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sweetromanova · 11 days ago

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Marriage Proposals and Miscommunications💍

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: A story of a proposal tangled in miscommunications and weaponised orgasms.

Unofficial sequel to Matching Napkins & Mixed Feelings

You don’t think anything of it at first.

You’re mid-sentence, talking about how Pepper almost drop-kicked an intern for trying to set up her own LinkedIn with ‘CEO unofficially’ in the headline, when Natasha slams her laptop shut like it just tried to bite her.

You blink. “Okay. Rude?”

She doesn’t look up. “Confidential.”

You frown. “You literally gave me a three part act dramatic retelling of that time you seduced a fake prince for information and stole his Ferrari.”

“That was different.”

“Oh, was it?” You walk closer, narrow your eyes. “Was it because that had car chases and sex pollen?”

“Pillow talk.” Natasha deadpans. “It slipped out. I can’t control what comes out post-orgasm.”

Just then, Steve unfortunately walking past at the exact wrong time, sticks his head in. “Sorry, did someone just say sex pollen?”

You and Natasha both freeze.

“…Nope.” She says, popping the ‘p’.

Steve doesn’t believe her. “Natasha, that’s a highly classified mission file-“

“From like six years ago, Rogers. Let it go. It’s historical.”

“Historical doesn’t mean public record!”

Natasha waves him off with a dismissive flick of her hand. “Anyway, it’s not sex pollen if there wasn’t any actual sex. Which there wasn’t. Technically.”

You look at her. “You said he passed out naked in a pond.”

“Technically.”

Steve groans. “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear any of this.”

You wait until he’s gone before you face her again. “What the hell was on your laptop?”

“Work.”

“You don’t even do work in here.”

Natasha looks at you. “Do you want to know or do you want plausible deniability when we both get debriefed and Fury starts with the ‘I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed’ voice?”

You narrow your eyes. “So it is a secret.”

Natasha shrugs. “Everything’s a secret with me.”

You drop dramatically onto the couch beside her, hands clutching your chest. “Oh my God. You’re leaving me. You’re moving to another country and breaking up with me via cryptic closed tabs.”

“I swear to God.”

“You’re seeing someone else. It’s Steve. You’re sleeping with Steve-“

“I just got done traumatising him and that’s your theory?”

“You’ve been weird all week!”

“I’m always weird.”

“You’ve been extra weird. Like ‘letting me win at Mario Kart’ weird. Even when Sam’s best friend died a couple months ago, you didn’t let him win to cheer him up.”

Natasha tilts her head, one brow arched. “That was a kindness to you.”

“That’s suspicious.”

She grabs a throw pillow and launches it at your face. “You’re exhausting.”

“Suspicious and defensive.” You toss the pillow back at her lap. “Weird behaviour for someone not planning a slow-burn breakup.”

Natasha just stares at you, unblinking, until you finally fold your arms and slump down beside her.

“…If you’re dumping me, can you give me like, a week’s notice?” You mumble. “I need to book time off and buy black. Possibly a cat.”

She pauses. “You’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever dated.”

“And yet here we are.”

Natasha mutters something under her breath in Russian. You’re about 82% sure it’s affectionate.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You’re halfway through your salad when you realise Natasha hasn’t texted you all day.

That alone is enough to cause panic. But when you rewind through the morning, when she didn’t let you steal her toast, didn’t bite your shoulder when you stole her towel and definitely didn’t slap your ass when you bent over to tie your shoe.

Your stomach drops like a stone.

Across the cafeteria, she’s sitting at another table with Steve, Bucky and Sam. Laughing. You feel physically ill.

Wanda slides into the seat beside you like she sensed your distress from several floors away. “Why do you look like someone ran over your non-existent cat?”

“She’s leaving me.” You whisper, stabbing a crouton with unnecessary force. “She’s laughing like I’m not about to die.”

Wanda blinks. “Did she say she was leaving you?”

“No.”

“Did she hint that she’s leaving you?”

“No. But she didn’t do The Toast Thing.”

Wanda is not following. “What toast thing?”

“The toast thing!” You hiss. “She always gives me the first bite. But this morning? She ate it. With her mouth. Like I didn’t exist.”

“Oh no…” Wanda says, completely deadpan. “She ate breakfast. This is serious.”

You glare.

Across the room, Natasha glances up, sees you staring and she actually winks.

You look back at Wanda, horrified. “She just winked at me like she doesn’t know I’m spiraling. She doesn’t care. She’s moved on. Probably to someone taller. Someone who doesn’t fall down trying to do upside-down sit-ups.”

Wanda groans and steals your brownie.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You show up to the gym at your usual time.

Natasha’s nowhere in sight.

You try to act chill. You do one push-up. One.

Then you immediately sprint to the cardio room and find Yelena holding a protein shake in one hand and filming herself doing pull-ups with the other.

“She left me.” You announce.

Yelena drops to the mat. “Did she die?”

“No. Worse.”

Yelena blinks. “She dumped you?”

“No. But she didn’t show up to the gym. She always shows up to the gym.”

Yelena stares at you, confused. “You told her you wanted to start working out alone because you kept falling off the bench when she stretched in front of you.”

“Right…” You say. “But like… she’s supposed to ignore that and come anyway. For the moral support.”

“But-“

“And don’t let her fool you. She followed me on my run like a creep the other day because I wore her favourite work out leggings that make my ass look good enough to eat. Her words not mine.”

Yelena sips her drink slowly. “You are so needy it physically hurts me.”

You lie down on the mat and groan. “She doesn’t want me anymore. I’m going to have to re-enter the dating pool. My dating profile is going to say ‘EX: NATASHA ROMANOFF’ and that’ll be a red flag for anyone sane.”

“I mean… Yeah.” Yelena agrees, entirely too quickly.

“You’re not meant to agree?!”

“Ok then… then no. Surely not.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

“The truth! Can you reach out to like your connections? Maybe she got already got a fake passport.”

“You think my sister would need a fake passport and leave the country if she wanted to dump you? You? The one who flashed Steve and Bucky on their morning run last week because there was a moth in the shower when you were in it. The one who thought ‘encrypted drive’ meant it was haunted. The one who, I quote, tried to seduce Natasha by sending her a playlist and accidentally included the audio file of you crying over a dead plant?”

“That flower meant something to me. It was my proof of commitment.”

“She kept the playlist. For pity. She's still got it on her phone. It's titled ‘unhinged but hot.’”

You throw yourself dramatically onto the nearest couch like a Victorian widow. “She’s so over me.”

“Oh my god.” Yelena groans. “You're not even mid-breakup and you're acting like a divorcee in a Hallmark movie. Do you want tea? A shawl? Should I light a candle?”

“She didn’t let me finish telling her about the admin scandal at Stark Industries. She always lets me finish. It’s our thing.”

Yelena blinks. “Your thing is gossip?”

“Yes.”

“Not like… trauma bonding or passionate love or being obsessed with each other or whatever-”

“That’s all fine but our core foundation is that I tell her about all the dysfunctional HR relationships and she pretends she’s not listening and then six days later references it while we’re in line for coffee like a perfect little emotionally-stunted sociopath.”

Yelena just stares. “…Do you want me to slap you?”

“No.”

“Because I will. Gently. Therapeutically.”

“You're emotionally violent.”

“You’re emotionally exhausting.”

You sigh, long and guttural, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead. “Do you think maybe I just peaked too early? Like maybe she’s realising I’m not exciting anymore. I haven’t broken anything in weeks.”

Yelena narrows her eyes. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you’re like, the opposite of boring. You’re a nightmare. A walking fire drill. You once threatened to sue Tony because his smart fridge wouldn’t stop mocking your dietary choices.”

“I was vulnerable and it called me a carb goblin.”

Yelena sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look. Natasha hasn’t dumped you. She’s being weird, yeah. But you’re insane on a good day. And she’s stuck around through all of it.”

“She’s obsessed with me.” You mutter, trying to convince yourself.

“Deeply.” Yelena agrees flatly. “Like… textbook-level.”

You glance up at her, hopeful. “Really?”

“Yeah. She’s also planning something. And when it happens, I’m going to laugh so hard my spleen detaches.”

“…Is that bad?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Pepper’s mid-call but she raises a finger and clicks mute. “Please tell me no one blew up the lab.”

“No, worse.” You sigh, flopping dramatically into the chair across from her. “She’s being secretive. She slammed her laptop shut. She’s hiding something. I think it’s a break-up PowerPoint.”

Pepper blinks. “What?”

“She has a presentation, with charts for sure. Possibly a flow graph of ‘where we went wrong.’”

“She loves you.” Pepper says, gently.

“DOES SHE?! Or does she just love my need-“

Pepper sighs, takes a sip of her drink and presses unmute on her call. “Sorry, I’ve got a drama queen in here who thinks she’s dying.”

“Emotionally!” You shout over her headset.

“Look, Natasha isn’t going to leave you. Maybe she’s just working through things?” Pepper explains as she exits the zoom call, giving your hysteria her undivided attention.

“Working through things? Natasha doesn’t work through things. She ruins them. I’m the perfect example.”

“I don’t even know what context you are referring too…”

“I hope you’re ready to hire my replacement.”

“Why would I need to replace you?”

“Because when she dumps me, I can’t show up as the person who fumbled the Natasha Romanoff.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’ll have to start a complete different industry, like farming?!”

“Farming?”

“It’s like the one thing she’s not connected too.”

“Lies. Yelena told me their mother has pigs.”

“Oh my god.”

“Maybe she was looking at something different.”

“Like?”

“Like porn?”

“Look, I know Tony has issues but- Wait, do you think she’s cheating on me?”

“Ok, enough.”

“No, seriously! Do you think it’s with Carol?! She laughed at her joke the other day. It wasn’t even funny. It was a pun about space.”

“She’s not cheating on you.” Pepper repeats, starting to sound like someone reciting a hostage negotiation script.

“She smiled at her. A teeth smile. The kind where the corners crinkle.”

Pepper’s hand drags down her face. “You’ve been watching her face that closely?”

“I’m in love with her, Pepper. I’ve studied her expressions like a biologist studying wolves in captivity.”

She stares at you, soulless.

“You are so deeply unwell. How did you pass the mandatory psych?”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Wanda and Yelena corner you in the hallway.

You try to escape but Wanda blocks your path with a glowing red hand. Yelena shoves a snack bar into your hands. You accept it out of instinct.

“Okay…” Wanda starts. “You’re spiraling.”

“You said that yesterday.”

“And you’re still spiraling. So we’re here with a… gentle confrontation.”

“It’s an intervention.” Yelena clarifies.

You stare. “Is Natasha behind this?”

“She doesn’t know.” Wanda says quickly. “Though she did mention you’ve been clinging like a barnacle in your sleep.”

“I’m emotionally malnourished.” You snap. “I’m surviving off crumbs. She winked at me with those dead eyes.”

“She kissed you in the elevator.” Yelena says.

“That was out of pity! There wasn’t even tongue!”

“Gross!”

“She told Bucky you were her favourite human being on the planet.” Wanda offers.

“Sounds like a farewell tour.”

Wanda exchanges a look with Yelena. “You know she’s planning something, right?”

You freeze. “What.”

“Something big.” Yelena says. “We don’t know what because she’s threatening to break kneecaps if we interfere but like… you’re not being dumped. You’re being handled.”

“…That’s not comforting.”

“She’s not dumping you.” Wanda says again, slow and clear. “She’s probably just planning a surprise. Or a murder. But most likely a surprise.”

You stare at them.

Then groan. “That’s definitely worse, right? I should be worried. The Black Widow planning a surprise? It’s my funeral for sure.”

Yelena claps you on the back. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll help you bury the body if it turns out she was planning to leave you.”

“Thanks.” You scoff. “I hope you’re ready to find someone good enough to kill her too because only two days ago, she wrestled me in 0.2 seconds to the floor for the tv remote.”

“You have fire. I think you could handle it.”

“You think I could kill Natasha?”

“I think you’re dramatic.” Wanda adds then turns to Yelena. “And you’re making it worse.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You were cold. That’s all.

Just cold and slightly pissed off that all your own hoodies were still in a laundry basket somewhere and Natasha keeps hers guarded like pirate treasure. So you’d wandered into her closet, humming to yourself, already picturing the faded red Soviet hoodie she lets you steal on weekends. You nudged some boots aside, moved a tactical belt and that’s when you saw it.

A flicker of something shiny. Small. Square. Velvet.

And obviously, obviously you opened the drawer fully.

You freeze, hand halfway in, eyes wide. Because yes. There it is. Nestled among her fake passports and a burner phone, A tiny black ring box. The kind no one just casually owns.

You don’t touch it.

You're still hovering over it, head tilted, when you hear a very familiar voice behind you, low, sharp and panicked.

“What are you doing?!”

You jump, shriek a little and spin around like a child caught stealing candy.

Natasha is in the doorway, eyes locked on the drawer, already moving. She strides across the room, snatches the box with surgical precision and immediately stuffs it into the pocket of her jeans like she’s hiding nuclear codes.

“I was- I was looking for a hoodie!” You blurt out, defensively.

She narrows her eyes. “In a drawer labeled DO NOT TOUCH?”

“Okay, well, that label is in Russian!”

“And yet, you touched it!”

You blink. “You- You have a ring, Natasha?!”

“No I don’t.” She says, too quickly.

“You literally just shoved it into your pocket like a shoplifter?!”

“…It’s not a ring.”

“Oh my god.” You gasp dramatically. “Is this what I think it is? Are you cheating on me?”

“WHAT?!”

“With a jeweller?”

“Are you insane?!”

You step closer, her eyes widen with caution. You lean in, lowering your voice.

“…Is it for me?”

She blinks, hesitates. “It’s… it’s not what it looks like.”

“Then what is it?”

Natasha opens her mouth, brain visibly buffering. “It’s a key.”

“…A key.”

“Yes.”

“A key for what?”

She clearly panics again, casting a glance at the ceiling like divine inspiration might drop in and rescue her.

“It’s a key… for…”

“...For?”

“…Handcuffs.”

Oh.

Your eyebrow raises so high it might detach. “Handcuffs?”

“Yeah.”

“Sexy handcuffs?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Sure.”

“Oh my god. Is this a new kink thing? You really should’ve led with that. I was two seconds away from getting a cat and dyeing my hair black.”

Natasha immediately realises her mistake. “No. Not- I mean yes but not like-”

You step forward again, eyes gleaming. “Are they new? Are they fuzzy? Are they in your special drawer?”

“You are misunderstanding-“

“No, no, I’m listening. This is suddenly the best thing that’s happened all week.”

“I didn’t mean it like-“

“Tell me they’re tactical. Take them out and show me they are.”

“Well… they’re not!”

“Oh my god.” You whisper. “Is this like… part of a plan? Like roleplay? Like you arrest me and I resist and then there’s like strip searches and I say something smart and then you’re like ‘Guess I’ll have to interrogate you personally, Agent.’”

Natasha’s mouth opens again but no words come out.

You’re already backing her toward the bed, one slow step at a time, grin wicked, fingers trailing her shirt hem. “Just say the word, baby. I will resist arrest so hard. You’ll need backup.”

“I’m not- you don’t- this isn’t-“

You tug her down by the belt loop. “Come on, Agent Romanoff. Don’t you want to practice tactical restraining techniques?”

She makes one last, valiant attempt at restraint. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh?” You lick your lips. “Then prove it.”

There’s a beat, a flicker of emotions across Natasha’s eyes before you literally see the way she caves.

And then Natasha kisses you, fast, hard, like she’s trying to silence you by force. You laugh into her mouth, triumphant and she groans like she’s already regretting this strategy.

And just like that, you’re on the bed.

Her hands slide under the hoodie, her hoodie and her mouth distracts yours in a way that seems suspiciously calculated. She’s relentless, kiss after kiss, touches that make your brain slow to molasses, her knee nudging between your thighs like she knows exactly how to short-circuit your entire central nervous system.

“I swear to god.” She mutters against your throat. “This is the only way to shut you up.”

You don’t hear her. Or maybe you do but you’re too busy sighing as her mouth finds a new spot that short-circuits the remaining neurons still operating.

You try to ask something. Maybe about the ring. Maybe about the handcuffs. But then her hand slides lower and suddenly you don’t care anymore.

Not tonight.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Clint is halfway through adjusting a lopsided dartboard target when the door to the weapons room slams open hard enough to rattle the screws. He flinches, glances over and immediately blinks.

Natasha Romanoff storms in, wild-eyed and deadpan, moving with the energy of someone trying to outrun both consequences and emotions. She’s already tearing open a drawer like it owes her money.

Clint watches her for exactly three seconds before saying. “Okay. Why do you look like you just walked in on your parents?”

“I need handcuffs.” She mutters.

Clint turns, slowly. He leans one arm on the dartboard like this is his show now.

“…Why?”

“I’m improvising.”

He squints. “Improvising what, exactly?”

“She thinks I was going to propose.”

Clint stares.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then he explodes with laughter. A full-bodied wheeze, the kind that sounds like it’s being ripped from his lungs one honk at a time. He has to grab the edge of a table to keep from collapsing.

“You were!” He wheezes. “Oh my god, you were going to propose, weren’t you? And she, the one who put herself in the med-bay picking up a weight, caught you?! She figured you out?!”

“Not yet!” Natasha snaps, yanking out a pair of regulation-grade cuffs. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast. She found the box because I left it in the dumb spy drawer!”

Clint’s choking now. “The drawer labeled DO NOT TOUCH in Russian? Oh yeah, great hiding place. No notes.”

“She thinks I’m going to dump her.”

“Oh my god. This gets better!” He wipes a tear. “She thinks she’s getting dumped so your solution is...”

“Sex.” Natasha says, deadly serious.

There’s a pause.

Clint blinks. “...Sorry?”

“Sex.” She repeats, like it’s a tactical strategy briefing. “I panicked. She got handsy and I figured the only way to shut her up before she started crying or planning a new identity was to literally wear her out.”

“Wear her out.”

Natasha slams the drawer shut with her elbow. “I gave her six orgasms in a row under 20 minutes. It’s worked in the past and it’s worked now.”

Clint goes silent, just stares at her like she’s a cryptid sighting. Then lets out the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard echo through reinforced concrete walls.

“You fucked her into unconsciousness?!”

“She’s currently passed out in my hoodie with drool on her cheek.” Natasha explains flatly, tossing the cuffs into a duffel. “I’ve got maybe a four hour window before she regains brain function and starts asking questions again.”

Clint is losing it. Bent over, hands on knees, gasping. “You sedated her with vagina witchraft! That’s not problem solving, that’s a war crime!”

Natasha points a finger. “You know what? Don’t judge me. You try being in love with a woman whose internal logic is ‘she didn’t say goodnight, guess I’ll go live in a monastery in the Alps.’”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.” Clint says, grinning. “I’m just impressed you’ve developed a seduction-based crisis containment plan.”

“Better than yours.” She mutters. “You once tried to throw a grenade at a robot that could literally absorb explosive energy.”

“I panicked!”

“Exactly.”

Clint is still wheezing. “God. You’re gonna have to keep sleeping with her until the proposal, huh?”

Natasha zips the bag shut. “That was already the plan.”

“Oh my god. You're like… the horniest Secret Santa.”

She’s already at the door. “Don’t wait up.”

Clint just watches her go, still grinning, still cackling.

“Tell her I said congrats when she wakes up from her sex coma, would ya?”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You wake up in the bedroom, alone and tangled in Natasha’s oversized hoodie, the faintest trace of her scent still clinging to the fabric. Your limbs feel like jelly, your brain somewhere between a fog and a grin that won’t quit. You glance at the empty space beside you, pout curling your lips, where the hell did she go?

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffle to the kitchen, hoping for coffee and maybe some clarity. Instead, you find Wanda, Yelena and Pepper clustered around the island, each looking far too amused.

Wanda’s eyes sparkle. “Well, well, look who’s finally awake. Perfect timing. Happy hour’s just getting started.”

“How did you know I was sleeping?”

“Friday.”

Yelena sniffs the air dramatically, then wrinkles her nose. “Whoa. You reek of sex. Like, ‘Black Widow went to town and left a trail’ kind of sex.”

Pepper leans in with a knowing smirk. “Do tell. What happened earlier?”

You flop down on a stool, arms stretched out like you own the place, voice lazy and smug. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’m pretty sure Natasha sedated me with her... whatever that voodoo is she does. I’m floating somewhere between ecstasy and existential crisis.”

Wanda cocks her head, grinning. “Do you think she’s going to leave you?”

You flutter your eyelashes, dragging the words out slow. “Hmm, I don’t know. Honestly? I’m less worried about her leaving and more worried she’s going to kill me. When she’s in that mood… it tends to be lethal. But hey, if she does dump me, at least I went out well.”

Yelena chuckles, shaking her head. “You humans are impossible. You let a literal assassin run you into the ground and then act like it’s a spa day.”

Pepper raises her glass, eyes twinkling. “Here’s to surviving Black Widow’s love life. And whatever that was.”

You raise your own glass with a grin, still a little floaty, still a little smug. “Cheers. And if I disappear, send snacks.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The Avengers common room is awash in the glow of string lights and the blue flicker of the big screen. Empty beer bottles and half-eaten takeout containers crowd the coffee table, remnants of a casual Friday night with the team.

You’re curled up next to Natasha on the couch, her arm draped possessively over your waist. The heat from her body seeps through her hoodie and warms your skin. Across the room, Wanda is giving you both the kind of side-eye reserved for people who have seen way too much, while Yelena is smirking as she flips through a comic book.

Natasha’s voice is quieter than usual, hesitant but sincere. “I’m sorry for… all the weirdness.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Weirdness? That’s finally your word for it?”

She chuckles softly, brushing a stray hair off your forehead. “Yeah, well. I’m admitting it now. It’s just-” She exhales deeply. “It’s not worth it. The lies. The chasing. The endless secret-keeping.”

You shift so you can look at her properly, eyes soft. “Are you sure? You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Nope.” She gives you a small, genuine smile that makes your heart thump. “I just want to be with you. No games, no mysteries. Just us.”

You grin, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

From the corner, Clint groans dramatically. “Great, now I have to listen to all this soppy PDA while trying to enjoy my nachos.”

Yelena rolls her eyes. “I swear, you people are gross sometimes.”

Wanda laughs, tossing a popcorn kernel at Clint. “I vote we leave them to it. We’ll survive one night of public displays of affection.”

Natasha smirks, tightening her arm around you. “You’re stuck with me now. Deal with it.”

You snuggle closer, the noise of the team fading into background white noise as your world shrinks to the warmth of the moment.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You’re mid-ramble, voice soft in the warm hush of golden hour, flicking a green bug off your leg as you curl your knees tighter to your chest. The sun sinks low on the horizon, painting the skyline in streaks of rose and fire. You’re perched on the rooftop of the Tower a couple weeks later, the wind tousling your hair but Natasha’s oversized hoodie keeps the chill at bay, sleeves swallowing your hands, the scent of her still clinging to the fabric.

Her hoodie, your short shorts and bare legs stretched out on the cool rooftop, it’s a mismatched kind of comfort that feels exactly right. Natasha’s next to you, her pinky brushing yours. She’s quiet, just watching the sky with that soft look she saves for moments like this. It’s peaceful, like the world forgot to keep spinning for a second.

“So apparently and I swear this is true because she just gives this vibe but this woman, Emily from accounting, had to climb out of a second story bathroom window because she slept with her ex’s roommate again and his new girlfriend, who works in admin at Stark Industries, showed up in the middle of round two. And I only know because Sophie, the one who’s doing an internship, was told by her cousin’s nail tech because she is dating the bartender who knows the boyfriend and he had to pick her up barefoot with one eyelash hanging off.”

She’s not listening, not even pretending to. You’ve known her long enough to know she when she completely tunes out and it’s nearly always when you come home after work with some boring gossip that you and Pepper had overheard in the day. “That’s so crazy, right?!”

“Right.” She drawls. “Oh here, I almost forgot.”

Turning her back to you for a second, she reaches over into the cooler that she brought, armed with a couple of beers and some brownies that Laura had made Clint bring back from the weekend he spent at home.

Her fingers fumble for a moment before she turns back, almost throwing it at you. Her whole demeanour suddenly changes, arms folded, expression unreadable.

The bag hits your chest with a soft thud.

“I swear, if this is another one of your underwear picks... I’m all for sexy lingerie but I still have bruises from the last one.”

“It’s not.”

“And I almost broke a hip trying to get those lace things off-“

“Will you shut up and look?”

You freeze. She never sounds like that unless there’s danger. You glance at her, she’s still stone-faced but there’s a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

So you reach in, pull out the box, feel the weight before you see it. Soft velvet. Small. Square.

And then you freeze.

“Wait- wait. Is this-“

“Yes.”

“It’s a ring.”

“No shit, it’s a ring!”

“Oh my god.”

“Well? Put it on.”

“Put it on? That’s it? That’s how you’re doing this? Aren’t you gonna ask?”

“Ask what?! You already said you loved me like, three times since we came up here and tried to dry hump me during your lunch break.”

You stare at her. She stares back, deadpan.

“Oh my God, can you be romantic for two seconds?”

Natasha groans like it physically pains her, with the exhaustion of a woman who has fought gods and would still rather be doing that than this.

Then takes the ring, rises to one knee in front of you and clears her throat with theatrical misery.

“Fine. Baby-“

“Yes, Agent Romanoff?”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under already. Actually, no, with Natasha, there’d be no body left to bury.

“Will you please accept this ring in exchange for a lifetime of jokes that are funnier than yours, orgasms that’ll ruin you for anyone else and cuddles that may or may not involve strategic grappling techniques?”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s your pitch?”

“And full dental. Emotional support during the workday. And one murder per year with no questions asked.”

“I work here, you don’t think we have the same perks?” You roll your eyes. “But fine, yes.”

She slides the ring onto your finger, muttering something smug under her breath in Russian. Then she leans up, grabs the back of your neck and kisses you like she’s claiming property. You barely have time to breathe before she pushes you back onto the concrete, one knee between your thighs, palms framing your face.

“Okay.” She mutters against your mouth. “Can I go have sex with my fiancée now? Maybe now you have forever, you’ll last longer than-“

You laugh. “Wow, your romance lasted four seconds.”

Natasha sits up slightly, eyes gleaming. Her hands are already pushing your hoodie up, exposing skin like she owns it which, to be fair, she kind of does. “Fine. Please, my love… join me in union, where you’ll wear nothing but that ring and know nothing but my name. All. Night.”

You grin. “Hmm. Yes. That’ll do.”

“Better than ‘that’ll do.’ You’re about to see god.”

You laugh and then you stop because her mouth is back on yours, hot and open and possessive. Her hands are everywhere. The ring is still on your finger. The bag is on the floor. And your heart is pounding like you’ve just been taken hostage by the woman you already said yes too.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The ring catches the light just as Natasha pushes your hoodie up again, exposing your stomach, slow, deliberate. Her palms skim your sides like she’s memorising you by pressure points.

“Off.” She mutters, tugging at the hem.

You lift your arms lazily. She pulls it off, drops it behind her and stares.

“What?”

“Would you be more comfortable in the bedroom?”

“I would be more comfortable but if you stop right now, I’m throwing that ring over the edge.”

“Noted.”

Her gaze travels from your bare chest to your thighs, where she’s still slotted neatly between them. She presses in just enough for you to feel it, not enough to satisfy.

“You gonna keep staring or do something about it?” You breathe.

She smirks. “Give me a second. I just proposed. Let me enjoy the view.”

You open your mouth for a comeback but she’s already kissing down your chest, slow, unhurried, making her way to your stomach with maddening precision. Her hands pin your hips, firm and possessive. Like now that you’ve said yes, she has every right to devour you.

Spoiler: She always did.

She bites the inside of your thigh and you jolt.

“Jesus, Nat-“

“Language.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You’re lying on your back on the rough concrete, eyes glassy, chest still rising and falling with the aftershocks.

Natasha’s next to you, propped on one elbow, flushed, way too composed for someone who just ruined your entire nervous system.

She leans over, glancing down at your face and freezes.

“Wait. Are you- Are you crying?”

“No.” You sniff. “Shut up.”

“Oh my god. You’re actually crying.”

You roll away from her. “Leave me alone.”

“Was I that good? ? I wasn’t even trying this time.”

“It was emotional, okay?”

She’s grinning now, delighted. “We’ve had sex like a hundred times.”

“Yes but this was our first engaged sex.”

“That is not a category.”

“It is now.”

She watches you for a beat, expression unreadable. “You’re really crying because I’m your fiancée now?”

“I’m not- Okay yes, maybe a little.” You wipe your eyes. “It was just really intense and you were looking at me all soft and serious and then I thought about us getting married and- ugh, I hate you.”

“Wow.” She says, grinning wide. “I called this the moment I met you. You had ‘cries after sex’ energy from day one.”

“You’re so rude.”

“I can’t believe I’m marrying someone this emotionally unstable.”

“I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who talks during orgasms.”

She gasps. “That’s slander and YOU like it.”

You shove her, half-laughing. “Why are you like this?”

She flops on top of you, completely unbothered. “Because you love it.”

“You’re evil.”

“You’re mine.”

You sigh, wipe your face again and kiss her cheek. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t tell the entire team about this already.”

You freeze. “You wouldn’t.”

She smirks. “Try me, cry baby.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Later that night, you’re sprawled across the bed, tangled in sheets and Natasha’s hoodie, cheeks flushed from more than just the heat. Your voice breaks the comfortable silence, shaky and half-panicked.

“So, I’ve been thinking… you know how all this time I was pretty sure you were gonna dump me? Like, quietly, slowly, maybe with a spreadsheet or a PowerPoint presentation?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth twitching. “A PowerPoint?”

“Yeah! Like a breakup proposal deck. You know, pros and cons, bullet points, pie charts labeled ‘Reasons to Dump’ and ‘Reasons to Keep.’”

Natasha snorts, shaking her head. “That sounds exhausting. I’m too lazy for that.”

You roll onto your side, still clutching her hoodie. “I mean, who wouldn’t be scared? I figured you’d leave and I’d be left here, a sad puppy with zero snacks and emotional baggage the size of the Tower.”

She laughs, then slides closer, poking your side. “Sad puppy? Please. You’re more like a very loud cat who steals my socks and demands cuddles.”

“Hey!” You wave a finger like a warning. “I have feelings, Natasha! Feelings that said you were gonna bail and I wasn’t gonna see it coming.”

Natasha’s grin turns mischievous. “Well, I’m here, so clearly the spreadsheet didn’t win.”

You groan dramatically. “Can you just shut me up with sex again before I spiral into planning my solo sad-sock-collecting life?”

Her eyes gleam with playful victory.

“You know sex isn’t exactly the right way to deal with our feelings, right? We should probably stop.”

“Probably...” You hum in agreement. “But…”

“Yeah, maybe we’ll work on that after I call you my wife.”

“My wife, huh?”

“Soon.” She promises. “But first let me enjoy my fiancé…”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The sun is offensive. You’re tangled in a blanket that’s somehow both too warm and nowhere near enough coverage, and Natasha is… not on her side of the bed.

Her side is now your side. You're not allowed to move. One of her legs is thrown over yours. Her hand is on your stomach, dangerously low. She’s asleep but with the awareness of someone who could snap your neck mid-dream if needed.

You sigh. “Babe.”

No response.

You poke her. “Tashaaaa.”

A very slow blink.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry, fiancée.”

She groans into your neck like she regrets everything. You know she doesn’t.

“Why are you awake? I broke your soul last night. You should be unconscious.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You just ate.”

“I need real food.”

“Give a minute.” Taking a little bit of mercy, you allow her to wake up slowly, watching her green eyes blink rapidly to clear the sleep from there.

“You're quiet.” She says. “You never let me sleep in.”

“I'm overwhelmed.”

“I literally gave orgasms and a rock. What more do you want?”

You laugh, soft and half-drunk on her. “Nothing. I’ve got everything.”

She kisses your shoulder then your hand.

“Good.” She says simply. “Because you’re not allowed to give it back.”

And then she pulls you in closer, face buried in your neck and you nearly fall asleep to the weight of her hand over your heart, heavy and warm. But you’re soon reminded why you woke up again as your stomach gurgles loudly in the silence of the room.

“Natasha?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m still hungry.”

A beat of silence. She doesn’t move.

“Fine.” She grumbles. “But you’re not putting on pants.”

“I never do. It’s a public health threat at this point.”

She arches a brow, clearly unimpressed and mutters under her breath. “God help whoever has to deal with this.”

You grain as she she finally opens one eye. “You're marrying it, sweetheart.”

You kiss her and steal the blanket in one motion. She swears in Russian as you sprint for the door in nothing but your ring and a shirt you definitely stole from her closet.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You practically skip into the kitchen, one hand casually swinging a coffee mug, the other flashing the ring on your finger like a trophy. Natasha trails behind, eyes half amused, half resigned.

“Look who’s officially off the market…” You announce, voice all bright and smug.

Pepper, wiping her hands on a dish towel, pauses mid-move. Wanda freezes with a spoon halfway to her mouth. Both of them lock eyes on your finger and then burst into delighted squeals.

“Oh my god, is that-“

“YES! I said yes!”

Pepper beams. Wanda’s practically vibrating with excitement, her cheeks flushed.

You plop down beside them, stretching out your legs, very much enjoying the attention. “It was super low-key, honestly. We were on the rooftop at sunset, you know, casual vibes, me wrapped in Natasha’s hoodie because I was freezing and she just… passed me the ring.”

You sigh dreamily, waving a hand. “No big speeches or dramatic down-on-one-knee stuff. Just her, the sunset, a ring box and me freaking out a little.”

Pepper giggles. “So romantic! SO Natasha!”

Wanda nods enthusiastically. “The perfect moment for the two of you!”

Meanwhile, at the breakfast bar, Clint, Tony, Steve, Bucky and Sam exchange knowing looks.

Clint smirks. “Well done, Nat.”

Natasha shrugs, looking way too chill for someone who just popped the question. “Thanks. Honestly, I don’t know why I was so wound up about it.”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “Wait, really? You weren’t nervous?”

“Nope.”

“What did you go with in the end?” Sam asks. “Roses on the bed? Picnic at sunset? Dramatic speech?”

Natasha folds her arms, deadpan. “Nope. Passed her the ring, told her to put it on, then fucked her on the rooftop. Simple.”

“Classy as always.” Tony snorts into his coffee. “If I find anything gross on that rooftop, I’m sending you the cleaning bill for the Hazmat team.”

Steve just shakes his head, smiling fondly. “Congratulations.”

Sam laughs. “I need to take notes.”

Bucky grins. “Hell yeah. That’s how you do it.”

Back at the table, you catch Natasha’s eye and grin. “See? Told you everything would be fine. She was just playing it cool.”

You pointedly ignore Yelena’s scoff at your blatant lie.

Natasha smirks. “Cool and efficient. You’re lucky.”

You lean over and kiss her cheek, still showing off the ring. “Lucky doesn’t even cover it.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You’re both getting ready for bed.

Bathroom light still on, both of you in sweatpants and stolen T-shirts, the room low-lit and warm. There’s a half-folded towel on the floor, toothpaste smeared on the mirror, and Natasha’s side of the sink is suspiciously organised.

She’s already in bed, leaned back with one leg hitched up, scrolling on her phone. Glasses on, hair messy, looking like a hot professor you’d ruin your life for. You climb in beside her, hoodie two sizes too big, clean and sleepy and feeling very in love. You tuck yourself under her arm without asking like second nature.

She shifts to make room, thumb still tapping.

“Pepper sent me a video of Clint absolutely decking it this morning.”

“You watched it five times already.”

“I need to study the footage.”

She kisses your head absently, still scrolling.

“His face when he falls, he kinda looks like you when I throw you onto the bed and do terrible things.”

You snort. “So romantic.”

“Please, I’m proposing a ritual of seduction and violence. That’s practically my love language. You’ve got this forever.”

“Yeah well-“

“What?”

“Nothing-“

You’re sniffling. You’re trying to hide it.

You fail.

She pauses, looks down, sees the shimmer in your eyes.

“...Are you crying?”

“No-“

“Jesus Christ, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“I know!”

She puts the phone down slowly, removes her glasses. Stares at you like she’s dealing with a bomb someone forgot to label.

“Okay. What now? What happened? Was the hoodie too soft? Did I breathe too lovingly?”

You laugh through it, wiping your face. “I’m just… I dunno. We’re engaged and you said forever. And I smell like your shampoo. And your mouthwash tastes like mine. And your toothbrush is touching mine in the cup.”

“That’s your fault. You keep putting them next to each other.”

“We’re gonna get married.”

Natasha’s quiet for a second.

“I’m ok, really!”

“Sure?”

“Yes!” You sigh. “It was just a moment of weakness. C’mere.

Your hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her lips to yours, her hand sliding beneath your shirt. Her mouth moves to your neck, warm and- sniffle.

“...Did you just sniffle?”

“No.”

“You’re still crying!”

“Barely! It’s fine, keep going.”

She props herself up on one elbow and stares at you through the dark like you just confessed to arson mid-handjob.

“I cannot go down on you while you’re crying. I have a reputation.”

“I’m not crying crying.”

“You’re tear-crying. That’s the worst kind.”

“It’s just- emotion! You’re my fiancée and you’re touching me and I got all overwhelmed and it’s been a big week-“

“Oh my god.”

“It’s okay! I’ll be fine once you’re, you know…” You gesture vaguely toward your thighs. “Down there. Just give me a second then do it.”

“You just said ‘do it’ like I’m about to assassinate a target.”

“Isn’t that basically what you do? Feels like it.”

“Jesus Christ.”

She flops back down on the bed beside you. “You’re the only person on earth who gets horny and weepy at the same time.”

“I’m complex.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m full of love and passion.”

“You’re a sex gremlin with abandonment issues.”

“Hot, though.”

She exhales dramatically then drapes an arm over her eyes.

“Just wait a minute. I’ll stop crying if you touch me right.”

“That is a terrifying sentence.”

You roll toward her, cheeks still damp, sniffling. “You love me.”

“I do. Against all logic.”

“You’re gonna marry me.”

“And somehow die first out of stress.”

“Can we still have sex?”

She peeks at you under her arm.

“You done leaking?”

You sniff, pause and give a little nod.

“...Maybe.”

She groans and rolls on top of you anyway. “God help me, if you sob on my face, I’m filing for divorce preemptively.”

“You’ll like it.”

“No I won’t.”

“You will.”

“If I make you come so hard you sob again, I’m taking a victory lap.”

“You always do.”

She kisses you, hard for at least five seconds before your tears interrupt, salty and she pulls away with a sigh.

“Oh my god. I’m marrying a soggy-“

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously-

“You’re not allowed to be this mean to me. I’m your fiancée.”

“Exactly. I’ve earned the right to publicly mock you until we die.”

You sniffle into her shirt. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“And you’re gonna say vows. I’m going to make you cry at the wedding.”

“You’d have to out-sex me for that and you never win that game.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m obsessed with you.”

You sigh, exasperated and fully in love. She kisses the top of your head and mutters.

“Go to sleep, we can try again tomorrow, you emotionally volatile disaster.”

#natasha romanoff #black widow #fan fiction #natasha romanov #marvel #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #light angst #fanfic

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poisonofthepaint · 1 month ago

Text

why are you up here?

a story told through cigarettes and suicidal tendencies. you and jack spend the time trying to talk each other down from the roof, until the fourth of july, when neither of you can get up there.

cw: widower!jack, reader has a dead best friend, jack calls reader kid, age gap, kissing, probably not accurate information on how the military works, that's really it but this is probably the most emotional thing i've written in a while lol so beware. uhhh also cigarette smoking, duh. Also. not really proofread so i'm sorry

wc: 4.6k

The first time you meet Abbot on the roof, it’s you who’s on the ledge. It’s the first chilly day of the year. Mid-September, the scorching summer finally seems to come to a halt. Your legs dangle off the building, your back is pressed against the concrete floor. Your stethoscope hangs above your head on the bar that’s supposed to prevent situations like this. The door opens and closes. You close your eyes and listen to his steady gait walk towards you. The sound echoes off the concrete.

“You’re gonna give me a fucking heart attack, kid.” You don’t answer him, or look at him. Your hand reaches up and lightly bats the medical instrument. You watch it swing back and forth. “Why are you up here?”

“I don’t know, my attending always comes up here, figured I’d see what all the rave is about.”

He scoffs at you, “Right, I usually do it at the end of my shift though. You’re on hour two. And I’ve never once laid down. I mean, really, this is strange.”

“I’m tired.” You state plainly, still not moving, except for the hand that’s batting at the rope.

“Okay, you’ve gotta stand up, it’s scaring me.”

“I don’t know if I care.”

You’ve never been this nonchalant; this detached. That’s how Abbot knows something is wrong. Yes, you lost a patient, but he’s never seen it hit you so hard that you had to come up to the roof about it. He doesn’t know what to make of it. He thinks back, and tries to figure out why it would affect you this badly, but then he realizes, he actually doesn’t know anything about you. Sure, he knows where you went to medical school, and he knows that you’re funny, and you dislike bedside manner. You love stabilizing gunshot victims, your favorite restaurant is a Mexican joint that will give you a free margarita after you’ve had your second. He knows you have a shitty ex that wrote a rap song about you. And he knows you can calm an irrational patient down in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t know anything about your past. Before medical school is a mystery to him.

He says your name in a gentle tone, you finally glance at him. “Listen, we can talk if you want. You know I’ll listen. Or, we can sit up here, in dead silence, but you have to come back from the ledge.”

You oblige, with a huge sigh, and scoot yourself back behind the bar. You still sit, but upright now. You feel like an animal locked in a cage.

“You know you did everything, right?”

“It was the same.” You say, “It was the same as Molly.”

Abbot nods, like he knows. He’s scared you’ll run if he asks for more information, but from your few words he can gather enough.

“I brought Molly to an ED just like this. They did everything they could too. But the wound was too severe. She was too out of it. She wasn’t a good student, hell, neither was I. But she had a fucking future, you know? Like, she deserved to at least try. But that fucking asshole ruined it all.”

He thinks back to that patient. Her dark hair, mangled. The deep cut on the side of her body, abdomen slashed. Abbot thinks about the girl’s blue eyes, how they went back and forth between the back of her head and staring directly at the light.

“Molly was in a car with some guy she was seeing. She liked him, he gave her all the shit for free, but one night, he got really high, and he and Molly were driving around for fun. But he went into a tree, and he died on impact. Molly had a stab wound from the windshield glass. She was scared of getting arrested, so she called me. I had to pull her out of the car, and by the time I got there, she was too out of it to fight about going to the hospital.”

Abbot soaks in your words, prepares himself for what you’re going to say next. He never stops staring at you. He still stands, hands in his pockets. He focuses on the top of your head. He notes how you shake it lightly every time you say Molly’s name. Like even the mere acknowledgment of it brings up images. He knows how it feels, he has a few names like that.

“I parked in the ambulance bay, and ran her inside. I held her hand while she bled out on the table.”

You take a deep breath and look back at him, wondering if you’re just talking to yourself. Abbot pulls something out of his pocket, a pack of Marlboro blacks. You scoff, and he smiles when he sees a smirk come to your face.

“You smoke old man cigarettes.”

“Sorry, I don’t have your princess ones.”

You take the cigarette and the lighter from him, flicking it a few times before it finally lights. You take a deep inhale, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“They had stabilized the wound, at least a little bit, but then they started their neuro tests. No eye reaction to cold water. Pupils blown. She was fucking braindead. They said she must’ve hit her head when the car crashed. She didn’t have any family. She was an aged out foster kid. I was her emergency contact. I had to choose. I had to tell them to pull the plug— to stop. I know no one could’ve saved her, or made her not get in that car. But I still hate it.” You take another deep pull of the stick, the wind blows, and the smoke burns your eyes.

You stand now, still smoking. You take another drag before offering it to Abbot. He takes it from your hand, taking his own pull. You note how he holds it, held between pointer and thumb, other fingers floating above it.

He nods his head, “I’ve got a few Molly’s. A few cases that hit too close. I wish I had something I could say.”

You know he’s right. There’s nothing to say.

“It just fucking sucks, man. Like, really bad.” you voice.

Abbot lets out a chuckle, “Yeah, it does.”

There’s no changing her death. There’s no changing that there will be more Molly’s. This you know.

“My first day back to work after my wife died, I got a patient that looked like her, or maybe I was projecting on the first woman with red hair I saw come in.” You glance at him, you didn’t even know he was a widower. You must have started after it happened.

“It took Robby and Dana to talk me down from here. Honestly, I was mostly scared shitless that Dana was gonna kill me for making her walk up twelve flights of stairs.” He shakes his head, and locks eyes with you, offering you the cigarette back. You take it gladly, quickly putting it back between your lips.

“It doesn’t get any easier, but you realize that they don’t want you to join them, wherever they are. Molly wants you here, and I’m sure she knows that you did all you could for her. And you did all you could for that girl in there.”

You nod along to what he’s saying, and stub the cigarette out on the bottom of your shoe.

“You ready to get back to it? I know it won’t go away, but I’ll deal with the girl’s family, okay? Sit this one out. You can take the foot fungus in central fifteen.”

You laugh, a loud one, and Abbot thinks to himself, finally, there’s that noise I’ve been waiting to hear.

“Fuck you, and your foot fungus.”

He ticks his head towards the door, and you head in behind him.

The next time you’re led to the roof, it’s snowing. A cold day in February, the month that drags forever. This time, Jack stands at the ledge, no coat, no gloves. Just standing. You’re thankful he at least wore a long sleeve under his scrub shirt today.

“You need your hands to work in the ED.” you say, plainly.

It was only a few months back that he was talking you down, and since then, you’ve grown closer together. Sure, you two were always friends. But after telling him about Molly, it was like something shifted. You loved to mess around with him when you could. And he seemed to really take a liking to you after your stint. He always dragged you onto cases with him, ignoring the efforts of Shen to be the one to teach you something. It was nice, it felt like having a friend, even if you only saw each other in the hospital.

“Why are you up here?” Jack asks, not turning around.

“I brought you a present. But, you can only have it if you put on these gloves.”

Jack turns half-heartedly, and you wave a pack of cigarettes in front of him, like it’s a toy.

“You call yellow American Spirits a present?”

You scoff, “Fine, I’ll smoke one. Asshole.”

And you do. You take one out of the pack, and light it, taking a deep drag. “I’m sorry that she had red hair.” you say softly.

It’s the only detail you knew about his wife. The only thing he dared to share with you about her.

The woman you spent the last hour coding had bright red hair that laid on the table like a cruel joke. It was all spread out, and it looked brushed, even though she had been in the ED, awaiting an ICU bed for three days. She had liver failure, and it had finally given out. Even when you were operating on her, everyone in the room knew that the only thing that would fix her would be a new liver, but you still tried; she didn’t have a DNR.

Jack reaches a hand back from the ledge, asking for the lit cigarette.

“Gloves,” you say.

“No,” he replies firmly.

“Well,” you sigh, “I tried.” you say, handing him the lit cigarette.

You walk closer to the ledge. Of course, he’s in front of the bar, looking around. You don’t pressure him to talk, just stand with him patiently, like he did for you.

“My wife, Camille, died at home, in bed with me. I woke up one day, and she was just gone. Couldn’t get her up. They said her heart just stopped beating. Sudden cardiac arrest. Her hair was laid out just like that patient’s. I did CPR for twenty minutes straight. They had to pull me off her.”

You swallow and it’s thick. The cold temperature makes your nose run. He offers you the cigarette back.

“No, keep it.” you reach back in your pocket, fetching your own.

“Camille was the best. I met her right before I enlisted. I had done two years of college, and it just wasn’t really for me. I was studying sports medicine, and I hated it. An enlister talked me into it, told me that I could do real medicine on the field, and I liked that idea. I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

You nod, the storyline connecting in your head.

“Camille wrote me letters every week, called me on the phone whenever I could talk. I loved her so much, I proposed in a letter, and we got married after I was done with basic.”

“Damn, surprised you didn’t scare her away.” Jack scoffs and shakes his head at you. It was normal for you two to make offhanded, dry jokes at each other. He knows you mean no harm.

“She stayed with me through it all. Through the war, and the trauma, and the fucking amputation. She took care of me when I didn’t want her to. When I begged her to leave me so she could have a normal life, and not be stuck with some guy who has to wear a prosthetic. But she loved me, and, man, I loved the shit out of her.”

He took a drag of the cigarette, and shook his head at the sirens coming down the street. He finally turns the way you’re standing. You have your one arm crossed, tucked into the warmth of your side. The other hand holds the cigarette steady by your mouth. You can feel the snow melting in your hair, and you know you’ll be a bit damp when you go back in.

He finally locks eyes with you, “And then, when everything seemed normal, I had gotten into a good place here, she worked from home, so I got to spend the days with her. She just died. Just like that. In bed, with her hair sprawled out on the pillow.”

You nod, like you understand the ache of losing a spouse, even though you don’t. Camille was probably like fifteen Molly’s for him, you realize.

“I would ask you to come back from the ledge, but after that, man, I don’t know.”

Jack laughs again, and you smile at him, brightly, thinking maybe your shining smile will convince him to come with you.

“I was told once, though, that they would want me here, doing what I do best.” Jack looks down, a rare break of eye contact from him. “Jack, Camille would want you here. She would want you to stay saving people. She doesn’t want you to meet her again, not yet.”

“Yeah, I know.” He says, still looking at the ground. “Someone told me though, that it still fucking sucks.”

You laugh, and he peers at you through his eyelashes. Finally, he swoops under the bars, coming to where you're standing. The cigarettes are long abandoned on the ground, snow covering them softly.

“Thank you,” Jack says, and you’re a bit taken aback.

Usually, he would end something like this with a joke, but he seems like he actually seems grateful, and that scares you even more. You wonder if today was the day he might’ve done it. And you thank God that you stood in the gas station line to buy a fresh pack yesterday.

“Sure, whenever.” You say, looking up at him, squinting a bit in the snow. “You know, I think Myrna was saying something about needing to use the bathroom, if you want something easy.”

He scoffs at you, and lets out a small chuckle, “There is nothing easy about that woman.”

You lead him back inside, and you have to admit, you’re proud that you can join the club of people who have successfully talked Abbot off the roof.

The next time you both ache to head to the roof, you’re unable to. A scorching hot Fourth of July. No wind, no clouds. The waiting room is filled with people who've been waiting since their 1:00PM barbecues, and the clock has just struck 10:00. Abbot has seen three patients with red hair code. You’ve had three car crashes caused by drugs, and two patients die that looked a little bit like Molly. To say the day was already going bad was an understatement.

You two kept sneaking looks at each other all night. Abbot’s eyes, usually hard and cold, would meet yours with a softness, like he knew what you needed, but also knew he couldn’t provide it. It was way too busy to let you sneak off for a break. This also meant he couldn’t, which led to him being a bit more snappy with the staff.

Jack wasn’t ever mean. Sure, he was firm, and he handed orders out like he was still running a combat zone, but you knew he meant no harm by it. Tonight, though, Jack was a little bit mean. He had snapped at Ellis after the first redhead coded, basically screaming, “Dammit, Ellis! How many times do I have to tell you that I need to assess every patient!”

He also yelled at Shen about his tendency for bathroom breaks, telling him that no grown man should have that small of a bladder, and that he should seriously get it checked out. Basically, Jack was about two hours away from being summoned to HR.

You had stopped caring after the first Molly-look alike died on your table. You had been silent, avoiding eye contact with all the staff, except Jack. you wanted to tell him to stop screaming, because it wasn’t helping anything, and you knew he’d regret it, but you also felt like it wasn’t your place. You wanted to scream too. If you had the seniority to do it, you probably would be snapping at everyone.

You knew that the Fourth was already a really bad day for Jack. he didn’t enjoy his service being paraded around by people who didn’t understand, he didn’t find the day as celebratory as everyone else seemed to. This was the first time he had worked it in a few years. And of course, he was rewarded by his dead wife haunting him all night long.

Finally, you find a moment to sneak away, having maxed out at five patients, all waiting for labs. You sneak into the break room, sitting in a flimsy plastic chair and throwing your hands on top of your head, suddenly aware of how hot it is in the ED. Since the department was kept so cold, it never really got hot, but it was way hotter than usual, maybe even at 70 degrees, you guessed.

You sit there like that, with your eyes closed, ignoring the chatter outside of the room, and it’s a nice feeling. The tears start to prick behind your eyelids, and you know if they start, you won’t stop, so you quickly think of something else, something happy. The first face to come to mind is Jack, which shocks you.

You think about the case he took with you about a week ago. A young boy, with a broken arm, who couldn’t seem to stop spilling sensitive information about his parents’ marriage to the both of you. He had been brought in by his kindergarten teacher, and she seemed equally humiliated.

While Jack set his broken bone, the kid babbled on. “Yeah, so, my mommy said that she doesn’t really like the man like that but my daddy seems to think she really likes him. My mommy and the man even have photos together on my mommy’s phone.” The kid says, all in one breath.

“Well, mommies can have friends.” Jack had said, trying not to get himself in trouble.

“Yeah, but, mommies and their friends don’t usually have S-E-X! At least, that’s what my daddy says. Wait, what is S-E-X?”

Jack jumped up from where he was sitting, “Dr., why don’t you get that propofol going?”

You gave him a quick salute and grabbed the medicine from the nurse, trying your hardest not to giggle at the awkwardness of the situation.

You feel a little bit better after recalling the memory, a small smile finds its way to your face.

The door creaks open and your eyes open at the noise, it’s Jack standing there, with a grim look on his face.

“Sorry, getting back out, I was waiting on labs.”

“S’fine,” He grumbles, coming to sit next to you.

“So, how are–”

“Don’t,”

You nod your head, and slowly get up from the chair you were sitting in. To your surprise, he puts a hand on your arm, and shoots you a look. You sit back down with him, but don’t dare to look over at his face again. You want to break the ice, but you’re not sure if it’s the right time. You want to just let him wallow, you want to wallow too. You want to smoke a million cigarettes on the roof with him, and not say a single word, because you both just know. That’s how you want to spend the rest of the night.

“You shouldn’t yell at people who don’t know why you’re upset.” you say.

“Maybe they shouldn’t do dumb shit then.” he huffs, a hand wiping over his face.

“They’re not being that dumb, they’re being the usual dumb.”

“So, what, I should only yell at you because you know why I’m upset?”

“You shouldn’t yell at anyone. But, sure, if you need to, yeah, I’ll take it.”

“Hell no. You just want to be punished because you’ve had Molly’s tonight.”

It was still terrifying how well he could read you. He knew that you wanted to be blamed; that you wanted to be told you could’ve done something different, even though you knew it wasn’t true.

“I’m not gonna yell at you, kid. I know you’re itching to get up there as much as me. I yell at those two buffoons because I know after today they won’t think anything of it. You’ll think about it if I yell at you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not just your boss, like I am to them.”

You swallow hard, because now Jack has said what has gone unsaid for almost a year. That you were more than coworkers. You had never let it run away from you. You never, ever, met outside work. But contained in the walls of PTMC was charged energy that wasn’t appropriate for a boss and his subordinate.

“Jack, I can’t even begin to think about that right now.”

He nods slowly, like he knows he just dropped a bomb when he shouldn’t have. You finally look over at him to meet his hazel eyes that have been boring into your head since the moment he sat down. You give him a small, shaky smile, and stand up.

“I have to go check on patients.”

He nods again; says nothing, lets you leave the room. You close the door behind you and shake your head, trying to get the situation to leave you alone.

After midnight, it finally starts to quiet a little bit. Way less traumas, a lot more normal stuff, meaning you were finally able to thin the herd of the waiting room a bit. King and Langdon weren’t on until 5:00 but they snuck in early, around 3:00, which gave you a bit of slack. You try your hardest not to notice that Mel is obviously wearing Langdon’s shirt, but it’s difficult not to. She shoots you a glance, like she knows you know, and you give her a shrug and then a thumbs up. Mel blushes and hurries away, like she doesn’t want to be seen.

Finally, at 3:30, you make your way up to the roof. All twelve flights, you try to save your tears for the heights, but can’t seem to. When you open the door, you know that your eyes are already red. It doesn’t shock you that Jack is already up there, standing over the bar.

He glances back when the door closes, “I would ask why you’re up here, but I guess I already know.”

You join him over the metal railing, standing right next to him. There’s still no breeze outside, and it’s achingly hot for 3AM. “Yeah, real fucked up night, huh?” you laugh— a lot. To the point that your stomach hurts. And so does he, he slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, for a quick hug.

You pull a pack out from your pocket, Marlboro reds this time.

“Trying something new?”

“I’m trying to compromise.”

He nods and takes one from you, pulling out his black lighter, that’s so dinged up it looks like he’s had it since the war, by the way. You honestly don’t know what he does to get it so dirty. He hands it over to you, and you light yours, deeply inhaling the first pull.

You two stand there like that for a while, smoking in silence. He doesn’t take his arm off of your shoulder. It’s a nice comfort; the physical affection after a shitty day.

“I can’t believe we still have three more hours.”

He hums, “Should be easier now that King and Frank are here.”

“You know they’re sleeping together, right?”

“Oh, yeah, big time. It’s way funnier to let them think they’re being subtle though.”

You laugh, and choke on the smoke that was halfway into your lungs.

“About what I said earlier, if you don’t feel the same, I get it. I know I’m pretty messed up, and a lot older. I understand.”

“No, I do feel the same. I do. And your age doesn’t deter me. I’m pretty messed up too, if you couldn’t tell. It won’t be easy, which is what I’m worried about. I feel like they always say love should be easy. That it just happens. Which I guess it did.”

“Yeah, it did.”

“I just feel like I’m always fighting. I’m always fighting to do the right thing for myself. It’s like survivor’s guilt, I guess. If everyone I couldn’t save doesn’t get to be happy, why should I? Why should I live a good life, and not suffer?”

“Don’t let yourself go there, don’t. Hey–” Jack grabs your face with his hands and turns you towards him. “What’d I tell you, huh? She’d want you to be happy.”

“Are you gonna let yourself be happy? Are you gonna make everyone else’s shifts bad because a woman comes in with red hair?”

“I’m going to let myself be happy for you. I’ve talked to my therapist about it, he thinks I’m ready, he thinks it’d be good. He thinks you’re good for me.”

He lets his hands relax to your shoulders, so he’s holding you gently. “It’s so scary,” you mumble, close to tears again, “It’s so scary to be happy.”

“We have to, though. We have to.” Jack nods his head at you until you start nodding too. Until he thinks you’ve understood him.

His eyes break away from yours to look down at your lips. He runs his thumb over them, and you let him. You feel like your heart has dropped to your stomach. You forget where you are until a firework goes off in the background, startling you both.

“Jesus, who is still doing fireworks?”

“Probably someone who’s gonna come in with an injury in fifteen minutes.”

He hums again, and ducks under the railing, pulling you with him.

“Before they do, I need to do this.”

As the second firework makes a loud pop in the sky, Jack leans in, his lips finally touching yours. The kiss is soft, like he’s still scared. His hand cradles your face, and his thumb brushes soft strokes on your cheekbone. The fireworks continue in the background, popping and sprinkling down. You feel like they’re going off in your chest. You push yourself impossibly closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He’s steady, rock solid, for the first time since Molly died, you feel like you have somewhere to toss the burden, at least for this minute. You throw the ache off the roof, and let yourself be close to someone again.

The all familiar sound of sirens pulls you two apart. You smile up at him, and he smiles back, no teeth, of course, but a small grin. You know he knows how you’re feeling. You know he feels the same. And, God, it feels good to know.

“Back to it?”

You sigh, “Three more hours.”

Jack’s hand is steady on your lower back the whole twelve flights down.

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot x you #jack abbot #the pitt fanfiction

460 notes · View notes

suosgirl · 1 year ago

Note

Helloooo! I was wondering if you are taking requests for Wind Breaker?

If yes, can I ask for a story or headcanons about Suo meeting and getting curious (and eventually falling for) a f.reader who is like a princess for Shishitoren?

In my head it would be funny to see Suo challenging and interacting with Choji and Togame (who are already threatening Suo to stay away from the reader). I mean, he can be kind of mean when he wants, and still wear a smile.😆

Thanks for hearing me out!

And let me say, I realllyyyy love the way you write!🩷

Shishitoren's Princess (& Her Guard Dog) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 7471

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Shishitoren (literally most of them), Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama, Mitsuki Kiryu, Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nire

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), angst, harassment, swearing, kissing, miscommunication – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: oh my goodness – I'm actually so sorry for how this took me (and how long this is ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა). I loved loved loved this idea so much, and thank you for the sweetest words! I really hope this is somewhere in the ballpark of what you were requesting! Thank you again for the amazing idea! I love you!

You hadn’t meant to cross over to their territory – truly. It’s just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasn’t available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.

Pretty, perfect, caring adorable you. With a smile that could heal any scratch and a heart that seemed to never run empty. You were the pride and joy of Shishitoren – their mascot in every sense.

You knew everyone by name. If someone asked, you could name at least 5 things about each person from the top of your head. You could name their allergies, their likes and dislikes, and even their interests – all because you listened to them.

You were attentive and warm – quick to lend an ear if someone was having a bad day or offer advice if they asked.

And it was scary how well you could tell if they were in the dumps – it becomes a running joke that you have some kind of emotional superpower when it comes to them. It takes just one look, one look before you’re bringing them to a secluded corner and asking them if they’ve got something weighing on their minds.

You knew their personalities, knew their stories, knew their hearts.

The only time anyone avoided you was when they knew they did something wrong – because they knew you’d be pulling them by the ear and scolding them. And, as much as some of them wanted to get mad, they just couldn’t bring themselves to – because having someone care for them so fiercely was a feeling that not many of them had ever experienced, and from the bottom of your heart you truly cared.

After every fight, they knew you’d be the one to patch them up. Bofurin had the townspeople, sure, but Shishitoren had you. You, who would set up tables in the Ori with every inch of space taken up by ointments, antiseptic spray, gauze – the works. Whatever injury they had, as long as not severe, was taken care of by you.

If it was serious and required hospital attention, you were the one bringing them there – eyes sharp and tongue at the ready to yell at anyone who dared to treat them differently or deny services.

And these boys … they had the utmost respect for you. You, who had nothing but love to give, never expected a single thing back. You cared for them, genuinely, and saw them as your own brothers to fuss over and worry about and love.

You were family – and honestly, Togame and Tomiyama were just glad to have met you after their fight with Bofurin.

You’d moved to this side of town just a little after the whole thing, and when you’d gotten lost in the dark alleys with your phone on 1% and tears in your eyes, it was Tomiyama who walked you home. He’d talked your ear off the whole way, of course, but he was surprised at how you were able to keep up with him. You were actively responding to him, asking questions, keeping the conversation going – and Tomiyama liked that.

And when you’re delivered safely to your front door, you ask if you can exchange contact info. His eyes light up, and he’s quickly saying yes and that he’d love to hang out with you again.

He doesn’t expect you to reach out to him the next day though, asking if you can give him a thank-you present for going out of his way the day before.

And when you show up to the Ori, with a bag of assorted goodies in your hands, you’re met with more men than you could count, all with eyes staring wide at you.

They expect you to run away, honestly, because they know what they look like. They know that you’re probably a sweet girl, sure, but they were a gang – plain and simple. A gang working on reform, sure, but a gang nonetheless. So, if you were to drop your little goodie bag in fear and run for your life, well, it would probably be the most appropriate response.

Instead, what you do is gasp, point an accusatory finger at Tomiyama, and exclaim, “WHY didn’t you tell me that there would be more people here?”

You quickly hand him the bag, muttering out an “I’ll be back”, and in less than 30 minutes you’ve got your hands full with 5 more bags, packed to the brim with even more snacks.

With Togame, it takes just a little bit longer for him to warm up to you. Not that he doesn’t already like you – it’s just that he’s, well, a bit more reserved and a bit more quiet and observing (a lot more quiet if we’re comparing him to Tomiyama).

It’s when, during a fleeting conversation, he mentions that he plays Go with the elderly men at the public bath – and he watches you perk up at his words. Immediately, you’re asking if it would be alright to play with him sometime, and while he’s hesitant, he ultimately says yes at the sight of your bright eyes and wide smile.

He admits that he thinks you’re just bluffing, until you actually plan a day to play, and now you’ve got him thinking that maybe you’re good? Maybe, you’re a secret Go prodigy or something? Maybe you’ve got a secret or two up your sleeve and –

He wipes the floor with you. Absolutely demolishes you. But you’re happy about it, laughing at the result, and he’s confused because you didn’t win? Did you … did you know how board games work?

You’re quick to tell him that you enjoyed it because you got to spend time with him, got to know who he is as a person because of how he played.

You leave him standing on the street, a bottle of Ramune long forgotten in his hand (his prize for winning) and his mouth open in surprise.

And when you notice he’s not next to you anymore, you turn around with a smile on your face as you ask, “Don’t you feel that you know me a little bit better too?”

Yeah, they were glad that you got to see them as they were now, with hopes and dreams and emotions. They don’t dwell on the idea of you meeting them before then – they don’t want to. Because if they thought about it too long, they’d have their answer.

You deserved to be happy and healthy and protected. You, who filled a hole in Shishitoren that they didn’t even know existed.

And now you were an irreplaceable part of their lives, so precious and so important that they began to understand Bofurin. They had you – someone that they would do anything in their power to protect – to keep safe from harm.

You were Shishitoren’s Princess.

After that, Tomiyama and Togame were stuck to you like glue. Always thinking about you, always concerned, always wondering where you were.

You’re running late and they haven’t got a text letting them know why? They’re out on the streets, danger flashing in their eyes and prepared for the worst. However, when they see that you’ve been distracted by a stray cat on the road, all they do is let out a laugh and join your side.

They hear you sniffling and see that your eyes are shining with tears? They’re immediately on you, asking who did this to you, with a promise to make them pay for it tenfold. “You can’t really beat up allergies,” you laugh, before sneezing into a tissue. Immediately, the Shishitoren boys are rounded up, their eyes focused and determined – to get you allergy medicine.

You were everything good in the world, bottled up into someone who could make even the rainiest days seem a bit more brighter and the hardest challenges a bit more bearable – and they didn’t want anyone infringing on their happiness.

So when Hayato Suo, from Bofurin, comes across you one fateful day – they’re absolutely livid.

And honestly, you loved them, you did, but the way that they treated you like a delicate little flower sometimes felt a bit too stuffy.

What? Did they think you just patched people up for fun? That you knew how to medically treat someone just short of a nurse because it was your hobby?

You’re too absorbed in your thoughts to realize where the directions on your phone are taking you until you’ve already passed the train crossing border that connects Bofurin’s and Shishitoren’s territory. You’re spit out onto a street that you’ve never seen before, but you shrug it off.

When you find the corner store, you make quick work of your shopping list, even grabbing some items for yourself, before you’re out the door.

It’s when you’ve barely taken a few steps down the street that you feel it – the staring on the back of your head.

While you were in the store, you’d felt their eyes on you, but you’d ignored it, hoping that it was just a fleeting moment of curiosity. Now, you see that it was the eyes of a predator stalking their prey.

You pause, before quickly taking out your phone and sending a quick text to Togame and Tomiyama – they just need one small clue and they can fill in the rest – so you send your location.

And when you finally turn to face your stalker, you snap a photo of their face. For insurance, you assure yourself. Just in case.

He’s taller than you, with a smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets. You feel uneasy at his presence, and you look up and down the street to see that no one’s around.

Damnit damnit damnit.

“You’re really pretty, totally my type. Could I get your contact information?” he’s asking, but the tone that he’s saying it in doesn’t leave any room for objection.

“No,” you reply, simple and straight to the point. Then, you stay standing there, and you wait.

“Never turn your back on an enemy.”

Togame had said this briefly, once, while the both of you were watching everyone spar.

When the man takes a step forward, you take one back, maintaining the distance between you and him.

“Oh come on – it’s just your number. Don’t make this such a big deal.”

He’s holding himself back and you can see it. You can see the way his hands are twitching by his sides now and the way his breathing is starting to speed up.

“Always keep an eye on your opponent~! You wouldn’t wanna miss anything!”

Tomiyama’s words run through your mind next, and you will yourself to maintain your facade.

You’re starting to get just the slightest bit worried now, though. It really shouldn’t be too much longer, you think. Any minute now.

But a minute passes by, Togame and Choji aren’t here, and the guy’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist so tightly that it’s starting to throb.

“Please – leave me alone!” you yell out, but it’s going through one ear and out the other. He’s smiling down, dark and sinister, and it’s then that you remember something so crucial that you can’t believe you forgot it.

“Kick them, um, down there. It’ll hurt, a lot. But that’s a last resort type of move, alright princess?”

Those self-defense lessons are paying off, Togame.

You make a mental note to thank him when he gets here.

You kick the man, hard, and when he releases your arm you step back as fast as you can, but –

The plastic bag you had once held in your hand, now filled with the sloshing liquid and the broken glass of Togame’s Ramune bottle, causes you to slip.

Your hands shoot out and you close your eyes in anticipation of the fall that never comes because strong, warm arms are holding you up.

You let out a sigh of relief – finally. You’re brought to stand, but before those hands can leave your body, you’re swiftly grabbing them to wrap around your waist and leaning your head on their chest.

“Geez, took you guys long enough –”

The sight of a black jacket cuts you off. Black, with green embroidery.

You quickly push yourself off, eyes wide and cheeks red because you had just initiated a very intimate hug with someone who was a complete stranger.

“I-I’m so sorry! Oh my gosh – I thought you were someone else!” you blurt out, hands covering your mouth – and he looks as caught off guard as you are.

His eye is wide, mouth open just the tiniest bit, and – he’s cute.

“Wow, I don’t get thanked like that too often,” he smiles, and you’re mortified at his playful reaction.

“I –,” You open your mouth to apologize again, but he’s got a hand on your shoulder, quickly cutting you off.

You look up at him, and the smile’s still there, but it’s different now – it’s frightening.

“Would you mind stepping to the side for me? It seems some people just don’t know when to quit.”

You hear shuffling behind you, and you’re quickly brought back to the situation at hand. Nodding, you get out of his way, and it’s as soon as you step past him that you hear a sickening thud and a groan of pain.

When you turn, you’re relieved to see that the man who’d been harassing you is on the ground, and if you were to guess, probably out cold.

“Wow… You made quick work of him,” you don’t try to hide the awe in your voice and Suo finds it both endearing and concerning that you’re praising him.

Concerning mainly because, well, you don’t seem to be the type to leisurely enjoy street fights.

And now you’re right in front of him, inspecting his face and body to make sure there aren’t any cuts that need to be treated or any injuries that need tending.

It’s second nature at this point — ingrained in your body and soul.

Cute, he thinks, very cute that she thinks he touched me.

“Do you see anything wrong, love?” he jests, enjoying the way you’re so diligently scanning him from head to toe.

“No, I don’t think—”

You are, once again, mortified by his teasing. No one at Shishitoren spoke to you like this, and sure they called you Princess, but to you, it held the same value as sister or friend.

“S-sorry, force of habit… ah, thank you for saving me! I sent my friends a message but —”

You’re cut off by the sounds of two distinct voices yelling "Princess", and Suo’s quick to prepare himself for another fight.

However, when he sees Togame and Tomiyama run around the corner with panic in their eyes and desperation in their voices, he’s just confused.

And when they spot the two of you, with an unconscious body on the ground, it gets even more confusing. Because why are they walking over here and why do they have scowls on their face and —

“Princess, what were you thinking?”

Tomiyama and Togame are all over you, Togame’s hand gently grasping your chin to move your face from side to side, and Tomiyama’s got his hand on your wrist, softly thumbing at the bruised skin.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Suo’s observing all of this, and he’s trying to rack his brain for any information about you. God, he really wished Nirei was here right now.

He’s never heard that name before or seen your face, so this must be a recent development. But with the way they’re fretting over you, you’d think that you’d all been childhood friends or something because the way that they’re worrying over you is definitely not normal.

You try to push their hands away from you, embarrassed that you have an audience, but they don’t let up so all you’re able to do is grumble and huff as they inspect you from head to toe.

“... He hurt you,” Tomiyama whispers, and you grab his wrist before he starts stalking toward the body on the floor.

“It’s okay um – oh, I don’t know your name, but he helped me out! Everything’s fine – really! Please, let’s calm down,” you plead, and all it takes is one look at your anxious face for the both of them to ease up.

Now, Suo really wants to understand.

“Suo … thanks for protecting her. This idiot didn’t tell us she was crossing over into your territory. It’s our fault, sorry,” Togame explains, one hand scratching the back of his neck and the other draped over your shoulders.

Suo takes a moment to respond. Who would he be, after all, if not an instigator?

Because — who were you? You – who could turn the Shishitoren leader and his second in command into mere puppies with your sweet voice. You — who had them running like their lives depended on it.

“Ah, I’d save a sweet girl like her any day,” Suo says, testing the waters, and he gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

Togame and Tomiyama stiffen up beside you, as you gasp in surprise at his words.

And suddenly, there’s a shift in the air – and it’s deadly.

You sense it, of course, because who wouldn’t be able to feel the heightened electricity and the low hum of buzzing coming from Togame’s and Tomiyama’s chests?

And you, ever the de-escalating expert, quickly blurt out, “Ah, wait! I need to go back to the store! Give me like 5 minutes!”

Before they can get a “no” out, you’re already out of their grasp and beelining it for the convenience store.

It’s silent for a moment, with just Suo, Tomiyama, and Togame looking at one another.

Finally, Togame breaks the silence.

“Look, Sakura’s a friend –”

“And Ume-chan too!” Tomiyama chimes in.

“ – and I hope we’re not stepping on your toes here but don’t get any ideas.”

Suo knows he should stop. He should probably apologize, and let them know it’s not what they think. That they’ve got it all wrong. But … he really can’t help it – not with the way that they’re hissing at him like cats. It’s adorable – and you’re adorable.

He was never really good with holding back his tongue, anyway.

“I think she can make her own decisions, don’t you?”

Togame and Tomiyama do not take kindly to his words, and so it begins – a passive-aggressive verbal war.

“Ha, right. It’s been fun, eye-patch-kun, but we really oughta take her back home. You know, so that we can patch her up,” Togame says, and though there's a smile on his face, Suo understands the underlying message behind his words.

She got hurt in your territory, under your patrol.

Suo smiles back at him.

“Ah, sorry! I wasn’t quick enough to save her, but I’m glad I was able to sort this out before things got out of hand,” Suo replies.

All you guys do is blow things up out of proportion – with violence.

“If we’d been here, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

“Hm. But you probably would’ve gone overboard.”

“Watch it –”

“Ah, sorry!”

It’s when Tomiyama finally opens his mouth that Suo realizes he’s been uncharacteristically quiet, and when they make eye contact, Suo’s smile deepens – because Tomiyama looked like he was ready to maul Suo into pieces, like a true Lion.

“Ume-chan and Furin are our friends,” he says, eyes darkening with every word, “but she’s our family – I think it’s best if you stand down.”

It’s at that moment that you come racing back towards them, your hands full of goodies and a grin on your face as you exclaim, “I got it! I got it!”

You hand Togame his Ramune, Tomiyama his snack, and … you hand Suo bottled tea.

“Sorry, um, I wasn’t too sure what you liked – but this is my favorite drink! Ah, um, if you don’t like it … Suo … I won’t be hurt. But you strike me as a tea lover so –”

You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands wringing behind your back as you ramble and Suo can’t help the sweet smile and the small laugh that escapes his lips before thanking you.

And as soon as he’s done, you’re being whisked away back to your territory – back to your home.

As you walk through the passing, with Tomiyama’s arm intertwined with yours and Togame’s arm draped over your shoulders, you briefly turn around, just to catch one more glance of Suo.

He’s standing there, smiling as he raises his hand to wave at you. You smile back at him with a glossy look in your eyes before Togame softly flicks your forehead.

Your attention is on Togame now, pouty and dejected, before turning your head indignantly as you begin to lecture him about how you’re supposed to thank someone when they help you, and that it’s the nice thing to do.

In the heat of your lecture, you miss the way that Tomiyama and Togame also turn back to look at Suo.

In the darkness of the tunnel, Suo swears he can see their eyes glinting, and his smile only deepens.

Their eyes, daring and territorial, only say one thing.

Ours. Ours. Ours.

He had to admit, he wasn’t expecting this turn of events but he was intrigued now.

And, it’s only after the three of you disappear that he realizes he never learned your name – your real name.

So, when he volunteers to take over the patrol where the Furin territory ends and the Shishitoren territory starts, who can blame him?

What Suo doesn’t know, though, is that after this little incident, you’re permanently banned from walking alone ever again.

(Of course, you’re not actually banned. But, you are given a scolding afterward – which, in your eyes, is rich coming from Togame and Tomiyama, but sure, whatever.)

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

The next time Suo sees you, it’s when he least expects it.

You’re in Bofurin territory, with a small first-aid kit on your lap as you tend to the child in front of you. You’re smiling at the sniffling little boy as you wrap some gauze around his ankle, your fingers adept and swift, as if you’d done this countless times before.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? You’re so strong!”

You ask him how it feels, and the little boy beams up at you, the tears in his eyes long gone and instead replaced with immense gratitude.

You smile down at him, playfully scolding him to be more careful as you pat his head softly.

And then Suo sees you hand him a lollipop — a lollipop — and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

So, really, can you blame him for sneaking up behind you and whispering into your ear?

“What brings you to Bofurin territory, princess?”

You yelp in surprise, before turning around so fast that Suo worries if you gave yourself whiplash.

Once your blush has gone down and the surprise of seeing him wears off, you explain that you’re here to get some bread for Tomiyama from the Cactus bakery.

He’d been saying that he wanted fresh bread, but there weren’t any in Shishitoren that you knew of. And as soon as he mentioned the Cactus’s Anpan over on Bofurin's side of the tunnel, well, who could blame you for taking that opportunity to not only do something for him but also for yourself?

Which, of course, was to hopefully run into Suo.

“He sent you all the way over here to pick up bread for him?”

“Hm? No, of course not. This is a surprise for him!”

“I see – I was wondering why you didn’t have your guard dogs around…”

“My guard dogs?”

“Oh!” you laugh and Suo thinks it’s the most pleasant sound he’s heard in his life.

“You mean Tomiyama and Togame? No, they don’t know I’m here. It wouldn’t really be a surprise if they knew, right?”

Suo’s starting to see it now – why they care for you so much. But he wants to know more, so he asks about the kid you were tending to.

“Ah — I saw him playing with some kids and he took a nasty fall. I didn’t think it was right to let him go home without care, so I patched him up. I hope that’s okay?”

Suo finds that he really likes talking to you. He likes how expressive you are, how kind you are, and how thoughtful you are. And he finally learns your name. He likes that about you too – it’s cute.

So, naturally, he offers to escort you to Cactus – purely just to keep an eye on you, he convinces himself.

And when he escorts you back to the border, all your goodies in one hand and his arm in the other, well –

He doesn’t care enough to find justification for his actions. He just really liked you – plain and simple.

When you let go of his arm, he’s already grieving the feeling of your body pressed to his side.

You were warm, soft, and he’s sure that if he ever got the chance to taste your lips, sweet.

“Let’s exchange contact information! That way, you can be my guard dog when I’m here,” you say as you pull out your phone, and Suo’s so so glad that he ran into you today.

When he adds your contact to his phone, he puts you down as Princess.

When you add his contact to yours, you put him down as Guard Dog.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

After that, you and Suo try to meet up. But… well…

You don’t see the point in trying to hide it. You were, after all, your own person. You could think for yourself, make decisions for yourself, and speak up for yourself. You were so open to loving and the Shishitoren boys knew this – so why should you hide it?

And when you had something on your mind, you were determined to make it happen. So, you don’t see why it would be any different with Suo. You had met him twice now, and you wanted to keep seeing him. To keep talking to him. To maybe even date him.

But to Shishitoren, this was equivalent to losing you – and they could never let that happen.

So Shishitoren never lets you see him – and it’s not like they’re barricading you inside the Ori or blocking the entrance to the border (though, they’ll admit that the thoughts crossed their mind in one way or the other).

No. They do it in a way that they know will make you stay with them – by acting like big babies.

The first to fall was Arima –

You’re about to leave to meet up with Suo when Arima runs into the Ori, cries of pain leaving his lips as he whines at how much it hurts. You drop your bag immediately, texting Suo a panicked text about how something came up and that you’re sorry but you’ve gotta cancel today.

You have Arima sit down, all your supplies laid out next to you as you ask him what happened and –

It’s a paper cut.

But he’s babbling about how deep it is and how much it stings and it takes forever to just disinfect it and wrap a bandage around it before you realize that half the day’s just flew by for a minor injury.

Second was Kanuma – when he got a bad haircut.

Third was Sako – when he suddenly, out of nowhere, began asking you for advice about how you would approach someone who you used to look up to but lost respect for, who you vowed to fight and win against, only to lose against them and have them apologize to you (you, obviously, struggled with what advice you could even give him).

Fourth was Tomiyama – when he lost his favorite pair of sneakers.

Fifth was Togame – when he lost an eating challenge for the first time.

“It’s for the good of Shishitoren,” they say as they prepare the next victim.

Eventually, you find yourself tending to almost all of Shishitoren’s wounds, whether physical or emotional, and you just can’t believe that they’re fighting against you and Suo so hard.

But, in between all of that, you and Suo still manage to sneak in hushed phone calls and sweet texts.

Always asking about how the other’s doing, always talking about how your day went. He looks forward to it, he realizes, laying in bed as he hears you start to slur the ends of your words, drifting off into sleep.

And you send him photos all the time – it could be of a cat you came across while on the way to the Ori, or a drink that you tried that you liked – and with each text, with each phone call, Suo finds himself becoming smitten with you.

You, who would remind him to drink water and to at least eat something small to get through the day. You, who had perfect memory and would follow up with the things that he’d talked about days ago, just because you were interested and curious (he’d mentioned that there was a tea spot that he frequented in Makochi, and it only took a day or two later for you to bring it up again, this time with all sorts of questions and comments like “I looked at what they serve! Which one’s your favorite?” and “I’d love to go there with you sometime, Suo – if I ever get the chance”. He’d only said the name of this tea shop once, but you remembered).

And sweet, kind, loving you – who seemed to know whenever he had a particularly tough day. You were so attentive to him, which was surprising because all your interactions were never in person, but it seemed that you could understand his mood just based on the extra second it took for him to answer the phone or the way he responded to your text. And the thing was that Suo was great at masking his emotions – an expert, even. But you, who could just sense these things about other people, were giving him the chance to open up if he so chose to. You never pressed, never battered him for an answer. Just a simple – “I feel like there’s something on your mind, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay! Just know that if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I’ll be there for you Suo.”

And, above all, you never stop trying. You never stop trying to escape the clutches of Shishitoren to see him – though you apologize every time your plans get thwarted as if you both weren’t expecting the same outcome.

But Suo doesn’t see you again, for months – not until a huge fight breaks out, and you’re honestly the last one he expects to see rushing onto the aftermath of the battlefield with a backpack filled to the brim with medical supplies and a determined look on your face.

They didn’t know Shishitoren was going to get involved and fight alongside them, didn’t know that the aftermath was going to be this bad. But if Suo had known that you’d be running to meet everyone afterwards, well –

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

He sees you a mile away, and he’s so relieved that you’re not hurt. That you’re up and moving. That you’re here. But he’s also surprised and caught off guard because – why were you here?

It’s then that he sees your bag, sees the way that you’ve got your hair up and out of your face, and the way that you’re scanning everyone up and down so fast that your eyes never stop moving.

My little nurse, Suo thinks, rushing to the injured like the sweet princess she is.

Little did you know that as he was fighting, there were only 3 things revolving through his mind – Bofurin, Makochi, and you. He fought to protect those 3 things that were so very dear to his heart, and to be greeted with the sight of you after winning? Well, it couldn’t be anything less but a sign of his hard work. A reward, if you will.

He sees you run up to Umemiya, serious and purposeful, as you open your mouth and wait for a response. Umemiya, though very confused, gives you an answer that you seem satisfied with because you nod, then thank him, and now you’re running towards Suo, and you make eye contact, and he can’t wait for you to dote after him and take care of him and –

You smile at him, scan his body, nod – and walk right past him. You never stopped for him, actually. You just kept moving. Just kept walking.

And Suo just watches – he watches as you make your way over to where Shishitoren is laid out, watches as they all let out a sigh of relief when they see you safe and unharmed, watches as they start talking animatedly to you as you start setting up for aid.

And you’re standing there with a pained look in your eyes as you nod at their words halfheartedly, more focused on the injuries that they’re sporting on their bodies than the words coming out of their mouths. You’re going from person to person as fast as you can, and although Suo can’t hear you, he can read your lips as you tell every single person – “I’m here now. It’s okay. Thank you for fighting. I’ll take care of you.”

He watches as you get to Tomiyama and Togame, and sees the way your eyes start to water as they pat your head and tell you that they’re fine – even though you have eyes, you can see how hard they’ve fought. Instead, they’re fondly thanking you for coming all this way just to take care of them.

And suddenly, everything got a bit too real for Suo. A bit too scary.

Because he didn’t realize how hard he’d fallen for you, in between those two fateful meetings, the constant late-night phone calls, and the never-ending texts.

It hits Suo like a train. He wanted to be the one that you search for in the crowd. He wanted to be the one that you’re fussing over. He wanted you to patch him up. He wanted you.

He was in love with you.

And he shuts down – completely.

He goes silent, uncharacteristically so, to the point that Sakura and Nirei are starting to get worried.

“What’s wrong, Suo-san?”

“Suo, what’s the matter with you?”

It goes through one ear and out the other – no response, no indication that he’s even present at the moment.

It’s when you’re patching up the last member of Shishitoren that you feel the heat of an eye on you – and your body reacts before your mind can.

Suo’s name is the only thing running through your mind as you finish up as fast as you can – and you’re off.

You’re making your way to where all of Bofurin is sitting, just barely slipping out of the grasps of the Shishitoren boys.

It’s Togame, with his long limbs, who reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder and it’s Tomiyama, with his fast reflexes, who has your hand in his.

“Princess, no–”

“Let me find Suo.”

“But you don’t even –”

“Choji, Jo – let me go.”

They hesitate. You’d never spoken to them like this before. Never used their first names before. Never been so cold before.

But they weren’t fools. Even if you tried to hide it, they’d seen the way you sneaked off to talk to him or the way you thought you were hiding your phone when you were responding to him. Anytime they’d bring something up that had even an inkling to do with Suo, you were excitedly adding in your input – all while stumbling over your words as you tried to be mysterious.

(They’d done a test, actually. All they did was bring up the word tea and you were fighting for your life as you kept accidentally saying Suo’s name when talking about your friend.

“Ah, Su– AH, I mean, my friend really likes this type of tea.”

“Oh! That’s S– my friend's favorite place in Makochi!”

They didn’t have the heart to tell you because, well – you really sucked at lying.)

And they realize, with heavy hearts, that you were never theirs to lock up in the Ori. You were so kind, so lovable, so sweet, because that’s just who you are as a person.

You were protected, sure, and healthy, sure, but you weren’t happy.

You, who were the embodiment of everything that Shishitoren was working to protect, had made a choice and they weren’t respecting it the way that you respected them – and they were being, well, selfish.

And when they finally let you go, you sigh in relief. Making your way over to where Suo’s sitting, you yell out over your shoulder, with so much spite, so much anger, and so much love –

“You act like I’m never coming back – stop whining like puppies!”

Togame’s and Tomiyama’s eyes widen in shock before they both laugh lightly at your words in disbelief.

You really knew how to scold them.

“... she’s talking about you.”

“... nah, she’s definitely talking about you.”

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

When you made your way over to Suo, you were met with guarded and curious stares from all of Bofurin. Too focused and too determined, you brush it off. You knew about the fight that they had with Shishitoren, sure, but you thought that they had patched everything up? And Shishitoren had fought with them for this big battle, so why the curiosity?

If only you knew the real reason everyone was staring at you.

Instead, you find yourself running past all of them with Suo’s name falling from your lips, and when you see him, he doesn’t respond.

You pause, dejected, before repeating his name.

No response.

Now you’re worried – and scared.

You recognize Sakura and Nirei, based on how Suo had described them briefly, and you immediately begin asking them what happened.

“Sakura, Nirei – is Suo okay? Did he get hurt? Does he need first aid?”

You’re met with silence – and shock.

“H-huh? Do we know you?”

“U-umm – sorry, have we met before?”

You pause at their response, looking at them confused.

You blink once, then twice, then three times – before glancing at Suo.

Unresponsive and unperturbed.

You introduce yourself slowly, giving Sakura and Nirei the chance to remember you – because they must’ve heard your name at least once, right?

They hadn’t.

And now you’re standing there with hundreds of eyes on you, as you come to terms with the fact that maybe … maybe you’d been wrong this whole time.

You clear your throat before timidly asking a question that you fear you already know the answer to.

“Did he um… did he not tell you about me? Uh… about us?”

And suddenly – everything goes to shit.

Shishitoren rises up in arms, walking over to where you are because why did you look so confused and why was Suo ignoring their beloved princess –

All of Bofurin is staring at you with their mouths wide open, processing the words you’ve just said –

Sakura’s spluttering, desperately trying to form words as he continues to just point back and forth from you to Suo with shaky hands –

Nirei’s got his notebook in his hand, flipping through it like a madman because how could he miss something like this, and had Suo ever talked about you? –

Suo’s unresponsive, still –

And then, to top it all off, Kiryu gasps because he’s finally solved it. He’d seen a text on Suo’s phone, so brief and so quick, but he was sure that the person Suo was texting was –

“Oh! You’re the one he’s been texting! You’re Princess!”

At Kiryu’s words, you snap.

And no one, not even Togame and Tomiyama, had ever seen you this angry, this upset, this livid.

You weren’t expecting him to go around screaming your name all over Makochi, but what you did expect was at the very least maybe his friends to know. Was that so absurd? You never tried to hide your feelings for Suo from Shishitoren (They tried so hard to stop it) so why wasn’t it reciprocated? Did he not feel the same way? Had you looked too deep into his actions and created a fantasy in your mind? Did you not really know him as well as you thought?

Or worse – had he been toying with you?

Oh, you were pissed – and poor Suo didn’t have a clue.

You go to stand in front of him, eerily calm and sickeningly sweet as you call his name one more time.

“Hayato Suo.”

Now that – that brings him back to his senses. You watch him blink in succession as he grounds himself, before his eye darts to you, to Furin, to Shishitoren – and he quickly puts the pieces together before letting out a stiff laugh.

“Ah – I was hoping to introduce you properly to everyon–”

“Am I a joke to you, Hayato?”

Suo freezes at your words.

How could you, who had unknowingly wormed your way into his heavily guarded heart, be a joke?

But he realizes now – and he feels, for one of the few times in his life, stupid.

Because you love with your heart on your sleeve, and Suo loves with his heart tucked away.

And really, Suo should’ve known, because you’re you — you who gave Shishitoren something to protect and to hold close to their hearts, safe from danger and harm’s way.

You press on, fighting through the anger and the embarrassment and the fear you feel rising inside of you.

“Tell me Hayato, answer me. Was I? Hm? Did you have fun?”

“No, I –”

“Every call, every text – did that mean nothing to you? Was I just being delusional?”

“Wait I –”

You’re so close to him now, softly jabbing your finger into his chest as your words begin to get more and more shaky.

“Do you feel powerful, Hayato? Making a Shishitoren girl fall in love with you–”

You stop yourself, teary-eyed and vulnerable, and you feel so stupid. Because what hurts more than anything is giving someone all your love, all your time, all your energy – all for it to have been for nothing. You thought he felt the same, truly. But now? All you wanted was to walk away from all of this, walk away from Bofurin, and never ever look back.

He grabs your hand, desperately, as your words sink in. He wants to – no, needs to make sure that he’s not just hearing things. That he’s not just imagining it.

“You … love me?”

You pause, taking the chance to actually look at him. You see hope on his face, and you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“... is this another joke? Of course, I love you, you idiot. You would’ve been the first one I ran to but your leader said you guys were all patched up already so I –”

Everyone’s eyes turn to Umemiya, who shrivels under the attention and wordlessly mouths an “I didn’t know!”

But your eyes are only on Suo’s, and Suo’s is only on yours.

And Suo lets you see him, truly see him, for who he is. He doesn’t shy away from your stare, doesn't put on a mask, doesn’t push his feelings into the box that’s been his safe haven for so many years.

Your eyes flicker with uncertainty and fear, but you convince yourself to try one more time. Just one last time.

“Hayato Suo, I really do love you,” you whisper, so slowly, so hesitantly, so scared.

Then, with everyone’s eyes on the both of you, Suo slides one hand to the small of your back, and the other to cradle your face.

He wanted to learn how to love with his heart on his sleeve – just like you.

“… again.”

“… I lov—”

His lips cut you off, and honestly, you’re not even mad. Not when he’s pulling you flush to his body, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, and your fingers grasping at the collar of his jacket.

Black, with green embroidery.

“I love you, too – but I’m afraid there’s too many eyes here for me to show you how deeply I feel for you, Princess – I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Dazed, all you can manage is a soft nod and a flutter of your eyelashes before pulling his lips back to yours.

Suo smiles into the kiss. He was right, you were as sweet as he thought you’d be.

#melody answers (& loves it)#melody writes (& never stops)#hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#hayato suo #suo hayato #wind breaker

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zephyrchama · 6 months ago

Text

(Based on that one scene from B99)

“Lucifer, your wrist looks kind of funny.”

All eyes turned to the Avatar of Pride when Leviathan pointed this out. They were supposed to be organizing the house library, but it was a long and boring task. One that everyone wanted to finish quickly, yet nobody could find the motivation to make any real progress.

“Oh no! What happened?” Asmodeus leaned over a table to try and steal a peek. Lucifer’s wrist was, indeed, bent in an odd manner. He used his non-dominant hand to shuffle some papers in order.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, Asmo!” Mammon jeered. “Back off, leave the guy alone.”

Lucifer ignored his brothers, icy gaze focused on the documents in hand. They were papers that had been misfiled and did not belong in the library. He reminded everyone in the room to “behave yourselves” before disappearing into his office.

Curious eyes followed him until he was truly out of sight. Then, the brothers exchanged fascinated looks. It’s not every day that Lucifer get injured.

“Alright, everybody bring it in. Huddle up.” Mammon ushered everyone to come close with a sweep of his hand. The boys reluctantly formed a loose circle.

“What are you up to now?” Belphegor asked with a sigh. “I want to finish this already.”

Mammon pretended not to hear as he whisper-shouted, “so, he wouldn’t say what happened, which can only mean one thing.”

”He’s in a fight club,” Beelzebub suggested.

“No. He did it doing something he’s embarrassed by.” Satan was quick to catch on to the truth.

Beelzebub followed up with, “oh. Could be a sports injury. I sprained my wrist playing fangol last year.”

“Really? I don’t remember that,” Belphegor said.

Leviathan asked, “you think Lucifer was playing fangol?”

A deep growl suddenly came from the doorway. There was no warning or indication that Lucifer would be back so quickly. Yet, the man in question had returned. His menacing quickly caused the group to shut up.

“I can hear you speculating about the nature and origin of my injury from my office, but I don’t think it’s relevant to your jobs. The jobs you should all be doing right now. Get to work.”

The brothers scattered like roaches back to their respective corners of the library. All except for Satan, who Lucifer beckoned over with his finger. Satan hesitated at first, but it was better to go along with Lucifer when his mood was sour. The two stepped out for a minute, far enough away that no one else would overhear.

“What?” Satan was fed up with this conversation and it hadn’t even started.

“Do you want to know how I actually hurt my wrist?

Satan’s eyebrows flew up and he took several seconds to think about the question. What an odd offer. There was nothing for Lucifer to gain by telling him this, was there? Though, if he spent too long thinking Lucifer might change his mind and leave his little brother wondering what happened forever. With an oddly docile tone of voice, Satan responded, “...Yes.”

While Satan was busy wondering how to respond, Lucifer had taken out his DDD. He was scrolling through a menu in search of something. “I was hula hooping. Diavolo and I attend a class for fitness and for fun.”

“No way.” Satan's true thoughts leaked out. It was so dumb, it couldn’t be true.

Lucifer raised his phone to Satan’s eye level. The proof was there. ”I’ve mastered all the moves. The pizza toss. The tornado. The scorpion, the oopsie doodle.”

With each and every silly name, Lucifer swiped to a new photo on his phone. There he was, doing the pizza toss. Showing Diavolo how to do the scorpion. Performing a flawless oopsie doodle. Satan was stupefied, his mouth ajar.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because no one…” Lucifer selected all of the images. He tapped on a trash can in the corner of the screen. The images, every last one, disappeared. “…will ever believe you.”

“No!” Satan lunged for the phone in vain. “You sick, twisted, son of a-”

“You got your answer," Lucifer told him. "Get back to work."

#this scenario has been in my head for months and once i told people about it I had to write it next #I was going to add the breast protection line but couldn't figure out a way for beel to say that naturally ghh #obey me #obey me!#omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me swd #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble #obey me brothers #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me fandom #obey me imagines #obey me fic #obey me writing #om lucifer #om satan

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verstappensrealwife · 5 months ago

Text

… Girlfriend? - Carlos Sainz jr x bimbo!reader

[carlos sainz masterlist / f1 masterlist] ʚɞ in which... carlos just assumes they're dating ʚɞ fluff ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 700 words ʚɞ warnings: short because I have severe writers block

-୨♡୧-

You were always a little different, and that difference was reflected in your style. It wasn’t just fashion—it was an expression of your personality, a riot of color. Neon pink, light pink, rose, magenta—if it was even a shade of pink, you made it yours. It wasn’t something you’d planned. It just happened, and when your friend-with-benefits, Carlos Sainz, saw you, he couldn’t help but shower you in the same colors. Not because you asked for them—he just did. In exchange, you’d be his constant companion at races, perched on his arm like a trophy wife, in a way.

The two of you had been playing this game for a while. Both of you harbored feelings, but neither one of you wanted to admit it. Carlos had assumed, from the very beginning, that this was more than just a friends-with-benefits thing, that you were already his girlfriend. That was how he’d approached it.

“Well, since you’re my girlfriend, I thought you’d come to a race in March…” he said one day, his eyes searching yours.

“Girlfriend?” You blinked, a bit taken aback.

“Yes?” He stammered, suddenly unsure of everything. “Aren’t you… my girlfriend?”

You laughed lightly, casual, but there was an underlying confusion. “Well, you never actually asked, so… no.”

He froze for a moment, caught in the awkwardness of the situation. Was he supposed to formally ask you out? That felt so old-fashioned. He didn’t know how to handle it, and it showed—he just stared at you blankly, uncertain. Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware of the discomfort you’d caused, and your mind quickly shifted focus.

“Anyways, I can’t come to your race,” you continued, waving a dismissive hand, “I’ve got coursework to do.”

•

But Carlos wasn’t deterred. No, he had a plan, a big one. February 14th—Valentine’s Day—was the day he had chosen. He had spent hours perfecting every detail: candles, rose petals, the works. It was supposed to be perfect, his moment to make everything official. He invited you over at 6 PM, but of course, you arrived fashionably early, at 5:56.

You knocked on the door, a soft sound that echoed in the stillness. Carlos opened it, and for a moment, he couldn’t even breathe. There you were—dazzling in a tiny slip dress that clung to your figure in all the right ways, red-bottom heels that made your legs look endless, and nails perfectly manicured with a Valentine’s theme. He wasn’t sure if his heart stopped or sped up, but either way, he was stunned.

He ushered you inside, his hands a little unsteady as he pulled you into his arms, expecting the usual kiss. But instead, he gently led you to his bedroom, where the real surprise waited. As you stepped inside, your eyes widened. The room was lit by the soft glow of candles flickering on the windowsill and bedside tables, casting shadows that danced on the walls. Rose petals were scattered across the floor, leading up to the bed, where they rested in a delicate arrangement.

You turned to him, already beginning to speak. “This is really pretty—” But before you could finish, his voice cut in, softer and more vulnerable than you had ever heard it.

“Please… be my girlfriend,” he asked, his voice almost a whisper, like he was afraid of your answer.

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned. Then, a smirk played at the corner of your lips. “Well, duh,” you said, the words slipping out easily. “I thought we already established that when you called me your girlfriend the last time. I just assumed that was your way of asking.” You stepped forward and kissed him, the tension breaking. “Y’know, you’re kinda stupid sometimes,” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

Carlos was completely dumbfounded, standing there in silence, still trying to process everything. For a brief moment, he couldn’t quite figure out how to respond, but in that silence, you both knew—this moment, this silly, awkward moment, had made everything official. -_-

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

Text

Double the Fun

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader x Reiner Braun

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbors Eren and Reiner, modern day au, all characters are mid-twenties, explicit language, p*rn no plot, smut – threesome, vaginal sex, anal sex, anal play, spit play, nipple play, cunnilingus, face-riding, blowjob, hand job (M/M), double-penetration, multiple orgasms from the reader, sex toy use (anal plug), cream pies (in both holes), Reiner is a bit of a perv and sniffs panties (just like how he sniffed Historia’s letter in the finale LOL), pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweetie), slight degradation (use of slut, cock slut, whore, and cock sleeve to address the reader), slight breeding kink, sex without a condom (assuming reader is on some form of birth control)

Summary: You’ve been having a bit of a dry spell recently with how busy you’ve been at work. When you finally manage to snag a date with one of your online dating matches, you’re unfortunately stood up, leaving you in a worse mood than before. Lucky for you, your two hot neighbors are more than willing to cheer you up.

Author’s Notes: Phew! This one is a doozy! Please make sure you read the content warnings before reading. This is filthy and shameless; I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I LOVE Eren and Reiner together, idk, they just always scratch this everlasting itch I have. I’m still getting used to writing threesomes, so I hope this is okay! Also, this is my first foray into butt stuff and I may have awoken something inside me, LOL. MDNI divider by the loveliest @/cafekitsune. Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @slvt-for-smut @antique-remains @aiyaaayei

part 4 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

“Are you sure you don’t want me to sit, like, two tables away? What if this guy is sketch?”

You can spot the obvious concern in Pieck’s voice through the speaker of your phone, which is currently face-up on top of your vanity as you get ready. You finish the last steps of your makeup, inspecting yourself in the mirror, satisfied. “Don’t worry, I’ve got pepper spray in my purse in case he tries anything funny,” you assure your best friend. It’s been a while since you last went on a proper date. Pieck’s always been a worry-wart about you meeting strangers from your online dating apps, constantly reminding you to stay vigilant. Tonight is no different.

“You should at least let your hot neighbors know that you’re going out, so they can keep an eye out for you,” she suggests, throwing that in casually. Ever since you moved in a few months ago, she’s been rooting for you to hook up with either of the two men next door, Eren Jaeger and Reiner Braun. She’s met them plenty of times in passing and would much rather you date one of them instead of the countless of mysterious men on your current roster.

There’s no denying that they’re attractive. Eren with his long, dark hair, striking eyes, and toned physique. Reiner with his sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and well-groomed goatee. They also happen to be incredibly friendly towards you, always greeting you in the hallway with a genuine smile, asking how your day went or what you’ll be up to. They’ve invited you for dinner on several occasions, which has always been pleasant, sometimes leaning towards the flirtatious side. You’re sure they’re just nice guys, cordial neighbors looking out for one another. There’s nothing more to it than that, even if a small part of you wants there to be.

You step back from your reflection, checking yourself out once one more. “I’ll be fine, Pieck.”

“What if I can’t reach you? There should be at least one other person who’s aware of your whereabouts, right?” This is what binging too many true crime documentaries does. Still, you’re grateful for your friend’s concern, knowing it’s all out of love. You can tell she’s actually distressed about this, so you end up agreeing, mostly to appease her. She wishes you well before hanging up as you slip into heels by the door.

You tug at the hem of your skimpy black dress, hand motionless on the doorknob. It’s your first date in over a month. Work has been so busy that you haven’t had time for romance or sex. The variety of sex toys tucked away in your drawer has been your only solace these past few weeks. To say you’re ready for some real action is an understatement. You’re also incredibly nervous, afraid you’ve lost your groove. That’s why you’ve taken extra measures to fully prepare yourself for anything tonight.

With a deep breathe, you step out into the hallway, following Pieck’s advice. You knock on your neighbor’s door and Eren is the first to answer. His expression brightens when he realizes it’s you. “Hi,” he greets you, flashing that charming smile of his. He scans you up and down, taking in your appearance. “Wow.”

“Is that a good wow or a bad wow?” you grin, twirling for him.

He swallows hard, checking you out once more. “Definitely a good wow.”

It’s that extra boost of confidence you need for this date, so you’re appreciative of him. “Thank you, Eren. You’re always so sweet.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “So, hot date tonight?”

You decide to be honest with him. “Yeah. It’s been a minute, so I’m a little nervous.”

“Don’t be. Any guy would be lucky to date you.” His eyes twinkle at you kindly.

You imagine Pieck screaming at you from twenty miles away, begging you to date Eren instead of going out with this random swipe right. Eren is simply a sweet guy paying his neighbor a compliment. There’s nothing more to it than that. Before you get the chance to thank him, Reiner’s deeper voice calls out from inside the apartment. “Who is it?”

Without taking his eyes off you, Eren answers with your name. Soon, the blonde joins him, jaw dropping when he notices you. “Fuck.”

Eren elbows him in the chest, to which Reiner mutters a strained apology. “Sorry. You just look amazing.”

The flattery is almost too much, cheeks warm with embarrassment, stomach fluttering. “Thank you.” Reiner is usually the more forward of the two, blurting out whatever is on his mind, though you’re not complaining.

Grinning, Reiner asks, “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Someone I met online. My friend said I should let my wonderful neighbors know my whereabouts tonight, in case I end up missing,” you explain casually.

“How morbid,” Eren chuckles. “We’ll keep an eye out for you later so that your friend doesn’t have to worry.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Reiner raises a brow at you. “Unless you’re planning on sleeping with him. We probably won’t see you if it does go well.” He hunches forward when Eren lands another blow to his chest, shutting his roommate up.

You giggle, agreeing with him. “No, you’re totally right. I’m going to stay optimistic and say that if I don’t come home tonight, that’s a good thing.”

“We’ll hope for the best, then,” Eren replies, beaming.

You turn to leave, waving farewell to them. Reiner yells out, “Have fun tonight! But not too much fun!”

~~~

You return to your apartment complex less than two hours later, heels clicking loudly on the tiled steps, feet heavy with disappointment. After taking a twenty-minute taxi ride to the restaurant you agreed to meet him at, you proceeded to wait an entire hour only to realize that you’ve been stood up. No text, no reply, no call. You’ve been made a fool, completely humiliated, the night and the rest of your weekend absolutely ruined by this asshole’s no-show.

It takes you a while to dig through your purse for your keys, patience already worn thin. Frustrated, you groan out loud, staring up at the ceiling. “Why me?”

In the worst timing ever, the door to your left swings open. Eren pops his head out, saying your name curiously.

Reluctantly, you turn to face him. “Hey.”

He comes out, dressed casually in sweats, hair wrapped in a messy bun with the few stray strands draping the back of his neck. “That was quick.”

With an unconvincing smile, trying to hide the shame that currently consumes you, you admit, “I got stood up.”

His demeanor changes instantly. The concern on his face is endearing, and when he drifts towards you, he reaches out, then drops his arm, unsure how best to console you without crossing any lines. “No way.”

You nod, sighing. “It’s true.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He steps closer to you, hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder, testing the waters.

You smile at him, enjoying this simple touch of comfort. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”

The two of you linger like this, Eren gazing into your eyes, holding you. His palm is hot on the fabric of your dress, and for a split second, you wonder how pleasant it’d be on your bare skin. And maybe it’s your wishful thinking or your desperation for human contact after being rejected tonight, but you can feel the heat of a spark between you now. Before you let your fantasies drive you to do something unprecedented, you search your bag again, finally retrieving your keys. He lets you go, watching you shove them into the keyhole, unlocking the door. “Are you okay?”

In all honestly, you’re not, but there’s nothing him or anyone else can do about it, right? “I’ll be okay. Sucks that I got all dressed up for this, though. What a waste.”

He doesn’t respond right away, choosing his words carefully. “Well,” he starts, the faintest blush tinged on his cheeks. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You stare at him, heart beating faster, making sure you’re understanding him correctly. “Really?”

He clears his throat, licking his lips. “Yeah. Maybe we can get some use out of it.”

“We?”

As if on cue, Reiner emerges from inside their apartment, having heard everything. “Fuck that shitty asshole. You’ll have way more fun with us.” He stands next to his roommate, grinning at you.

This time, you do listen to Pieck’s voice in your head, yelling at you to go for it. To let these two alluring neighbors of yours take care of you the way you deserve. Already feeling better, you give them a coy smile, opening the door to let them in. “Okay, then. Come on in.”

~~~

It’s the first time they’ve ever been inside your apartment, though you save the formal tour for later. As soon as the three of you are inside, door shut, shoes off, they’re both kissing you fiercely. Eren faces you, slipping his tongue into your mouth, hot and heavy. He caresses your sides, squeezing the curves of your body through your dress. Reiner is behind you, grip just below Eren’s, firm on your hips. His lips brush delicately on the nape of your neck, groin pressed to your backside, the bulge protruding from his pants growing harder and harder between your ass cheeks. You moan into the kiss, pussy throbbing in your lingerie, eager to be touched by either man, by both of them. Why did you even bother trying to hook up with strangers online when the perfect matches were beside you all along?

Reiner chuckles, breath hot on your ear, voice low and rugged. “You’re really horny, aren’t you? All dolled up and ready to be fucked, huh?” There he goes again, blunt and straightforward and so fucking sexy, exactly what you need tonight.

And here is Eren, soft and gentle, committed to kissing you, whispering sweet nothings any chance he gets. “You’re beautiful. Such a gorgeous girl. So pretty for us.” Also exactly what you need.

You lead them into your bedroom, Eren flipping on the light switch, keeping his lips on you while Reiner strips out of his clothes, starting with his pants. Eren does the same, hoisting his shirt off, revealing his impressive figure. You attempt to slip out of your dress, but Reiner stops you. “Keep it on,” he rasps, down to his underwear now, boner more obvious, poking out from his briefs.

Eren pinches your butt, snapping the tight fabric to your skin. “We’re not letting this go to waste, remember?”

You nod mindlessly, brain hazy with lust, too eager to be fucked. “Fuck me,” you beg, spit smeared all over your lips.

They both laugh softly, walking you towards the bed. “So impatient, so needy,” Eren coos, positioning himself in front of you, toying with the hem of the skirt.

Reiner sits up against the headboard, propping you up on his lap, your back pressed to his muscular chest. “What’s the rush, baby?” he teases, licking a stripe behind your ear. “We’re going to take care of you. Right, Eren?”

Eren bites his lip as he works your dress up past your thighs until it’s bunched up at your hips, exposing your soaked thong on your wet cunt. “Oh fuck yeah,” he huffs, salivating. “Gonna make you feel so good. Make you come so fucking much.”

You spread your legs wider for him, a pathetic whine escaping your throat, more and more desperate by the second. He hooks his finger on the crotch of your panties, smirking at the string of arousal that stretches between the fabric and you. “So fucking wet, holy shit.”

He tugs it all the way off your legs, tossing it over to Reiner, who brings it up to his nose, taking a big whiff. “Such a slut for wearing these on a first date. Our naughty girl.” He lets your lingerie fall from his grasp onto the floor, sliding to the plush of your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart.

Eren dives in, spreading his wide tongue flat on your clit, moving it side-to-side, stimulating you into your first orgasm. Your knees twitch from the sensation, the pleasure rippling through you like waves of ecstasy. You turn your head towards Reiner’s, opening your mouth, pleading him for a kiss. He obliges, sticking his tongue inside you, slurping up your saliva, hungry for it. “You’re so fucking nasty,” he growls, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. “Bet you have toys hiding in here. Why don’t we have some more fun and play with them?” You whimper wantonly, keen on the idea of Reiner using whatever he wants on you to make you come again.

He finds exactly what he’s looking for: your precious anal plug, tapered on one end, heart-shaped gem on the other. When he pulls it out, he barks out a laugh, almost like he can’t believe his luck. “You really are a whore,” he whispers in your ear, sinister and wicked, about to have too much fun with this. “Did you prep yourself to be fucked in the ass? Be honest.” Even Eren pauses, peering up at you, curious.

“Yes,” you mewl, squirming with arousal, body tingling all over.

Eren’s chuckle reverberates against your clit, releasing you from his mouth to lap at your wet slit. “Good girl,” he muffles, collecting your cum on his tongue. “So perfect for us.”

The dynamic between them spurs you on, Eren playing the good guy, Reiner playing bad. Both of them work together with a common goal in mind: to cheer up their pretty neighbor from what would have been a bummer of a night. But already, you’re thankful that you were stood up; you’re certain now that this is the much better alternative.

“Eren, switch spots with me,” Reiner demands. “And you,” he says, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “On your stomach.”

You both obey him without protest. Eren leans against the headboard with a dazed look in his eyes, licking his shiny, cum-coated lips. He smiles as you gaze up at him, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him. You open wide, tapping the tip of his dick on your tongue before sinking down on him until you’re too the hilt, swallowing him into the back of your throat. He cups yours cheeks, caressing you gently. “So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth. My gorgeous girl.” You accept the praise shamelessly, relishing the distinct taste of him.

From behind, Reiner worships you, squeezing your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to ogle at your fluttering hole. Without warning, he hocks a frothy wad of spit directly onto it, teasing his thumb on the rim. “Fuck, baby,” he utters as you moan on Eren’s cock. “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

You nod, taking Eren deeper, your nose pressed to his groin, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, bracing yourself. The plug is slick with lube as Reiner pushes it in carefully until the heart-shaped jewel is flush to your hole. He swears under his breath, marveling at the sight before him, cock pulsating in his fist. You stay like this for a while, adjusting to the toy inside you. It really did help that you prepared for this earlier.

“So sexy,” Eren murmurs from above you, staring on your backside. “You take it so good, sweetheart.”

“Like an obedient slut,” Reiner adds, using his thumb to push the plug the slightest bit deeper. He lifts your hips to position himself below you so that you’re straddling his face. “Can you come again, baby?”

“Of course she can. She’s our good girl,” Eren purrs, petting your head softly as you continue to blow him.

Reiner eats you out sloppily, different from Eren, who’s intentional with his every move. It sends you into another frenzy, pushing you closer and closer over the edge, especially when he begins playing with the plug, pumping it in and out of you slowly. You’re overstimulated with Eren’s hot cock throbbing in your mouth, clit swollen on Reiner’s tongue, and asshole puckered around the smooth glass of the plug. You reach your climax easily, gushing all over Reiner’s face, riding out your orgasm until you’ve completely soaked him in your juices. He drinks it all up, messy and greedy for every drop of you he can scour. He really is as insatiable as you imagined he’d be.

You release Eren to catch your breath, to which he tips your chin up to face him. “You’re incredible,” he says, the familiar twinkle in his eyes making your heart race. You paw at his chest, crawling up to meet him for a kiss.

Reiner quickly joins the two of you, not wanting to be left out, rubbing his hard cock between your ass cheeks. You kiss the both of them at the same time, all of your saliva mingling together into a hot, wet mess that you’re currently intoxicated by. After a moment, Eren pulls back. “Does our pretty girl want to get fucked now?”

“Show us how big of a cock slut you are,” Reiner grunts, circling the jeweled end of the plug, teasing your hole.

Eren helps remove the dress off you completely, hoisting it off your body. He stretches his arm towards the drawer. “Are the condoms in here too?”

You shake your head briskly, bringing his attention back to you. “I want it raw. Want you to fill me up.”

They both moan, clearly fond of your request, kissing you feverishly. Eren nudges your breast into his mouth, latching onto your nipple. Reiner sucks the skin all along your neck, leaving his love marks, growling, “You want us to breed you, huh? Want all this cum inside these tight little holes of yours. Oh fuck.” His voice is rough and husky, gradually losing his composure.

Eren’s remains tender, his breath soft on your bosom. “We’re going to breed you so good, sweetheart.” He shimmies down the bed, lying flat on his back, peering up at you with adoration. You straddle him, rubbing yourself on his shaft, needy for friction on your aching clit.

Reiner’s embraces you from behind, groping your chest, focusing on his roommate’s dick and your wet cunt gliding along it. He reaches between you and Eren, fisting his friend’s cock with fast strokes. “Look how hard he is for you. He’s going to fuck you so good. Make you cream all over the sheets.” Your pussy is sopping with arousal from the dirty talk alone, but watching Reiner touch Eren has you dizzy.

“Fuck, Reiner,” Eren moans, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. “That’s so fucking hot.” He lets his roommate jerk him off while you continue to grind yourself on him. Soon, he replaces Reiner’s fist with his own, cockhead glistening with precum. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Reiner moves to your swollen bud, tapping it with his thick fingers. “Oh yeah, she’s fucking ready. Come on, cock sleeve. Put it in.”

Without wasting another second, you line yourself up with him. Eren slides in smoothly, his entire length in you, pussy stretched around him perfectly. You whimper from the fullness, his cock to the hilt and the plug nestled in your backside. Reiner places his hand on your posterior, urging you to lean down so that your chest-to-chest with Eren, who kisses you passionately, remaining still inside you. “Eren,” you whimper his name, drooling into his mouth. He smiles against you, delighted at how fucked out you are for him.

Reiner adjusts his stance, hovering over you by planting one foot on the bed to prop his knee up, giving him enough leverage. He focuses on the plug, tugging it out just barely only to push it back in, repeating this several times, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Finally, he removes it completely, staring wide-eyed at your gaping hole, oh-so-inviting for his fat cock. “Look at that,” he croons, circling your rim with his finger, sensitive to his touch.

You want so badly to be stuffed full by both of them. In a trembling voice, you whine, “Please, Reiner.”

Laughing, he delivers a harsh smack to your ass, skin immediately stinging from it. He dribbles more of his spit onto you, teasing the tip of his dick on the rim. “Not yet, slut.” You can’t see him, too immersed in kissing Eren right now, but you can practically hear the wicked grin on his face, watching you squirm below him as he torments you.

Eren intervenes, annoyed with his friend’s behavior. “Come on, Reiner. Give her what she wants. She deserves it.” He nuzzles his nose to yours. “She’s been a very, very good girl.”

Eventually, Reiner relents. “You’re right. She’s a good girl. And good girls deserve to get fucked in both holes.”

You shiver at his perverse words, bracing yourself. At last, he guides himself inside you, filling you to the brim. It’s better than any fantasy you could dream of, the sensation so intense, tears begin welling in your eyes.

They start thrusting simultaneously, Eren pummeling your cunt from below, Reiner pounding your ass from behind. It’s messy and raunchy, their hands slippery all over your body from lube, slick, and sweat. The air surrounding you is laden with lust and desire. The collective moans from all three of you echo off the walls of your small bedroom, along with the squeaks of your mattress creaking under the weight of your vigorous lovemaking.

Reiner is rendered speechless now, totally concentrated on pumping his cock in and out of your fluttering hole, the only sound from his mouth being his ragged breaths. Eren slips one hand between you, his digits pressed to your puffy clit as he fucks up into your pussy. The other fondles your tit, thumb flicking your nipple until it’s perky. He continues to praise you, constantly musing about what a good girl you are, how perfect you are for them.

At this point, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. You’re in a perpetual state of ecstasy, surrounded by the two hottest men in your life who are voracious for your orgasms. The sour memory from earlier has completely faded and all you can think about is the sweet bliss you’re currently indulging in.

Eren is the first to come, no longer able to endure it. His even thrusts turn erratic. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming inside you sweetheart, oh fuck.”

You kiss him languidly, drinking up his moans as he floods your cunt with his load. Soon, Reiner swears loudly, announcing his own climax. “Fuck, gonna breed this slutty hole.” His cock swells, spurting his warm seed inside you.

You relax on top of Eren, who’s equally as spent as you. Reiner pulls out slowly, fixated on his own cum dripping out of you. “Fuck. Let’s see the other one, baby.” You lift off Eren, who almost seems reluctant to let you go. Both of them watch with hazy expressions as his creamy load spills out of you and onto his lap.

The room is musty with the scent of sex, the sheets messy and stained beneath you. Despite that, you’re on cloud nine, soaring high from having the nastiest ménage á trois with your next-door neighbors.

Maybe you should try getting stood up more often.

#eren smut #reiner smut #eren x reader #eren x you #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #reiner x you #reiner x reader #reiner braun smut #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #aot smut #aot x reader #to all the boys who live next door #anthology series #eren x reader x reiner

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batsandbirdbrains · 7 days ago

Note

Batman and Robin are super serious about their secret identities and no one knows who they are - not even each other.

Bruce took in this poor kid that reminded him so much of himself, and he is gonna make sure he grows up healthy and well adjusted (Alfred doesn't comment but he does raise an eyebrow).

And Dick decided to go after Zuco, but obviously his new guardian (who looks at him real sad when he thinks Dick doesn't notice) can't know about it, so he created Robin by himself with old circus gear he got to take with him.

Maybe Batgirl already is around? Maybe she comes around later? But Bruce-as-Batman keeps an eye on his two vigilante kids and outfits them, and gives them high-tech gear, and doesn't ask too many questions because he is afraid of what he find out. He's just glad his little Dickie isn't caught up in any of this.

And Robin doesn't tell Batman, because they are the Dynamic Duo, but what if Batman makes him stop being Robin if he finds out he is Dick Grayson? Or Bruce makes him stop if he finds out he is Robin?

Wait this is actually so funny. I’m purposely ignoring him getting fired bc it makes me sad and I’ve had enough sad shit for the time being, we’re focusing solely on the comedy gold that is Batman not knowing who tf his sidekick is behind the mask.

“You have a child running around with you in Gotham?” Diana asks at a JL meeting, disappointment and vague disgust clear on her face.

“…yes.”

“Well how old is he?”

“…dunno.”

“You don’t know?” she clarifies, emphasizing each word.

Hal and Barry and poorly hiding their amusement as they huddle together. Superman looks concerned but also like he’s trying to distance himself, because he’s met Robin several times and adores the kid and doesn’t want to be blamed for any child endangerment (he’s taken the kid flying several times). Martian Manhunter looks a cross between baffled and amused. Aquaman doesn’t seem to understand the problem since most Atlanteans start their military service young.

“He sort of just showed up one day,” Batman says, waving his hand, trying to make it seem like it’s not a big deal.

“That doesn’t make it better!” Diana says. “Do you even know who this child is?”

“…I have no clue.”

Hal outright snorts.

“You, Mr. World’s Greatest Detective, can’t find out the identity of a little kid?”

“He’s gotta be a teenager by now, it’s been a few years.”

“We must meet him,” Diana insists, taking on an angry tone. “We must ensure you aren’t endangering him.”

“Sure, sure,” Batman agrees easily, not wanting to face the wrath of Wonder Woman.

He’s going to have to tell Robin to not make any jokes about child labor. He gets on those kicks sometimes. Diana would take him entirely too seriously.

A week later, 12-year-old Dick is practically buzzing with excitement as he enters the Watchtower. He’s hopping from one foot to another, hanging off Batman’s cape, and chatting endlessly about how cool this is.

“Superman!” Robin greets as soon as they enter the conference room with everyone else. He darts over to Superman, a big grin on his face, steadfastly ignoring the way Superman is not so subtly trying to tell him to go away. “Can we go flying again?”

“You knew about him?” Diana’s voice is low, dangerous, and Superman turns to smile nervously at her.

Robin, meanwhile, is awestruck.

He stands there, arms dangling at his sides, a she stares up at her as she approaches him.

“Wow,” he says, breathless. “You’re so much cooler in person.”

That seems to charm her, a surprised laugh leaving her, before she turns serious again.

“Well aren’t you a charming little warrior?”

He beams at her, puffing out his chest, then turns to Batman to grin and give him a thumbs up. This is going so well. Batman holds his head in his hands when Robin turns back to face Diana.

“How long have you been working with Batman?”

“Four years. Five soon!”

“And how old are you?”

“That’s classified.”

“And why is that?”

“Can’t let anyone figure out my secret identity. It’s a secret.”

Flash is choking back a laugh.

“And Batman trains you adequately?”

“He’s alright.”

That’s when Green Lantern breaks. Batman is sighing heavily, sinking into a chair, muttering she’s going to kill me under his breath.

#asks #anon #dick grayson #bruce wayne #robin #batman #justice league #fic prompt

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captainmalewriter · 10 months ago

Text

Unconscious Desires

“Aha! I knew I had it lying around here somewhere!”

Aiden joined his boyfriend Jasper on the bed with an old shoebox in hand. He opened it and pulled out a star-shaped birthday candle. The purple candle seemed to glisten in the light as Jasper held it with wide eyes.

“Happy birthday, babe! This special birthday candle should have just enough magic to grant you anything your little heart desires.”

“This is incredible…” Jasper exclaimed. “But are you sure you’re okay with being transformed into a muscle bottom?”

“Of course!! It’s your special day, and I wanna do something extra special for the love of my life! And besides, I’ve been using magic for basically my entire life now. Trust me when I say that anything you can transform me into, I’ve probably already done to myself anyway. So? Are you ready?”

Jasper nodded with a smile as Aiden handed him a box of matches. He lit a match and held it over the candle wick until it caught. Then, holding it with both hands, Jasper raised the lit candle to his face. He closed his eyes and thought carefully about what he most wanted.

I wish for my boyfriend to transform into a himbo— I want him to become the man of my dreams!

With his wish in mind, Jasper blew out the birthday candle with a firm breath. The lights in the house momentarily turned off once the candle flame was extinguished. They came back mere seconds later. Aiden let out a low, purring sound as he laid back against his bed.

“Alright! Get ready to watch magic unfold right before your very eyes!”

Surely enough, Aiden began to experience the effects of the birthday wish. Jasper watched in amazement as his once lanky boyfriend rapidly grew in body size. Aiden’s muscles swelled until the veins in his arms were clearly visible. His clothes were bursting at the seams as his muscle growth knew no bounds, leaving him naked while the transformation magic continued to wash over his body. The peach fuzz on his face thickened until he had a nice, burly beard to call his own. His legs spasmed as they stretched outward, adding several inches to his height, causing the bed frame underneath to creak and moan due to his growing weight. His feet swelled up like balloons as they became several shoe sizes bigger.

As his body grew bigger and stronger, his mind became unintentionally affected by Jasper’s birthday wish too. His academic intelligence slowly but surely dwindled away, replaced by knowledge on all things bodybuilding and sex. By the end of it, Aiden had grown to a healthy 170 lbs with lean musculature to boot. Once he had finished transforming into Jasper’s perfect man, Aiden breathed a loud sigh of relief and spread his body like a starfish. All while Jasper was blushing and salivating at the sight of his wildest fantasy coming to life right before him.

“Wow… I can’t believe it actually worked!!” Jasper exclaimed. His words caught Aiden’s attention. Aiden turned to look at him and grinned. “Hey, how do you feel?”

“Like a million dollars bro!! WHOO I feel FANTASTIC!!” Aiden flexed his biceps while letting out a hearty chuckle. His sudden shout caused Jasper to wince.

“‘Bro?’ Since when do you talk like that?”

“Ayy wassup dawg! Damnnn you lookin’ mad sexy right now… How ‘bout you get on your knees and show me what that tongue do?”

Aiden flashed a wide smirk at Jasper as he groped his growing member. Jasper took a deep breath. While it was true that Aiden was acting unusually, the current circumstances were more likely than not the culprit. It wouldn’t be the first time he got really into character when they roleplayed. Magic just happened to play a supporting role this time around.

“Yo? We doin’ this or what!”

Jasper returned to the present moment and almost gasped when he saw Aiden’s junk standing at full mast. It seemed like the birthday magic left his boyfriend well-endowed! It was the last thing Jasper needed to convince him to just roll with it. He promptly got onto his knees, ready to service Aiden’s cock with his throat, but when he leaned in, Aiden stopped him.

“Woah woah woah. You and I both know that’s not what I meant.”

Jasper leaned back as Aiden made himself comfortable. Once he finished readjusting, his feet were right in Jasper’s face!

Jasper was shocked. He wasn’t expecting Aiden to shove his feet in his face, but even though it was a surprise, it was not an unwelcome one. He couldn’t help but admire how soft and smooth the soles of Aiden’s feet looked. Aiden smirked as he watched Jasper worship him with his eyes.

“C’mon man… You know you want to,” Aiden wiggled his big toe as if to beckon him. Jasper hesitated but just couldn’t help himself. He had always wondered what it would be like to worship a jock's feet, but he could never bring himself to act on his desires. So he simply repressed. He was content never indulging in his secret desires, or so he told himself anyway. Now that the birthday candle had granted the one thing he had always wanted, Jasper knew he just had to seize the opportunity while he had the chance.

Jasper started by pressing his nose against the crevices of his toes. Aiden had clean feet for the most part, but Jasper could still pick up a slight trace of sweat through his nose. The smell of his boyfriend’s feet left him intoxicated and hungry to devour him whole. Jasper continued by licking the center of Aiden’s foot. He pressed his tongue into his soft sole and let it slide around in a swirling motion. Aiden groaned with delight as Jasper massaged and licked his feet, his hand wrapped firmly around his member as he began to slowly pump his cock while he was being worshiped.

He worked his tongue up his foot and licked around and between Aiden’s toes like lollipops. Jasper sucked on his big toe. The feeling of his boyfriend’s warm, wet tongue made Aiden squirm with pleasure. He let out a strained “fuck..” as Jasper continued going down on his feet. The sound of his boyfriend’s moans filled his ears, motivating Jasper to give him everything he got, all while stroking his boner as it throbbed and pressed against his pants, just begging to be released and played with. Aiden noticed this and decided to take it to the next level.

Aiden rolled off the bed and instructed Jasper to lie down, which he promptly did. Aiden then laid his lips against Jasper’s as he proceeded to take off his clothes piece by piece. His cock sprang to life once it was finally released from the blue denim that kept it trapped. Once he was naked, Aiden moved his lips down Jasper’s body, planting kisses along the way until he was at his crotch. He gave Jasper’s dick tip a quick suck, causing him to squirm from the pleasurable sensation, before laying down on the bed opposite to him. Once in position, Aiden grabbed the nearby lotion bottle and lathered his feet with a generous amount of lotion. He then placed his feet on Jasper’s cock and began massaging it with his feet.

“Oghhhhh fuckkkkk…” Jasper moaned. The feeling of Aiden’s soft, smooth soles pressing against his cock was unlike anything he had ever experienced before!

Aiden had god-like control over his feet. Thanks to the lotion, his feet glided smoothly across Jasper’s dick as he jerked him with his feet. Aside from simply moving his feet up and down Jasper’s length, he knew how to control the speed and intensity of his touch. He’d speed up and slow down the pace of his stroking speed, he’d occasionally grip his cock with his toes, he could do it all! Every time Jasper moaned from something Aiden did, he made sure to do it again and again but made sure to ease up just before Jasper could finish. It was a devilish dance, but it was one that Jasper was happily ensnared in.

Unfortunately, though, despite Aiden’s best efforts, Jasper could only last a few more pumps before he blasted his load all over himself. He was panting for breath as he finished leaking, and Aiden could feel his member pulsating in between his feet as he began to grow soft again. Some of Jasper’s spunk got on his toes. When he realized that, Aiden lifted his foot to Jasper’s mouth, who then gladly licked his toes clean.

“Oh my God… That was fucking amazing…!”

“Yeah bro? You like that shit, huh?”

“Yeah! I do, but can you stop talking like that, Aiden? It was hot in the moment but I’m over it now.”

“Huh? Talking like what?”

“You know, the bro talk!”

“Huhhhhhh? What you mean by that?”

Growing irritated, Jasper flashed a mean look at Aiden. However, when he saw the innocent look of confusion in Aiden’s eyes, Jasper’s expression softened. He felt something hard drop inside his gut. Something was seriously wrong.

“Aiden? How do we reverse my birthday wish?”

“The what?”

“My birthday wish!! You gave me a magic candle that would grant me a wish for my birthday! Don’t you remember?”

“Oh shit! It’s your birthday!? Happy birthday brother!! I hope I was able to make it a good one!”

Aiden laughed without a care in the world, while Jasper felt the consequences of his wish weigh down on him. He knew how powerful the magic candle was. He made sure to be careful about what he wished for if he was going to use it to bring his deepest desires to life. Yet, despite his precautions, it seemed like the candle caused changes in Aiden even Jasper didn’t know how much he wanted. Sitting in front of him was a dumb, horny jock who had no idea what magic was or how he came to be. Without Aiden’s magical know-how, there was no telling when or how he’d transform back to his original self.

As the reality of the situation sunk in, Jasper felt the bed shift as Aiden moved up to him.

“Hey man, I helped you get off, now it’s my turn! It’s only fair!”

Aiden then proceeded to lift Jasper’s foot and guided it into his mouth, where he proceeded to lick and suck on it. Jasper moaned as Aiden went to work servicing him. As it happened, he felt something long and hard started pressing against his butt as Aiden moved in closer.

It was definitely not the time for round two— Jasper knew that, but after already getting a birthday footjob from his boyfriend, he figured he might as well finish the job before getting to work on finding a way to turn Aiden back.

All of Aiden’s magic spells and items weren’t going anywhere after all. Might as well enjoy his birthday while he can and worry about finding a solution tomorrow.

#male transformation #male tf #magic tf #muscle tf #foot tf #unintended consequences tf

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aquaquadrant · 4 months ago

Note

i would do anything for more pathos and dbubs interactions, they have my whole heart

well i don’t exactly take requests, it’s more just people sending in asks that happen to inspire me to write. and it’s not a guaranteed thing; i’ll hoard the asks in my drafts until i find the time/energy/motivation to write (i’m still sitting on some from over a year ago hafshdgah)

but i’ve really been feeling the pathbubs love lately so i got a little something for y’all :3

~*~

dbubs wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, leaning back to admire his masterpiece.

it took him five freaking days to gather the materials (only stopping to sleep, of course). chests and chests of diorite, oh yes, mined deep in a cave beneath the jungle. rows and rows of spruce trees grown by hand- they stuck out like sore thumbs in all the natural foliage. stacks and stacks of colored glass, the sand emptied from the bottom of several little lagoons. and then he had to clear out a space, of course. a pretty big space. which unfortunately… meant a lotta choppin’.

it’d pained him to take down so many trees, but it couldn’t be helped, really. jungles are just too dense for any real building. it’s- it’s really not a big deal, the jungle’s huge, it’ll be fine! it’s fine. what’s a few trees, right? he’s not gonna- the beauty of this place, the natural sort of… whimsy and- and majesty, it’ll still be good. he’s just gonna enhance it with some of his own uh, creative… work. yeah. and- well, if there’s anyone in hels who understands how to build in harmony with nature, sure enough, it’s ol’ dbubs!

anyway, he did that, and then the real work started. another three days of solid building. which- it’s not a massive build, alright, it’s- it’s respectable. two stories. maybe three, with the… the crenellations and spires and things. but building ain’t exactly the easiest thing to do, in the jungle. there’s terrain difficulties, big trees and mushrooms and things, and mobs, of course. hoglins, always stickin’ their noses in his business… uh, the ocelots and parrots aren’t really a problem, no, just a little annoying. oh, but then- there was a brief period where a ghostly- a- a ghast spawned outside the jungle’s border and then sorta… drifted into the air above the canopy, and it freaking- it took potshots at him every dang time he climbed up his scaffolding! (he killed it in one shot, of course, first try).

but it was worth it. it’s a lovely temple, a perfect temple. overgrown with vines and moss, with specifically- uh, specially placed cracks and holes to make it look all in… dis- disarray? dishevelment… or uh, abandonment? he even- this is real cool- he put a small custom tree growin’ out the side. the stained glass windows catch the light beautifully, yes, what gorgeous- he really outdid himself, with this one! his other builds, of course, they’re still… uh, wait, did- he can’t quite remember, actually, when his last build was. or, what it was. where did he… wait…

… anyway! his glorious temple is done, and he can’t wait to show patho the next time he visits.

should be any day, now.

~*~

the jungle stirs.

it has been uneasy for many days and nights, now. hissing and flinching as trees are ripped from its shell. groaning and chafing beneath the weight of unfamiliar blocks piled on its surface. its caves and lakes are hollowed out, a gnawing void at its core.

it is disappointed, but not surprised, that its player has tried again. it is in their nature, players, to spread and dominate every biome they encounter. it knew this when it decided to claim him.

natural resources, it can replenish easily. dirt, sand, and nylium will bubble and shift to fill the scarred land. fungi, trees, and bushes will spawn and sprout to cover the barren hills. but that… thing. that blight. the jungle cannot remove the machinations of players, not alone.

it may become a hoglin, to root and dig at the foundations. it may become a ghast, to breathe down fire and ruin. but these are crude forms. the best suited hands to dismantle this structure are the ones that built it in the first place.

the jungle becomes a player; its favorite player. at the dawn of a new day, it rises from sleep in a body that is foreign yet familiar, a fond but distant extension of the whole. vines and limbs move in tandem grace, guiding his feet back to the scene of his heresy. with strong, callused hands, it begins to pick the structure apart, block by block. no mob interferes, and there is no need for food. when the jungle sleeps, it merely drops him where he stands until the cycling of the unseen moon has run its course, before it raises him to his task again.

after days of endless work, every single unnatural block has been removed. whatever did not fit his inventory is left to despawn. the jungle walks its player back to his den (this structure is permissible, a nest among the trees) and finally releases him to sleep. now it turns its focus to regrowth and rebirth, healing over the ugly scar left on its terrain.

the jungle spends no energy on retribution or resentment. it will teach its player this lesson as many times as it needs to.

~*~

dbubs pulls patho through the jungle, excitement bubbling in his chest.

“okay, so- it’s right through here,” he calls over his shoulder. “my perfect- i- i built a whole temple, a sorta fallen temple, y’know. and not to took my own horn, here, but i- eughh, i- i think it’s some of my best work yet!”

patho’s chuckling behind his mask as he lets dbubs pull him along. “oh, yeah? what, uh… what about this build is so special, then?”

dbubs actually pauses at that, giving patho a shrewd look. “y’know, i- why do i get the sense you don’t believe me?” he puts his hands on his hips. “you- i build! i- i good builder!”

patho waves him off. “no, no, i know, i’m- it’s an honest question!” he defends, voice lined with amusement.

“oh-kayyy.” dbubs makes a show of rolling his eyes before resuming his trek, patho dutifully plodding after him. “well, then, to answer your question, i think it’s the uh… sorta vibe, or atmosphere of the build? ‘cause you- it’s like, you’re goin’ through this thick jungle, right, all wilderness, and then- all of a sudden, ka-blammo!” he throws his arms out, nearly smacking patho in the face with one of his vines. “there’s this majestic, ruined temple just there, all by its lonesome, overrun by nature. so- it makes you think, sure enough, like- what happened? who built it? where are they now? so it’s- hyeughh, it’s got a- a mystique, i feel…”

“oh, i see,” patho hums. “well, i can’t wait to see it.”

“yeah, yeah,” dbubs huffs, pushing a tangle of weeping vines out of the way, “you’re about to eat your words, mister! ‘cause heeeeere we are!”

he bursts out from the treeline to his temple clearing- only to be greeted by more jungle. seamless, unbroken jungle. he stops short, doing a double- no, a triple take. ‘cause he could’a sworn this is where he built it, wasn’t it? what’s the big idea?!

patho comes to a stop beside him and lets out a whistle, low and steady. “i- i see what you mean about the mystique, dbubs.”

“wait- no.” dbubs blinks, shakes his head. his chest is tight. “this isn’t- i- i built it here, i swear! it was perfect, it was beautiful-”

“i’m sure it was,” patho says easily, wrapping an arm around dbubs’s shoulders. he turns his head to nuzzle against dbubs’s temple, a masked substitution for a kiss. “c’mon, it’ll be dark soon, yeah? let’s head back.” his tone is knowing, almost consoling, and it feels wrong-

“but…” dbubs wavers, suddenly feeling like he’s on the edge of a cliff, grasping at air. “i- i wasn’t…” he pulls his inventory up, frantically scanning, ‘cause he’s sure that he- he knows that he-

his inventory is filled with stacks of diorite and spruce and colored glass. he inhales sharply.

“i dreamt it,” he announces, loud and abrupt. he gives patho a sheepish look, despite the relief that rushes through him. “i must’ve- listen, i know i- quit laughin’! ohh, you-!”

patho’s laugh is soft as he tugs dbubs into an embrace. “alright, sorry… hey, how about we build it tomorrow, okay?” his mismatched eyes gaze down at dbubs with fondness- and yet, there’s something else there. something almost… sad.

dbubs pushes the thought away, flicking a vine through the air. “oh, great,” he says sarcastically, even as he allows patho to steer them back into the jungle towards his base, hand-in-hand. “yeah, that’s- just what i need, you sittin’ around and crit- crita- critiquing my build! ‘oh- oh, why’d you put that block there, dbubs? why this wood type, dbubs?’ sheesh, gimme a break!”

“so, like… does that mean you don’t want my help?”

“well, hang on- i didn’t say that!”

“okay, just checkin’. you know, i don’t have to-”

“oh, stop it! you can- yes, okay, you may help me, please. for goodness sakes.”

“that’s what i thought.”

dbubs grumbles in feigned annoyance as contentment slowly seeps back in to wash away his earlier unease. it’s fine. this is fine! he just dreamt the whole building process, again, he wasn’t- he didn’t mean to lie. he just… must’ve been really excited about it, is all. yeah.

he glances back at the build site. “but maybe,” he pipes up tentatively, “uh- maybe… we build it somewhere else. i just- there’s a lotta trees to clear out there, y’know?”

patho’s cybernetic hand tightens around dbubs’s organic one, a comforting squeeze. “sure thing, dbubs.”

dbubs exhales slowly, the last of his worry falling away as he walks deeper into the jungle.

they’ll build it tomorrow. he can’t wait to show patho.

~*~

#hermitcraft smp #hermitshipping #hels to pay au #HTP fic #pathbubs #my writing #i’ll get this up on A03 later i promise

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saintslewis · 1 year ago

Text

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!journalist reader

summary: a lil joke thing i wanted to write because homeboy is bringing home the big bucks 🤭

warnings: just read 🫵🏽 this is a crack fic lol

saint’s team radio 🎀: don’t take this all too seriously 😭 hope y’all enjoy plus who know i’ll actually make it into a thing 🧍🏽‍♀️

tags: @alika-4466 @purplelewlew @exotic-iris13 @arshiyuh @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @youre-sooooo-funny @louvrepool @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @httpsserene @motheroffae

Being an independent journalist in this sport wasn’t easy at all but only within the parameters of any paddock around the world as most journalists rarely agreed with you, being neutral about anything in f1 wasn’t your thing.

Speaking your mind as the race went on was what set you apart from the rest, along with your humour and your honesty towards drivers and team principals. Not to mention you were extremely biased, keeping your liking to three to five drivers but only one occupied your mind every time you think about him.

I think you know who I’m talking about.

Your support for Lewis goes back to 2015, discovering the sport and immediately wanting to put your journalism skills to the test, aiming for the f1 paddock to at least catch a glimpse of the most talked about driver. Quickly building up a blog and several other social media accounts, you got to telling the world your thoughts and feelings for every race and your supporters rooted for you to achieve your goal.

Having the opportunity to attend thee race in 2020 as a guest of F1, you arrived at the Turkish Grand Prix with your head held high and a dress so gorgeous that it sparked rumours between you and the driver you were writing about. Not to mention the hug he gave you when you first met in the Mercedes garage, praising and thanking you for the support over the years. He’s been watching you and your work. That made your heart so warm.

Then he won his 7th world championship, breaking all records and that day, he deemed you his lucky charm.

And since then, it’s been a work wife-work husband friendship between you two. Fans constantly shipping you too, the clips of your shared interviews at the media pen of the intense eye contact and even off-track sightings once in a while such as a quick lunch.

yourusername • 13 mins ago

The atmosphere in Australia was unlike anything you’ve ever seen in your career, the paddock was practically painted red, Ferrari red to be specific. Everyone eager for Lewis to arrive as his first season as a driver for the legendary team.

Deciding to subtly support him and his new team, you rocked maroon everything, not yet ready to fully embrace the extreme bright red. It just might be your new favourite colour, from your hair right down to the tips of your high heeled boots.

Whilst setting your camera equipment up (gracefully given to you by Ferrari themselves), you couldn’t help but reminisce back to the year before of when he told you he was leaving Mercedes, a single facetime call in the nighttime.

“You made me pause the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, this better be good.” You said, placing the popcorn bowl down on your coffee table. Giving him squinted eyes, he just smiled at you.

“Are you alone right now?” He asked and that set aback for a bit. “You tryna do something funny, Lewis? Because you’re in Monaco right now and I’m at my house.” You raised your eyebrow at him, hiding how nervous you were to even suggest that to him but thankfully, he took it as a joke.

“No no, I’ve got some big news and I wanted to tell you before it gets out.” He replied, seeing how you stood up and placed your phone on your kitchen counter to prepare for this. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s up?” You clasped your hands together, not prepared to hear what came out of his mouth next.

“I’m moving to Ferrari next year.”

“You’re lying.” And all he did was smile as he saw your face drop at this news. He shook his head and that woke you to run around your apartment screaming. Running back to your phone, he was still there but just laughing his lungs out.

“Give me the details right now or else I’ll fly there. I’m not playing, Lew.”

A small smile was plastered on your face as you racked through the memories of that night and till that day, you still couldn’t believe it even though it was right in front of you. The media pen became louder and louder as you continued to mic yourself up along with connecting the mic to the camera and you immediately knew who caused the stir.

He already had such an aura surrounding him so much so that you could feel him whenever he entered the room. You were aware he arrived earlier and most likely changed but seeing the official team shirt on him was odd but fitting.

Lewis had a simple routine whenever he got to the media pen: everyone else then you because his time with you could be lengthened and he was so damn grateful that it was a Thursday because it meant even more time just walking around the paddock pretending it’s an interview when really, you guys were just spending time together.

After all the drivers had their interviews with you, laughing as they walked away because of some joke you told or happy that you asked different questions than everyone else. The man of the hour strolled over to your section with a look in his eye that gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Do not give me that look, Lewis. It’s weird seeing you in that shirt.” You said as he leaned against the barricade, maintaining eye contact with you. “I’m just taking in the red on you, it’s your colour.” He smirked at the reaction from you, the slight shock from the tone of his voice.

There was always a tad bit of tension between the two of you, feeling that twinge of a spark whenever he merely touched you. As you worked with over the years, you wanted your crush on him to diminish because that would just be unprofessional but he did not seem to care. At all. Often being spotted at various places together that he claimed were just two friends hanging out but just one look from him could have you in the clouds of days.

“Uh..huh. Wanna get these questions done or you wanna keep staring?” You asked with sass, watching him tilt his head a little and maintaining eye contact. “We can go right ahead, Y/n.” Lewis replied and you knew this was going to be a long interview.

Several questions later with a bunch of tension that you were sure the viewers would catch, you discreetly turned the camera to ask one of your infamous unserious questions that you did with every driver and you were sure this one were to get a laugh out of Lewis.

Holding the little card in front of you, you grinned with your left eye closing slightly more than the other. “It’s one of my favourite parts of any interview, unserious question time.” You said. “How unserious are we speaking here?” He asked with the slightest grin on his face just admiring you do your job.

“Only if you promise to answer it.” You said, holding out your manicured pinkie finger and Lewis hooked his with yours, solidifying the promise. “Okay okay, the whole world was shocked on how much Ferrari wanted you so much so that they literally doubled your salary.” You started.

“It’s now sitting at a hundred million a year. My question to you is who you gonna share it with and will it be me?”

“If you’re being serious, then it can be you.” He smiled and in that moment, your stomach dropped.

“Carl Davidson, I’m not playing around. Are you being for real?” You asked, lowering your voice so that no one could hear a thing.

He leaned in a bit more to whisper his next answer. “As real as you meeting me later on for dinner.” Lewis faced you then winked, walking away with your face still in shock. After standing there for what felt like forever, you felt your phone vibrate with a text from the man himself.

lew <3

you look gorgeous in red btw

yourusername

liked by theestallion, f1wags and 43,747 others

yourusername “anything you want, princess” — lewis hamilton.

view comments

user give me your game card

user you’re eating the red wig DOWN

spinzbeatsinc oh for him to buy me a g wagon

yourusername you already have one???

user you gold digging bitch

user no ways 😭

user not you using him for his money

user think about it, what is he gonna do with so much??

fan she got the chance and she took it, i gotta respect it

user i hope this is a hard launch because i’ve been shipping these two for YEARS

user me too!!

lewishamilton just say the word 🫡

yourusername 🤭🤭🤭🤭

saint’s team radio (again) 🎀: hope you all enjoyed! again, this is like a crack fic lol. there’s so many stories that’ll be released soon i’m excited 🥹 okay bye!

#saint writes #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagines #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #SoundCloud

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distracted-milkshake · 6 months ago

Text

Like ‘Em Weird - Steven Grant x reader

Warnings: bri’ish reader, non explicit sex, snogging tf out of Steven, general embarrassment, slight jerk Marc

Words: 4k

Rating: M

Summary: A fast moving relationship halts abruptly when the cute guy you met at a cafe wakes up a completely different person.

How you helped Steven figure out his body has multiple tenets, and that he doesn’t mind sharing it it’s you

I haven’t actually finished Moon Knight, so any inconsistencies or straight up false stuff is on me. Other guy isn’t here because I haven’t met him yet

Whipping up 1-5k oneshots while I can't get even ten in on my wip is such a me thing it's not even laughable anymore

Also! I have read a lot about DID and talked with friends who have it, and the portrayal of the reader does not represent kind or correct treatment of people with such issues at all, just wanted to be clear that I as the author know that and this isn’t any sort of handbook

AO3 link

“You gonna talk to me or just keep staring?”

Steven blinks, immediately feeling his hands and cheeks go hot.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring–!” He quiets as you stand and drag your metal chair the few feet across the cafe patio to his table, plopping into it.

“Hi.” He murmurs, eyes dropping to his lap as he wrings his hands.

”Hey,” You reach your hand over the table, flashing a smile, introducing yourself.

“Steven Grant.” He shakes it, adjusting in his seat.

“No worries, by the way. I never know how to start a conversation either.”

“I am so sorry, really, I hadn’t noticed. I uh, I don’t do that, I swear, I was just sort of spaced out.” He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, running a hand through his hair to get it off his face. “I don’t usually see a lot of pretty girls around, not ones that I find pretty– well, I mean there’re plenty of pretty girls, just not as– you just…” he swallows, wishing he could sink far enough into his chair to disappear from the face of the Earth.

“God I wish I could start over.” He says.

“This conversation, or since you started staring?”

“My life at this point.”

“Take as long as you need.” You grin.

“My name’s Steven, I work in a gift shop.”

“At the museum?”

“Yeah,” he nods, sitting up straighter.

“I knew it, I’ve seen you before! I love that place.”

“Ah! Me too! It’s ahm, probably about my favorite place in the world.”

He goes off about something having to do with history, half of which you don’t quite follow, but you listen anyway.

He tells you about several different exhibits from the museum he works at, stuff that isn’t on the little plaques, going on tangents here and there about the origins of popular misconceptions.

“…and that’s just off the top of my head; numerous examples of it.” He takes a sip of his coffee, suddenly seeming to realize something.

“Shit. Im sorry, I’ve been talking entirely too much. You want to tell me about you?”

“No, it’s cool, I get it.” You laugh. “You read a lot.”

“Oh loads, anything that interests me, I love books.”

“Music's my thing.” You say.

“Oh, do you play?”

“Nah, I collect. CDs mostly, vinyl sometimes.” You finish your drink, setting your cup aside.

“I’d love to get into it, but I should be going. Do you wanna get dinner sometime?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he nods and you pull out your phone, handing it to him to put his number in.

“I’m vegan, but anywhere you like is fine though. Saturday work?” He says.

“Saturday’s brilliant.” You click your phone closed when he turns it back to you, tucking it back in your pocket.

“Brilliant.”

“I’ll call you with the place. See ya then.”

“See ya.”

Saturday rolls around, and you get off the bus to a lovely little Indian place with a bounce in your step.

You had double checked they had plenty of vegan options, spending the last few days trying and failing not to text Steven every half hour.

“Sorry! I got put on inventory again.” Steven huffs as he bounds up to you, making you feel a little silly as he’s all dressed up.

“You’re right on time actually. I just came early.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” He says, exhaling heavily and straightening his back.

He holds up a bouquet. “Um, these are for you.”

“Oh my God.” You smile, taking them from him, turning them over.

“I hate flowers, but that has got to be about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Sorry, I’ll uh, I’ll remember that.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, I appreciate it. Shall we?” You gesture to the restaurant door.

“Oh– Of course,” Steven sidesteps to hold open the door for you, and you both head in.

Seated with your food on the way, you look your date up and down expectantly, to which he sets his drink down and explains.

“I am keeping my mouth sealed unless spoken to. Even if it means I’m staring.” He jokes at the end with a smirk.

“Sure you’re going to be able to stick to that?” You tease, taking a long sip from your mango lassi.

“Sure am. Talk to me.”

So you do.

You tell him all about where your from, your favorite band, the kinds of movies and shows you like, and he chimes in with his own, careful not to dominate the conversation with his preferred topics, which as much as you love the sound of his voice, you’re grateful for.

“You know there’s something special about you maybe.” He says when you’re about finished with your meal. “I feel like I just click with you. Is that weird?”

“No, it’s not weird.” You shake your head, meeting his eyes. “That’s not weird at all.”

You walk with him down the street, hands in your pockets from the slight chill, but keeping close enough your arms are almost touching.

It’s quiet, and it’s a comfortable quiet, but you can’t help but feel nagged at by a lack of something.

You come to an intersection, and Steven turns to you.

“Well, thank you, for going out with me.” You take him in, framed in the streetlight, messy hair and nice clothes, pretty eyes catching the light.

“I hope you have a great rest of your night–”

You push him against the brick wall of the building closest and catch his lips in a kiss, startling him as his hands hover over your shoulders, then your arms, before finding your back and waist, pulling you close.

He kisses back confidently at first, then out of sync, then trying to pull away, saying something muffled.

“Good?” You break the kiss to ask, wetting your lips.

“Yeah. S’prised me’s all.” He says, breathing heavy. “I just wanted to say I think you’re gorgeous.”

You pull him back into it with almost feverish urgency, pushing your tongue past his lips and to the roof of his mouth where you find his and press and move against it roughly, hand finding the back of his head to tilt just enough to have the perfect angle to explore.

You recede to let him breathe and Steven catches a dribble of spit with the back of his hand, looking mortified as he having no where else wipes in on his coat.

You bite your tongue to keep from laughing, wiping his bottom lip with your thumb.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry that’s gross, I dunno if I’ve ever been kissed like that, I’ve no idea how,” he wipes his lips again. “It’s not like movies. Very, very wet.”

“You talk a lot for someone who stares.”

“In the restaurant. Out here I’ve dropped it now. You know I don’t know if I want to be remembered as that guy in your head.”

“Something else, then?”

“I’m cool with gift shop guy.” He says as you give him lighter pecks on the mouth.

“Much better than spaced out Steven.” You giggle, tracing his cheekbone around back to his ear and down his beck, letting your thumb slip under his collar as you press your forehead against his.

“Yeah well, I find it hard to get a good night’s sleep.”

“I’d like to get a good one with you.”

“Hmnn?” His eyes flit to your lips and then back up to yours, bewildered.

“Oh, oh you mean!” He pulls back and gives an enthusiastic nod, a wide smile on his face.

“Hells yeah.”

“I like your apartment,” Steven says under his breath between dizzying kisses in your entryway, watching you alternate between his throat and kissing him with utter fascination, unsure how to keep up or what to do with just how expertly you’re making him fall apart.

“You haven’t seen it yet.”

You pull him by the wrist through your living space, past the couch to your bedroom, where you shut the door and shuck off his jacket.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks before you can devour any attempts he has at talking again with your mouth.

“Yeah, one sec.” You dig around in your nightstand drawer, pulling one out and turning back to give Steven a gentle shove onto the bed, climbing atop him and undoing his buttons with your free hand.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Steven says when you finish with his top and strip off your own, tearing the condom open and sitting back on your haunches. “This is unbelievable.”

You grab him by the chin, making his heart skip a beat. “Let’s aim for unforgettable.” You say.

Steven lays on his back, hands on his chest, having finally caught his breath.

“That was lovely.” He says.

“Lovely?” You repeat, stretching your spine, side eying him.

He turns on his elbow you look at you. “Lovely. Amazing. Mind blowing. All of the above.”

“Been awhile?” You chuckle, tracing his collarbone to his shoulder before hooking your arm over it.

“You have no idea.” As lost in your eyes he is, he pulls away to check the time, sitting up.

“I um, I should get back to my apartment,” he moves to get off the bed, and you sit up after him, catching his wrist. “Hey wait. Don’t be ridiculous, stay.”

“No, I uh…” Steven stops himself, not wanting to mess this up. If he told you he had some weird sleep condition, that he literally bolted himself to his bed to sleep every night for fear of missing hours or waking up places he didn’t recognize, he was certain that was the kind of thing that would scare you off.

That look you're giving him, that half lidded, cocksure smile, still topless and not even trying to cover it, it’s convincing enough on its own.

“That’d be just fine. Yeah. Yeah okay.” He relaxes back into the bed and you lean up and kiss him.

“Great.” You murmur, pulling him in and tugging the covers back over you.

Maybe just one night would be fine.

Marc wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar woman in bed next to him.

You stir, burrowing your face into the pillows before you feel the bed spring back, blinking your eyes open and pulling yourself up just enough to see him retrieving his clothes from the floor.

“Hey, no rush, it’s Sunday, come ‘ere.”

“I’m sorry, you seem nice and all, but I was not supposed to wake up here.”

“What happened to your accent?” You laugh humorlessly, brow knitting.

“Accent? Jesus, I don’t have time for this, I’ve got to be in Madripoor in like two hours, that idiot was supposed to be back at his apartment.”

He gathers up the rest his things as he mutters to himself. “Yeah yeah I know, I can get to the justice after I get back to his apartment and sort things out there. I swear if this is what gets him… yes. Of course I’m grateful. I will handle it.”

“Hey, wait!” You pull a t-shirt and pajama pants on, following him into your living room, but by then he’s already got his shoes on.

He opens and struts right out your front door without another word, slamming it behind him.

Monday afternoon you take your lunch break to head down to he museum, stomping right up and into the corner gift shop, where sure enough, Steven sits twiddling a pen while he reads.

He sets aside both when you walk in, smile falling when he sees your face.

You plant your palms and lean directly over the counter, huffing.

“Hey, you know I really can’t believe I fell for your shy soft boy act, you pull that on everyone? Or was I just ‘special’ enough to catch your attention?”

“What? I– what are you talking about– hey!” He jumps up from his seat as you push back from the counter, folding your arms.

“I mean what on Earth is wrong with you!” You stare him down as he rounds his station to speak with you.

“Hey, whatever I said, I’m sorry? I don’t– I didn’t mean it– will you please tell me what you are talking about?”

“You jerk. Can you go one minute without lying? Rhetorical, because you obviously can, if it’s convenient to getting in my pants. God! I can’t believe I slept with you.”

“You slept with me?!” He exclaims, hunching over as a couple passerbys give him looks, making you roll your eyes. “Holy shit, I thought I dreamt that.” He says mostly to himself, tugging at the hair behind his ear.

You look at him, jittery, wrinkled clothes, chewing at his thumbnail.

“Are you high?” You ask, tilting your head to get a better look at his face, trying to make out if it’s a bruise or just bags under his eyes.

He quickly shakes his head. “No, no-no-no, I-I don’t do pills or anything. I mean, maybe I should, to be honest– but I’ve never done drugs of any kind.”

You throw up your hands. “Why would I believe you after yesterday!”

“Yesterday? Why– What happened yesterday.”

“Unbelievable. You know, you aren’t worth this. Don’t text me anymore.” You turn to the door, but his whirls around you in a panic, blocking you.

“Wait! Wait, please. Look I don’t know what happened the other night, but I assure you that's not me, I’m not like that, I would never say stuff like that, I’d never use you, I like you! I really like you, and I don’t want to never see you again.”

You study his expression, torn between how completely devoid of any sort of dishonesty it looks, paired with how desperate his tone is, and just who you remember walking out of your apartment.

“You’re acting completely different now.” You shake your head, hanging it and letting out a long sigh before looking back up at him, which you immediately regret because he has the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “I have to get to work. If you think you can explain to me just what the hell is going on with you, meet me at the park at six thirty, I’ll… I’ll hear you out.”

“Thank you,” he folds his hands, needing to shout after you as you make to leave. “I won’t let you down, I promise!”

You give a dismissive wave as you head out museum's front doors.

“…and that’s all I know, I swear.” You’re seated on a bench in the park. By now the sun has set, and the lights are the only illumination with a cloudy night sky.

“I believe you.” You sigh, letting the leg you’d been sitting on down from the bench to stretch. “How often does this happen?”

“Most nights. Been trying not to sleep because of it.”

You shake your head. “Why the hell haven’t you gone to a doctor?”

“Because I can sort it, it’s fine. You go to a doctor if you're sick, I’m not sick.” He fiddles with his hands, realizing your looking at them he smoothes them down his pants and keeps them on his knees.

“Sleepwalking isn’t sick. It-it’s just like, stress, or something.” Even saying it aloud he didn’t believe it, but what was the alternative? That he was legitimately mad?

“Steven, look at me. You need to get help for this. That's mental. It’s not normal. Tell me you’ll get help.”

“I’ll look into it.” He scratches at his neck.

You frown. “And mean it. You need help.”

“I mean it, I will get help.” He nods when you put a hand over his, pulling him into a side hug.

“Thank God.” You murmur.

Two months later, you and Steven are kind of dating.

Though your relationship had taken a big step back, you still texted and called him frequently. You didn’t feel like you could bring yourself to getting any closer, not when you still didn’t know who you had woken up in bed with.

Today he’s over for tea, on your couch with his hands folded, helping himself to the biscuits you put out.

You come back from putting the water on, stuffing a couple cookies in your mouth before he can eat them all.

“Oh! I erm, I got you a copy of that new CD from that band you like.” Steven digs around in his bag, pulling out a still wrapped album, handing it to you.

“Holy cow.” You scoff as you take it.

It was the newest release from your favorite band, and had been sold out everywhere for more than two weeks.

“I can’t believe you remembered. I’m putting this on right now.” You pop on the stereo, slow rock jams filling the apartment as the water boils and you bring the pot to the table, filling Steven’s cup.

“So how are you doing?” You ask.

“Oh, mostly good. I still haven’t figured him, Marc, out much, but I am sleeping better.”

“You figure out just what ‘he’ is yet.”

“No, still no diagnosis. I’m having trouble finding a therapist I like. I also, you know, not keen on institutionalization.”

“Right. Well I mean so long as he doesn’t decide to go on some break.” You grimace, wondering what the hell he could’ve had been up to in Madripoor of all places, if he’d even been serious.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Never mind.” You give your hand a wave. “I still can’t believe I’m how you found out.”

“Hey now hang on, I knew, I just didn’t know why.” He stands up to be at your height, annoyed.

“Or how, or what.” You give him a look.

“Yeah. But I did know.” He shrugs. “Even though he was trying to keep it from me.”

“Well yeah, probably because you’re the nice one. Marc is a prick.”

“The hell did she just say about me!?” Marc growls, catching his eye in his reflection in your tea kettle.

Steven blinks. “He didn’t like that.”

You draw your brow, frowning. “He can hear me?”

“Apparently? I don’t get most of it myself, I didn’t think he could hear me till like last week.”

You push off the back of the couch. “Tell him to come out here and talk to me right now.”

“Uh, right, sure, yeah. Marc, you heard her.” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

When he opens them again, you slap him across the face.

He cups his cheek, turning to look at you. “Still Steven!”

“Shit– I’m sorry!” You cover your mouth.

“You were going to smack him? But that’s me!”

“I thought– I didn’t think it through, really. Is he not there?”

“I can’t really make him come out, he just kind of does it if I let him.”

“I’m sorry I hit you.” You say.

“No,” he shakes his head. “He totally deserves it. Prick is right on the money.”

“Even so, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Already better.” He smiles. “Though a kiss wouldn’t hurt…”

You raise a brow and smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

You hang out a while longer before heads home, leaving you to think.

“I want to date her too.”

“What?” Steven looks up at his mirror from across the room. “You won’t tell me where you’ve been pissing years of my life away, what you’ve been doing, but now you want to meddle with the one good thing that’s happened to me, after you nearly screwed it all up? That’s rich.”

“I didn’t want much of anything to do with her until I saw the way she slapped you, I mean, that was unexpected.”

“She’s for sure, isn’t she? All the more reason you will not be seeing her unless she asks.”

“Let me talk to her or I’ll break up with her.”

“We’re not together…ish. I don’t know, it’s not the simplest.”

“I’ll ghost her. Delete her contacts. You know I will.”

“Alright! Okay, fine. Jesus.”

He picks up his phone. “Don’t you negotiate in anything but threats?” He starts to dial your number, then stops.

“Hang on… you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You're jealous I’ve a girlfriend and you don’t. And she doesn’t talk nicely about you.”

“I’d stop talking now.”

“Holy shit, that’s hilarious. You act like you think my life is boring, but you envy it.”

Marc glares at him, jaw working.

“I’ll tell you what, I will set you up, but you have to tell me what you’ve been doing, and where you've been taking me.”

“Khonshu’s not gonna like that.”

“Again with bloody Khonshu. You’re flipping bending over backwards for that fool. Figure it out, cause that’s that.”

“Fine.”

“Perfect. Done deal.”

He hits dial. “Hey so uh, Marc wants to meet you. Properly. I’ve told him he needs to apologize.” Marc rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. “Right. Yeah. Can you meet me?”

“This… Marc the Merc, the pissy one?” You say, looking him over. You’d met Steven not far from the museum, and held his hand while he relaxed and let Marc take over.

“Yes, it’s me again. Hi.” You meet his eyes, feeling oddly bothered by just how the same they look. It’s Steven, but it’s not.

It’s painfully not him, and yet you can’t put into words how.

“Hey,” you say, not sure what else you’re supposed to.

“Let’s get this part out of the way: I’m sorry I walked out on you. It’s Steven’s fault we were there at all, and I had shit to attend to, but I was less than curt about it.”

“Accepted, if that’s the best I’m going to get.” You nod, and he gestures for you to walk with him, so you do.

“I haven’t been keeping tabs. What’s he been telling you about me?” He says.

“Not a lot. I mean, he barely knows you, and neither do I.”

“There’s not a lot to tell. He’s not supposed to be tangled with my life, but, since he is, I figure we might as well share.”

You stop, and he does too.

“What?” He says. “I’m willing to be more open if you are.”

“What are you talking about? Are you saying you want to get with me?”

“Would you like to?”

He looks you right in the eyes, catching you off guard. Before you can answer he cups your face and kisses you, arm around your lower back, nearly lifting you off the ground.

You pull away, eyes wide, breath ragged, trying to get your brain to catch up with your body, realizing you're right in the street where everyone can see you.

“Too much?” He asks.

“No,” you shake your head. “Just– just surprised me.” It’s quiet for a moment.

“His apartment’s not far,” he finally says. “If you wanna see just how much of a prick I am.”

You stare up at your boyfriend’s apartment ceiling, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

You turn when you hear footsteps coming back to the bed.

“Hi,” he gives you a little wave, holding out a cup of tea.

You sit up on your elbows, slowly taking it. “Steven?” You say tentatively.

“Yep, it’s me.” You stand up, throwing back half the cup and setting it aside, swallowing. “Everything go okay?” He asks.

You nearly knock him over in a hug, burying your face into his shoulder.

“Better than okay,” you say, smiling against his bare skin.

“Really? Oh, Gods, that's a relief.” He wraps his arm around you, pressing his nose to the top of your head.

“Marc was different than I thought.”

“Now we’re even, he said he’d cooperate with me some more, so I think it all works out?”

“I love you. Both of you.”

“Really? It’s not too weird?”

“Hey,” you press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I like ‘em weird.”

Even though you had next to no idea what was to come, between you, Steven, and Marc, you were confident you would figure it out.

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #moon knight #moon knight x reader #fanfiction #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #one shot #x reader fluff

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