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serenityinstone · 7 months

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Thanks For Nothing

Yandere America x G.N. Reader

If you can't tell I'm really bad at adding tw's but I always find it helpful to avoid stuff I don't want to read so I tried my best. Go ahead and tell me if there's something I missed.

Also, I know Thanksgiving was two days ago I randomly got the urge to write this last night. I'm like slightly embarrassed by this but I haven't posted anything in over a year so you get this.

Tableware clinked against wood as it was gingerly laid down by an uncommonly careful hand. The room was well lit with candles flickering shadows across the walls, a large chandelier over top. The table was set with an orange and red color scheme with autumn bleeding into every aspect of decoration. Even though only two would be used, eight seats had been set in nothing but false pageantry. The smell of baking turkey wafted in from the kitchen off the ways. Most of the other food had already made its place on the table, surrounding a cornucopia, reflective only in name. Six chairs, three on each side, were all tightly pushed into the table, ready for the use of no one. The spread was massive and one could wonder how only two people, the only residents of the large house, would finish it all.

Humming came from the kitchen, the voice masculine in pitch. The tune was easily recognizable as the Star Spangled Banner, which was more a feat to hum then one would expect. Some of the high notes came out scratchy and the mumbling of the lyrics did nothing to ascertain any kind of satisfying harmony. Both rooms were pleasantly warm, though the kitchen held itself in a higher regard after repeat use of the oven and stove. Light leaked out through the open windows as it bathed the rest of the house.

It was pitch dark outside and a person coming or going could see no more than fifteen feet in front of them. Not that there would be any extra guests anyways. The building was located in the middle of nowhere, a long, winding road the only gleam of civilization. At one point the property had been a farm, but after the changing of owners, its purpose drastically changed.

The deafening silence was interrupted by repeated shifting, a desperate attempt to move. This sound was picked up by the ears of the blonde in the other room. He stuck his head in the doorway, the cowlick on top denying gravity its rightful dues. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement, though you could see none of it. In fact you could see nothing at all. You couldn’t see, you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. All you could do was listen. The man laughed boisterously like you had just said the funniest thing in the world.

“Don’t worry!” He said, knocking on the wall in a way meant to exude comfort. “It's almost done.”

Any chance you had of escape was quickly ticking away alongside that turkey clock, and yet you could do nothing. Maybe he really was the original boy scout because his knots were flawless. Arms bound tight to a chair, any attempts at kicking did nothing to loosen the ropes tying your legs to the chair’s. Your back was flush with the chair, cord tightly wrapped around your torso. You were, in all sense of the word, stuck.

The silk material used to blind your sight was far softer than the harsh twine of the ropes. The same was used to bind your mouth. Any of the tears you had cried had long since dried, making the cloth more uncomfortable and sticky than before. What did you do to deserve this?

Time to ponder than question was quickly snatched away as the retro cooking clock sprang to life. You snapped your head towards the sound, not having prepared yourself for it. Suddenly the smell of turkey became stronger than ever before and you swore you could feel its heat as the man set it down on the table. He lit what you could only assume were candles before approaching you. You visibly shook as he gently removed the blindfold.

Blinking furiously to adjust to the light, your pupils contracted at the heavy light, causing you to shut them closed and throw your head down away from the obtrusive shine. A large hand came above you to pet the top of your head. He kneeled down on one knee, grasping your arm, which was still bound to the chair’s, and gently massaged the skin. He almost didn’t seem real, the light making him look like an angel. Then he looked back up at you, sky blue eyes piercing your own (e/c) ones. Any thoughts of a divine existence were quickly washed away as you stared deep into the possessive pools that were his oculus. The man smiled at you, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fell. He licked the thumb that had made contact with the salted droplet, never breaking eye contact with you.

He abruptly stood up, shifting his attention over to the extravagant feast on the table. He quickly piled on his own plate, seemingly stacking it sky high, before coming back over to your side and collected your piece of dishware. Moving around the table, he began to fill your own plate, though not nearly as large as his own. He placed it back down next its proper napkin, an orange maple leaf.

The man began to slice apart his pieces of turkey, clearly satisfied with how it had come out. It didn’t take him long to begin gobbling down his food like a hungry soldier on the battlefield. He talked while chewing once or twice in a way that would have made a proper British noble scoff in disgust. Though he quickly quit after he realized that he was eating like such. A look fell across his face that made you think that he might have been told off for a bad habit like that. From then on he ate properly, carefully using his utensils and always chewing with his mouth closed.

From the moment he had brought the turkey in, you had felt your mouth water. You hadn’t eaten anything all day and the food laying out before you felt torturous. You didn’t make a sound however, trying to conserve all of your energy into not bursting into another round of tears. Your stomach on the other hand, had no such qualms, and loudly made its presence known.

The blonde looked over at you, to your uneaten plate of food, and then back to you. He was about to ask why you hadn’t started eating before he realized the obvious. Gulping down the last of his diet soda, of which he had put into a glass with ice to look slightly nicer, he made his way past the table and back over to you.

All you could do was sit there, cursing your stomach and every decision that led you to this horrible fate. Standing at far over six feet, he easily towered over you, causing the shaking from earlier to come back tenfold. You must have looked like a frightened little lamb to the big bad wolf. He cupped your face in his hands, rough from years of war. By now you had begun hyperventilating, shoulders moving up and down in desperate disharmony. You tried to suck as much air as possible in but the gag in your mouth stopped most of the air flow. He reached his right hand farther up your face and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to pretend you were any place but here. Any images of tropical vacation were vanquished after he softly removed the fabric. It was soaked with hours worth of saliva and he threw it off to the side on the table.

Properly swallowing for the first time in hours, your lips finally closed. You still shook but had noticeably calmed down as he focused on your lips.

“A-Alfred.” You finally whispered. “W-Why? I don’t u-understand.”

Tears still occasionally fell down and you desperately wanted to hide your face from him with your hands, but couldn’t because of your binds. You desperately searched his eyes for some clue, a hint, anything. But there was nothing there but pure, unbridled, adoration. His face melted into a content smile and he dove in to kiss you with no prior warning.

His lips melded against yours and he furiously attacked them until you opened. The man pressed you farther against the chair, using both of his hands to keep your head in place. His tongue swirled around your mouth, traversing every cavity and frantically tried to keep your own in this cursed dance. He finally parted from you, a string of saliva connecting you until it finally snapped.

Even more tears had begun to form, all threatening to fall at the slightest motion or whisper. Alfred brushed his thumb over your soaked eyelash, clearing your vision in that eye for just a moment.

“Does that answer your question?” He placed his head in the crook of your neck, taking in the smell. “I just love you that much.”

Suddenly reminded as to why he had come over to the other side of the table, Alfred quickly pulled out an empty chair and sat next to you. He unwound the napkin and the utensils, placing all of them in the correct positionings like he had been taught to do. He then pulled the plate towards the edge of the table, carefully stabbing a piece of turkey he had cut apart with a fork.

“Say aww!” He urged, but you knew it was more of a command.

You opened your mouth, feeling completely demeaned by the nature of the situation. He couldn’t even let you use your own hands. Your chewing was slow as your mouth still hurt from the gag. Alfred didn’t seem to mind as he just fed you another piece, repeating the cycle a few more times. Finally it seemed like he had finally gotten enough out of you and stopped, only to be repeated with a different food instead. As you were chewing, he spoke adoringly to you.

“I love you (Y/n).” He said as he continued to dote on you. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

#yandere x reader #yandere hetalia #yandere hetalia x reader #hetalia x reader #tw yandere #yandere america #yandere america x reader #alfred f jones #yandere x you #yandere america x you

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

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Star Spangled Seresin

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Political situations. Unrequited love, one night stand, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 3: An Interview with a Vice President

The fourth date came much faster than Jaycee had anticipated. Less than a month after she had been left waiting in Jake's office.

Now, Jaycee was in the bedroom of her apartment, trying to figure out what she was going to wear. She wanted something that made her look sexy, but she needed to be professional. She had definitely let the deadline of her interview with Jake sneak up on her. She was hoping that she could squeeze it in before Jake squeezed her in all the right places.

She settled on a red dress and black heels. She opted to leave her hair with its natural wavy texture and pulled half up. A subtle, smokey eye and crimson shade for her lips completed her look.

Before grabbing her bag, she gave her apartment the once over. If all went well, she and Jake would be tangled in the freshly laundered sheets of her king-sized bed, and tomorrow, she would dance around the kitchen in his button-up while making breakfast.

She sighed. She couldn't believe she was letting herself fall for him. It had been years since she had allowed herself to love or be loved, and honestly, it scared the hell out of her.

..............

After a dinner of the greatest sushi she had ever had in her life and a private screening of her favorite movie, Jake and Jaycee tumbled through the door of her apartment in a mix of teeth and tongue.

Jake was dead set in getting her dress off of her but Jaycee needed him coherent for a few minutes.

"Jake, wait." She breathed out when his lips dropped to her neck. He whined and tried to pull her back in as she pulled away from him.

"My interview." She breathed out. "I have to finish my interview with you for my editor. She giggled as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

"We can do that some other time. There are more—pressing matters to take care of." Jake whispered huskily in her ear as he pressed her between the counter and his body. Jaycee could feel just how hard he was.

Jake swept her hair to the side and planted languid kisses from her shoulder to just behind her ear, whispering all the filthy things he wanted to do with her. Jaycee was trying to pull up her interview questions on her computer, but Jake's charms were getting harder to resist.

"You're distracting me." She grumbled. "Not well enough, obviously." Jake laughed before slamming her computer shut and turning her around. He pushed the device out of the way and perched her on the counter before removing his shirt and tie and tossing it to the floor.

Jaycees eyes went wide as she drank him in.

"How are you even real?" Jaycee asked as she ran her fingers down his torso and through his diastasis.

Jake barked out a laugh as she scratched her nails along the deep v that cut into his hips.

"If I'm dreaming, please don't wake me up." She moaned as Jake dropped to his knees.

"I couldn't agree more. Jake said as he pulled her to the edge of the counted and spread her legs. He was greeted with the glorious sight of her bare cunt. "You little minx," He remarked when he discovered she'd forgone underwear for the evening.

He leaned forward, wrapping a hand around each of her thighs before placing a tender kiss on the inside of each of them Jayce hummed appreciatively as she steaded herself on her elbows to watch him.

His mouth made his way up to place a kiss just above her clit, right where she needed him most. Her groan of frustration faded into a sigh of pleasure as Jake used two of his broad fingers to open her up. He reveled in the sight of her absolutely dripping for him. Jaycee jolted when she felt him spit onto her clit. He watched his saliva run across her sensitive nub and down her puffy folds before collecting it with his tongue and swirling it around her aching center.

"Shit!" She exclaimed as the firm muscle of his tongue fucked in and out of her. One of her perfectly manicured hands left its place on the counter and gripped his blond locks as he continued to bury himself in her.

Jake shook his head back and forth, bringing his tongue deeper inside of her. His nose pressed against her clit with each pass.

Jaycee planted one of her high heels on each of his shoulders before Jake blindly reached up and guided them all the way over. She locked her ankles behind his head, while her thighs became a pair of earmuffs for him.

"Son of bitch. That feels so fucking good." Jaycee cried out as Jake continued to nip and lick and her center. He'd began to alternate sucking on her clit and driving his tongue into her. Each swipe bringing her closer to the edge.

She forced her eyes open to take in the sight below her.

Jake was shirtless, griping her thighs for dear life. She'd probably have ten finger shaped bruises tomorrow, but she didn't care. His hair was askew from where she had run her fingers through it.

His eyes were closed as he perched before her on his knees. His body was pressed against the counter, trying to be as close to her as possible. He looked like he was praying, and maybe in his own way, he was worshiping. Her kitchen was his temple, and she was the goddess he would sell his soul to serve.

"Why is it so fucking sexy seeing a man in power on his knees? You look so fucking pretty between my thighs. You know that? What a view." She moaned out.

"The view from my perspective is pretty great, too. Now cum for me baby. Please—wanna taste more of you." Jake groaned.

Jake rutted his hips against the counter and moaned into her core. Jaycee dug her fingers into his scalp, unsure of who was enjoying this more. "Fuck, Jake. I hope you answer questions just as well as you do this." Jaycee groaned. Jake smirked against her folds before wrapping his lips around her clit.

That sent her hurdling over the edge. She came with a cry of his name. One hand in his hair as she tried to decide if she wanted to press him closer or pull him away. The other gripped onto the counter so hard, her knuckles turned white.

She collapsed onto the counter as she tried to take air back into her lungs and regulate her heartbeat.

Jake had his forehead pressed into one of her thighs as he rubbed the other, gently easing her back to reality.

He stood up and helped her sit up. Jaycee kissed him with fervor, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. She wrapped her legs around him and kicked her shoes off. The unceremoniously clattered to the floor.

After a few helpful tips, Jake had successfully managed to get the two of them into her bedroom, where they wasted no time stripping the rest of their clothes.

Jaycee wrangled Jake on to his back and was currently grinding her wet center over his impossibly hard cock.

"No, I'm going to tell you how this is going to go. I have five questions, and you're going to answer every single one of them while I ride you. You stop answering, I stop. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Vice President?" Jaycee said as she glided over him.

Jake nodded furiously. He would probably agree to give her government secrets if that meant he could be buried inside her.

Jayced grinned a Cheshire smile before reaching back and grasping his full length in her hand. She tentatively lifted her hips and sank down on him until she was fully seated on him. She'd never felt so full in her life.

She tentatively lifted her hips before dropping back down. Building a steady but pleasurable rhythm for the both of them. Jake's hands found her hips to help guide her movements while Jaycee leaned forward using his torso for leverage.

"So. Mr. Seresin." She grunted out. "What would you say has been the greatest accomplishment of the administration in the first one hundred days." Jaycee asked.

"Um—I—the legislation we just passed on health care." Jake replied in a broken tone.

"That's going to help so many families. What has been the most challenging aspect so far?" She panted as she tilted her hips so her clit would catch on his pelvis each time she dropped onto him.

"Fuck if I know." Jake groaned as he planted his feet to meet her thrusts. Jaycee reached down and grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at her.

"What was the deal?" She reminded him as she slowed down.

"Trying to get party leaders to see that we are all on the same team. It's not Dems versus Reps versus Independents. We all have to—work—together." He ground out as his orgasm started to build low in his belly.

Jaycee asked a few more questions. Each one took more and more effort on both of their parts as they both tried to stave off the inevitable.

"Last—question. What—is—your—bi—biggest—goal." She asked through strangled sighs. Willing herself to last for just a few more minutes.

"I can't— baby doll—I'm—I" Jake tossed his head back. His neck was strain so hard that Jaycee could see each delicious vein in it.

Refusing to let herself be beaten, she took a hand off his shoulders and slapped him, just hard enough to get his attention before stilling her hips.

Jake let out a truly pathetic and needy whine when she did.

"Absolutely not, Mr. Vice President. If you want to cum, you're going to answer the rest of my questions. You want me to be able to write a good article, don't you, Jakey?" Jaycee whined as she began to roll her hips against Jake's once again.

"Be a good boy for me, Jake. Just one more answer." Jaycee goaded him. Jake spit out some answers about improving foreign relations and reducing the national debt. Satisfied with what he said, Jake picked up the pace, and Jake planted his feet. He used his newfound leverage to fuck up into her.

..............

Jaycee and Jake were both teetering on the edge when her phone rang. She looked over to her nightstand and caught a glimpse of your contact picture. A wicked smile flashed across her face as she reached forward and stilled her movements

"What are—" Jake said with a confused look. He was so close, his body burned, craving release. Jaycee chuckled before bringing her finger to her lips as a silent reminder for Jake to be quiet.

"Hello." She said as she answered the phone. "Oh, hey!" She chimed as she said your name. Jake's eyes went wide. You didn't know the two of them had been seeing each other. He couldn't believe Jaycee was doing this.

"Oh yeah, my date went great. He was a real gentleman." Jaycee smirked down at Jake. He experimentally thrusted his hips up, causing Jaycee to bite back a moan. She narrowed her eyes at him before rolling her hips as you continued to talk on the other end of the line, none the wiser. She did her best to stay composed as she talked to you, but Jake was hitting all the right places, and apparently, she was too.

An audible groan left his lips. Jaycee snapped her head towards him, just as you asked her "What was that?"

"Oh, just the TV, I'm watching an action movie." Jaycee lied as she slid her hand from Jake's shoulder to his throat. She curled her thumb and index finger around his airway and gave it a gentle but firm squeezed to remind him who was in charge.

After making up an excuse to get off the phone with you, she tossed it somewhere in her room to find later. Once she was no longer preoccupied, Jake brought one of his hands and placed it over the one of hers that was still around his neck. He gave it a firm grip before saying "harder."

"Yes, sir." Jaycee responded before tightening her grip on him.

Her rhythm became sloppy, and her thighs trembled. They burned in the best way. Jake latched onto her hips and flipped her beneath him.

His hips and grip never faltered as he pounded into her.

Jaycee came with a cry of his name that was so loud that she's sure her neighbors will complain. Jake followed behind her, painting her walls white with his release.

Thoroughly spent, he collapses on top of her, trying his best not to crush her. A thin layer of perspiration covers both of them. The scent of sex hangs thick in the air as the two of them try to regain control of their breathing.

................

The next week, when her article comes out, Jake has to restrain himself from buying every single copy he can get his hands on. He beams with pride each time he reads it.

He wants nothing more than to text everyone he knows and tell them about it and how proud he is of his girl. But he knows he can't. He can't even tell Rooster.

Jake settles for texting Jaycee that he loves the article and sends flowers to her office anonymously, of course. He also has his assistant make a note that Jaycee is the only person from the Post he will let him interview him because he was so impressed with her —technique.

................

When Jaycee returned from lunch, she heard the whispers and saw the quick glances from her coworkers. When she rounded the corner to her office, she discovered what they were gossiping about.

Two dozen red roses, the same shade as the dress she had worn last week, sat on her desk. She quickly shut her office door before pulling the card from the stems and reading it.

"The article was amazing. So proud of you. Can't wait to see you again, baby doll. Love, J"

Jaycee read the note again. The words seering into her brain before shoving it inside a drawer.

She sucked in a few deep breaths as the realization hit her like a freight train. She'd let this go too far.

The long awaited chapter 3 is here!

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guitarhappyman · 2 months

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Stevie was invited to play the national anthem at the Houston Astros season opener, against the Los Angeles Dodgers at the Houston Astrodome in April 1985.

Stevie and Lenny Vaughan were hastily flown to Houston, where he confessed to his wife that he didn’t know how to play “The Star Spangled Banner”..

She hummed it to him in the limo on the way to the game.

Watching her husband play the national anthem there to a packed house in the cavernous Astrodome, Lenora turned to the guy standing next to her and said, “You know, he didn’t know how that went – I had to hum it to him on the way here.”

The man replied, “Yeah, it’s a hard song.”

When Lenora asked the man if he know her husband, he nodded and said, “No, this is the first time I’ve ever heard of him.

My name’s Mickey Mantle.”

Mantle was at the game to throw the first pitch; it was pure chance that Lenora found herself standing next to one of the greatest baseball players in history.

When Stevie joined her minutes later, she introduced the two men.

“I don’t know how to play that song,” Vaughan confided to Mantle, to which the Yankees great replied reassuringly, “Nobody can play that song.”

Lenora then sheepishly asked for Mantle’s autograph, upon which Mantle asked where here baseball bat was. “Oh… oh… am I supposed to have a bat?” she stammered. Mantle explained that most autograph seekers bring a bat.

Lenora remembers that “I was looking around for a piece of paper of something, and Stevie said, ‘Well I’ve got this bat right here – her name’s Lenny.’ And he took it out and said, “Why don’t you sign this?’

And Mickey said, ‘It’d be my pleasure..”

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psychedelicpotato · 2 years

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Watch "U2 ▶ Rattle·and·Hum (Full Album)" on YouTube

youtube

The album "Rattle And Hum" is the soundtrack to the movie of the same name made by the band U2. The album was released in the year 1988.

Tracklist:

Helter Skelter (live)

Van Diemen's Land (live)

Desire

Hawkmoon 269

All Along The Watchtower (live)

I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For (live)

Freedom For My People [Exerpt]

Silver And Gold (live)

Pride (In The Name Of Love) (live)

Angel Of Harlem

Love Rescue Me

When Love Comes To Town

Heartland

God Part II

The Star Spangled Banner (Woodstock Festival Exerpt)

Bullet The Blue Sky (live)

All I Want Is You

#u2 #u2 band #rattle and hum #music #Youtube

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yifeiyay · 2 years

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thoughts on fe london r13 2022 :

attack mode is 6 min here?? could've sworn it's normally 4

it's been THIRTY EIGHT races since robin won?? this is criminal

i love the little lightshow they have

appreciate eurosports comms for letting themselves fade into the background so we can all hear "and we go green"

sam pushing the car 😭

my god the debris

i hate that this is gonna be another merc championship walkthrough bc everyone else got unlucky in the closing stages

not edo wanting to keep going despite a broken suspension

sergio p3 slay

techeetah is so finished icl

rare moment where both nissans are in the points

when i hear the cheering i think about how kerry and jane were there <33

edo could get lapped? he could do smth really funny rn

they named turn 17 after jake? that's so cute

how many 5s pens have been given out already geez

jack being like how is nyck getting away with this when robin got a pen bshdj speak ur truth king!

and he did get one in the end didn't he. pity we couldn't see nick on the podium

ollie askew lifting jake up 💞

nyck patting michelin man on the back lmao i will miss him next year

andretti crew humming along to god save the queen but not star spangled banner bdhfsj

why does eurosport comms keep speculating that nyck will go to f1 let the rumour die i beg

jake did a grand slam too wow

didn't realise the winner gets a bigger champagne bottle that's so funny

#miels catches up #fe #london eprix 2022 round 1

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puutterings · 1 year

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puff ! no matter

Puff! off he went into the sea, and there he was puttering around in the water. ₁ — although not in the real smart set — just puttering ₂ his own mountain, mind you — and told him not to come puttering around there any more. On second thoughts ₃ When I get all these rocks in place according to plans you’ll see what I mean. It’ll be a hum-dinger ₄ he began to think calmly and soberly. He began to reason. She certainly would not be wasting time puttering around that old inn, no matter ₅

all George Barr McCutcheon

1 “Funny predicament I was just in,” he drawled. “I want to ask what a fellow should have done under the circumstances.” “I’d have refused the girl, observed “Rip” Van Winkle, laconically. “Girl had nothing to do with it, old chap,” went on Reggy, dropping into a chair. “Fel-[178]low fell overboard a little while ago,” he went on, calmly. There was a chorus of cries and Brewster was forgotten for a time. “One of the sailors, you know. He was doing something in the rigging near where I was standing. Puff! off he went into the sea, and there he was puttering around in the water.” “Oh, the poor fellow,” cried Miss Valentine. — ex Brewster’s Millions (under pseudonym of Richard Greaves; 1903) : 178 : link description at its own wikipedia page : link 2 “That isn’t very much,” she said, with a perplexed frown. “I had an idea that if I wanted to live in style it would cost somewhere around seventy-five or a hundred thousand. I know a woman from Iowa who lives at the Ritz-Carlton and goes about some — although not in the real smart set — and she says it costs five or six thousand a month, just puttering. Maybe you’ve met her out in society. Her name is Bliggs.” “Bliggs? Um! Name’s not familiar. Of course, you can spend a hundred thousand easily in New York if you get into the right set,” he said. “That’s just the point,” said she. — ex Her Weight in Gold (1917) : 217 : link (same U Virginia copy, via hathitrust) : link 3 “’Tain’t necessary,” announced Anderson loftily. “I c’n attend to my own business, if you can’t. Nobody c’n sing the Star Spangled Banner in Dutch without havin’ a charge of intoxication filed ag’in him, lemme tell you that. Git out o’ my way, Alf.” Mr. Crow’s pride had been touched. The shaft of criticism had gone home. He would arrest Mr. Abraham Lincoln Bonaparte, no matter what came of it. He did not like Mr. Bonaparte anyway. It [96] was Mr. Bonaparte who had ordered him off Crow’s Mountain — his own mountain, mind you — and told him not to come puttering around there any more. On second thoughts, he accepted the nominal town sot’s offer to make affidavit against a real offender, but declined his company and assistance in effecting the arrest. — ex Anderson Crow, Detective, illustrated by John T. McCutcheon (1920) : 96 : link 4 “It’s our house, boss,—not yours,” explained Buck Chizler, whose spare time was largely expended in the development, — you might almost say, the financing, — of a flower-bed on the lawn. It was to be the finest flower-bed of them all, he swore. “This is government property and we, the people, are going to do what we please with it.” “That’s all very fine, Buck, but don’t you think you ought to be spending your spare hours with your wife, instead of puttering around here?” [336] “Do you know who the boss of this job is? My wife. I’m nothing but an ordinary day-laborer, a plain Mick, a sort of a Wop, obeying orders. Good gosh, you don’t think I’ve got brains enough to design this flower-bed, do you? No, sirree! It takes an artist to think up a design like this. When I get all these rocks in place according to plans you’ll see what I mean. It’ll be a hum-dinger, A. A. This here thing running off this way is the tail. Come over here and look at it from this side, — it’s upside down from where you’re standin’.” — ex West Wind Drift (1920) : 335 : link (NYPL copy) — summary and review among “Some Recent Fiction” in The Baptist 1:44 (November 27, 1920) : 1486 link — The “Doraine,” a great steamship, sails from a South American port during the war and is never heard from again. This book purports to tell the story of the lost ship. She is rendered helpless by explosives hidden with her by German fiends, and drifts for many days until she finally brings up on an island that is uncharted and unvisited. Here her passengers and crew — 700 all told — land and proceed to build themselves homes and to set up a government. The hero of the story, who becomes the governor of the colony, is a young fellow who left port as a stowaway on the “Doraine.” Besides being almost impossibly efficient, he wins the love of the most attactive and wealthiest young woman among the passengers. In the entire improbability of the story lies much of its charm. No one can complain of a dull page, and the reader is constantly on the qui vive as to what is coming next. It has the fitality and sweep which we have come to expect in everything that Mr. McCutcheon writes. — there is also a dismissive (on formal and principled objections) review by “R.G.”, under the heading “The Latest Books” in The Argonaut 78: (December 11, 1920) : 378 link (UC copy, also at hathitrust) : link 5 Presently he began to think calmly and soberly. He began to reason. Eulora was a person of action,—quick action. Nothing could divert her from a purpose. If she had come to Moon Village to find him, she certainly would not be wasting time puttering around that old inn, no matter how full it might be of “museum pieces.” No, sir! That wasn’t her way. The first thing she would have done would be to ask Elizabeth if there was such a person as Romeo Egerton in the village, and of course Elizabeth would have answered yes. This would have put an end to all thoughts of the inn. His spirits picked up amazingly. She didn’t know he was in Moon Village. She was merely sight-seeing,—the same as anybody else was who had undertaken the trip to the deserted hamlet. But his spirits didn’t stay up very long. They went down like a shot with the thought that Elizabeth might possibly mention his name. Even so, the would never think of looking for him in this garret. — ex Romeo in Moon Village (1924) : 292 : link review and summary by Henry H. Balos, in The Literary Digest International Book Review (November 1925) : 822-823 : link

George Barr McCutcheon (1866-1928) wikipedia : link

#1903 #George Barr McCutcheon #gardening #museum pieces

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cornerihaunt · 1 year

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btw every time i hum la marseillaise it slowly becomes the star spangled banner lmao

#rambles #is that how the national anthem of the usa #is called

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hangrypa · 4 years

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today I learned that my coworkers can hear me when I hum to myself

In the hallways.

And they can hear me from down the hall, too.

And so can my patients.

#oops #musical hangry #I was humming the star-spangled banner #hospitalist #hangrypa

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ourbastardofsorrows · 4 years

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i can excuse teaching geometry, but i draw the line at teaching the pledge of allegiance

#tia text #just found out i'm supposed to lead my class in that and i'm -_- about it #the only good side to this is that i'm going to make it v clear that they do not have to say it/stand for it/can kneel if they want #these kids are gonna get a crash course in their constitutional right to not pledge allegiance every single morning #the pledge of allegiance is gonna take 3 times its usual duration to say bc i'm gonna tell these kids their fucking rights #and make it v v clear that anyone who says they can't do those things is in the wrong #it's kinda funny (& kinda infuriating) that you have me doing this stuff & singing like. ''holiday'' while i work on setting up the room #and then sitting in the portable right next to me is my colleague who hums the fucking star spangled banner while she works #i'm picking on geometry in this bc it was my weakest subject in school

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homestucksongcomics · 3 years

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Masterpost of Song Comics Part I (A-K)

*Unfortunately, due to a peculiarity of tumblr, a post containing too many links will not have any of them function. Thus, the masterpost has been broken into two parts.*

Organized by musician alphabetically

Last updated on 07/18/2021

See Part II here: Masterpost of Homestuck Song Comics Part II (L-Z)

Kryptonite - 3 Doors Down by absinthianlyunheroic

This is War - 30 Seconds to Mars by caffieneandcarpaltunnel

I’m Not Your Boyfriend Baby - 3HO!3 by awildcale

Almost Lover - A Fine Frenzy by irlmako

New Tomorrow - A Friend In London by maria-artz

Hand Over Mouth, Over and Over - A Lot Like Birds by binart

Skyfall - Adele by stormfather

Song of Healing - Adriana Figueroa by talkshitnojutsu

Everything Stays - Adventure Time by starchip-one

Kiss my Eyes and Lay Me to Sleep - AFI by 413art

Prelude 12/21 - AFI by toastyhat

Another Day - Air by chubsintubs

A Whole New World - Aladdin by copper-fish

Mercy Me - Alkaline Trio by brainbent

Hothouse - Aly & AJ by dristr

Evelyn, Evelyn - Amanda Palmer by p-pamda

Luck - The American Authors by timehwimeh

21 Guns - American Idiot Cast by jankyweeaboo

Pittsburgh - The Amity Affliction by anafigreen

Inevitable - Anberlin by suchirolle

Ready to Die - Andrew W. K. by askherroyalcondesce

The Age of Not Believing - Angela Lansbury by toastyhat

Director - The Antlers by gin-and-djinn

Kettering - The Antlers by cloudymew

My Mamma Said - Aqua by xamag-homestuck

Suburbs - Arcade Fire by porrim-maryam and collaborators

Wake Up - Arcade Fire by catprinx

We Used to Wait - Arcade Fire by drawingspecibus

R U Mine? - Arctic Monkeys by dacadaca

The Ballad Of Love And Hate - The Avett Brothers by umjulikins

Hey Brother - Avicii by esmeblaise

Wake Me Up - Avicii by a-vodka-mutini

Sail - AWOLNATION by theamazingzombiegirl

If I Die Young - The Band Perry by japhers

Memory - Barbra Strisand by toastyhat

Glitter and Gold - Barns Courtney by chibigaia-art

Daniel in the Den - Bastille by tomato-bird

Pompeii - Bastille by maria-artz Broken

Pompeii - Bastille by toastyhat and oskarna

Above the Clouds of Pompeii - Bear’s Den by groveofsketches

Let it Be - Beatles by toastyhat

The Fool on the Hill - The Beatles by robotoucan

All the Pretty Little Horses - Becky Jean Williams by purplecalamity

Pieces of Sky - Beth Orton by awildcale

Sweet Dreams - Beyoncé by dacadaca

River Below - Billy Talent by kamdensl

Rusted from the Rain - Billy Talent by crispychocolate

Just a Game - Birdy by redwordsoncavewalls

Kill the Lights - The Birthday Massacre by xamag-homestuck

Red Stars - The Birthday Massacre by lord-caliborn and tricotee

These Days - The Black Keys by digitallyimpaired

In the End - Black Veil Brides by rinasart

Let it Be - Blackmill (feat. Veela) by awildcale

Bad Sun - The Bravery by crashtest-therapist

Dear Agony - Breaking Benjamin by yukishii-chan

Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin by nevernoahh

Give Me a Sign - Breaking Benjamin by perceptur

I Will Not Bow - Breaking Benjamin by themockingcrows

First Day of My Life - Bright Eyes by usatoria

Can you feel my heart? - Bring me the horizon by domingoos and Yumegurren

Seeds - Brooke Fraser by anno-bannano Broken

Kodaline - Brother by zzpopzz

When I Was Your Man - Bruno Mars by babynarwalshineyeyes

P.O.W. - Bullet for My Valentine by anafigreen

Angel with a Shotgun - The Cab by dawngyocry

How Are You - Cage the Elephant by facetiousfanatic Part 1

How Are You - Cage the Elephant by facetiousfanatic Part 2

How Are You - Cage the Elephant by facetiousfanatic Part 3

The loneliest Girl - Carol and Tuesday by cassandraooc

Morning Has Broken - Cat Stevens by thlange

Star Spangled Banner - Chase Holfelder by chillybuns

Between the Bars - Chris Garneau by roselalondee

Dirty Night Clown - Chris Garneau by idontevenknow-anymore

Dirty Night Clown - Chris Garneau by immabananana

Enter the Circus - Christina Aguilera by askinsanegamzee Broken

A Thousand Years - Christina Perii by angstyelf

A Thousand Years - Christina Perii by mari-victal

Burning Gold - Christina Perri by raspberrylemonhead

Fall - Cider Sky by nevernoahh

Falling (Demo) - The Civil Wars by zomdi

Safe and Sound - The Civil Wars by karaokekarkat

Hum - Clara C by nymphicus

3 Foot Tall - Classifed by kyrah-art

Summer Day - Coconut Records by kathysbrotherssister

Fondu au Noir - Coeur de Pirate by derperistical

Fix You - Coldplay by absinthianlyunheroic

Paradise - Coldplay by Moonpaw

The Scientist - Coldplay by ikimaru

Up with the Birds - Coldplay by the-rag-tag-earl

Viva la Vida - Coldplay by raspberrylemonhead

Viva La Vida - Coldplay by rozeart

Yellow - Coldplay by mariedisgrace

Young Volcanos - Coldplay by kawo-shin

Princess of China - Coldplay (feat. Rihanna) by sora-la

Chin Up - Copeland by vriskamidfangserket

Accidentally in Love - Counting Crows by hopelesslyblithe Broken

Crywank are posers - Crywank by p-666t

Thrice - Daedalus by foramen-magnum

Something About Us - Daft Punk by moxel

Something About Us - Daft Punk by yazzdonut

Emotion - Daft Punk (MissingNo remix) by doomzy

The Spine - Darren Korb (Transistor) by rose-ebottles Broken

Youth - Daughter by zelpixel

Raise Your Weapon - Deadmau5 by marintan

Go Get Your Gun - The Dear Hunter by mcsiggy

Whisper - The Dear Hunter by prospt and collaborators

I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie by davsturdur

I Will Follow You into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie by inusushi

I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie by kawaiifarts

Bottom of the River - Delta Rae by wwhatevven

Perfect Insanity - Disturbed by vasheren

Just Be Friends (Instrumental) - Dixie Flatline by cheese3d Inspired by Litlte Red Riding Hood

Pity Dance - Dn Stith by jazzango

Venus Hum - Do You Want to Fight Me by shubbabang

Everything You Ever - Doctor Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog by thesassylorax

My Eyes - Doctor Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog by equiu5

Close Every Door - Donny Osmond by allegro-designs

Baby Mine - Dumbo by gayrupunzel

I See Fire - Ed Sheeran by arachnerdsgri

I See Fire - Ed Sheeran by themockingcrows

Small Bump - Ed Sheeran by janecrockeyre

Cosmic Castaway - Electrasy by themockingcrows

Telephone Line - Electric Light Orchestra by daily-beta

You are my Sunshine - Elizabeth Mitchell by the-rag-tag-earl

Goodnight Sweet Ladies - Emilie Autumn by amporasexual

Asleep - Emily Browning (originally by The Smiths) by joker-ace

O Come O Come Emmanuel - Enya by pseudocon

One for the Money - Escape the Fate by ikimaru

Follow the Sun - Evermore by ladygrit

Fever Dreamless - fadeintocase by peregr1ne

Centuries - Fall Out Boy by sixofclovers

Immortals - Fall Out Boy by etcterrayellowmoon

Immortals - Fall Out Boy by mari-victal

Immortals - Fall Out Boy by quiversarrow

My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up) - Fall Out Boy by toastyhat

The Kids Aren’t All Right - Fall Out Boy by i-am-a-riceball

The Kids Aren’t All Right - Fall Out Boy by scarlettheknight

The Last of the Real Ones - Fall Out Boy by dopingues

The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy by orangelemonart

Caught Like a Fly - Falling in Reverse by viria

Tragic Magic - Falling in Reverse by elasticitymudflap

Heavy Storm - First Aid Kit by moxel

Wolf - First Aid Kit by spooneaterarts

100 years - Five for Fighting by orangelemonart

Superman - Five for Fighting by grimbarke

Hurt Feelings - Flight of the Conchords by koroke

Rise - Flobots by lyricstuckbeatdown

Blinding - Florence + the Machine by collaborative

Cosmic Love - Florence + the Machine by rosemaryserver

Cosmic Love - Florence + the Machine by starkthirdeye

Cosmic Love - Florence + the Machine by toastyhat

Dog Days Are Over - Florence + the Machine by greatbiglyricstuck

Dog Days are Over - Florence + the Machine by m0thboy

Girl With One Eye - Florence + the Machine by kingdomzombified

Kiss With a Fist - Florence + the Machine by miraculoustang

No Light, No Light - Florence + the Machine by dacadaca

No Light, No Light - Florence + the Machine by nappotuna

Only If for a Night - Florence + the Machine by glueball

Seven Devils - Florence + the Machine by fangirlinginleatherboots

Seven Devils - Florence + the Machine by themockingcrows

Shake it Out - Florence + the Machine by cod-tier

Tear out my Tongue - Florence + the Machine by wheresmyhamlet

What the Water Gave Me - Florence + the Machine by colonoscolypseart

With an Axe - Foxy Shazam by oldshiel

Something Stupid - Frank and Nancy Sinatra by toastyhat

Some Nights - Fun. by greatbiglyricstuck

Mad World - Gary Jules by ahabsiconoclast

Mad World - Gary Jules by prospitheir and aze

Mad World - Gary Jules by synnesai

Where Everybody Knows Your Name - Gary Portnoy by calliotp

Child of Light - The Getaway Plan by dingohugs

It All Dies Anyway - The Gits by skittykitty55

Take Me Away - Globus by toastyhat and splickedylit

You’re the One That I Want - Grease by doodlebonez

Top of the World - Greek Fire by eggsand-santoast

Song of the Century - Green Day by babakinkin

Song of the Century - Green Day by delinked

Song of the century - Green Day by the-rogue-0f-light

Boats and Birds - Gregory and the Hawk by striderprovider

Hard Knocks - Griffinilla and Alex Cole by colouredteapot

Colors - Hasley by innocuoussketches

Anything - Hedley by valeriannnn

The Unquiet Grave - Hellen McCrocry by madreamcanular

Coming Back Down - Hollywood Undead by flynnagan

Coming Back Down - Hollywood Undead by skittykitty55

Levitate - Hollywood Undead by anafigreen

SCAVA - Hollywood Undead by scarlettheknight

Temporal Shenanigans - Homestuck ost - Rachel Macwhirter by arachnerdsgrip:

Almost (Sweet Music) - Hozier by metaname

Take Me To Church - Hozier by sailerscrimshaw Broken

God Help the Outcasts - Hunchback of Notre Dame by velocitiestrumpet

The Court of Miracles - Hunchback of Notre Dame by moc-tod-ffuts-modnar

That’s Okay - The Hush Sound by porcupet

Where We Went Wrong - The Hush Sound by canni8al

Wine Red - The Hush Sound by zeborah

Volatile Times - IAMX by xamag-homestuck

Bad Karma - Ida Maria by margarethours

Amsterdam - Imagine Dragons by paperseverywhere

Bleeding Out - Imagine Dragons by rapidopatter

Demons - Imagine Dragons by muraokami Broken

Demons - Imagine Dragons by rapidopatter

Fallen - Imagine Dragons by maria-artz Broken

I'm So Sorry - Imagine Dragons by abbiwhozit

I'm So Sorry - Imagine Dragons by catkindness Part 1

I'm So Sorry - Imagine Dragons by catkindness Part 2

Nothing Left to Say - Imagine Dragons by paperseverywhere

On Top of the World - Imagine Dragons by lickfoot

Radioactive - Imagine Dragons by falloutboyonboy

Radioactive - Imagine Dragons by rachelhungry

Thief - Imagine Dragons by mikimosh

Warriors - Imagine Dragons by turretsyndr0me

Hide and Seek - Imogen Heap by kingdomzelaybli

The Devil’s Carnival - In all My Dreams I Drown by artblogofminji

Don’t Stop - InnerPartySystem by spocktalia Broken

What We Will Never Know - InnerPartySystem by lets-lyricstuck

Cinders and Smoke - Iron & Wine by laughingandgrief

Walk the Moon - Iscariot by cissaisthisyou

The Weekend - Islands by daily-beta

R.I.P. Everyone - J.J. Demon by trickstercarlos

Fallin’ - Jake Bugg by awildcale

I Won’t Give Up - Jason Mraz by impudentkid

I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young by asexualls Broken

Sufferer’s Final Sermon - jbriner by sketchloft

Be Thou My Vision - jbriner (originally a hymn) by mrdespondency

O Death - Jen Titus by canni8al

Oh Death - Jen Titus by artweaver5

If the World Should End - Jennifer Damiano by atrueenglishman

The Hanging Tree - Jennifer Lawrence by sixofclovers

Highwayman - Johnny Cash by toastyhat

What A Wonderful World - Joseph William Morgan ft. Shadow Royale by jayspants

The Stars - Jukebox the Ghost by innocuoussketches

Die Young - Ke$ha by gelasticat

[S] Ke$ha: Enter - Ke$ha (Die Young Remix by captaincrapster) by ket3

Because of You - Kelly Clarkson by timehost

Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson by karaokeoctoberkat

Britland City Theme - Kenashcorp by stormfather

Animals - Kids in Glass Houses by faun-songs

Dustland Fairytale - The Killers by spiritleaf

Mr. Brightside - The Killers by mlle-annette

Sam´s Town - The Killers by gei-may

Smile Like You Mean It - The Killers by toastyhat

I Will Never Forget - Kimya Dawson by moxel

All I Want - Kodaline by godtier8itch

#Homestuck #lyricstuck #song sets #masterlist #Song comics #song comic #homestucksongcomics

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch44: Peanut Butter And Poop

Introducing: Baby Rogers!

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut! (NSFW) No under 18s. Teeth rotting fluff…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Yeah, I love this chapter. I hope you all do too. And thank @angrybirdcr for the edits. They melted me.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 43

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

March 2020

“Is everything ok?” Steve asked, tiredly. For the fourth time in about two minutes Katie had shifted, next to him, rubbing her hand over her distended belly. She was fed up now, and he wished he could help her get comfy, he really did. But until their baby decided to make an appearance, there wasn’t much more he could do. She had been feeling crappy all day and had thrown a spectacular tantrum at the fact Steve had shaved his stubble. His reasoning being that although she technically had another four weeks to go, she was already at full term size, and if their son arrived, who knew how long it would be before he managed to shave again, but she was having none of it. Steve had simply stood there, calmly whilst she’d ranted and raved about that and everything else she was pissed off about before she’d broken down into tears and apologised, falling into his arms and going on another rant about how shitty she was feeling.

His wife was such a strong person normally, the strongest person Steve knew in fact, but over the last week she’d been up and down mood-wise more than any other time during her pregnancy, and he hated seeing her so uncomfortable and upset. And tonight, she was physically the most uncomfortable he had seen her yet. “Yeah, he’s just kicking.” She sighed, rolling over to face him. “Really hard, Steve. It fucking hurts.” Steve gave her a sympathetic smile as he reached out and pressed his hand to her abdomen, waiting, and then he felt another sharp dig, Katie hissing air out through her teeth.

“Maybe he’s gonna be a footballer.” Steve yawned, attempting to make light of the situation. But it didn’t work. “Well I’m not a football.” She grumbled, pressing her hand to her stomach just above Steve’s. “Pack it in, Buddy, please.”

Co-incidence or not, their baby stopped kicking, but Katie was still restless. She moved again, and again, until finally Steve sat up, flicking on the lamp, his face silently asking her what the issue was. Katie had to smile, there wasn’t a shred of annoyance in his face, despite the fact it was almost one in the morning thanks to her sleep patterns being all over the place. Instead, there was nothing but love and genuine concern across his handsome features and coupled with the fact she was hormonal and just felt a bit shit, she started to cry.

“I’m fed up Steve.” She sniffled. “I’m fat, I had to get Natasha to shave my legs yesterday, I can’t see my feet, I need to pee all the time and…” “Sweetheart,” he chuckled, softly looking down at her, taking his face in her hands, “first off, you’re not fat, you’re pregnant. Very pregnant. With our baby.”

“I know but,” she continued to cry, “I just…”

Whatever it was that she just, Steve never found out as she simply sniffed again and moved so that her head was lay across his lap over the covers of their California king, and he gently stroked her hair. And for a moment he thought he’d managed to sooth her until she gave another groan.

“For fucks sake, I just can’t get comfy.” She sniffled, her sobs coming again as she sat up. “My back and my shoulders…”

Okay, this he could try and help with. Smiling to himself he looked at her. “Assume the position, Doll.” She gave out a watery laugh as she heaved herself over so she was facing away from him. Steve shuffled down so that he was led right behind her and doing the one thing he could to try and get her to feel a little relaxed, he slid his strong hands up her top, his deft fingers gently massaging and rubbing at the spot he knew was sor in her lower back.

“You still feeling funny?” He asked, his fingers working the tight and aching muscles and she nodded.

“Have been all day, but it’s not uncommon apparently. Pepper said she felt iffy for the last four weeks of her pregnancy.” “Four weeks.” Steve mused, his fingers stopping momentarily before he started again. “As if he’s gonna be here in four weeks.” “Well, it could be any time technically. And I hope it is, because frankly, I can’t wait to get him out.” She sighed, as Steve’s hands gently guided her top, well his shirt, over her head so his hands could work at her shoulders and her upper back.

“Hmmm,” he gently swept her hair off her neck so he could plant a soft kiss there. “I can’t wait but I’m gonna miss your bump.” “I’m not,” she scoffed, as his hands crept round to cradle her distended stomach, “and stop feeling him and carry on. Until he’s here this is all about me, remember.” She shrugged her shoulders, emphasizing her message, and he chuckled. “Sorry doll.” Relaxing into his touch, Katie felt herself leaning back against him and then Steve made the best suggestion he had ever made to her in the history of suggestions.

“Why don’t I run you a bath? I know it’s late but Emmy’s at Brooke’s for the evening and it might help.” Katie groaned “God, yes.”

He kissed the back of her neck and threw back the covers, climbing out of the bed, not an inch of tiredness displayed in his body. Despite herself, Katie had to bite back a laugh. He was like a coiled spring at the moment. He had told Rhodey a few weeks ago that he wasn’t travelling anywhere now until the baby was here for fear of missing anything, but as a result that relentless energy which normally went into his work was bubbling inside him, and even his runs every morning and night were doing nothing to help.

Laying back she closed her eyes until she heard him calling and she heaved herself up, taking a moment to steady herself before she rather ungraciously waddled out of the room, one hand pressed to her lower back, the other clamped under the bottom of her bump.

“Give me a hand when you need me to lift you out.” Steve chuckled as he passed her on the hallway and she spun round, glaring at him. “Like last time.” “That’s not funny.”

“No, but it will give me the chance to eye up your naked pregnant body, something I intend to make the most of as it won’t be around for much longer.” “You’re a piece of work, Steven Grant Rogers.” She huffed, as she turned and headed to the bathroom.

Steve settled back on the bed and flicked on the TV. There wasn’t much on but in the end he logged into Netflix and settled for a few re-runs of ‘Brooklyn 99’. The show was absurd, but it was easy watching and he quite liked it, Jake Peralta reminded him in an odd way of a cross between Tony and Thor with his incessant energy and ridiculousness. About halfway through an episode, he was struck with another good idea, and he headed down into the kitchen to make them both a drink, cocoa for him and a ginger and honey tea for Katie. He carried the mug into the bathroom where his wife was slumped in the tub, surrounded by lavender and camomile bubbles, her eyes closed. She looked up at him, one eye open as he walked in, handing her the mug and she let out a soft groan.

“My hero.” She smiled as he dropped a kiss onto her lips before heading back into their room.

It was about another thirty minutes or so when she did call him. He knew she hated this, needing his help, but getting out of the huge tub on her own was simply a physical impossibility. Once he’d helped her out and she was wrapped in a robe, she dropped on the bed, seemingly pacified for a moment until she suddenly wanted peanut butter. Heading into the kitchen, he opened the cupboard and a cold feeling of dread washed over him when he realised they were out.

Fuck, fuck!

He was certain there had been three jars in there this morning. He frantically searched the rest of the kitchen, just in case Katie’s baby-brain had meant she’d stashed it somewhere else, but there as none to be found. Grimacing, he took the stairs two at a time and winced at the look on his wife’s face when he told her she must have eaten it all, before hastily placating her as her eyes watered, reminding her that the twenty-four hour mart was only a five minute drive away.

Which was why he found himself there at twenty-seven minutes past two on a Sunday morning buying six jars of the damned stuff.

Captain America, buying jars of peanut butter at half 2 in the morning for his wife.

Steve smiled to himself, he didn’t give a shit.

“Missus is Pregnant.” He nodded to the man behind the counter, who gave him a look of confusion as he dropped the jars onto the side by the till. The guy laughed, and nodded.

“It was chow-mein with my gal.” He chuckled as Steve handed over the cash. “That was a pain in the ass at four am on a Sunday. Trust me buddy, you got off lightly.”

Thanking his lucky stars that his wife’s craving was, indeed, relatively simple, Steve headed back home and she nearly cried when she took a jar off him and dug in with a spoon. They sat still for another hour, at which point Steve really was ready to fall asleep, and after eating half of a jar in one go, Katie screwed the top back on and set it back on her nightstand, her eyes drooping slightly.

“Think I’m okay now.” She nodded softly and Steve hummed into her hair, reaching up and turning the TV and lamp off and settling them down. She managed about half an hour before she groaned again and heaved herself off to the bathroom, this time for a pee. When she came back she lay facing him, her fingers gently tracing his jaw and he cracked one eye open and they just lay there, watching one another in the dim light.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“What for?”

“Keeping you awake.”

Steve chuckled and leaned forward to give her a soft kiss “Honey, it’s fine.”

And it was, it really was. He would be tired tomorrow, he knew that, but he didn’t care.

He closed his eyes and he was on the verge of sleep, teetering between dozing and being fully under when…

“Steve.” Katie whispered softly, and he grinned as he knew that suggestive tone way too well. “I’m horny, now.” “You really know how to pick your moments, Mrs Rogers.” He sniggered a little, opening his eyes, as his mouth met hers again, the slight taste of the peanut butter made him smile even more as both his lips held her bottom one as the kiss lingered.

“Blame your son.” She murmured as she kissed him again, her hands creeping into the back of his hair, eliciting a soft moan from him.

And that was all it took.

Steve was obliging, and kissed every part of her body he could, taking care to avoid the rather tender chest area. It was slow, soft, as their bodies joined in the ever so familiar dance, tangled in the sheets of the bed. As his wife rode him, her large bump not allowing for any other position, Steve’s hands never left the side of her hips, the pair of them groaning loudly as her release took her over the edge and he followed shortly after. They lay there, gently on the bed together, Katie’s back pressed into his chest, for half an hour or so afterwards. Steve’s hand was strong yet gentle over her waist, his hand caressing the place his son was currently dwelling, thumb stroking her stretched skin in soft arcs. And when he felt her finally relaxed, he took a quick glance at the digital clock on the night stand, giving a slight roll of the eyes as he saw it was almost half four in the morning.

****** Katie woke later that morning at little after eight, trying not to groan at the now quite nasty pain in her back. She didn’t even try to go back to sleep, knowing it was utterly pointless. Instead, leaving Steve flat out, exhausted from the nights activities, she headed into the kitchen to make herself a peppermint tea and stuck a heat pack into the microwave, grabbing another jar of peanut butter.

The pains in her back and lower stomach continued to get progressively worse through the morning and along with them so did Katie’s mood. Emmy had called asking to stay at Brooke’s for a bit longer, which suited Steve as it meant he could give Katie his undivided attention, so he agreed and promised to collect her later in the evening.

As they both stood in the kitchen, Katie trying to decide what she wanted for lunch, eventually settling on meatball subs. They began to cook together, something to take Katie’s mind of feeling so uncomfortable, but as she turned to pass Steve the cheese so he could start loading the bread up, a searing pain flashed across her abdomen causing her to give a loud exclamation and clutch at the counter edge with one hand, dropping the packet of grated cheddar from the other.

“Katie?” Steve turned to face her, frowning “Sweetheart?”

She turned into him, curling her fists into his shirt, pressing her head against his chest, with a groan, her forehead digging into his collarbone. He gently held her back, supporting her as she breathed through the pain.

“I - mm.” Katie’s voice was trembling, a combination of fear and excitement. “I thought it was just cramps but now I think…”

Steve understood immediately. And despite all the classes, all the prep, everything, he suddenly felt really, really nervous “What? Now?”

She looked up into his eyes which were wide, in a combination of anticipation and trepidation and laughed. “I think so, yeah.”

Steve went straight into Captain mode. The maternity bag was loaded into the car, Dr Kellet was called who told them to monitor the contractions in frequency and duration, and a bath was run to try and make Katie more comfortable but it didn’t work.

Neither did a soft walk round the block with Lucky.

Four hours later, Katie was stood, bent over the back of the sofa as Steve rubbed her back, helping her breath through another contraction. They were now coming every thirteen minutes and getting far more painful (thanks to Steve’s impeccable time keeping skills for that one) when Katie noticed him step back slightly as she felt a dampness spread across her legs.

Her waters had gone.

“Baby, I think-“ “I know,” she grit her teeth as the pain subsided again. Steve was already on the phone to Dr Kellet and as he thanked her and placed the phone into his pocket he gently placed his hands on the side of his wife’s hips as she straightened up.

“She’s told us to go in.” A smile flickered on his face and despite the pain and stress she was feeling, Katie couldn’t help but find her heart swelling at the excitement on his face.

Steve called Tony, asking him to collect Emmy, then rang the girl herself who squealed with excitement at the fact her brother was on his way. A quick chat to Jennifer’s mum to explain, the woman wishing them both luck, and Katie was in the car and they were off, making quite possibly the most important journey of their lives. Steve drove carefully but determinedly to the Birthing Centre, his thumb tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel, casting glances at Katie every chance he got, and by the time they had arrived twenty minutes later the contractions were arriving five minutes apart.

He helped her change and got her settled in their airey room, his hand curling round hers as she lay back on the bed, both of them pleased to see the familiar face of Dr Kellet as she walked into the room just as another contraction hit Katie. Once it had subsided, Dr Kellet smiled moved to examine her.

“Yes, you’re in active labour Mrs Rogers.” The Doctor smiled. “You have a little while to go yet though so, we’ll try and get you a little more comfortable, okay?”

Katie nodded.

“And you still don’t want an epidural?”

“No.” She shook her head firmly, and Steve raised her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. She’d been adamant that there were no needles going anywhere near her back, not after what HYDRA had done to her, which broke Steve a little when she’d said that to him, not only at the memory of what she’d been through, but also a the fact she was going to be giving birth with little relief.

Three hours later, however, Katie was seriously questioning her decision. She was on all fours on the bed, desperately trying to find some release that the gas and air wasn’t really providing anymore as Steve rubbed her back, feeling utterly helpless.

“I don’t like you-” Katie groaned, her voice cutting off as another wave of pain washed over me. “I don’t you seeing me like this. I don’t like it, you should go”

Go? Not a chance, Doll, he thought to himself as he glanced up at the midwife who simply smiled at him. He leant down so his lips were by Katie’s ear and she turned her head, burying it into his shoulder, as his arms supported hers. “Katie Marie Rogers, I have seen you throw tantrums that rival the ones a two year old could produce, I’ve seen you with a face full of blood and a broken nose, I’ve watched you crawl through a dirty hole in the floor to disarm a bomb, and come out trembling. I’ve seen you scream the house down after spotting a damned spider, I’ve seen you half dead,” the words caught in his throat at the memory, “I’ve seen you shit faced to the point of puking, not to mention that I’ve seen you in every single position going.”

Katie snorted loudly, before gripping at his arm as another wave crashed over her.

“None of that could ever make me love you any less. And, seeing you here now, about to give birth to our boy, well I couldn’t love you anymore if I tried. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

She looked up at him through her tears and he wiped at her face with his thumbs, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, before she let out a gasp.

“I need, I need to push.” The panic tone in her voice made Steve glance up at the Doctor as Katie grabbed athis arm. “Steve, I…oh shit, I want to lay back, please, I need-“

“Okay, okay, I got you.” Steve assured her as the Doctor nodded at him to oblige. He gently helped her onto the back as Dr Kellet stood forward.

“You good?” She asked Katie who shot her a scathing look and Steve had to bite back the snort at the fact the Doctor merely raised an eyebrow whereas most people would be quaking in their boots at that infamous Stark glare. Instead, she merely smiled. “Let’s have a look.” Katie grabbed Steve’s hand with a force he didn’t think possible, and it almost made him wince slightly, but he was damned if he was showing her that she was hurting him. As far as he was concerned, she could break every damned finger he had if it meant she was okay, that their son was okay.

“Yep, we’re in business.” The Doctor said, nodding to the midwife that was in the room. “Okay, Mrs Rogers, next time you feel ready to push I want you to do so gently, follow my lead, Steve is gonna help you with your breathing okay?”

And Steve tried, boy did he try. But after twenty minutes of pushing, Katie was pissed off, tired, in agony and just wanted it all to be over.

"You’re doing so well, Sweetheart.” He smiled gently, as he brought her hand up to his lips.

“You are NEVER touching me again.” She grit her teeth and he let out a chuckle, wiping her clammy forehead with one hand.

“Alright, Katie.” The midwife looked at her from the foot of the bed. “Next time, I want a big, strong one. He’s crowning. Chin into your chest…”

“Fuuuuuck…” Katie screamed, another contraction hitting her and she let out a yell, gripping Steve’s hand as she pushed with everything she had.

You’re doing amazing, Katie. Just one more.” Steve dropped a kiss to her forehead, his heart was beating so loud he was sure she would hear it. “Come on, you got this, and I’ve got you, okay?” Another yell, one final push and then…

A piercing scream hit their ears as Katie sagged back on the pillow panting before she looked up, relief crashing over her. Steve was beaming from ear to ear, his eyes wet as he looked at his wife, in awe at how simply amazing and strong she was.

“You did it.” His voice cracked as he kissed her head. “Oh, Baby Girl, you did it.”

“He’s here?” Katie asked, dazed slightly as their baby was placed straight onto her chest, where the buttons at the top of her gown were undone, and instantly the warmth she felt was like nothing she had ever experienced before, her chest filling as she held their baby boy tenderly, tears pouring down her face.

“Oh God.” Steve breathed, his voice cracking, as Jamie was covered with a towel, resting on his wife’s chest, his piercing cries subsiding at the skin to skin contact. Steve rest his head against Katie’s, wiping the tears that had pooled at the end of his nose away, and the pair of them looked down getting their first glimpse of their son.

“Hi, baby!” Katie finally managed to speak, looking down through her tears at the tiny bundle in her arms as his head lay against her chest, making little snuffling noises. “We waited so long for you!”

She finally tore her eyes off the precious bundle and looked up at Steve, his eyes swimming with tears of joy as her own continued to fall down her cheeks. "It’s our boy, Steve.”

“He’s perfect.” Steve whispered again and gently smoothed down the towel with a trembling hand so he could see their baby’s face clearly. Steve instantly noticed he small spattering of dark blonde hair on his head, and there was something distinctly Stark-like about his nose. Then his eyes barely opened, but through them he saw a sliver of beautiful baby blue.

The Soldier’s heart instantly swelled so full he thought it would bust from his chest. He already knew this, but as he looked down at his son, it simply solidified the fact that he would take on the world to protect that little bundle in his wife’s arms, shield or no shield.

They remained wrapped in their own little bubble so much so that neither of them knew what was going on around them. Eventually, their baby was gently taken to the opposite side of the room whilst Katie was cleaned up. He was weighed at 7lb 4, which was, given Steve’s size, rather small but still perfectly healthy. Steve couldn’t help but hover, watching what they were doing with his boy, wincing as they gave him a shot of vitamin K.

“Does he have a name?” The nurse recording his AGPA scores looked up. Steve looked at Katie and she nodded at him.

“James” Steve spoke, his voice croaky. “Jamie.” “Alright.” The nurse scribbled something onto a band which was placed around his wrist before he was wrapped in a clean towel and the midwife looked up at Steve.

“Would you like to take him, Dad?”

Steve nodded, swallowing.“Yeah, yeah I would.” “Okay, well if you’re comfortable doing so, open your shirt, he’ll appreciate the skin to skin contact…”

Steve did was he was told, undoing the four buttons on his dark green Henley and could do nothing but gasp as his son was laid in his arms, tears once more forming in his eyes as he cradled their child to his chest for the first time, awestruck as he brought his lips down to drop gently on his head.

“Hey, Pal.” He whispered unsteadily. “I’m your Dad.”

Katie watched the two of them, more tears springing into her eyes as Steve sat down on the chair next to the bed and she just watched the pair of them, Steve’s eyes not once leaving his boy, who Katie noticed was now trying to burrow into his chest face-first.

“What are you doing, lights too bright for you, Buddy?” He asked softly.

“It’s called rooting.” One of the nurses looked over “He’s wanting to feed. Are you ready to try Mrs Rogers?”

Katie nodded and sat up slightly, as Steve gently handed him over and the midwife helped Katie position him correctly. It took a while, but when he finally latched on and began to suckle, Katie looked down into her baby’s face, trying to memorize the way the tiny hand curled against her skin. Steve leaned close, simply watching, his heart full of a love like nothing he had ever felt before.

“You’re beautiful,” he told Katie suddenly, and she laughed a little, because it was anything but true at that moment in time.

“I think the serum is failing as your eyes are clearly not working properly.” She retorted, glancing up at him.

“I mean it,” he repeated, leaning in to kiss her temple. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And look what you made!”

She glanced down at Jamie, who was feeding enthusiastically and smiled. “What we made…” “Yeah but you cooked him.” Steve’s finger slid under her chin so that she was looking back up at him, and he held her gaze, driving his words home. “Thank you.”

Katie leaned into his touch as his palm caressed her cheek. Carefully, he moved to sit on the bed beside her, guiding her head against his shoulder and gathering his family into very gentle embrace, his eyes not once leaving his baby.

"I love you,” he whispered into her hair - and he didn’t budge from that spot until Jamie was done nursing and Katie was then escorted to the toilet. In there she changed out of the gown and into a pair of pyjamas and returned from the en-suite of their private room, with a tired smile on her face to see that Steve, had dug out a baby grow. Katie watched as he placed their son in the cot by the end of the bed, with infinite tenderness, and the new parents dressed him for the first time.

“I suggest you both get some sleep whilst you can.” Dr Kellet smiled, peering into the cot where Jamie was now yawning, eyes drooping. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you. If you need anything though, just hit the call button and one of the Midwives will come in. Congratulations.” Steve and Katie both thanked her as Katie headed over to the bed, dropping exhaustedly onto it.

“You should go get some rest.” She yawned and Steve shook his head.

“I’m not leaving you.” Steve snapped a quick photo of the sleeping baby before settling on the bed as Katie lay her head on his chest. “Not a chance.”

It wasn’t long before she had fallen asleep, exhausted, and Steve sat up slightly, firing the photo off to Tony, Emmy, Nat and Rhodey. The replies of congratulations flooded in, along with a selfie of Tony, Pepper and Emmy on Tony’s sofa with their thumbs up. Steve snorted, it was almost two am now, but he knew that Tony and Emmy would be too excited to sleep. He placed his phone back on the night stand and settled down next to his wife, his hand straying into her hair. A little sniffling noise came from the cot at the side of the bed and Steve sat up, to check on him, but Jamie was sleeping soundly so he relaxed back, taking a deep breath.

He was in way over his head, and there was no planning for this mission, not one bit. But Steve found he didn’t mind. As he dropped a kiss to Katie’s head, he closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh knowing full well that the 7th March 2020 was a date he was never going to forget.

****

Katie opened her eyes and stared around the unfamiliar room which was lowly lit from a chink of light flooding in under the door. She sat up so quickly that her head spun, and she dropped back against the pillow, taking a deep breath. Then her eyes caught the man in the chair by her bed, and the memory of the night before came back. At some point in the night Jamie had woken for a feed but post it wouldn’t stop fussing and Katie’s half-conscious attempts to soothe him had failed. Steve had at that point stepped in and taken him, insisting that she get some rest as he paced the room with his son, gently rocking him to and fro. Her husband was now leaned back in the chair by her bed fast asleep, their little boy slumbering on his dad’s chest, secured by Steve’s large, gentle hands. Katie felt her heart swell and she grabbed her phone, noting that the time was only a little after 6:30 am, meaning that it was only two hours or so since his feed. She took a quick snap, contemplated taking Jamie back to his crib before she decided he was fine where he was. Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Glancing at her two boys, she sank deeper into her pillow, quietly satisfied, as she drifted back off into a light sleep.

Steve was woken by a soft cry about forty-five minutes later, and despite his best attempts Jamie wouldn’t settle.

“Sorry, Doll.” he looked at Katie as she woke, blinking as she pushed herself up. “I think he’s hungry and I can’t help him in that department.” With a smile she took their baby and began to nurse him again, something Steve didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing. Once he was fed, the midwives appeared and offered them breakfast which they gratefully accepted and then Katie positively moaned when she was told she could shower. She was dried off an and in a clean set of Pyjamas just in time for visiting hours which started at ten.

At one minute past there was a knock on the door to their room.

“Hey Mommy and Daddy!” Pepper peering round the door clutching a huge blue balloon as Tony followed, Morgan in her stroller. The tot squealed when she saw Steve who stood up to greet them as Emmy flew into the room, locking her arms around Steve’s waist. He dropped a kiss to her head and looked up as Natasha stepped in hot on their tail.

”Congratulations Cap.” Tony beamed, shaking Steve’s hand before he pulled him into an embrace. Katie smiled up at her family, Jamie clutched in her arms having just been fed again as Tony moved and stepped up to the bed, kissing the top of his sister’s head as he peered down at his nephew.

“Well done, Kiddo.” he whispered softly and she smiled at him.

Pepper was next to congratulate her, then Natasha and finally Emmy who gave her brother an appraising look. “Hmmm takes after you, Dad.” She smirked up at Steve. “Where else is he gonna get a face like that?” Steve rolled his eyes as he stood up from where he had been crouched saying hello to Morgan. He glanced at Tony who was peering down at his nephew, a huge grin on his face.

“He’s beautiful, guys.” Tony said and Katie smiled up at her brother and he made a gesture with his arms. “Can I?”

Katie nodded, and moved to gently pass him over, and Tony took him in his arms with a soft chuckle.

“Hey, Champ.” He beamed down as Jamie moved softly in his arms, kicking slightly. “How’s it going?”

“How are you feeling?” Pepper asked, looking at Katie.

“Tired but, I’m good.”

“So, does he have a name yet?” Tony looked at Katie and Steve took a deep breath, his arms crossing over his chest. If truth be told, he was a little nervous about revealing the name they had chosen, Bucky wasn’t Tony’s favourite person, but before he could answer he spotted Katie giving Emmy a small wink.

“Horatio Montgomery Rogers.” Katie nodded. “Monty for short.” There was a pause whilst Pepper, Tony and Nat all exchanged a look and Steve bit on his lip.

“That’s…” Tony began, searching for words as he glanced down at the baby in his arms before he finally settled on, “…unusual”

Emmy looked at Katie again before they but out laughing.

“I can’t believe you fell for that, Uncle Tony!” Emmy cackled. “Such an idiot.”

“I resent that.” Tony pouted and Natasha cleared her throat.

“So what is his name?” Nat pressed. Katie looked at Steve and gave him a nod.

“James Anthony Samuel Rogers” Steve took a deep breath as Tony blinked. “Jamie for short.” “James Anthony Samuel.” Tony whispered looking down at Jamie. “James. Anthony?” His eyes locked onto Katie’s, then Steve’s, before they flicked back down to his nephew. “You actually named him after me?”

Katie smiled. “Yeah, guess we did”

“And I was only joking too.” His voice choked as Natasha, stepped forward to peer down at the baby in his arms. “But the James is after Barnes, right?” She looked up. Steve took a deep breath, his eyes flickered to Tony who was simply gazing down at his nephew with adoration as Katie answered.

“There’s so many people we’ve both known or know with the name James.” She shrugged. “Rhodey, half the Howling Commandos, but yes, Bucky was one big reason, another was Grandad Jim.” Tony looked up at her, smiling, his eyes wet. “Yeah, Grandpa Jim was pretty awesome”

“And so is his uncle-slash-grandpa.” She smiled and Tony gave a loud sniffle.

“Wrap it up Kiddo, you’re killing me” He shook his head as he turned to Natasha. “We’ll call that one a draw.”

Steve rolled his eyes, as Natasha shrugged. “Suppose you can’t be wrong all the time, Shell-Head.”

Jamie was passed around, and Emmy finally got to have a hold as she sat in the chair, Steve crouched by her side as she peered down at the baby. But when it was Natasha’s turn, the red head grew almost as emotional as Tony as she held him and he curled his tiny hand around her finger.

“Good job he likes you.” Katie smiled at her, “you know, seeing as you’re gonna be his god-mother and all…” “Me?” Nat’s head whipped up and she looked at Katie, then Steve, her eyes full of tears. “I mean…” “Well, there’s no one else for the job so it kinda falls to you by default.” Steve teased from where he was perched on the arm of the chair.

“You’re such a douche.” Emmy muttered, elbowing Steve in the ribs and Tony’s face split into a grin.

“Kid, you have no idea…did you know his nickname is Spangles?” “Spangles?” she grinned and Steve groaned

“No one calls him Spangles other than Tony, because Tony is an idiot.” Katie shook her head.

At that point, Jamie let out a huge shriek and Natasha promptly crossed the room to hand him back to his momma, who placed him over her shoulder and he nuzzled into her neck, his nose brushing against her jaw line. As she looked around the room, her eyes locked onto Steve’s and he gave her, quite possibly, the most affectionate look she could ever recall him giving her. And at that moment, although they were surrounded by their friends and family, she felt like the only woman in the world.

*****

Thankfully as everything had gone as well as expected they were discharged later that day and they could go home. Steve, having practiced about a billion times, expertly clipped Jamie’s car seat into the base of the Porche SUV they had borrowed from Tony a few weeks ago (the Camero just wasn’t baby friendly) and Katie climbed into the back, positioning herself in the middle seat so she was by their son for the drive home.

Emmy had gone back to Tony’s to give them the evening to settle in, and with Lucky also with them, when Katie and Steve walked into the house, Steve carefully carrying the car seat containing the most precious cargo he had ever carried, it struck them that they were suddenly on their own.

With a baby.

Steve set the car seat on the coffee table in the lounge and the two of them sat on the couch, looking at their baby before they looked at one another, neither of them having a clue what to do next.

Thankfully, a piercing scream from Jamie jolted them out of the stupor and dictated exactly what they needed to do. As Katie set about feeding him, Steve headed into the kitchen to make them something to eat and by eight pm the pair of them were whacked and ready for bed but Jamie had other ideas. It took a lot of pacing, frustrated sighs and prayers but he finally settled a few hours later and the new parents crawled between their sheets, exhausted, frustrated and feeling like they were embarking on a mission which was far bigger than any they had faced before.

*****

Steve heard his wife get up, but didn’t register why. Not at first. He dozed for another half hour or so before he heard a cry and he sat upright, looking around. He blinked, saw the empty crib at the side of the bed and smiled to himself. Swinging his legs out of bed he pulled on a t-shirt and grabbed the bag he’d had waiting for weeks out of the back of his closet before he headed down the stairs.

Katie was sat on the sofa in one of his button downs, her bare legs crossed, munching on a piece of toast when he paused in the door to the lounge taking in the scene. The domesticity of it all hit him for a moment and he felt himself welling up, he’d never in his wildest dreams dared to imagine he would ever be this damned lucky. But here he was, gorgeous wife, beautiful baby…

At that point, Jamie started fussing and she instantly placed her hand on his tummy whilst he lay in the wicker Moses basket in front of her, gently hushing him, all the while a look on her face of infinite tenderness. As he settled she smiled, simply gazing at their boy for a moment before she looked up and smiled at Steve. He walked over to her and dropped a soft, lingering kiss to her lips and she smiled.

“Morning.” She whispered and he smiled against her mouth, kissing her again before his attention turned to his boy and he gently reached into the basket, his finger softly running down his son’s cheek.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” “Could you feed him?” Katie grinned and Steve let out a soft laugh and shook his head.

“No, suppose not.” He looked at Katie and nodded to Jamie “Can I?”

“Steve, honey, he’s your son. Of course you can.” He placed the bag he was holding on the coffee table, Katie still not noticing it, as he reached into the basket and gently picked his son up, cradling him to his chest as Jamie buried his face into his neck, still sleeping. Steve gently moved to sit on the couch and Katie watched the pair of them, smiling softly.

“That’s for you.” He nodded to the Tiffany bag. Katie glanced at, blinking in surprise before she frowned slightly.

“What for?”

“Well it used to be a tradition to buy your wife something after your first child and Tony assured me it still was so…”

She beamed at him and reached over for the bag. As Steve cradled his boy close he watched his wife pull out the blue ring box and open it, her mouth dropping open as she looked at the platinum Eternity band which was studded with sapphires and diamonds.

“It’s beautiful.” She whispered, turning to him and leaning over to give him a soft kiss. “Thank you.” Steve beamed at her and watched as she rejigged the rings on her wedding finger so she could place it in between her wedding and her engagement ring. She flashed her hand at him to show him what it looked like on.

“Looks good.” He smiled “I clearly have good taste.” “Of course you do, you chose me.” ****

“Come here.”

Steve turned to look at Katie who was on the other side of their bedroom and he frowned. “What?”

“Just come here.”

Steve crossed the room towards her where she grabbed the bottle of his aftershave and sprayed an amount to his neck.

“What are you…” he frowned as she stood up to take a deep sniff.

“Oh thank God!” She groaned. “I can sniff you again without feeling sick!”

Steve snorted, and shook his head, a grin on his face as Katie began to spray the Hugo Boss around the room, sniffing and smiling to herself before she stopped and grimaced.

“Oh, that’s…” She looked down at the crib and Steve did the same.

“Oh.” Steve wrinkled his nose

“Your turn, Daddy.” She patted his back. “I’m going for a shower.” Steve looked at her, slightly panicked as Jamie began to let out a soft cry “What, alone?” “Don’t tell me Captain American can’t deal with a bit of poop.”

“It’s not that. I might do it wrong or…” “Steve, relax, what’s the worst that can happen?” She eyed him, as he bit his lip, watching his reaction carefully. Whilst he had been amazing that night in the hospital, once they had gotten home and away from the safety net of midwives, she had fast realised that Steve had suddenly grown incredibly nervous when it came to their baby, asking permission to pick him up, wind him, cuddle him and Katie was keen to nip that in the bud right away. She knew he wanted to help as much as possible and she didn’t want him to constantly be second guessing everything he did.

“I err…” Steve stuttered and she cut him off. “You saw me before.” She shrugged, heading into the en-suite. “You’ll be fine.”

Steve watched her go and then peered down at his son, swallowing slightly before he picked him up and took him into the nursery. As soon as the baby-grow was off, Jamie still crying slightly, Steve suddenly felt completely inadequate. Cursing to himself, he laid Jamie gently on the changing mat, wrinkling his nose and trying to shut out the scream that was ringing round his ears. At that point he was seriously starting to believe that this was worse than facing off against thirty HYDRA agents single headedly. Taking a deep breath and telling himself to get it together, he managed to clean Jamie, get a fresh diaper on, and then once he was dressed again, he picked the baby up.

“Come on, Pall.” He soothed softly, his large hand gently smoothing his son’s back as he walked over to look out of the bedroom window “You know, that there is the best city in the world,” he glanced over the Brooklyn skyline, “one day I’ll show you all the places I used to go, tell you all about my life and the Rogers clan, and who you’re named after. Take you to meet your Grandma…”

He stopped talking as he realised Jamie had fallen silent, and was now relaxed completely against him, his face gently pressed against his shoulder. “Thass ma boy.” He whispered, dropping a kiss to his head. He turned to see Katie was stood in the doorway, her hair damp as she was wrapped in a towel gown.

“See.” she smiled as she crossed the room towards them both. “I told you it would be okay.” She gently smoothed a hand over the baby boy’s head before dropping a kiss to his crown.

“Should I put him down to sleep now?” Steve asked and Katie looked at him.

“Do you want to put him down?”

“Not really.” Steve admitted, with a little smile. “You gonna drop him?” “Shut up.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course not.” “Then no, you don’t have to put him down.” Katie smiled “He’s your baby, Steve. If you wanna cuddle him, cuddle him.” “Sorry, I’m fussing again ain’t I?” Steve sighed.

Katie gently stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to her husband’s lips. “Fussing is fine, just don’t doubt yourself. I don’t know what I’m doing any more than you do, but we’ll figure it out.”

Steve smiled, as he gave her a soft kiss. “I still swear you can read minds.”

“No, I can just read you.” She corrected. “Now, before you go get Emmy, can I leave you whilst I take a quick nap? He’s gonna want a feed soon and I’m so tired. ”

Steve looked at his wife, then to his son who was perfectly content, his little nose and mouth now resting firmly against Steve’s collar bone. He smiled back at Katie and gave her another soft kiss.

“Think we’ll be okay.”

**** Chapter 45

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Malaise. Yan Fugo x Reader [Implied x Giorno]

word count: 6.3k warnings: implied sexual relations, angst later on notes: i wouldn’t say there’s super heavy yandereness going on here, but given the context i figured yandere would play out a bit differently. it’s more like slight yandere if anything ...

Interacting with someone so close to your own age shouldn’t be this miserable. Bucciarati is far easier to converse with, it’s not even a close competition. He’s a pleasant conversationalist, humoring your ideas and offering valuable input. If you had it your way, you’d only be speaking to him and not… this bratty teenager who turned his nose up whenever you were around. As if your mere existence is the highest insult to his own. You’ll never forget how he looked from you to Bucciarati with a quirked eyebrow when you were introduced, the awkward encounter forever burned into your mind.

You blow a strand of hair out of your face, nose scrunching up at the current dilemma. Bucciarati had asked, more like softly nudged you, to get along better with Fugo. You’ve been trying, ever since he introduced you two that fateful day. In the back of your head, you wonder if the same task was assigned to Fugo in private. Though seeing as he’s remaining nose deep into his book, sitting as far as humanly possible from you on this couch, you doubt it. The phrase “avoid like the plague”, doesn’t even scratch the surface of Fugo’s attitude towards you. He’d sooner embrace the Bubonic Plague than you, should prior encounters be recalled.

“Was there something you needed?”

Speak of the devil. He must’ve seen fit to grace your presence with his most sacred articulation, filling the tense air with some much-needed conversation. The words aren’t malicious on a surface level, seemingly a reasonable inquiry considering you’ve been staring at him for a solid ten minutes. It’s how his voice is strained, knuckles whitening as he grips the book tighter, which gives him away. Fugo’s too easy to read at times, the same can’t be said when it comes to dealing with him. This might be the most difficult task Bucciarati ever assigned to you.

“Need isn’t the word I’d use,” you decide to ignore the not-so-subtle irritation on his features, pushing your strained luck as far as it can go. Linguistics aside, you put your cards on the table. “But, I was hoping to get to know you better.”

With the ball now on his side of the court, all you can do is wait, for whatever rebuttal Fugo decides to dish out. When Bucciarati isn’t around, Fugo’s preference is to act like you’re no more than a fly on the wall. Buzzing around his head and making it impossible to focus on anything that he does in his rare downtime. Honestly, he can’t comprehend why Bucciarati felt so desperate as to pluck you from whatever hole he found you in. You don’t even hold a candle to his own intellect, taking a naive, happy-go-lucky approach to life. Sure you’re a Stand user, and while it’s not a useless Stand, Fugo couldn’t picture you making the choices necessary in a fight to stay alive. The fact you haven’t been reduced to a bloodstain on the pavement is the only thing he finds impressive about you so far.

His eyebrow twitches at your pesky insistence, face settling into a grimace. “Am I right in assuming that if I don’t humor this pitiful attempt, you’ll continue to stare at me and disrupt my otherwise peaceful evening?”

You place a finger to your cheek, considering the proposition, before nodding your head. “It looks like you’ve got a better understanding of things than I expected.”

Fugo lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. So be it. He’ll wait until you fall asleep to finish his book, mentally noting the page number and setting it by his side. The act of surrender takes you off guard. You were fully anticipating a snarky one-liner, or for him to disregard you in some other way. Instead, he looks at you with disinterest, arms crossed over his weird swiss cheese shirt. You learned never to mention your inner critiques of his fashion sense, as it once earned a plate of parmesan being narrowly dodged at Libecco. Scary stuff.

“Now that I have your undivided attention,” Fugo winces at this like he heard nails on a chalkboard, “What do you like to do? Y’know, hobbies and stuff.”

It’s as good a start as any. Finding out a person’s interests unravels the essence of who they are, what they believe is worth their time and effort. Fugo gives your question an unexpected amount of thought, probably sensing you’ll call him out for a lackluster answer. Which you would, of course. For all his stubbornness, he’s gotten good at reading you. Maybe you should try shaking things up a bit to rattle him, keep him on the edge of his seat…

“Honestly, you couldn’t pick something more original…? I don’t know. I read, and I can appreciate a good movie.”

You let out a hum of acknowledgment, considering his words. A very safe, Fugo-like answer. It didn’t take a seasoned detective to assume Fugo liked to read, but the movie detail is a new bit of information that you will take full advantage of. He strikes you as the type to be snobby about his tastes in movies. Most likely only watching them if they’re popular with critics and saying the general population has no appreciation for the fine arts, too busy consuming braindead action flicks instead of true cinema. Not that you have any intention of voicing this conclusion to him, seeing as you’re trying to worm your way into a friendship.

Fugo snaps his fingers in front of your face, bringing you back into unfortunate reality. Maybe that statement earlier this morning about you zoning out too much holds some merit. Before he can berate you as he’s taken an apparent liking to, you speak up. “That’s good and all, but I need specifics.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“With pleasure,” you lean forward, waving your hands enthusiastically to emphasize your point. You get the sense that Fugo regrets asking for clarification, but neither of you are willing to back down now. “How about this. If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, which would you pick?”

“Is this some kind of job interview?” Fugo murmurs to himself, massaging his temples. You shrug your shoulders and offer a bright smile, and he knows sarcasm isn’t gonna cut it. “It’d need to be something interesting… maybe The Silence of the Lambs.”

He somewhat defied your expectations, not listing some obscure black and white flick filmed on a Blackberry. Maybe you jumped the gun on your initial assessment of Fugo Pannacotta, and he isn’t as grandiloquent after all. This confrontation is going better than you ever anticipated, and you almost feel guilty for selling him too short.

That is, until he sees fit to present an unnecessary addition to his previous statement. “Was that bit of English too much for you?”

So much for that. Once an asshole, always as an asshole. Shakespeare may have said something similar, but your reimagining is far more of a pinnacle in literary achievement. You deflate back into the couch, huffing at his indignant comment. Well, might as well burst his bubble now. It may be the only bubble Fugo has that you’re capable of the aforementioned bursting, so you’re going to savor every second of it. The entire reason you’ve never mentioned this facet of yourself is that you never viewed it as imperative. Bucciarati knew, you knew, that’s all that mattered. Until Fugo decided to dig under your skin and rub salt on the wound in one fell swoop. Figures he’d do that.

“Fugo.”

“[First].”

“You know English is my first language, right?” Your voice is more of a deadpan than anything, tilting your head to the side as if it is the most logical conclusion. The hypothetical cogs in Fugo’s head begin turning. There was that time you stumbled over a Naples exclusive dish, sfogliatella, Bucciarati kindly offering the proper pronunciation after you stumbled on it. Or how you have the slightest of accents, sometimes referencing pop culture that goes beyond him. He always wondered why muttering “cazzimma” to you only earned a light reprimanding from Bucciarati, and never offended you as more common insults would. He just thought you were some type of misfortune idiot. Whoops.

Not willing to throw in the towel yet, Fugo takes a posture of defense. This is a hill he’s willing to die on, you have to be playing some kind of cheap trick. “I don’t buy it.”

“Should I start reciting the entire Star-Spangled Banner by heart, or talk about how much I love fast food and baseball? Did you think my Stand would be a bald eagle that shot out apple pie? If that’s the case, you’re fresh outta luck. I’m living in Naples for a reason.” you respond in fluent English, flexing your hypothetical muscles. Fugo recalls his English classes from years prior to roughly translate some of your words, scowling at the realization you’ve proven him wrong. By god do you wish you had your phone with you to snap a picture, print it out, frame it in every room of this apartment, make it your lock screen, and send it to Bucciarati.

You’ll settle for drinking in the moment instead, Fugo muttering curses underneath his breath. Much to your surprise, from this moment forward, Fugo earned just an ounce of respect for you. Not that it says a lot, seeing as the cup of [First] respect was drier than the Sahara desert until recent times.

It’s still a step in the right direction.

ii.

Neither of you says a word.

Coming down from your individual highs, you feel how your hair sticks to the sides of your perspiring face. Your bare chest heaving with every labored breath, Fugo in a similar state of disarray next to you. Now that it’s all said and done, you’re unable to look at him out of embarrassment. Instead, you seek solace in staring at your ceiling, thoughts scrambling to rationalize the previous events.

It all started innocent enough. The two of you had been growing closer, becoming more comfortable in each other's presence. Even Narancia, who could be notoriously poor at picking up on subtleties, could sense your connection and even pointed it out. Until Fugo told him to knock it off (in far more vulgar language), saving you the shame of saying it yourself. You felt content with the state of things with Fugo, after months of getting him to come out of his shell with you. His words were still pointed, but not full of ill will. Even when three more additions were brought to your little group, Fugo remained the person you prefer the most. It might be wishful thinking, but you think he feels the same towards you.

Tonight had been like all the ones that came before. The two of you sitting on the couch, talking about pointless endeavors. Mista and Narancia were out at the time, leaving you all on your lonesome. For such a sizable couch, you didn’t realize how close Fugo was sitting next to you. Your thighs practically touching, occasionally brushing over one another. To combat the summer heat and mediocre air conditioning in your apartment, you were wearing short shorts and a tank top. Seeing as everyone else could walk around shirtless at their discretion, no one ever made a point to call you out on the less than modest choice. Even if they felt the itching, you’d shut them up without a second thought.

Fugo found himself focusing less on the words coming out of your mouth, and more on your glossy lips. He could smell your strawberry chapstick, the choice so tempting he found it offensive. Mixed with the chocolate gelato that you stole from Mista’s “hidden” stash, Fugo was bewitched on a level that shouldn’t be possible. Your skin, slightly glistening from the summer heat, eyes full of passion as you explained why you hated pretentious movies. At a certain point, you must’ve noticed how Fugo stopped responding to your impassioned rant. All he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you, to feel every inch of your body.

So he did.

It was far from suave, an amateurish clashing of teeth and tongue. You let out a surprised noise at the unexpected events but melted into it. While the kiss didn’t go as smoothly as he pictured in his head, you seemed to savor every second of it. He still remembers how eagerly you responded to his every desperate touch, how you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him even closer. The scent of your floral perfume and the sweet noises that left your lips almost made him drool, prompting him to go even further. Fugo’s brain almost shut down when you lowly whispered into his ear to come to your room, bodies soon falling onto your bed in a heated embrace.

You feel sore, but it’s not so bad.

Fugo’s the first to speak up after some painstaking thought, breaking the silence that’s resonated ever since he climbed off of you. “Are you… are you okay?”

It’s so unlike him to be this unsure, not knowing what to do or say. His heart still pounds in his chest, cheeks flushed and lips bruised. Suppressed emotions came crashing down over him like a tidal wave, drowning him before he could make sense of it all. You didn’t push him away or seem offended by his advances as he’d feared you’d be. Instead, you accepted all of him. Allowing him to carry out his pent-up yearning for you, in a state of bliss by how you called his name out.

Shameful as it may be, Fugo had envisioned this scenario in his head numerous times. He’d always hated himself for it, thinking he’s no better than a common pervert for the way he thought of you. All the ways he pictured you, in all the lascivious situations, only to see you bright and early for breakfast the next day. When you smiled and told him good morning, all he could do is look away in disgrace. Not that you ever knew about this, or that you ever needed to find out.

You let out a carefree, light giggle at his serious inquiry. Fugo’s eyebrows scrunch together into a scowl at your sudden laughter, finally working up the courage to look at you again. Any frustration melts away like winter snow in the spring at how breathtaking you look, your skin iridescent and eyes softening. They aren’t softening just for anyone, it’s for him and him alone. Does he deserve to be the one you look at with all this adoration? And should he even bother with the self-deprecating thoughts, when losing himself with you is so much better?

“S-sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just,” you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the skin underneath your eyes tightening from the wide smile. “I never took you for the sappy, pillow talk type.”

Fugo’s nostrils flare, huffing without any malice at your teasing. He doesn’t have the slightest idea of what he’s doing, improvising as he goes. Everything that happened, every shared touched you shared, felt so surreal. Cheesy as it may sound, it was like a dream come true. What is there to say after a passionate encounter like that? He’s still rushing to get his bearings, hating the sensation of being this out of control. How you make his stomach erupt into a swarm of butterflies with every action, from the simple fluttering of your eyelashes to the cute way your nose scrunches up when you’re concentrating on a task. Fugo knows what this could be, in the back of his head. A quiet, hard to push down voice tells him what he’s been dreading to hear. That he’s a fool, deep in the throes of love.

It takes a few minutes for you to calm yourself down. Fugo’s observant, much to your chagrin, having picked up on your nervous tick of laughing when you’re unsure of what to do. It’d make sense, seeing how you just slept with your teammate who frequently called you an idiot a few months ago. You prop yourself up, bedsheets covering your bare chest. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He looks away, despising how your revealed skin makes his face flush a bright red. Even without looking at you, he can picture the knowing smile on your angelic face at his embarrassment. It’s the same smile you have when Narancia tells a particularly funny joke, when Mista goes on a silly tangent about his latest concerns, when Bucciarati says you’ve done a good job, or when Abbacchio chooses to sit down next to you when everyone else is being too annoying. Most importantly, it’s how you always look at Fugo, even when he didn’t think he deserved it.

You poke his cheek, murmuring his name. Fugo’s violet hues flicker back to you at the unprecedented action, perplexed countenance betraying his inner thoughts. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking like this. That the occupation you two are involved in is too dangerous to sustain a relationship, and that death is a possibility every day. It’s too late for him to nip these feelings in the bud -- that opportunity passed long ago, as he let it -- but he can’t allow it go past the point it already has.

Fugo lets out an inaudible gasp when you make yourself comfortable against his bare chest. Here he is, being torn on the inside between desire and duty, and you’re snuggling up without a care in the world. It’s the stark contrast that separates you, the same one that has him so hopelessly enamored. You have no intentions on making this easy for him, do you? He knows the answer when he sees your eyelids closing, threatening to fall asleep.

All is comfortably quiet until he hears your muffled voice speak up. “You didn’t push me away.”

“Huh?”

Fugo’s own response isn't the schooled, thought-out string of words you’ve come to expect. It’s a kneejerk reaction to a confusing observation, that he’s having trouble rationalizing in his head. While never the most forthcoming with his emotions, he was essentially ravishing you like a man possessed a few minutes prior. You can’t be that dense, can you? Scratch that, the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Even if not many got to see that side of you, there are still insecurities that weigh heavily on your heart. In the same way he struggles with self-worth, you fight a similar battle. The thought tugs on his heart, lips set into a deep frown. Everyone’s got something to deal with.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Fugo responds in a harsher tone than he intended. When he feels you tense against his chest, he curses himself, intentionally softening his next set of words. “But, uh, do you really want me to stay? The others might be back soon.”

You let out a hum of acknowledgment at his concerns, promptly waving them off. It’s not like Narancia and Mista are capable of sneaking into your shared residence, it’s ridiculously loud when they come home. “Just a few more minutes.”

He expected an answer like that and still has trouble relaxing. Truth be told, Fugo would prefer to lay here with you forever. To see what you look like when you sleep, to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest in sync with his own, to kiss your forehead and whisper goodnight. In an ideal world, that’s how it would be. Reality is a lot less forgiving, and there’s too much on the line. Being this close to someone else is vulnerable, painfully so. To hurt and be hurt, the opportunity now having the room to manifest. He knows all this, and he still can’t bring himself to mention the full force of his anxieties. Would you hate him? Think he was using you and then ditching you?

Fugo decides to be selfish, more so than usual. While there’s no way to push down all of these emotions, looking at you puts him at ease. His fingers ghost over an area on your neck he learned was sensitive, almost smiling when you lean into the touch. The way he feels with you is addicting. From your quick wit that matches his own, never being afraid to challenge his positions, it’s like he found his match. While he’s always found you begrudgingly cute, even when he was colder to you, it’s evolved into something greater. More serious and heartfelt. It’s horrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Does this mean we’re dating?” you ask what’s been troubling you, hearing how Fugo’s heartbeat ramps up in speed. It’s a rational conclusion, seeing how comfortable you two are with one another. You don’t know if what you feel is love, not just yet, but you want to give whatever this is a shot. Fugo’s hesitation says all you need to know, though you wish it isn’t like this.

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.” Fugo answers honestly, the words so quiet you struggle to pick them up. It’d be a lie to say you’re not disappointed, though you don’t want to push him into anything he’s not ready for. Fugo has his own emotions to work through, and the last thing you need to do is jump into a relationship and ruin everything. So you lift yourself up, looking him deep in the eyes, Fugo blinking at the abrupt movement.

“Then I’ll wait.”

He doesn’t notice how close to crying he’s been this entire time. The world through his view goes blurry, a lump forming in the back of his throat. Fugo takes deep breaths to steady himself, and instead of berating him, you wipe away his tears with the pad of your thumb. Whispering reassurances into his ear, combing through his tousled hair with your fingers. Fugo wipes at his eyes furiously, cursing himself for breaking down in front of you of all people. He’s overwhelmed with gratitude when you decide not to comment on it further, to save him the embarrassment. Your words echo within his head like a holy mantra, a promise that he’ll hold onto.

If there were ever a reality where you looked down at him with disdainful eyes, he’d hate himself.

iii.

Wandering aimlessly isn’t the worst part.

No, that’d be letting himself off too easy. It’s not the sleepless nights, tossing and turning while his stomach churns, or even the tear-stained pillowcases. When walking around Naples, all he can do is submerge himself to the shadows. There’s shame in the act of hiding, and it’s all he’s come to know. Seeing the light of day feels too good for someone like him, someone who had been abandoned by everyone he cared about and was too cowardly to prevent it. It’s a suitable punishment to wallow in his own self-pity and loneliness, cursing his entire existence for the mistakes that haunt him every day.

It’s always a mistake to come to this café. This is your favorite café, and on days like this, all he can do is watch from afar. There are times he stares at the spot you frequent for hours, waiting to see if you decide to stop by that day or not. In a way, it’s almost better when you don’t. He doesn’t get a taste of what he’s missing out on, a forbidden fruit that he’s too ashamed to reach for. Most of the time you come here alone, with your favorite pastry and coffee, scrolling on your phone or laptop before leaving. He’s seen you meet with Mista a few times, even Trish once, but it’s mostly Giorno who accompanies you.

Today you’re on your lonesome, speaking to someone over the phone and then hanging it up with a smile. Fugo can’t help but wonder, who is it that makes you smile like that? As he sits from afar, drowning in his anguish, it’s what plagues him the most. That used to be the smile he saw on a daily basis, the one that made him fall head over heels in love. Now he’s too afraid to approach you, in fear of what you may say, or do. Even what you wouldn’t do would hurt. Would you look at him in pity, or curse him for his cowardly actions? Condemn him for not joining you on that boat, or ignore him all together?

Is it possible… that you’ve simply forgotten all about him? It has been almost two years since the worst day of his life. While he’s caught up in the past, you’ve moved into a brighter future. He doesn’t know how he feels anymore. Surely you deserve any happiness you can get after all the suffering you went through, but the thought of you being happy without him stings. It digs talons into Fugo’s heart, ripping it out of his chest. One of these days, he tells himself, he’ll work up the strength to speak to you. Even if it’s but a moment.

Though some part of him knows he’ll never be able to face you. Not anymore.

It’s early in the afternoon. Chatter from other patrons reverberates off the tastefully decorated walls, in a restaurant that Fugo’s been to numerous times. This particular visit is different than the ones years ago. Instead of the bustling atmosphere he’d grown used to, there are only two people at the table. Where laughter and lighthearted conversations before work used to occur, there’s nothing but silence save for some polite discussion. Fugo’s throat feels persistently dry, no matter how much water he gulps down.

Giorno sits across from him, legs folded and nursing a glass of iced tea the waiter brought seconds prior. Maintaining eye contact with the revered Don of Passione is no simple task. It’s a daunting experience, regardless of Giorno’s insistence on no formalities being necessary when interacting with one another. Fugo holds immense respect for him, otherwise, he wouldn’t be willingly sitting here right now. Still, his mouth is set in a straight line, leg bouncing underneath the table. Respect isn’t enough to snuff out the uncomfortable memories that appear up in this room, suffocating him from the inside out.

“Is there a reason I’m here?” The words come out more forcefully than he intended, Fugo’s eyes darting around his familiar surroundings, looking for something he won’t find. Someone he won’t find. He’s grateful to Giorno for his benevolence, as speaking this way to someone who’s technically his boss isn’t advisable. Someone as sharp as Fugo knows this better than most, but he also knows Giorno. While not understanding him entirely, his actions make logical sense in the grand scheme of things.

Being in Giorno’s position means being busy. Every second of the day has to be taken advantage of, whether it be discussing with other mafioso about recent happenings or plans, making multiple phone calls, and plenty of other headache-inducing tasks. So it doesn’t make much sense to Fugo why Giorno called him this morning, asking to meet him in person for lunch. While the two aren’t on bad terms, he doesn’t feel deserving of the specially allotted time. And in his gut, he feels there’s a hidden justification for the meeting that he’s yet to uncover. A few unpleasant theories come to mind, but they only serve to unnerve Fugo further, so he stuffs them down.

“I wasn’t sure of the best way to deal with Purple Haze. Your Stand… you’re already aware of the potential consequences it could’ve posed, so I won’t rehash it more than necessary,” Giorno begins to offer his insight into the matter, finally revealing the true reason Fugo was called out here today. “There were a variety of methods that could’ve been used, with varying degrees of success, but I took a gamble. Ultimately, she didn’t want you to suffer anymore.”

Fugo feels his heart drop, jaw slackening despite his best efforts. “Who… who do you mean?”

At this, Giorno quirks an eyebrow up. As if to wordlessly say, you know who.

“It might not be my place to delve into your past,” Giorno continues with a serious air, contrasted by his closed-mouth smile. Fugo never knows for certain what Giorno’s plotting behind that smile, and a part of him wants to remain oblivious. “But for you to overcome it, and in turn gain total control over Purple Haze, it must be addressed.”

He can guess where this is going, and he doesn’t like it. Giorno gives him a moment to consider the words, briefly glancing at his buzzing phone and then returning his attention back to Fugo. It’s a subtle change in body language, how Giorno’s shoulders stiffen just slightly as if he’s anticipating something. Fugo loosens the tie around his neck, the pair returning to tense silence. While the Don made valiant attempts in loosening him up, it only served to make Fugo more suspicious. All of his fears are confirmed when he overhears two voices from the room over, one of them sending his heart racing.

That’s… that you and Mista speaking to one another. He knows your voice better than he knows any other sound on the planet, even if it’s been years since he’s heard it up this close. Fugo still dreams of you, the way you used to stumble over certain Neapolitan lingo, or how wonderful it sounded when you graced his ears with a laugh. Now, he’s unsure of what to feel when hearing the muffled conversation between you and Mista. The sound grows closer, and with it, his dread. After rejoining Passione at Giorno’s behest, Fugo knew this reunion couldn’t be avoided. Nothing could prepare him for it.

There’s a telltale gasp when you turn the corner, spotting the back of someone you haven’t seen since you were a teenager. Someone who you used to hold in high esteem, who practically fell off the face of the earth after betraying the old boss. While Mista had hastily given you the details on the car ride over, it still felt too surreal, like a cruel joke. There’s a lot that weighs down on your heart, like stones wrapped around your ankles, dragging you into the depths. The details Giorno gave you about Fugo’s whereabouts were purposefully vague, most likely in consideration of your past feelings.

“Fugo…?”

You’re by his side before he can even process it, bending down and wrapping his stiff shoulders into a warm embrace. He doesn’t reciprocate it or stop you, his thoughts not capable of rationalizing what’s going on. Fugo can’t bring himself to look up at your countenance, in fear of what he’ll see staring back at him. That you’re even hugging him means you must pity him, viewing him as a scared little boy who was too weak to do what was necessary. It’s the only explanation that makes sense to him, and why he can’t return your affections. While it’s no longer his place to desire anything from you, not after all his shortcomings, he silently prays. That there may be some part of you that still cares for him, in the same way he has loved you from afar.

“I’m so glad you’ve come back.” you sniffle, emotions swirling and enveloping you. You lift your hand, using your finger to swipe away forming tears. That’s when Fugo sees it. It doesn’t hit him at first as one would expect. No, it’s a prickling sensation that starts from his chest and spreads throughout his body like a virus. His body feels ice cold, like a corpse clinging onto shreds of life, consumed from the inside out by sorrow. Nausea comes in waves, tempting him to flee from this heart-wrenching scene and never look back. Your hand falls back to your side, and Fugo’s eyes follow it with precision, unable to look away.

There’s a rose gold band on your ring finger.

Of course. Looking at you here, it makes sense why this would happen. Your body has filled out, beauty like that of an angel. The ability to draw people in and befriend them like a glowing aura has always been your strong suit, it was warm enough to thaw the ice around Fugo’s heart. It’d be a fool’s prayer to beg God to keep you for himself, and still, he had tried. Now that leaves the burning question, who? Who was the person that erased himself from your mind, taking the place that was carved out specifically for him? He looks at your beaming face, searching for answers he won’t find outright.

Your perfume is the same as it was before. Light and floral, but mixed with a hint of something new. Of someone new. It sickens him, the scent dizzying as it taunts him. Where has he smelled this before? It’s on the tip of his tongue, fizzling out before coming into fruition. The words you speak next are drowned out by Fugo’s throbbing head, too absorbed with dark thoughts to process them. He needs to know. He has to know. Fugo looks over your shoulder to Mista in search of answers, the gunslinger holding an uncharacteristically grim expression. They hold eye contact, Fugo staring at him with potent intensity.

Give me a hint. Anything, please.

Not everyone gives Mista the credit he deserves for being observant. Fugo must’ve looked like he’d seen a ghost, Mista swallowing at the pale complexion and vacant eyes. Believing that his intentions weren’t clear enough, Fugo almost looks away. Before he gets the opportunity, Mista offers a slight inclination of the head. Fugo closes his eyes, all his strength going into holding himself together. Picking up the shards of glass that maintain his emotions, hands growing bloody in the process. It’s a subtle movement, though there’s no denying in what direction it went, as much as Fugo wished otherwise.

Towards Giorno.

You move towards your seat, realizing Fugo must be going through a lot of emotions of his own. The last thing you need to do is suffocate him when it’s clear he’s processing the unfolding events. “I don’t know the last time you came here, but they recently added more desserts. I’m partial to the zeppole… it’s so light and fluffy.”

Mista walks over, taking a seat next to the befuddled Fugo, and speaking up to ease the uncomfortable silence that resonates in the room. “I’m starving, haven’t had anything to eat all day. Let’s get the waiter over here.”

While he flags down a passing employee, Fugo’s eyes follow your form. The table is different than how it used to be. Abbacchio would be sipping on wine, no matter the time of day. Bucciarati wouldn’t always be sitting down for long, seeing as he had lots of work to do, but he always made time for a good meal. Narancia loved conversing with you, seeing as you had lots of knowledge of the English music he was so partial to. You always sat next to Fugo, who’d lightly reprimand Narancia for being more passionate about rap than his studies, or telling Mista to knock it off with the unappetizing conversations he loved to start.

Now, you take the chair next to Giorno, who had pulled it out in kind when you walked over.

You said you’d wait for him, and Fugo fooled himself into believing that statement would last a lifetime. He always had regrets about not joining his team on the boat that day, too many to count. A new one has sprouted up like a weed, strangling his heart. If he had joined you, would it have been him you’d have married? Would it be him that you’d look at with that dazzling expression instead, the one that he had grown used to seeing? Now that he knows the full extent of the truth, Fugo wonders how he could have ever been so blind. Even Giorno -- who often smiled just for show -- had unmistakably lightened up as soon as you entered the room.

This… This is Fugo’s despair.

The rest of lunch goes as smoothly as it can. He forces himself to speak when spoken to, Mista kindly filling the room with conversation to prevent any awkwardness. This can’t end fast enough. He needs to get out of here, to excuse him before he does something truly stupid. A serpent whispers temptations of evil into his ear, and he doesn’t want to tune them out. Not anymore. Now isn’t the time to pull any idiotic stunts, so he remains still as a statue. When all is said and done, Fugo can’t get up from the table to dismiss himself any faster. He pays the necessary respects to his Don, swiftly offering his goodbyes. With his back turned, he hears your voice call out to him in the darkness.

“I’ll see you later, right?” you ask in between bites of your dessert, the words meaning more for him than you. He doesn’t know. He’s not certain of anything anymore, even after making up his mind on returning to Passione. The situation has taken a turn for the worst, in a way he couldn’t stomach any longer. So for now, he’ll offer up an unconvincing response, not capable of looking back at you.

At the reminder of all his failures.

“... Of course.”

#fugo panacotta #fugo x reader #fugo panacotta x reader #yandere fugo panacotta #yandere fugo #giorno x reader #giorno #yandere fugo x reader #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #yandere jojo's bizzare adventure #yandere #Jojo Part 5 #my stuff #not sfw

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years

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The Plan

Kinktober: Day 5, Teasing

Steve Rogers x Reader

You want him more than anything, and you always get what you want.

Warnings: teasing, mention of arousal, alludes to smut

Steve Rogers is the face of America, Mr. Star Spangled Banner himself. Born in a time when flirting was sly grins from across the room and hesitant hand touches while a slow dance played and couples held each other close while single girls awkwardly leaned against the wall, praying that someone would pick them out of the crowd. He was used to watching girls eye Bucky from a far, crossing their les ever so casually, revealing just a slip of their garters. He definitely was not well-versed in the art of modern-day flirting.

So, to say you were an unexpected surprise was the understatement of the century.

You were a Stark Intern when you set your sights on America’s ass, and once you had a plan in your mind it was impossible for you to leave it alone. It was a strategy that hadn’t failed you yet. That’s what had gotten you the job in the first place, needling at the people in charge until they simply couldn’t bare it anymore. That wasn’t what you wanted from Steve though, oh no, you wanted him to pay you more attention than he had ever paid someone before.

And so, you set your plan into the action a hot, Sunday morning.

Dawning a thin button up, red lace and a pair of daisy dukes you threw open the door to your bedroom and slid into the kitchen, doing your utmost best to keep the smirk off your face. Waiting for the moment your target awoke you stepped around the kitchen, making a batch of cranberry muffins (his apparent favorite).

“Morning Y/N,” his gruff morning voice called as he stepped onto the tile, stretching as he did so. “It smells delicious.”

“Cranberry,” you informed and he hummed with delight, taking a seat at the bar. “Is it hot in here?” you asked him.

“A little warmer than normal, should I go-,” he began, interrupting himself with a choke as you slid the buttons out of place and tossed the button up to the floor, remaining in nothing but your shorts and the red bra you had seen him subconsciously eying in your magazines the other day.

“That’s better, I swear I was going to have a heat stroke right in this kitchen,” you laughed, leaning over slowly and searching through the refrigerator for the second piece of phase one. Your hand latched onto the ice cube and you turned around, leaning against the island, staring into those big, blue eyes. “So, how’d you sleep, hot stuff?” you asked, placing the ice cube against your bare skin, drawing trails across the dips and hills of collar bones and chest. He swallowed uncomfortably, drawing in a deep breath before answering.

“God… I mean good, I slept good.”

“That’s good, no late-night activities?” He choked again, this time his cheeks burning red.

“I’m not sure what you mean?” he stuttered, eyes still following the ice cube that was melting into rivulets along the skin he couldn’t bare to take his eyes from.

“Stargazing, movie watching, et cetera.”

“Oh.” You grinned at the sound of disappointment. “No, nothing like that.” The timer on the oven beeped and you pulled the muffins out before heading towards the exit, scooping your shirt up along the way.

“See you around, Steve,” you said with a grin, disappearing out of sight.

Phase two started later that evening, during a movie night, surrounded by the rest of the Avengers. You let him sit first and then flipped over the couch and to his side, snuggling as close as you could get without sitting in his lap.

“Hi Steve,” you whispered and his muscles tensed.

“Hi Y/N,” he replied nervously, looking around guiltily, as if they would know he had seen you so raw this morning. The lights dimmed and the movie began, as did your teasing. With slow and delicate fingers, you rested your hand against his thigh, slowly inching your way closer to the bulge that couldn’t be hidden behind any pair of slacks. He glanced down and with a grin you watched as his pants tented around the obvious arousal. You quickly pulled your hand away, running it up his chest and into his hair.

“I love your hair,” you whispered, carefully raking your nails over his scalp. A small sound, deep and lethargic, escaped the back of his throat. You pulled away and put on your best face of concern. “Are you alright?” He silently nodded, adjusting his pants before sitting up as straight as he could. “Are you sure?”

He croaked out a “yes” and you returned your attention to the movie, hand still caressing him throughout the movie. By the end his whole body was tense beneath your touch, and the arousal behind polyester was unmistakable. As credits rolled you jumped up and slipped away, waving your fingers at him as you disappeared to your room.

The third and final phase took much longer than you had hoped, but Stark was busy and without Stark there was no hope for a night of senseless drinking. Finally, after two weeks of hesitant touches and cheeky winks, Stark finally announced they were going to get shitfaced.

Adorning the tightest little black dress you owned, you strolled into the party, a flute of champagne already in your hand. Steve looked as hot as hell, as per usual, but the moment he saw you give him a small wave, all the suaveness disappeared, and his Adams apple bobbed against his throat.

Quickly, you joined him at the bar, your dress sliding up your thighs as you crossed your legs. You took note of his eyes following the hemline and coughed delicately.

“I didn’t think you came to things like this.”

“I come if Tony asks,” he replied, still staring at the exposed leg with less manners than a construction worker at high noon.

“I see.” He was going to respond but Stark, as you suspected, quickly rounded the pair of you up for a little adult truth or dare. The game normally bored you, it was pathetic when adults needed the prodding of others to make sexual advances on others, but tonight you were going to use it to your advantage. You had already made plans, and Natasha was all down to help Steve bone. After a few rounds, Natasha turned to you and with a sly grin put your plan into action.

“Y/N, I dare you to sit in Steve’s lap for the rest of the game.” For a moment you bellyached, scowling at her but then quickly plopped yourself in the startled man’s lap. You grinned and shimmied a little, resting your back against his chest. The game continued and with each movement you made he grew a little harder, his hard-on poking you a little more with each moment.

As the game ended you leaned back, your lips brushing his ear.

“I can take care of that for you,” you whispered before hopping up and leaving to disappear once again. You didn’t bother to pull the fabric of your dress, nor did you bother putting back on the heels you had taken off earlier in the night, when he followed you, you weren’t going to need them. Mentally, you gave him a minute to build up his courage and follow you through the dark halls and to your bedroom, but that was the one thing that surprised you about Steve Rogers. The moment you turned the corner his hands were on you and there was no hesitation in placing his lips against yours as he gave into your plan.

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader angst #steve x reader angst #steve x reader smut #steve x reader fluff #captain america #captain america imagine #steve rogers imagine #marvel #avengers #steve rogers fanfiction #kinktober #teasing

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner Bonus Drabble: When You Know, You Know...

Summary: A little bonus drabble that sits after both Fairy Tale Of New York, and Love In An Elevator...

Warnings: Well, a potential bit of Smut (Blink and you miss it, but hey just in case NSFW, NO UNDER 18s…) and some teeth rotting fluff.

A/N: So here is my Stark Spangled suprise...especially written to show you all my wonderful little commission from @hopeless--geek. Check out her work @hopelessartgeek it truly is stunning.

The first slivers of the New Year daylight flitted across Steve’s face and he gave a soft hmmm of contentment, rolling over, pulling his girl closer. Nestling his face into her neck he allowed her warmth and softness to wash over him as Katie muttered something, her body soon relaxing again as she continued to sleep. Simply put, he couldn’t remember a time he had enjoyed the holiday period so much. He’d had good times as a kid, even though his Ma had never been able to afford much she had always made Christmas as special as she could, but this…this just felt good. More than good actually, it felt better than anything ever had before.

If Steve was honest he couldn’t ever imagine waking up next to anyone else. Not now, not ever. His Ma had always told him “When you know, Stevie, you know…” and he knew.

If this was how he spent every morning for the rest of his life, well Steve Rogers would die a happy man.

Last night had been their first proper public appearance as a couple at a formal event, there hadn’t been any others to attend really, and he knew there had been a few heads turning their way, but instead of the awkwardness he had expected to feel at all eyes being on him dancing with his girl, he’d hardly noticed. Everything had faded to black except the woman in his arms.

He placed a soft kiss to her shoulder as he continued to doze, feeling utterly relaxed. It was another hour or so before Katie stirred besides him, her legs stretching out, brushing against his and she shifted a little, before she tilted her head, brushing her nose against his.

“Morning handsome.” she whispered and he smiled, eyes closed, his lips pressing to hers in a soft, hardly there kiss.

“Morning beautiful.” he hummed as she turned in his arms, snuggling closer to him, her face pressing into her chest as his finger-tips brushed up and down her spine, before he gently caressed her neck and cheek. Then the the simple morning cuddles turned into something a little less innocent. Bruising kisses, teasing touches were shared as Steve gently rolled Katie over onto her back, his hands linking with hers as he pressed them into the pillow at the side of her head before sliding home. It was lazy, gentle, loving as he kissed every single part of her he could reach, thrusting up against that spot over and over before he felt the tell-tale signs, heard her breathing turn ragged, shallow as she gently encouraged him not to stop, declaring how good she made him feel, how much she loved him. With a soft cry of his name, that pet name, Stevie, she tumbled straight over the edge she’d been teetering on and with a quiet groan that rolled in his throat he followed, his hips stuttering before he gently fell forward, burying his face into her neck as her hands softly tangled in his hair.

An hour or so later, after a shower they were sat on the sofa eating breakfast when Katie heard her phone going off. Reaching for it she frowned and then smiled a little…before she smiled a lot.

“Stevie, look.” She said gently, handing him the phone. He took it from her and blinked a little before he too felt the grin spreading across his face as he looked at the photo. It was one taken of them the previous night as they had been dancing. His girl looked good, as always, but Steve felt his eyes drawn to his own face, the look of unadulterated love on his features was something he wasn’t overly shocked to see, but at the same time it surprised him a little. He had no idea he made himself that easy to read.

“Who took that?” he asked, his eyes flicking to Katie.

“Tony said the photographer did.” she smiled “He just emailed it to me along with the message, and I quote ‘Thought you might like to see this one. Pepper thinks its cute but the puppy love eyes Spangles is giving you make me wanna barf.’”

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes, although he couldn’t give less of a shit about Tony’s starkasm if he tried.

“They’re looking at ones to put on the Stark Industries website, they always publish a gallery you know for people to see and stuff.” Katie continued “Do you mind if they use it?”

“Why would I mind?” he asked, handing her the phone back.

“Well, I know you’re a private person…well, behind all the Star Spangled man bullshit that is.” she shrugged.

“It’s fine Doll.” he said, “On one condition.” “What’s that?”

“Can I get a copy?” he asked, “I’d kinda like one for my apartment.”

She grinned and placed her phone back down on the coffee table. “I already emailed Tony back asking for two.”

Steve chuckled and leaned over to place a kiss to her cheek. “I love you.”

“You too.” she smiled, turning her lips to catch his.

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #katie stark #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x original female character

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avengerscompound · 4 years

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Unintended

Unintended: A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 2192

Rating: E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo - Combat Training

Warnings: Smut (M|F, oral sex, face sitting, vaginal sex)

Synopsis: When Steve Rogers paired you up with your boyfriend Bucky for training, you don’t think he intended your training to go the way it did.

Unintended

Bucky let out a breath, blowing the stray locks of hair that had fallen over his brow off his face. He watched as you sized him up, raising your fists and widening your stance.

He really didn’t want to do this. As he watched you mentally preparing yourself to attack him his mind went through every single other person who would have been better at the job than him. Natasha. Sharon. Hill. Clint. Steve. Shit even Sam would be better for this than he was. Banner. Banner would be worse. That might be the only person though.

You moved quickly, aiming a kick at his waist. He caught your ankle and flipped you, so you somersaulted in the air and came crashing down onto your back, knocking the air from your lungs. He dropped to his knees and pressed one against your chest. “Can’t leave yourself vulnerable like that” He growled.

“Bucky,” you whined. “You’re supposed to go easy on me.”

He sighed and stood up offering you his hand. “Because the bad guys will go easy on you?”

You took his hand and let him pull you to your feet. “I can’t learn if you don’t give me a chance.”

Bucky folded his arms over his chest. The truth was he had no idea how to teach someone how to fight. He knew that once upon a time he’d taught Steve how to box. That memory was like having a memory of watching an old black and white film. The same could be said from any of the training he received. Either before HYDRA or while they had him. Even still he didn’t remember HYDRA taking it easy on him while they were training him.

He didn’t want to hurt you but if you were learning the wrong techniques by going easy on you then you weren’t going to learn properly.

“Maybe you should ask Natalia to teach you,” he said as he watched you square up again.

“Maybe you should do what you’re told,” you said running at him and aiming a couple of punches at his side, he blocked them easily, grabbing your wrist and throwing you forward again.

You grunted when you hit the floor and dragged yourself back to your feet.

“Wanna try back-talking me again?” He asked.

“Bucky…” You scowled.

“Don’t ‘Bucky’ me’. You wanted to train. We’re training.” Bucky snapped.

You frowned and squared off again. “Fine.”

You flew at him, a ball of rage trying to get even for the imagined slight that Bucky had paid you. It was the quickest takedown he’d done yet. Taking your legs out from under you so you slammed to the mat on your back with an involuntary ‘oof’ sound.

“Anger leads to the dark side.” He said looking down at you.

You looked up at him your eyes narrowed. He could tell you were trying very hard to hold onto the righteous anger you had at him snapping at you. He was used to seeing that look from a certain little jerk he grew up with.

You broke and started laughing. “Oh my god! You are such a nerd!”

He helped you back to your feet. “Yeah, yeah. Are we going to do this properly now?”

You put your hand on your hips and narrowed your eyes at him. “Tell me you love me first.”

He rolled his eyes. “We're working.”

“I don't care. You’re acting like a turd. Say you love me.”

Bucky let out a breath. He was really questioning why Steve would possibly have thought this was a good idea. He didn’t know how to train people to fight hand-to-hand. When he was fighting hand-to-hand he tended to zone out into soldier mode. You were a complete novice at this and you didn’t take it seriously. Plus you were his girlfriend. There were so many reasons why this was just bad news. You were to get hurt or the relationship was or both.

“Say it, Bucky!” You demanded.

“Fine,” he huffed. “I love you.”

You moved up close to him and put your hands on his chest. “Now say it like you mean it.”

His body softened and he let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I love you. I do.”

“Now do you think maybe Steve had you teaching me for a reason? I doubt the reason is to have us start bickering,” you said as you ran your thumbs up and down his pecs. “Like maybe he thought we could figure out a way I could learn that you might relax with more?”

“What did you have in mind?” He asked tilting his head a little as he looked at you curiously.

You ran your hands down his jacked and slipped them into the waistband of his pants. “I’m sure we can think of something, Bucky.”

He huffed and took your hands. “You know I don’t like that when I’m in uniform.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “So take it off.”

He looked at you in shock, unsure if you were serious or not. To show how serious you were you pulled your shirt off over your head. “Come on now, Bucky. Strip.”

He chuckled but started taking off his uniform. You removed the rest of yours too, going down to your underwear so that the two of you were standing on the crash mats, you in your sports bra and panties and him in his boxer briefs.

“Okay, so what if I show you how to throw someone off who tries to grab you?” He suggested. Something about not being in his uniform had cleared his head a little. It definitely took him out of soldier mode. Seeing you as vulnerable as you were standing in front of him ready to train flicked something inside him too. That protective part of him that wanted to keep you safe.

“Alright. Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.

He nodded and flicked his wrist in your direction. “Turn around.”

You complied and he moved up behind you, pulling you flush against him and trapping your hands.

“Well, if you're going to hold me like this, maybe I don’t wanna break free,” you teased suggestively wriggling back against him.

“Come on now,” Bucky said. “You gotta at least try to learn.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “What do I do?”

“Move your hips to the side, and then bring your hand up and turn into me.” He said.

You followed his instruction, pulling your hand free as you did. He let you. He knew how to keep people in a lock like this if he needed to. Shit, if this was in any way close to real-life your neck would have already been snapped. “Good,” he praised. “Now just be aggressive. Palm strikes at the groin, use your knees. Always aim for places that will slow your attacker down.”

You did as he said, only pulling the punches so you didn’t actually cause any actual damage. “Great. Wanna see if you can do it fluidly?”

“Sure. Don’t hold back.” You said.

He chuckled and shook his head. “If you say so.”

You turned and he grabbed you again. This time when you tried to twist away from him he held you still, pulling you a little closer to him.

“You still want me to not hold back?” He teased. You grunted and squirmed in his arms and he pinned both your hands against your chest using his metal hand, and slid his flesh one down and massaged your breast. “Gonna have to try a lot harder than that.”

“Bucky…” You whined, trying to pull away.

“Don’t ‘Bucky’ me,” he teased, his hand moving down to your hip. “Get away from me, tough guy.”

With your hands pinned in just one of his, it gave you the room to elbow him in the chest. He chuckled at the dull thud of your arm striking him. He flexed his fingers against your hips. “Come on now. Get me off.”

You started laughing and ground your ass back against you. “Oh, I’ll get you, off all right.”

“What a bad girl you are,” Bucky teased, moving his hand from your hip to your cunt, he squeezed gently and began to palm it. “That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”

“Maybe…” You moaned. “Bucky… stop being a tease.”

“Fine, come here.” He said and spun you to face him, pulling you into a deep and heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and ran your fingers up into his hair. He made an almost purring sound in response, his scalp prickling and the blood rushing to his cock.

He grabbed the waistband of your panties and dragged them down without breaking the kiss. As soon as you were kicking them away from you he was pushing his down, making his cock spring free and stand hard in front of him.

You jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist and grinding down on his erection as your lips moved frantically against his.

“I don’t… think … this was what… Steve wanted.” Bucky said with each breath you took.

“He had to know the risk.” You teased.

Bucky laughed and let himself drop to the crash mat, pulling you on top of him. You continued to grind on his cock, the slick of your cunt coating his shaft with each roll of your hips. He groaned, rutting up against you, wanting to feel your heat wrapped around him.

You broke the kiss with a gasp and looked down at him. “Looks like I have you right where I want you.”

“Mmm…” Bucky hummed, massaging your ass. “And now what will you do with me?”

You smirked and walked on your knees up to his chest. “The question is, what are you going to do to me?”

He raised his eyebrows and grabbed your thighs pulling you up so you straddled his head and he plunged his face into your cunt. He sucked hungrily on your clit and swirled his tongue around, ruffling your folds and slipping it inside you, tasting directly from the source.

Your fluids filled his mouth and coated his taste buds. Tart and acrid with a sweet undertone. He moaned, though the sound was muffled by your body. You threw your head back and grabbed his hair pulling his head tighter against you as you began to ride his face.

The sounds you made were loud and unfiltered. You moaned and cried out. Gasped and panted. Each sound coming quicker and louder as your legs began to tremble and your muscles tightened.

“Yes, Bucky. Yes. Just like that.” You babbled as he pressed your clit between his lips and flicked his tongue back and forth over it. He sucked hard on that sensitive nub and all your muscles seized up and you yanked hard on his hair as you came hard on his face, your cry echoing off the walls of the gym.

He flipped you back so you both half somersaulted so he was pressed on top of you. You dragged him into a hungry kiss, sucking and nipping at his lips as he slid the head of his cock up and down your pussy. Your hands slipped in between your bodies and gripped his shaft sending a jolt through him and making him groan into your mouth.

You pumped his cock slowly a few times before slowly guiding him into the wet heat of your cunt.

You broke the kiss, your head falling back with your lips parted in silent pleasure as you clenched and squeezed around his shaft, massaging and milking his cock with your inner walls. He rolled and swirled his hips, keeping your bodies pressed tightly together and pulling up with every thrust so that the base of his shaft rubbed against your clit.

“Fuck…” You gasped, digging your fingers into his back. “You feel so good, Buck.”

“So do you, darlin’,” he groaned, continuing to thrust slow and deep.

“Faster. I need you.” You mewled arching your back under him.

He started to move harder, and faster into you, the sounds of your bodies colliding making a soft slap sound with each thrust. He curved down, biting at your nipple through your sports bra until it was hard in his mouth and then moving to the other.

You cried out and bucked up under him, your muscles clenching and you cunt pulsing around his cock as your orgasm took you over. Bucky groaned as he tried to hold on but his balls tightened and with four more thrusts he came, releasing inside of you with a grunt.

You pulled him down into a deep kiss and he slipped from within you and rolled off onto his back, pulling you up onto his chest. You pulled back and looked down at him with a smile. “Training is fun. We should do it more often.”

Bucky chuckled. “You know when Steve finds out what we did we’re going to get a two-hour lecture, right?”

You laughed and leaned in close to him. “Totally worth it.” You said and brought your lips to his.

#starspangledbingo #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #unintended

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