some more quality time with the both of you, and also that you don’t just toss me around from the get go and leave me some creative freedom during sex.”

Vox looked perplexed. Alastor’s expression looked frozen for a second, he then palmed his face before opening his mouth, turning to Vox.

“Great job, blockhead. I leave her in your care for a few days and she launches a rebellion.”

“Shut it dumbass, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t neglected her for two weeks while she was with you.” Vox countered.

“Right…” Alastor looked away annoyingly.

They both looked your way and Alastor spoke.

“Can you give us a minute to discuss the terms of this agreement?” He politely asked.

“Of course.” You smiled. “You have one minute.” Your smile faded.

Alastor looked at you with his usual smile, but you could tell even though he might have been annoyed there was a form of respect shining through his eyes.

“Alright dear.” He turned to Vox. “Come on Static, let’s go.” He started walking towards the corner of the room.

“Hey, who are you calling Static, old fart?” snapped back Vox as he followed.

You rolled your eyes and waited for a minute while they quietly debated. Seeing them being force to associate never got old.

After their minute was up, they walked back to you. You were still sitting at the edge of Vox’s desk.

Vox started speaking.

“Ok Y/n, we're okay with your terms. We’ll spend more quality time with you and not just fuck you when we’re with you.”

“As hard as that would be.” Added Alastor. “Though we need you to define ‘creative freedom’ dear.” He finished.

You thought for a second.

“5 minutes of uninterrupted action from me, to the both of you.” You replied. They both looked at each other and smiled widely.

“Alright then.” He declared in a satisfied tone.

“So, it’s a deal?” They both said at the same time, hold up their hand for a handshake.

You breathed softly then shook both of their hands, a massive glowing light engulfing the room, it shined red, blue, green and more. They both looked more than happy as everything calmed down.

“Perfect.” Exclaimed Alastor. “I’m just going to need you to bend over for me for a moment.”

“Al, we literally just agreed to let me do my thing !” You retorted back.

“Oh I know, don’t worry I won’t interfere I just need to do something first, no need to be suspicious.” He said innocently.

You rolled your eyes before bending over the desk, looking back at Alastor who had just pulled out something from god knows where.

“What’s that?” You examined the red object resting on his palm, it was neither big nor small, it looked soft, cone shaped with a narrow base and what looked like a small handle.

“I’ll show you Darling.” He grinned.

He bent over your body, and you felt him slowly start the insert the object in your ass.

“A butt plug!?” You yelled.

“Are you gonna stay a good girl?” Alastor asked politely. You nodded instinctively, which made you a little mad at yourself. Though you felt caught off guard you felt more curious than anything about this. He finished pushing it all the way in and you felt stuffed in a new way, it didn’t hurt at all and after breathing in you turned back around to face them.

“Great.” You smiled. “Love making deals with you guys.”

They both stared at you.

“Better hurry dear, the clock is ticking, you’ve got 4 minutes and 48 seconds left.” Declared Alastor looking at the clock on the wall in a nonchalant tone as they both harbored a sadistic smile.

You realized the situation you were in. They both stared at you, holding their arms behind their back, waiting patiently.

You quickly dropped to your knees in front of them and swiftly unzipped the fly of their pants. Both of their shaft slid right out of their pants, holding arrogantly in front of you. You looked up for an instant and noticed they were both looking composed yet eagerly awaiting your next move.

You grabbed the both of them by the base as started by licking Alastor’s tip while stroking Vox. You did the same to Vox after tasting Alastor and gradually took more of their member in your mouth. You wrapped your tongue around them and made sure you went all the way to the base.

A quick glance at the clock indicated half of your time had gone already. You then looked up and realized the both of them displayed flushed expressions. Seeing them like that made you feel so aroused you could feel yourself dripping. They were both dead focused on you. You continued and licked Vox’s member from the base to the tip before taking him all the way to the base and down your throat, earning a slight moan from the man, you then pulled out and did the same to Alastor’s cock, hearing him pant as he felt swallowed all the way down. You savored the both of them like lollipops, enjoying yourself so much you failed to pace yourself, resulting in you heavy panting in between each movement and if you were sucking one, you were stroking the other.

Pulling out of Alastor, you stroked the both of them, catching your breath. You resumed a little more aggressively, taking Vox in and sucking firmly on his tip and shaft while wrapping your tongue around him.

“F-Fuck.” You heard him murmur. You looked up at him and noticed how he was visibly struggling to keep it together.

You moved to Alastor, focusing on his tip as well and sucking well with your tongue guiding you. You looked up at him and caught his smile wavering.

The clock now indicated less than a minute left, so you gave it your all. You took them both in your mouth simultaneously, sucking hard and making them both lean closer, closing in on you as they broke their composure and each laid a hand on the edge of the desk behind you, panting heavily. You felt them both get bigger and tensing up. You knew they were close, seeing as they couldn’t stand without assistance. You also knew they were actively trying not to come. But as much as they felt like they were in control most of the time, you knew you got whatever you wanted out of them and decided to remind them just that. You pulled them both out of your mouth, stroking them at a rapid pace and looked up at them, slightly out of breath, with a pleading look on your face.

“Are you not gonna let me have your delicious cum?” You said softly opening your mouth, your tongue lightly sticking out.

These words were enough to make them both lose the little bit of control they were clinging onto, exploding simultaneously and spurting most of their cum in your mouth. You kept stroking them until they finished coming and swallowed all that had landed in your mouth, you even scooped the tiny amount that had landed on your cleavage and licked it eagerly.

You noticed the panting fading away and looked up. It’s like they had both snapped back into reality, Vox looked satisfied yet still eager and Alastor’s expression was a mix of satisfaction and something that looked like frustration.

“Fuck Y/n, you got game!” Vox exclaimed.

You smiled.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself thoroughly my dear.” Voiced Alastor, looking like he had lost a bet, smiling through obvious bitterness.

“Probably not as much as you did.” You shot back, still smiling from the corner of your mouth.

“This is why I hate giving control to brats…” He rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s time we remind her who’s in charge here?” The radio demon declared smiling devilishly.

“Great idea.” Added Vox.

Before you could move they both grabbed you, lifting you effortlessly back on your feet. Alastor ripped your dress off you in one movement before pulling you against him, his face dangerously close to yours.

“I think we’ve respected our part of the deal, now it’s your turn, so you’re going to behave and let us ravage you?” He smiled.

You nodded, dropping your bratty act as you craved them both.

He patted your head. “Good girl.”

He then turned you around and swiftly pushed you over to Vox who caught you before grabbing your chin and giving you a deep kiss that felt like a reward. He then lifted you up, and, while still kissing you he moved towards a large leather couch on the side of the room. He then laid more comfortably on his back while settling you on top of him.

He kissed you deeply and you felt him rip your panties.

You pulled away, panting.

“You guys are gonna have to start buying me new ones.” You teased.

“If I had it my way you wouldn’t ever need any.” He teased.

You decided to move your hips, grinding against him and when he felt it, he grinned widely, feeling how drenched you were.

“If you’re gonna be so greedy and impatient…” He spoke softly.

You hadn’t noticed him positioning himself at your entrance, but you felt him suddenly pushing himself into you, filling you in a way you had missed. You both groaned in satisfaction.

After a moment you were done adjusting and noticed he wasn’t moving. He was just looking at you, smiling, his hands resting on your ass, holding it tightly.

“Aren’t you gonna move?” You asked curiously.

“Not yet Sweetheart.” He replied teasingly and you felt him spread your ass cheeks.

“What an impatient little mix.” You heard whispered right by your ear, taking you by surprise. It was Alastor, settled right behind you. “Well, if you wanna be ravage that much, I guess we’ll have to oblige.” He continued before you felt him suddenly rip the plug out of your ass, making you scream, you were surprised it didn’t hurt but the surprise itself had definitely caught you off guard. "I think you're ready for me darling." He finished.

You then felt what you could only assume to be Alastor’s tip press against your rear end, making you yelp.

“Now, now relax dear…” He whispered softly as he filled you more and you did your best, feeling him stuff you to your limit.

You had never been fuller but oddly enough that uncomfortable feeling faded quickly and was replaced by pleasure as you felt new erogenous zones getting teased.

They both slowly started to thrust and those feelings of pleasure were suddenly multiplied by a hundred. Soon enough, moans were pouring out of your mouth uncontrollably and even more so as they both picked up the pace.

Vox’s hands were resting on your waist and Alastor’s were on your ass, holding it tightly as he moved smoothly.

“I have to admit…” The radio demon declared in his usual composed manner, though you could tell some pants were breaking through his speech. “…She is louder than she looks when her mouth isn’t full.”

“I’m not about to complain.” Added Vox as he tossed your bra aside before cupping your breast and teasing your nipples, making your moans even louder.

Having so many spots teased at the same time was not something you were familiar with and they both felt you tighten as you gave in to pleasure.

“Oh, you’re gonna come already?” Smirked Vox pinching your nipples while thrusting hard.

“Yes…let us hear it.” Continued Alastor.

Before long, you were coming hard, making it almost uncomfortably tight for them both and you heard them groan as you cried out in pleasure.

“Shit…” Vox cursed, his face twisting in overwhelming pleasure, though he looked like he had managed to keep it together.

“Are you as weak as our friend when it comes to pleasure?” Teased Alastor. “You look like you’re struggling~” He added. That made Vox visibly angry.

“Shut the fuck up!” He yelled with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m fine! She just gets really tight when she comes that’s all.”

“That she does.” He acknowledged.

You emerged from your orgasm, thinking clearly again and they picked up their thrusting right where they had left it. The pleasure immediately started to build back up.

“You guys…” You cried out.

“What, are you going to come again?” Taunted Alastor.

“Already? You literally just came!” Laughed Vox obnoxiously.

Your face went bright red. You decided to try your best to not give them this satisfaction.

You grabbed tightly onto Vox’s shirt and did your best to focus and not let the pleasure control you. Alastor immediately noticed.

“Oh my…looks like she’s actually trying to hold it in!” He exclaimed in a sarcastically impressed tone.

“Cute…” Replied Vox enthusiastically. “Useless…but cute.” He smiled wickedly while starting to thrust faster.

Alastor did the same and before long you felt that edge get closer than you were comfortable with.

“Come on now dear…you know it’s rude to make people wait.” The red demon spoke gently into your ear, his voice sending chills up your spine and making you involuntarily moan louder.

“You know you want to.” Added Vox as he teased your breasts with some electricity, playing with your now rock-hard nipples.

Alastor spanked your ass as he kept thrusting.

“And rude people get disciplined.” Added Alastor.

You tightened around them and he spanked you again, this time harder.

Each time pushed you closer towards the climax, and you were now desperately whimpering in pleasure.

“Please…” You pleaded.

“No no sweetheart~, you know what we want.” Responded Alastor before spanking your again, making you yelp.

“Fuck, how tight are you gonna get?” Blurted Vox, seemingly reaching his limit as well.

“God, I’m gonna come…” You cried out.

Vox’s face got closer to yours. “Wrong name Y/n.” He started fucking you harder, aggressively thrusting into you.

Alastor grabbed your hair, pulling your face close to his. “Now darling be sure to keep his name out of this room.” He declared before kissing you aggressively as they both relentlessly pounded into you.

You wanted to apologize but didn’t have time. You grabbed Vox’s shirt tightly with one hand, and Alastor’s hand laying on your waist with the other as you felt yourself lose control and a huge wave washed over you, making you climax somehow even harder, your walls tightening again around them and earning a groan from both men as you felt them release deep inside of you as they kept fucking you, filling you to the brim.

As you cooled down you collapsed fully onto Vox as they both pulled out, cum dripping from both of your holes. They didn’t waste time to clean you up and Vox carried you back to his bedroom after Alastor had covered you with his shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up the next morning, not having realized you had passed out once again. You smelled Alastor’s scent and thought he was nearby but quickly realized it was coming from his shirt that you were wearing.

The situation felt familiar, except they weren’t in the bedroom having tea, you were alone. It felt strange because the bed looked messier than it would if only one person had slept in it, plus you weren’t a restless sleeper. You stood, taking a moment to acknowledge how sore everything felt yet again.

“Maybe I did need more rest than I thought.” You spoke to yourself, walking towards the terrace, wrapping yourself into Alastor’s shirt. You opened the curtain and noticed the two recognizable figures sitting at a long table filled with breakfast items. You walked out to join them.

“Well, hello my dear Y/n!” Exclaimed Vox noticing you as you arrived. “Did you get enough rest this time? We can’t keep having you pass out like that each time.” He chuckled, drinking coffee from his mug.

“Indeed, it is problematic, I can’t make a habit of watching you all night in case something happens.” Added Alastor sipping from a tea cup not far from Vox.

You sat at the table.

“You guys stayed with me while I slept?” You inquired as a butler served some orange juice in front of you.

“Well I kinda had to, I mean you were in my bed after all…he stuck around cause he’s a freak.” Said Vox. “What kind of host would I be if I didn’t look out after my guests, but don’t worry, we got some rest as well, you weren’t easy yesterday.” He added.

“Ah yes, I would appreciate if you didn’t make me share a bed with that specimen again in the future thank you.” Declared Alastor nonchalantly as Vox glared at him.

“I literally told you to leave.” Vox shot back.

“And leave her in your care? No thank you we saw what happened after she stayed with you last time, she’s never been this defiant before.” He argued back.

You laughed. “I’m just getting comfortable that’s all.” You expressed casually.

“Oh dear…” Alastor rolled his eyes. “But I have to admit I do like a good challenge.”

“Anyways Y/n,” Interrupted Vox. “We were discussing the deal we made yesterday, about that quality time, will you be rested enough to go out tonight?” He asked politely.

“Sure!” You responded enthusiastically; your mouth stuffed with a croissant.

“Good.” He smiled, before taking a sip.

“Perfect then.” Continued Alastor, sipping as well.

“I have to admit.” You continued. “I’m surprised you both accepted that deal.”

“Well, as irritating as this guy gets, it’ll be worth it if you’re in the picture.” Replied Vox calmly.

“And I’m sure you’ll come to your senses soon enough and ditch this guy so don’t worry your sweet little mind about it.” Added Alastor.

“Fuck you.” Snapped back Vox.

You laughed and continued your breakfast, satisfied with how things ended up turning out.

To be continued ?

I love writing those two, I feel like this time I focused more on y/n and her dynamic with them but I'll be sure to write more exchanges between them next time. This whole series started because I was obsessed with 'Stayed Gone' so it makes sense i guess? Anyways I hope you enjoyed and thank you if you've read this far. Shlonguru out! o/

PS : I know Alastor is Aroace and I hope no one takes offense to my work. I genuinely take pleasure in writing smuts and I've been loving his personality that's all.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader x vox #alastor x you #vox x you #hazbin hotel x you #vox x reader #alastor x reader #alastor #Vox

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teamchasezwrites · 7 months ago

Text

Second Chance (2/3)

Word Count: 7,931

Characters: Damian Priest/Unnamed OC, (minor appearances from Rhea Ripley, Finn Balor, Dominik Mysterio, Seth Rollins, CM Punk, and Triple H)

Genre: Romance

Tags: Stars Align, Man Realizing He’s An Idiot, Regrets

Summary: some people are worth a second chance. (A Wrestlemania XL Night Two fic)

Part I here

Author’s Note: This is the night told from Damian’s POV. I did watch the BTS video from Gorilla, so any errors are my own.

A heavy case of nerves flowed through Damian’s system as the start of Wrestlemania XL grew closer. The vibe of the crowd already in their seats made its way into Gorilla where plenty of backstage talent and crew members were gathered.

Seth Rollins was there exchanging pre match whispers with his wife, Becky Lynch. The former already dressed in his over-the-top mummer-inspired outfit. It was outlandish but it fit the wrestler to a T.

His opponent, Drew McIntyre was there as well. Their match kicked off night two. Seth’s World Heavyweight Championship title up for grabs.

The purple Money In The Bank briefcase felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in his grasp. Aside from that World Heavyweight Title, the briefcase – securing him an opportunity at a title shot – was the most important object in the room.

He just needed the opportunity to cash in his title shot. Last night during Night One, an opportunity never arose. Roman Reigns never gave him an opening during his tag team match. Plus, he had The Rock next to him. He didn’t want to take the risk of anything going wrong.

Everything had to be perfect.

The venue – Lincoln Financial Field in Philadelphia – was perfect. The city was nearly next door to the city where he got his start in wrestling. A jump across the Walt Whitman Bridge and a quick ride down 42 and he’d be in Atlantic City.

When he arrived at the stadium earlier in the day, he took a moment to walk out on the ramp and stare. Very few other people moved around save for a few crew members double checking wires and camera views. A handful of stadium workers walking through the seats double checking. The feeling of being alone in such a vast space was nearly overwhelming. He felt incredibly small in the grand structure.

Closing his eyes Damian imagined the stadium packed from the field to the very last row at the top of the stadium. The noise of the crowd could almost vibrate the ground beneath his feet. He’d been in that stadium once before with it rocking enough to feel the earth move.

When he’d opened his eyes it wasn’t the ring in the middle of the field he saw but the unblemished green grass with the Eagles logo on the 50 yard line. Unable to stop, his eyes centered himself in the stadium, gathering his bearings and navigated to the section of seats to his right and up to the top where once upon he was there in section 244 seat 26.

Even now, nine years later he could feel those cold temps of the late Sunday night in December. He could hear the cheers of the crowd and the slamming of shoulder pads together. See the white smoke from fireworks popping off from the wing-like canopies at the top of the stadium covering his seat after yet another Philadelphia touchdown. Could feel the soft lips against his in a celebratory kiss. There had been plenty of those that night.

“Yo. Priest you okay?”

Damian shook away the sparkling blue eyes chanting out the spelling of Eagles pumping an arm in the air with each letter to see his teammate and best friend, Rhea Ripley in front of him.

“Nerves man,” Damian stated in a half truth. It was better than explaining how his thoughts got away from him on the absolute most important day of his wrestling career.

“You got this,” Rhea told him firmly, slapping her hands on his shoulders.

“I really can’t believe this is happening….” Inside he was vibrating and it took everything he had to appear calm on the outside.

“You deserve this.”

He pulled her into a hug by a hand on the back of her head. She became his person from nearly the moment they met in NXT. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. They were the best of friends.

The show kicked off with Stephanie McMahon and then Drew McIntyre’s music played over the stadium’s system. As Seth made his way to the ring, he pulled the black hoodie he wore over his ring gear over his head. There were plenty of monitors in Gorilla to watch the match, but he couldn’t bring himself to look.

His friends – The Judgement Day faction made up of Rhea, Finn Balor, Dominic Mysterio, and JD McDonagh – were there with him in support. His friends allowed him the opportunity to talk if he needed. They also allowed him to sit in silence. He also had his brothers and father. Even with all the back up, it did little to settle the nerves. He stretched. He meditated bent over at the waist with his hands in his knees and eyes staring at the briefcase on the floor between his legs.

So many changes occurred in the months and days leading up to Wrestlemania, he wasn’t sure another change wasn’t coming. He didn’t know the proper word that would describe the devastation if Creative pulled an audible. This was his moment.

The perfect time.

Sometime later he was standing in the middle of Gorilla with his arms spread out while a crew member worked baby oil over his arms and shoulders. The oil served a couple of purposes. It made it harder for opponents to grip. It also allowed some moves to go off better with the extra fluidity the oil provided. Mainly, it was an aesthetic for visual appearance allowing muscles to pop and appear more defined under the lights.

Then it was time. The crowd roared as Drew’s music hit declaring him the winner and Seth was ducking through the curtain.

Damian turned his head to met Seth coming back at the same time the wrestler was slapping his chest. He reached out with one armed and hugged the worn out wrestler.

“I told you it was all gonna be worth it, baby,” Seth breathed heavily. His body worn out and tingling with pain mostly centered on his knee. He knew there was another surgery in his future but his night wasn’t over yet. “The biggest moment of your life,” he told Damian, slapping his hands on his upper arms. “I am so happy for you,” he gripped Damian’s chin with a hand giving it a small shake. “Enjoy.”

Damian nodded at him as the small smattering of people clapped for the veteran wrestler. He may be older than Seth, but Seth had years in the business on him. Years of being a big name, the top draw. He had mad respect for him.

He blew out a breath and danced on his feet. The briefcase in his right hand. Hands poised in either side of the curtain. A ref – his friend, Eddie – hovering behind him, ready to make that run to the ring with him.

Then it was time.

His music hit and everything else fell away. He was in the zone.

He sprinted down the ramp with the briefcase in hand. The crowd a complete blur. They could be screaming their heads off or sitting in the seats quiet like they were in church. He didn’t know. He circled the ring and lifted the briefcase, ramming it into Drew’s head, knocking the new champion off his feet. The briefcase flew from his hands on impact nearly flying into the stands.

Grabbing it quickly, he shoved the briefcase into Eddie’s hands. “I’m cashing in!” He yelled. “Right now!” He gave a little shove as he let go of the briefcase, barely waiting for Eddie to make his way to the timekeeper’s box before turning his attention back to Drew. Drew still laid on the ground. In the corner of his eye, he saw CM Punk standing on the announce table, a smirk on his face watching the events take place.

He could hear the announcer Michael Cole’s “Priest is cashing right now!” from the announce table.

Picking up Drew from ringside, he tossed him into the ring before climbing in after. He rolled in after the man as Eddie called for the bell.

The bell rang and he wrapped his fingers around Drew’s neck in a choke hold. He placed his other hand on Drew’s lower back and lifted the man high in the air, slamming him down into the mat. Drew bounced in the mat and Damian quickly fell over the man. He wrapped an arm under his leg and rolled his body back. He was laying on Drew’s shoulders, adding his entire weight on the man.

One.

Two.

Three.

Eddie’s hand slapped the mat in quick succession. It could have been hours. Or minutes. That final slap happened and Damian’s ears popped and cleared. The stadium went crazy. He popped off Drew on his knees and threw his arms back in a roar of victory.

His music started playing and he jumped up pumping his arms together before he flexed his arms out to either side, tossing them back as he released another roar. As he lifted his head back up, the dreads slapped him in the face.

“And here is your winner…”

He stalked the ring in a half circle before Eddie was there to present him the title – his title. Damian nearly snatched it out of his hands.

“And NEEEEEEW world heavyweight champion…”

He raised his hands high above his head in victory. The title clutched tightly in the grip of his right hand. Eddie’s hard grip on his wrist holding it up.

“Daamienn Preeeist!"

He released another guttural roar as the fans went wild all around him. Once again he could feel the vibrations beneath his feet as the crowd gave him the loudest reaction of his career.

He climbed through the ropes and jumped down to the ground. His eyes followed the ramp up to the top where he saw Rhea, Finn, Dom, and JD gathered waiting for him. He couldn’t wait to celebrate with them.

Emotions started to swirl in him as he stalked up the ramp toward his friends. After all the years he spent fighting and trying to make it in this business. The sacrifices he made. The people he lost along the way…

“Damian I love you!”

It’s a scream he’s heard a thousand times. Damian wasn’t sure what made him look to his right. He planned on smiling at the woman, maybe sending her a wink and keep moving up the ramp. That all fell away when his eyes met the woman. Shock took over elation and his steps faltered.

She smiled at him and he was taken back to that night in 2013 high above the field when she jumped into his arms jostling the people in the row in front of them who were too excited (and maybe too drunk) to care.

Damian knew he needed to make his way up the ramp and into the Gorilla so the show could go on, but he moved in her direction without thought. The pull was too much. It’s been too long.

He stood in front of her, breathing heavily from everything that’s happened in the last five minutes.

Was it even five minutes from the time he tore through the curtain and now? He didn’t know.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. People all around her vied for his attention. He felt their touches on his arms and the tickling touches on his sides from people just close enough to make contact. The noise of the crowd faded around him. It felt like he was underwater with the muted noise. People blurred as he stared into her eyes.

“Luis…”

Damian’s breath caught at the whisper of his real name. How he heard it over the crowd, he didn’t know. It just proved he was locked in on her. His feet moved on their own accord and before he knew it she was wrapped up tight in his arms. A feeling of home washed over him. He damned the coat she wore as he pressed his hands into her back. He was probably hurting her as the championship belt was digging into her back, but he couldn’t let the belt go or her. Her hands pressed against his back. His skin on fire where she touched and he wished the contact was skin on skin. He damned the barricade between them that kept them separated from the waist down.

Her body shuddered in his arms and leaned into him. He happily accepted her weight. “Fuck…” he uttered, tightening his hold. Time was of the essence and the window for him to keep standing in her arms rapidly closing.

“I gotta go…” he whispered directly into her ear after ducking his head down and adjusting his arms in an attempt to hide his face from prying eyes and cell phone cameras and online lip readers. His words caused her arms to tighten and her hands to press harder into him.

He wanted to keep her with him forever. He wanted to lift her in his arms and carry her with him to the back. “Please stay,” he pleaded, not sure what he meant. What could he do going forward? “I’ll…” He’ll what? What could he do? He was about to enter pure chaos when he reached Gorilla. There were interviews, photoshoots, press conferences… he dad was back there. His brothers… “Just don’t go.” He settled with, hoping she’ll agree to stay for the rest of the show to give him time to think about his next move. He wasn’t letting her go.

When she nodded her head, he squeezed her in his arms one last time. He slowly pulled away and their eyes met again. Emotions swirled in hers. Sure they did in his too.

The noise of the crowd threatened the bubble they were in. He cupped her face with his hands. The title still clutched in his right hand, he had to settle for his knuckles touching the soft skin of her cheek. Without thought to who was watching, what cell phone was on him, or even what WWE camera had him in view, he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was quick – much quicker than he would have liked – but stole his breath nonetheless. As he lifted his head, he ran his thumb over her cheek in a soft caress before he forced himself to leave her.

Luis was pushed to the side and Damian appeared once he caught sight of his friends still gathered at the top of the ramp. Reaching the top, he held his arms wide motioning them to come to him. Finn reached him first wrapping his arms around him from the right. Dom from the left. JD met him from the front jumping into the pile before Rhea joined at last.

They jumped up and down in excitement. Hands slapped backs and arms squeezed necks.

“Raise the title up, mate!”

Damian took Finn’s advice and turned around on top of the stage. With his music still playing, he gripped the title in both hands and held it high in the air. He’s friends gathered on either side of him with their arms raised. A cameraman stood in front of him capturing the moment that would live forever.

In Gorilla he was met with applause. Adam Pearce was the first to meet him with a slap to his back. Damian stood there with a huge grin on his face, taking it all on. Arms wrapped around him from behind from JD. He tapped his chest, his heart working double time. Rhea was right there and he drew her to him with his free arm wrapped over her shoulders. Her arms wrapped around his neck in a squeezing hug.

“You’re the fucking champion,” she declared in his ear, her voice wavering as she fought to hold her tears back.

Damian laughed. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Rips.”

“Bullshit,” Rhea spat as they rocked back and forth. “And don’t think I won’t be asking what you were doing with that fan…”

He released her with another laugh and felt his face heat. “You saw that?”

“We all saw that,” Finn was next to draw him into a hug. “Love you man.”

Finn knew every emotion he was feeling and going through having won the Universal Title for Raw back in 2016 when Damian was still taking his licks in the independent circuit. Finn had to relinquish the title the next day because of injury and has been trying to claw his way back to the top title scene ever since. Even though Damian currently held the top title on Raw, he hoped his friend got there.

Damian was then met with Triple H. “Thank you,” he told the man, his voice thick with emotion. It was Paul who gave him this opportunity. Without Paul, he would still be an unknown name stuck down in NXT or even worse.

“You earned this.” Paul said into his ear with accompanying back slaps. “You have worked hard and deserve every moment of this. Just let me know if you plan on making out with a fan every time.”

Damian gave a surprised bark of laughter as the hug broke. “Not a fan.”

His eyes must have given something away, for Paul smiled at him before slapping his shoulder one more time. “Congratulations.”

“Now you don’t gotta carry that stupid briefcase around anymore.”

Damian turned and met CM Punk coming to him. “Hey man,” he laughed. He didn’t say it, but he was probably going to miss that thing. It had been a staple at his side since he won it back in July. Then again, the thing was an embarrassing accessory at times especially when he was going through the airport.

There were so many people congratulating and hugging him. He took it all in. He spent the the longest time in the arms of his father, who hugged him tight as he told him how proud he was. His own eyes welled with tears hearing his father’s voice waver with emotion.

Before he knew it an hour passed by and he was starting to take photos. By himself with the championship title. With Triple H. With Rhea.

“Why do you keep fucking with your leg?”

Damian removed his hand from the inside of his thigh in a quick manner like he’d been caught red handed. “Man, I put on my gear earlier and it ripped right in the seam.” He cocked his knee and reached down showing her where the seam came apart in the middle of his thigh. “I have black tights on under to hide it.”

“You dumbass.” Rhea laughed. “Why didn’t you just go back to wardrobe and have them sew it?” She wrapped her arm around his back while he did the same. They each held their belts up with their free hand.

“I just wanted to be left alone. Everyone I passed in the halls kept asking if I was gonna cash in. I couldn’t get away from it.”

Rhea understood. They all tried to give Damian his space in the hours leading up to the start of Wrestlemania. They didn’t bombard him with questions. They let him have his peace. They talked if he wanted to. Most importantly they were just there for him.

“You gonna tell me what that little scene was after you won?”

Damian knew the questions were coming, especially from Rhea. He wasn’t someone who got embarrassed easily but he felt his face heat. He looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet.

“Come on,” Rhea needled him. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone? You don’t have to keep that from me.” Lord knows it would be nice to be on the advice giving side of relationships after she pestered Damian so much during the early stages of her own relationship with Matt.

“I’m not. Come on. I would tell you.”

“You just randomly pick a fan out of the stands and kiss her?”

Damian shook his head. “Remember when you weren’t sure if you wanted to take a chance on Matt?”

Rhea nodded. She was a mess back then probably still is in some cases. Trying to torpedo her own fledging relationship before it could even start due to her own anxiety and insecurities. “Yeah, you told me a story about…” she broke off and her eyes widened. “That’s her?”

Damian shook his head in affirmation. “Yeah.”

“No shit,” Rhea said in disbelief. During a late night where she once again brought up her fledging relationship with Matt, seeking Damian’s advice. Their relationship was more of a sexual nature, not for lack of trying on Matt’s part. It was Rhea who kept herself at a distance because there were so many issues that could crop up dating a fellow wrestler. A messy break up with a co-worker. Locker room talk. One of them being let go… there were so many reasons that entered her mine. Some sound, most relied on planets aligning, some made up in her head.

‘Why are you taking all this on your shoulders? Matt has a say in all this too.’ Then Damian opened up about an old relationship where the issues were different, the result was the same. He carried it all on his shoulders and didn’t allow the woman to have a say. He made the decision on his own to walk away.

‘It’s one of the biggest regrets that I have.’

“Did you know she was gonna be here?”

Damian shook his head again. “No idea.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“What can I do?” Damian looked at his friend. “I’m stuck here for who knows how long. I asked her to stay, but again… when can I actually get to her?”

“You once gave me great advice on my own relationship when I wouldn’t get out of my own way.” Rhea moved closer and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She’s here for a reason, Dame...”

“To watch Wrestlemania…”

Rhea rolled her eyes. “It’s an absolute shock you were able to give me advice with Matt when you truly are an absolute idiot…”

“Hey…” Damian was offended.

“That woman is not here to watch Wrestlemania you idiot. She’s here to see you!”

“I mean…maybe?”

Rhea growled in frustration. She spun away from her friend, walking toward a table where a couple of backstage crew members were gathered. “Anyone have a piece of paper and a pen?”

“Yeah, here.” One of the women reached inside a brown leather bound portfolio. She tore off a piece of paper along the perforated edge.

It was a smaller than the legal pad Rhea saw inside the binder but it would serve its purpose. She grabbed a pen from the scattering of BIC pens on the table. Walking back to Damian, she handed him the objects.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Write her a note. Give her your phone number.” Rhea found it hard to believe Damian could be this dense. She found it harder to believe she acted this way when Damian was trying to steer her toward the path she wanted to take but was too scared. “If she calls you or messages, then you know she wasn’t just here to watch.”

Damian saw the merit in Rhea’s idea. He couldn’t get away from his backstage obligations. There was no way to truly estimate a time he would be free. She couldn’t wait in the stands forever. A note could be given to her explaining.

He moved away to get some privacy. He held the paper to the wall with one hand before writing just a short line and his phone number. Why he didn’t think of doing this before, he had no idea. His brain was firing on too many circuits with not only winning the championship but seeing her again after all this time.

Without hesitating, he ended the note with an L.

‘Luis…’

He could still hear his whispered name from her lips.

Maybe Rhea was right and she was here to see him.

“Hey,” Rhea pulled a young crew member over to them. “Did you see the woman in the crowd with Damian?”

The crew member chuckled. “We all did.”

“You remember where she was sitting and what she looks like?” Damian folded the note in half, creasing it with his fingers. When the crew member nodded he handed off the paper. “Please give this to her?”

The crew member was gone with a nod.

Later, while he was sitting behind the microphone for his time-slot at the Wrestlemania press conference, changed from his ring gear into a custom suit, his phone vibrated against his thigh. With an ear listening to the question about his title being the ‘workhorse title’, a phrase coined by Seth Rollins, he slipped his phone from his pocket.

‘I’ll be there.’

Those words made him want to throw his hands out to his sides with his fists clenched, throw his head back and roar to the sky like he did in the ring after winning the championship. He settled for a wide grin and turned his attention back to the reporters.

Next Chapter

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