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crittercrossing · 4 months ago

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Rest in Peace, Smokey

March 28th, 2005—February 15th, 2021

I met my best friend on the day he was born in 2005. I was nine years old. In the prior year, I had befriended a couple of semi-feral cats who took up residence at my childhood home, a male and a female. Growing up in a very rural area in the mid-2000s, spaying and neutering pets was a rare thing that was usually reserved for dogs, and practically unheard of in indoor-outdoor cats. And so, it was no surprise when these two cats had kittens, born on my front porch.

Smokey's mother was pregnant when I went to school that day, and when I returned home, I peered into the box we'd set up for her on the porch and saw six impossibly tiny kittens. I still vividly remember the sight of them and the fierce excitement I felt. Of the six kittens, I immediately noticed that one of them was much smaller than the others—a little grayish-tinted black tabby. I adored him from the moment we met.

He was named Smokey, for his smoky-gray color and my belief that he was a gray tabby. (It was several years before my fascination with cat colors and genetics took hold, when I would learn that he was, in fact, a black tabby.) Smokey was always the runt of the litter, a tiny kitten who stayed smaller than his siblings throughout their first few months of life.

I can't recall now exactly when this happened, but at some point, Sassy, the mother, seemed to give up on Smokey, perhaps because he was so small and weak. She stopped letting him nurse and even went so far as to remove him from the nest and from the other kittens. Determined to help him thrive, my mom and I began bottle-feeding him with kitten formula and spending lots of one-on-one time with him. I loved him wildly, and we began to develop a close bond.

After several weeks of supplemental feedings, Sassy accepted Smokey again. The little guy acted as though he never even knew that his mother tried to abandon him, and he became a mama's boy. He followed Sassy everywhere she went, and rarely left her side.

Being a kid and living with six kittens was one of the most fun experiences of my life. I loved all of the kittens tremendously, but Smokey was my favorite.

I don't have a lot of specific memories from that time period once Smokey got strong enough to fully rejoin his feline family, but I know I spent hours and hours playing with all of the kittens, cuddling them, and getting to know them as individuals. Smokey remained very close to his mother, to me, and to his only brother, Sammy—he seemed to feel very net neutral about everyone else, human or animal.

Thankfully, Smokey thrived with the extra feedings and special attention. He always remained very small—even as an adult, he was smaller than most female cats—but he was healthy and strong and full of energy and life. By the time he was six months old, he fit in so well with his siblings that you never would have guessed how drastically smaller than them he used to be.

Sassy, a tremendously patient mother, continued to let all six kittens nurse until they were nearly six months old. This is my only photo of the entire family together, with Smokey at the bottom.

We decided to keep Smokey and Sammy, and to rehome the four females. Though they were already close, Smokey and Sammy became inseparable once they were the only two indoor cats (their mother went missing not long after the above photo was taken, and their father lived almost entirely outdoors).

As a young adult, Smokey had a pretty different personality than his brother, and was less slightly less social. Sammy was the first one who would approach people, and he would jump up on their legs in the way that small dogs do. Smokey would follow behind and rub on people's legs in a more typical cat fashion. When other people came into the house, Smokey would run and hide behind the furniture, while Sammy would hang around to greet them. But that never bothered me at all, because when it was just Smokey and I, he was still the sweetest little guy in the world, someone who would sit with me and let me hold him and dress him up in silly things sometimes.

For eight years, Smokey and Sammy shared their lives together, with the closest bond between animal brothers that I've ever seen. Sammy passed away suddenly in 2013, and for the first time in his life, Smokey was the only cat in the house. He immediately became closer to people again, and from that point on, he never really hid anywhere, even when other people came over.

Not long after Sammy passed away, I took Smokey to the vet for a check-up just to make sure he was okay, as the vets were unable to determine what had caused Sammy's death. That was when Smokey was diagnosed with a heart murmur. I can't recall now what grade it was at the time, but it was either a grade four or five, as I know it started with a 'f.' There are six grades of heart murmur in cats. At the time, the vet assured me that he was otherwise healthy, and that the murmur was just something to keep an eye on. It might cause problems later, or it might not. Smokey was eight years old then, and I just desperately hoped that I would get at least a few more years with him. Little did I know then that he would live nearly another eight years.

Smokey very briefly shared the home with another cat, Crowfeather, a young male who unfortunately didn't live long—less than two years. Smokey didn't particularly like Crowfeather, but he tolerated his adopted younger brother surprisingly well. Kudos to Smokey for being so patient when Crowfeather was super high energy and loved to annoy him.

For several years, Smokey was allowed to go outside during the day, before I did my research and learned about how bad of an idea that is for cats and for the natural environment around them. I'm very glad that nothing bad happened to him in that time. Smokey loved being outside, but he was always very good about coming home when the weather started to get bad or before it got dark outside. And once I made the decision to keep him indoors only, he re-adapted very well.

Smokey's everyday life was very routine and predictable for the second half of his life. He was just always there, living everyday life with me and my mom. His middle age and his elderly years were relatively peaceful for a long time, until his health started to worsen—gradually at first, and then all at once.

At about nine years old, Smokey developed strange stomach symptoms that never were explained, even though he saw multiple vets. All of his bloodwork and other tests came back fine. His heart murmur worsened gradully over time, but nothing could indicate what was going on with his stomach. He struggled to keep food down. He would throw up after almost every single meal. I tried everything under the sun to help��different foods, prescription foods, vitamin supplements, scheduled meals, different sizes of meals, and nothing seemed to help. He had good days and bad days with it, but overall, he struggled to keep on weight. Through it all, he remained in great spirits and had lots of energy, and it honestly didn't seem to bother him. This part was relatively manageable, and as the vets said that it probably wasn't super dangerous, I held out hope that he would stay with me for much longer.

Smokey dealt pretty well with his stomach problems, but unfortunately, his heart problems did catch up with him eventually. And with that came one of the scariest time periods of my life.

(Content warning below for detailed medical problem descriptions and discussion of euthanasia. If you want to skip this, scroll until you see the next photo of Smokey.)

My mom woke me up in the middle of the night in November of 2020 to tell me that Smokey had somehow become paralyzed while he had been taking a nap. She saw that he walked into the bottom of one of his cat trees normally, fell asleep, had woken up, and couldn't seem to move. Panicked, I ran to him. I found him there, seeming generally unworried. He tried to stand up and walk, but he couldn't. He crawled out with his front legs, his hind legs and tail dragging behind him. He was paralyzed in his back half. I can't even start to describe how scared I was.

He went to the vet in the morning. Smokey was diagnosed with a saddle thrombus. The vet explained it to me as a blood clot in the aorta, sitting where the aorta branches out into the two main blood vessels that go into the back legs. Smokey had somehow had this clot break loose from somewhere else, possibly within his heart, and it traveled there while he slept, hence why he was fine before his nap. His heart murmur, at that time, was a grade six. He had what was only described to me as severe heart disease. To say I was devastated would be putting it lightly. He had been acting completely fine, and there had been no indication that something so serious was going on. The prognosis for this kind of thing is usually pretty bad, and especially so in Smokey's case. The vet gave me options. I could have let him go that day, or I could take him home and try treatment. I was told that he may very likely never regain movement in his back end. He was in pain and would need pain medication daily. He would need blood thinners to try and prevent more blood clots from happening. Nothing could be done to slow down his heart disease. But I looked at Smokey, and he looked back at me as though nothing were wrong. I decided to try. I took him home.

The next several months, my life revolved around keeping him happy and comfortable. I made a special area for him on the living room floor, in a corner, with lots of soft blankets, a short-sided litter box that he could crawl in and out of easily, and food and water. He hated taking his medicine, and given how often he threw up, he didn't actually end up keeping most of it down. He still had a great appetite, though. He ate a lot of chicken in those days, as much as he wanted. I sat with him for hours. He would lay his head in my hand and look at me and purr.

Then, about a week later, the seemingly impossible happened. I watched him pull hard with his front legs, and he somewhat propped up his back legs beneath him. His toes weren't really working, and he couldn't move his hind legs individually, but he started kind of shuffling along the floor in a mostly-standing position. I had so much hope. I cried when I first saw him shuffle over to his old recliner and climb up it to get to his favorite spot on top of the headrest. By the time another week passed, he was walking again. His toes never came back all the way, but he did start to move his legs individually again and he held them mostly normally beneath him. He wasn't paralyzed anymore! He could walk! He returned to an almost entirely normal life by the beginning of 2021. Through it all, he never once looked scared or upset.

At the time, I had a lot of trouble admitting to myself that his time was still limited. His heart wasn't going to recover. He was at an extremely high risk of having another blood clot. I pushed away the sad, scary thoughts, and focused on the positives. He was getting around pretty much fine. The vet was blown away at how much progress Smokey had made. I couldn't imagine not having my boy around, so I didn't.

In February 2021, I couldn't ignore it anymore. In retrospect, I am angry with myself for waiting so long. I've read a lot since then about how well cats hide pain. He could have been hurting that entire time. He maintained his good spirits up until about a week into February. He got lethargic. He lost interest in eating. His whole body shook with the effort of breathing. It was past time.

Early 2021 was a really awful, difficult time in my life for multiple personal reasons, and this on top of it seemed unbearable. I honestly didn't know if I would survive it, but I knew I had to do it. I couldn't let him suffer any longer. On February 15th, I took Smokey to the vet to find out what kind of shape he was in. I was pretty sure going in that that was it, but I still foolishly hoped that there was a way out. There wasn't. He was in active heart failure and was, according to the vet, already on his way out. I wasn't going to let that go on indefinitely.

I held him, wrapped up in a towel, cradling him in my arms. I was sobbing so hard I could barely speak words that were understandable, but I talked to him. I told him I loved him. Oh, how I loved him so, so much. I told him he was a good boy. I thanked him for choosing me to be his person. I know it wasn't technically a choice—he was just born at my house and I was there to love him and care for him—but, I don't know. His beautiful, loving soul could have been born into any kitten anywhere in the world. I don't know if he got any say in it, but if he did, I was glad that he chose to come into my small part of the world. And then, he left my world.

I try not to dwell on that time too much. I try to focus on his life, his wonderful little soul, all of the memories with him that I wouldn't trade for anything. I focus on how I knew him and I loved him every single day of his life—15 years, 10 months, and 19 days.

There were so many delightful little things about Smokey, and about my relationship with him. His favorite food was green beans. He would do nearly anything for a green bean. From adulthood onward, he almost always had a perpetually serious, grumpy-old-man-looking expression on his face, which was really funny given how unserious and sweet he was. He was such a handsome cat—the most handsome black tabby I've ever known. I was obsessed with the beauty of his fur color and pattern. His eyes were the prettiest shade of green. For much of his life, he had these funny little fangs that always stuck out of his mouth. His upper canine teeth were long, and so in many of my photos of him, he seems to have a little fanged smile. (Sadly, the fangs eventually began to crack and had to be removed.) His meow was always very squeaky, his voice cracking in the middle of pretty much every single meow. He knew his name very well, as well as his collection of nicknames: Cinnamon Roll, My Boy, El Niño, Little Man, Smokey Boop, and Little Love.

Smokey didn't love a wide variety of cat toys, but he really loved his orange feather wand. In his middle age, even with little toy motivation in general, he would always drop whatever he was doing and bat wildly at the feather wand, looking just like his baby kitten self when he did. He loved to be brushed and combed. There was one particular comb he liked—a flea comb, even though he rarely ever had fleas—and if I stopped combing him before he was ready, he would grab at the comb with his paws and rub his cheeks on it. The only other inanimate object he really loved was this random purple ballpoint pen. I don't remember whose pen it was originally, or where it came from, but it was one of the little ones with a cap on it. I don't even remember how I discovered this, but Smokey adored that pen. He loved for me to hold it so he could gently chew on the end of it—always supervised, and he never bit anything off or swallowed anything. He just liked to gnaw on it, and he never seemed to grow tired of it. I now carry that purple pen with me every day. It's one of the very few things I have left of him.

Smokey was always in the center of home's activity, no matter what was going on. He sat with me and watched TV for hours on end. He took naps with people on the couch. He even sat with the dogs on the chairs or couch sometimes. Smokey was never afraid of a dog in his entire life, and he was never aggressive with them. He never seemed to think twice about rabbits, rodents, and chickens coming in and out of the house.

Smokey claimed one recliner in particular, and it became known as "Smokey's chair." First thing every morning, I enjoyed walking into the living room for the first time in the day and seeing him curled up on the top of the headrest. And every morning, he would stand up, look at me with his big green eyes, and headbutt me. He would wait for me to bend down just enough for him to be able to bonk his forehead against mine, and he would always headbutt me hard enough that I don't know how it didn't bother him. But it didn't seem to. We did this several times every day, and he seemed to love it. Often, when he pressed his head to mine, he would stay put there, our heads together, and he would purr so loudly that I could feel it rumbling in my bones. I still think about that feeling all the time.

I feel like I don't have the right words to explain what sharing my life with him was like. It was just simple and easy and unbelievably filled with love and affection and trust and friendship. He was a constant in my life, a faithful companion.

In a way, I am really sad that so few people got to meet Smokey. He was such a good cat, the kind of cat that seems to be one in a million. I know that objectively, that might not be true, but that's how it feels to me. It feels weird for me to think about how my partner of several years now never met him, when he was such an important part of my life and I talk about him a lot. (He passed away a few months before my partner and I met.) I wish I could tell the whole world about him, but this is probably as close as I can get to that.

I know that time heals most wounds to some extent, but in all honesty, I don't think this wound has healed at all. I think about him pretty much every day. I miss him more than I can explain. I miss the soothing sound of his purr—I am very glad that at some point in his old age, I thought to record a video of his loud purring. I miss the feeling of our heads together, the vibrations of his purr. I miss feeling that purring when he would lie on his side, curled up like a cinnamon roll, and I would press my face into the fur on his side, and he would purr even louder. I can remember exactly how soft his fur was. I miss the gentle tapping of his paw when he would reach out for me, the touch of his claws (never painful, as if he was being careful not to scratch me), the warmth of his paw pads. I miss the brush of his whiskers, the rhythmic flicking of his tail tip when he laid beside me.

I miss his steady presence in the house, almost always in the living room. I miss sitting with him while I watched TV or played video games, looking over at him every now and then to see him gently sleeping or seemingly watching the screen with me. I miss how sometimes, I would look at him to find that he was already looking at me first, gazing up at me with the warmest expression I've ever seen in a cat's eyes. He just looked at me like he loved me. I could feel it.

I hope he knew how much I love him. I'm sure he knew, to some extent, but I just really, really hope that he knew that I love him with a ferocity, with all of my heart, with the kind of love where I know that I would have done anything in the world for him, the kind of love where I still, over three years later, don't really know what to do without him.

I can't really talk about him at all without choking up and, often, crying. It happens when I think about him. I'm kind of falling apart writing this.

And while writing this, I have a song in my mind. It's "Goodbye May Seem Forever" from The Fox and the Hound—the really unbelievably sad song that plays during the scene where the widow who raised the fox drives him to the woods and leaves him there, for his own good, never to see him again. I don't know that I'll ever be able to listen to it again. I can't honestly even think about it without tearing up. But I think it's the most fitting song I know of to describe my grief, and it reminds me of my Smokey.

"We met it seems Such a short time ago You looked at me Needing me so Yet from your sadness Our happiness grew And I found out I needed you too ... Goodbye may seem forever Farewell is like the end But in my heart's a memory And there you'll always be"

There you'll always be, my little love.

#cats #smokey #cw death #cw pet loss #domestic shorthair

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lilyevanstan1325 · 11 months ago

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🔥 Dangerous Game 🔥

Chapter 20

Bucky POV

I stretch my arm to the right, my hand touching the soft cotton sheets but without success.

What I'm looking for is not there.

I slowly open my eyes only to realize that the room is barely illuminated by the first rays of the sun.

I yawn rolling onto my back and extending my arms upwards.

After a few minutes I decide to get up and grab my phone from the top of the nightstand to check what time it is.

It's six in the morning.

I yawn again.

I would have liked to have slept a little longer, after all I think I fell asleep no more than three hours ago.

After a long and rewarding session of wonderful and wild sex.

I go out of the bedroom to look for her, the bathroom is empty as well as the kitchen.

The hut on the lake is immersed in dim light and silence.

I roll my eyes smiling.

I already know where I will find her.

I go out of our small alcove immersing myself in the sweet and crisp air of this morning in late August.

A few meters further on, sitting on a large blanket by the lake, there is her.

Amaya.

The red hair illuminated by the first light of the morning sways moved by the light breeze that comes from the lake.

She is wearing one of my t-shirts, on her body so small and slender it falls widely leaving one of her shoulders completely uncovered.

She sits cross-legged and right between them Alpine dozes peacefully.

I never thought I could be jealous of a cat.

That little traitor seems to be madly attracted to Amaya.

He follows her everywhere, always looking for contact with her.

She is absentmindedly stroking the little cat's head while her gaze travels lost who knows where.

My little robin is getting more and more beautiful.

I stop for a moment to observe her.

These two months we spent in Wakanda were the best of my life.

No worries, no trouble.

We spent our days lazing around, lost in each other.

Spending entire nights having sex or simply sitting by the lake and gazing at the stars.

We have found our harmony and we are building our story brick by brick.

No more secrets.

No more lies.

In short, we are trying to build our future in a mature way.

And God only knows how irremediably in love with this woman I am, by now I know for sure that I will never be able to do without her in my life.

And this thought, annoying as a woodworm, is there.

Present and fixed in my head.

I want her for the rest of my life.

And I would like to tell her but I'm terrified of the idea of screwing everything up.

I slowly approach her.

"Again?" I whisper, lowering myself behind her and sitting down.

I lower my face to kiss her bare shoulder.

Since we are here every morning before dawn Amaya gets up and with a blanket sits by the lake to watch the sun rise.

Amaya turns her head, smiling at me so sweetly that I feel my legs turn to jelly.

She tilts her head back just enough for our lips to touch.

"Good morning to you too Sergeant" she whispers to me and then kisses me again but this time with more passion.

Her tongue slowly slides inside my mouth massaging mine gently.

Slow and sensual movements.

I feel the blood literally splashing in my brain.

Is it possible that this woman, with just one kiss, is able to make me touch the sky with a finger?

Amaya ends the kiss and a whine leaves my lips, she laughs and shakes her head.

My arms wrap around her hips and her hands slide over mine and then make our fingers intertwine delicately resting on her belly.

Her eyes, green like emeralds, shone slyly.

"You are really insatiable Barnes" she whispers captivating an inch from my lips.

"Oh Snow I'll never be sated of you" I answer kissing her again.

Amaya laughs, settling herself better in my arms and resting her head on my chest.

I kiss her temple and then I lean my chin on her bare shoulder, lowering my gaze to Alpine who, as if he perceives my gaze, raises his little head giving me a look that I could almost define irritated.

Sometimes this cat scares me.

"Hey don't look at me like that!I was there before you arrived.Traitor" I whisper stroking him behind his ear.

Amaya laughs again.

"I told you he likes me more" she teases me.

"He is a gourmet when it comes to women.Just like his owner" I tell her in her ear.

I can't see her face but I'm sure she's rolling her eyes.

The silence, interrupted only by birdsong, envelops us giving us a feeling of well-being.

Peace.

Amaya sighs.

"What's going on robin?"

"I'm going to miss this place" she whispers, letting her gaze wander all around her.

"If you want we can stay"

Amaya slightly shakes her head.

"You know very well we can't.It's time to go home.New York awaits us.Nick needs me.Our friends need us"

I sigh in turn.

I know she's right but it really hurts me to leave this place.

"I know doll"

"But?"

I laugh.

This woman knows me all too well.

"I will miss what we had here.It was all so fantastic and..."

"But this is not real" Amaya interrupts me.

Her words hit me like a slap in the face.

I move away from her body, moving uncomfortably.

"What...what do you mean?What was here, between us, isn't it real?"

Amaya grabs Alpine and carefully lays him down beside her and then turns and kneels between my legs.

"James is not what I'm saying" she looks me seriously in my eyes.

"I love you and we had a wonderful time here but this is not real life.If we want it to work we have to go home and try to fit our relationship with work and everyday life" she explains to me softly wrapping her arms around my neck.

I know she is right but the fear that once we return home the past will overwhelm us with all its fury is great.

I can't deny it.

"You're right"

"I know.I'm always right" she chuckles amused.

I join in her laugh and then kiss her again.

The first rays of sunlight illuminate the pink-hued sky pouring out onto the lake, making it shine like a multi-faceted diamond.

Amaya is beautiful in front of me, her green eyes seem to shine with their own light.

I am in a place of surreal beauty and in my arms I hold the woman of my life.

And without being able to restrain my lips, the words roll down my tongue inexorably.

"Marry me"

I know I shouldn't have told her but I haven't been able to hold back.

The smile on Amaya's lips seems to petrify and slowly fades, leaving room for a whirlwind of emotions.

"What?What did you say?" she asks, laughing nervously.

"I said marry me Amaya.Marry me and let's have a baby" I repeat, now aware of having dropped the bomb and of not being able to pull back.

Did I say it on impulse?

No.

It's something I've been thinking about for a while.

Amaya shakes her head walking away from me.

We sit facing each other in silence.

"You can't be serious Bucky.We've only been back together two months ago.It's too early to even think about marriage.Have a child is..." she stammers, accompanying the words with a nervous laugh.

But I'm not laughing and she realizes it.

I think she is realizing right now how serious I am.

"No Bucky, no.I am damaged...we both are.Together we have found peace but I do not consider myself so selfish as to have a child.That...what I did...my hands got soiled with too much blood.What life could I ever offer a child?What example could I ever be?"

Amaya shakes her head nervously as if she wants to free herself from the nonsense I told her.

"Are you telling me Amaya?You know who I was.You know who I've been.And that's why I just want a normal life.A wife, children" I reply feeling pervaded by anger.

I get up with my back to her, directing my gaze towards the lake.

I feel my eyes fill with tears from the weight of her rejection.

It hurts.

Damn it if it hurts.

I feel her little hand rest on my shoulder.

"Bucky..."

"Do you know what my dream was Amaya?" I interrupt her abruptly, turning to her.

She withdraws her hand and shakes her head.

"I dreamed of coming back from the war, getting an honest job and marrying a good girl.But this opportunity was taken away from me.I believed for more than seventy years that there was nothing for me...but then you came.All I want is to marry you and buy a house to fill with children and dogs.Nothing more" I murmur feeling defeated.

Her eyes fill with tears and her hands rise in search of mine, when she finds them intertwining our fingers and lifting up on her toes she leaves me a sweet kiss on my lips.

"Listen to me James.We've been through a lot, we've only recently been together"

"Why doesn't what we had before coming here to Wakanda no longer matter to you?What was there before everything fell apart?"

"Of course it matters!And that's why we have to take it slow.Even if you believe that this is the case, I assure you that we are not ready for what you are asking of me"

"Speak for yourself Amaya.I know what I want.I want you.For all life.If you're not sure it's another thing"

Amaya looks at me as if she feels offended by my words.

But if I think about it, this could be the reason for her rejection.

I do not doubt that she loves me, I am sure of her feelings...but maybe she doesn't know yet if I am actually the man she would like to spend the rest of her life with.

"Don't bullshit!You know very well how much I love you and that you are the only one I want to spend my life with"

"So what are you saying Amaya?What are you trying to tell me?" I ask with my heart beating furiously in my chest.

She lets go of my hands to bring hers on my face, with her fingers she pulls away a lock of my hair bringing it behind my ear.

"I'm saying that I love you and that I don't want anyone by my side but you but it's really too soon.And that's why I'm telling you no.Today.Today I have to tell you no.Can you understand me?"

And so with my tail between my legs like a beaten dog I lower my head and picking up the pieces of my heart I wear my usual smile, the one I flaunted when I was sick and the world around me didn't realize it.

"Of course I understand you.I'm sorry I rush a bit too much" I tell her trying to give me a bearing.

Amaya smiles and shakes her head.

"You never have to apologize for your feelings" she whispers to me and then kisses me.

I kiss her back but honestly I feel lacking in enthusiasm.

I just hope I can pretend long enough.

"I'm sorry if I let you down.Maybe it wasn't the answer you expected" Amaya murmurs in a low voice.

"You could never disappoint me" I smile trying to be convincing.

After all, she is right.

We have to take it slow, we have all the time in this world to think about our future.

"I love you"

"I love you too" I whisper back.

"What do you say if we go back inside and do I that thing you like so much?"

I smile slyly at her words and without giving her the time to add more, I load her on my shoulder making her laugh heartily.

With large strides I reach the entrance door until I reach the bed.

I throw her on it while she's still laughing.

I turn around and see Alpine following us.

"Sorry my little friend but you can't enter" I tell him closing the door.

I turn back to Amaya who with a gesture of her hand sent me to join her on the bed.

I take off my t-shirt and shorts making her laugh again.

"Could you at least give me the satisfaction of being able to undress you?"

I throw myself on the bed next to her and she takes the opportunity to get up and sit astride me.

I lie down while my hands caress her thighs left uncovered by the t-shirt she is wearing.

"I don't like wasting time" I shrug as if the answer is obvious.

Amaya shakes her head in amusement.

"Make yourself comfortable soldier, I'll take care of you now" so saying Amaya lowers on my lips kissing me hard while she with her fingertips goes over the contours of my pectorals then descending towards the abdominals.

She continues to kiss me as her hand slips inside my boxers.

"Oh doll" I gasp.

She smiles on my lips and moving slowly makes me spread my legs and positions herself between them.

She kisses my chest and then my abdomen while her hand continues to slide along my cock and her thumb caresses the tip.

"Oh fuck" I exclaim grabbing her by her hair and making her lift her head until our eyes meet.

"I love you" I hiss between my teeth.

"I know" she replies, taking her hand out of the boxers.

Then she grabs them from the sides and runs them down my thighs until them come off.

Her hand returns to my cock and after kissing the tip she turns her gaze back to mine.

"I love you too" she tells me smiling and then her face lowers again.

After a few moments her mouth, warm and soft as velvet, wraps itself around my tip and sucking hard she slowly goes down taking it in her mouth as much as she can.

I hear her moan softly and instinctively I raise my hips to meet her.

"Oh doll!Shit!" I gasp heavily, burying my head in the pillow.

My heart beats furiously and the excitement obscures all my other thoughts.

Now the only thing I can feel is Amaya.

She is inside of me.

She is all around me.

She is in my head.

In my heart.

She is my heart.

I bring my hands into her soft hair and caress her gently.

"Good girl" I whisper about her and her eyes lift up to meet mine.

And it's one of the most exciting visions of my entire life.

Her eyes shining with pleasure and her mouth around my masculinity are the portrait of the purest lust.

I watch her as her head moves up and down and my penis sensually enters and exits her mouth.

Her tongue traces a fiery trail along my entire length leaving me stunned and breathless.

Her hand is squeezed around my cock while the other massages my testicles, ripping out of me another moan.

"I'm close doll.Don't stop" I whisper to her.

Amaya lifts her head and continuing to hold my erection in her hands she looks me straight into my eyes.

"Do you want to cum inside my mouth?" she asks me to then let out her tongue that pink and perfect, she goes to wrap around my tip.

A growl resounds in my chest and she smiles and starts sucking again but with more audacity and I move my hips pumping into her mouth.

With shortness of breath and my heart pumping at twice its normal speed, I feel the orgasm mount impetuously inside me, clouding my brain.

After a few moments I pour all my semen down her throat and she greedily greets it while continuing to lick my entire length until I have been thoroughly cleaned.

Amaya sits astride me again and I am delighted to observe her while with her thumb she wipes a corner of her lips where a few drops of my sperm are left.

Can a human being that fucking sexy and exciting?

I lift my back until I am seated.

"Takes off your clothes" I whisper to her still panting out of breath.

Amaya takes off her shirt, waiting anxiously.

I smile.

She is not wearing a bra.

This woman knows exactly how to drive me crazy.

I bring my hands to her ass as I pull my face down to her chest licking the tender flesh between her breasts.

She throws her head back, digging her hands into my hair.

"Oh James" she whispers as she moves her pelvis, seeking contact with my dick.

With my hand in Vibranium I grab the elastic of her panties and with a dry and decisive movement I tear away, stealing of her a sob of pleasure.

"Fuck me Sir"

"Not yet" I whisper, running my fingers along her slit.

I lay back on the bed.

"Come.Sit here" I invite her sensually.

"Here where?"

"Here, on my face"

Her eyes widen in amazement and her cheeks turn red.

"Are you embarrassed my little robin?" I tease her.

"We never did it" she whispers, intimidated even though in her eyes I can read the excitement for the novelty.

"Oh my baby girl!We've done a lot worse" I giggle trying to relax her.

She smiles and after a last moment of hesitation she begins to move.

She tortures her lower lip between her teeth as she positions herself right over my face.

"Oh my God doll...you are so beautiful" I whisper to her as I lose myself observing her wonderful body from this new angle.

"I've always wanted to try it" I whisper as I lift my neck and just tease her clit with my tongue.

Amaya moans and her thighs, wrapped around my head, tremble.

Slowly with the help of my kisses she becomes more and more confident until she is the one who takes control of the situation.

I just grab her perfect buttocks and tease her fold with my tongue.

At first she clings with her hands to the headboard while with her hips she swings over my face.

Her moans echo loudly in the small room.

I can't take my gaze off her.

Her body sways sensual, her pussy moves back and forth.

I feel her clit rubbing against the tip of my nose and in response my erection comes back to bully, red and angry tip bangs against my stomach.

"Suck Bucky.Suck my clit" Amaya moans, digging her hands into my hair and riding my face.

She is using me as if I were just an object intended for her pleasure.

And that drives me crazy.

I obey her will by gently grabbing her clit between my teeth and sucking it into my mouth as I tease it relentlessly with my tongue.

"Oh James...fuck!Fuck!Oh yeah" Amaya yells in unbridled passion.

Her hips move back and forth quickly until she cum wildly in my mouth.

I feel her clit throbbing incessantly and her sweet nectar dripping onto my tongue.

Her legs tremble as she shifts and then falls back heavily on the unmade bed.

I run a hand over my face, clearing the moisture of her, then turn my head to the side and meeting her gaze.

"Are you okay doll?" I ask, getting closer to her.

Amaya nods with a toothy smile.

I bring my face close to hers and kiss her.

"I love you Amaya.I don't care if we don't get married.I don't care if we never have children.The only thing I want is to always have you by my side" I admit with sincerity.

It is true that I would like to build a family with her but the most important thing is to have her with me.

Knowing that she loves me and that she is happy to be able to spend her life with me makes me feel more than lucky.

Her eyes shine brightly.

"Fuck me Sergeant.Fuck me until I scream" she whispers on my lips.

"Anything you want my love" I answer her and then roll her on stomach inviting her to lift her hips.

I position myself behind her and run a hand along her slit, wetting my hand with her moisture, then with that hand I grab my cock and slide it along my entire length.

I penetrate her with a single movement and grabbing her hips I begin to move back and forth.

Amaya moans raising her hips even more and burying her head between the sheets trying to stifle her moans of pleasure.

I let my mind go blank so I can lose myself inside her but suddenly I see her lifting her back and slipping a hand between our bodies.

She grabs my cock and slips it out of her body while continuing to hold it tight in her hands.

"What?" I ask panting.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Amaya shakes her head and looking at me she whispers lewdly "Fuck me"

"I was doing it doll"

"Fuck me here.Fuck me hard" she whispers, placing my erection in front of the entrance to her wonderful ass.

"What did you say?" I ask her taken aback by her request.

"You heard right.Do it" she whispers turning her head back looking for my lips.

"Are you sure?" I whisper once detached from her lips.

"Yeah" Amaya murmurs in a faint voice.

"Ok doll.I'll take it easy" I reply in a whisper pushing her head back towards the bed.

Amaya lets herself be guided.

I start stimulating her with a single finger and I hear her purring.

Ok, she is not new to all this so I decide to dare by slowly inserting a second finger.

She squirms a little but she continues to moan in delight.

While I continue to accustom her body to my presence, with my free hand, I gently massage her clit.

"Relax and everything will be fine robin"

I know I have to take it easy, even if for her it doesn't seem to be her first time at all.

But being very big I seriously risk hurting her if I let myself be guided only by animal fury to possess her and brand her as mine.

I stick my fingers out and very slowly approach the tip of my erection.

I press lightly allowing the tip to make its way.

Amaya moans a little louder, slightly wincing.

"I can stop at any time doll.You know the word" I whisper to her.

She whimpers again.

"No...no, don't stop" she begs me.

I caress her hips and very slowly I enter in her.

At first I remain motionless giving her time to get used to this new intrusion and me to relax for don't cum now.

I feel like every rational thought disappears, like my brain is wrapped in a blanket of lust that doesn't allow me to think rationally.

"Fuck doll!God!You're so tight" I gasp as I dig my fingers into the tender flesh of her hips.

Amaya begins to move as soon as she makes me understand that now I can too and so, with extreme caution, I begin to move within her.

We both pant relentlessly.

Amaya lifts her torso off the bed by placing her weight on her palm.

I detach my hands from her hips and after giving her a slap on her ass I go down on her making my chest adhere to her back.

My hands look for hers who are convulsively clutching the blanket and once find hers I intertwining our fingers.

"What are you?" I whisper in her ear.

"I'm a slut"

"And whose are you?"

"I am your sir" Amaya sobbed to the limit of pleasure.

While I hold myself with my hand in Vibranium, I raise the other one to bring it to her clit.

Amaya moans even louder.

"Repeat it" I order.

"I am your bitch sir"

"Forever?"

"Forever yours" she replies as a raging orgasm shakes her.

I follow her immediately after, I feel every muscle in my body stiffen and in the end I empty all my pleasure inside her.

We both collapse on the bed.

Slowly I slip out of her body rolling to her side.

Amaya lies on her stomach with her eyes closed.

"Everything is fine?" I whisper clearing my throat.

I am still deeply shocked by the pleasure I have just experienced.

She smiles without opening her eyes.

I take it as a positive answer.

I turn on my side bringing my hand to her face to brush her hair that falls in a messy way in front of her face.

"I love you Amaya" I whisper, stealing another smile from her.

Amaya POV

"I love you Amaya"

I smile and then open my eyes.

"I love you too" I reply, extending a hand towards his chest, stroking it gently.

His clear eyes seem almost made of ice and peer into me as if they could read my soul.

I must admit that his proposal before has totally destabilized me.

I married?

I mother?

I don't think.

I don't feel like I'm the right person for these roles.

I love James and I am absolutely sure that I can never want anyone else as much as I want him.

He understands me, he completes me.

He knows how to make me feel at home.

It is obvious that I will spend the rest of my life with him but I want to do it without having to put any labels on it.

As husband and wife.

Or as parents.

I shudder at the very thought.

I'm not saying I don't like the thought of motherhood but honestly with my mental health and my past could I really be a good mother?

Although Bucky may have a much more messed up past than mine I could see him being a father.

But I?

I shake my head back to the present.

I don't want to think about this whole situation anymore.

Bucky's gaze is no longer on me, he seems to be looking over my shoulder.

Something distant in time.

And he seems to be sad.

"Are you all right Bucky?" I whisper approaching him and crouching with my head on his broad chest.

His eyes seem to focus on me again.

"Yeah.Yeah!Everything is fine.As long as you are by my side everything will be fine" he smiles at me kissing my forehead.

Why do I have the impression that his words do not correspond to his thoughts?

"Are you sure?Aren't you mad at me?"

"Why should I be mad at you?" he asks me and from his clear irises I can see his real surprise at my question.

"For what happened at the lake earlier" I murmur.

I would not like to bring his attention back to this subject but I need to know that my choice is really good for him.

"Don't get too paranoid doll.Nothing happened" he tells me, slipping out of my embrace and standing up.

I sit on the bed crossing my legs and picking up the blanket to cover my nakedness.

"Nothing?You asked me to marry you and have a baby and I said no.That doesn't seem like nothing to me"

"What need do you have to bring the question back to the surface Amaya?You were all too clear and I accepted your decision.As I always do, on the other hand.You decide I obey, isn't it?" he murmurs with a fake smile on his face.

"Wow!This is really mean Bucky" I exclaim as I stand up and lock myself in the bathroom slamming the door.

I understand that he feels hurt but bringing back our old disagreements between us was really a low blow.

I sit on the toilet looking at the wall in front of me.

I am really afraid that returning to everyday life will be more difficult than I imagined.

A light knock on the door catches my attention.

"Go away Bucky.This is not the time"

But obviously he is not listening to me and opens the door leaning his shoulder on the threshold of the door.

"I'm sorry doll.I was a real asshole" he murmurs and then comes over and hands me something.

They are a shirt of him and a pair of panties.

I look at myself and only at this moment do I realize that I am still naked.

"Thank you" I whisper, grabbing the clothes but carefully avoiding his gaze.

I wear the shirt and panties and he is still motionless watching me.

He has his arms crossed and his eyes is sad.

I face him assuming the same position as him, taking a deep breath.

"Bucky I honestly don't know if I can ever give you what you want.I'm confused and you threw a bomb at me.You can't expect me to reason clearly"

His arms fall along his sides and he lowers his head disconsolately.

"I know Amaya and I'm sorry.I shouldn't have told you those things.Can we pretend I never said anything to you?" he asks me with an almost desperate look.

I can see the repentance in his eyes and I can't explain why but it hurts me.

"Oh sure!So you will do nothing but collect grudges until you get to the point of hating me" I say accompanying my words with a laugh devoid of any joy.

His eyes widen in amazement.

"I could never hate you Amaya"

"Oh you will do it, trust me" I retort stubborn.

Bucky throws his arms up to the sky.

"Then please tell me what you want me to do!" he yells in exasperation.

"God Amaya!I love you so much but when you do this you freak me out.I asked you what I asked you and you gave me your answer, why do we have to keep talking about it?"

"Because I want you to be really willing to accept my refusal"

I watch him as he rolls his eyes.

"I didn't say I don't love you Bucky, don't make that face.You know I'd be willing to die for you" I scream in turn hearing my voice break with sadness.

"I love you and I just want to be with you.Nothing more.Isn't that enough for you?" I whisper, looking down at my hands.

I hear no noise, nothing, and for a moment I think he is gone leaving me alone.

But then his feet appear in my field of vision and his arms close around my shoulders.

"Of course Amaya, you are more than enough for me.You are everything I want"

Hesitantly, I wrap my arms around his waist and sink my face into his chest.

"How about we take a shower?In an hour, the jet that will take us home will be ready and we still have to say goodbye to T'Challa and his family" murmurs Bucky with his lips on my hair.

I nod, rubbing my cheek against his muscular chest.

"Shall we take a shower together?" I ask hesitantly that he can refuse.

I hear him laugh, then moving away from me he grabs my face in his big hands.

"I was afraid you wouldn't ask me" he laughs, kissing the tip of my nose.

I laugh too and dragging him by the shirt I lure him into the shower with me.

We wash quickly stealing just a few kisses and a few caresses and in less than half an hour we are ready and headed for the royal palace.

When we arrive we find Okoye waiting for us.

"White Wolf.Agent Snow.T'Challa is waiting for you, follow me"

And without saying anything else, she turns her back on us and begins to walk.

Bucky and I exchange a glance and follow Okoye who is guiding us to the laboratory of the King's sister.

Shuri.

She and I immediately bonded thanks to our common passion.

Annoy Bucky.

Arrived at the lab Okoye greets us with a bow and disappears in the blink of an eye.

"Here you are.I was afraid you decided to stay here again" Shuri exclaims and then adds "Of course you are welcome Amaya, I don't talk to you"

Bucky rolls his eyes.

I laugh as I stand next to her who is fiddling with something on her work table.

"They are beautiful Shuri.Did you make them?" I ask looking at the wonderful Vibranium knives in front of my eyes.

"Try them" she tells me encouraging me with a smile.

"Can I really?"

Shuri nods smiling.

I grab one, it's light and well balanced.

I spin it a couple of times, toss it in the air and then catch it.

"Wow Shuri!It's perfect"

She laughs and grabs my arm and drags me with her.

"Ok White Wolf, come here and make yourself useful" she calls him back.

Bucky walks listlessly with his hands in his pockets and reaches us, Shuri grabs him by the shoulders and places him in front of a wall that seems to be made of some kind of rubber.

Right in front of me.

Then she comes back to my side.

"Try them" Shuri urges me giving me a playful shoulder.

I smile as I understand her intentions and so I turn to Bucky who has just realized that he will be my target.

A corner of his lips lifts in a sly smile.

"C'mon Snow!Show me what you can do" he says amused.

I smile, positioning myself better in front of him, there will be about 5/6 meters to divide us.

I weighed the knife in my hands and then with a lightning gesture I throw it.

The knife sticks about ten centimeters from his face.

"C'mon doll!You can do better" Bucky teases me.

Shuri at my side hands me another knife.

I grab it and immediately throw it at Bucky.

This time the blade sticks about two inches from his cheek.

He smiles, challenging me with his eyes to do more.

Okay, now it's getting serious.

I grab another knife from the hands of the Wakanda princess and without taking my gaze off my handsome Sergeant I throw the last knife that sticks into the rubber wall just one millimeter from his cheekbone.

Bucky smiles beaming.

"Here she is.This is my girl" he exults.

I smile, shaking my head and rolling my eyes.

Shuri laughs amused.

"Tell me the truth Bucky, you kept for your pretty face" Shuri teases him with a chuckle.

"Nah!I trust my doll"

Shuri picks up the three knives and then grabs another one from her work table.

"These are for you Amaya.And these for you"

So saying Shuri hands two knives to me and two to Bucky.

"They're a gift from me" she says with a shrug.

"Thank you" I exclaim embracing her with enthusiasm, she laughs returning the embrace.

"It was nice having you here" she whispers in my ear.

"My friends" T'Challa's voice makes our heads turn.

Bucky approaches the King and the two men exchange a hug.

I detach myself from Shuri to reach the King.

"Thank you for everything majesty" I murmur embracing him.

"You don't have to thank me.For you, the doors of my house are always open" T'Challa replies, dissolving our embrace.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Bucky and Shuri exchanging a sweet hug.

Those two always tease but love each other.

Shuri took care of him.

She worked day and night to create his new arm.

She was the only one he allowed to get close to his tortured body.

Meanwhile, the King's wife, Nakia, joins us.

"I hope you waited for me to tell them" Nakia murmurs softly alongside her man.

"Tell us what?" Bucky asks as he approaches us, his arm still wrapped around the young princess's shoulders.

"My beautiful wife and I will become parents" replies T'Challa with a radiant smile on his face.

I would like to rush to my friends to congratulate them but my attention is completely captured by Bucky's gaze.

He smiles while shaking hands with T'Challa but his eyes are dull, sad.

Damn.

I know what's going through his head.

Shuri touches my arm.

"Are you all right Amaya?" she asks me trying not to get noticed by others.

I smile at her, shaking my head slightly.

"Don't worry, everything is fine.So...congratulations to you too aunt Shuri" I tell her smiling and hugging her.

I try to recover from my thoughts and approaching the two future parents I lavish myself in hugs and compliments.

"I'm happy for you my friend.You deserve it" Bucky says to T'Challa.

The latter pats him on the shoulder with a beaming smile.

"Thank you Sergeant"

While we get lost in chat, a Dora Milaje approaches us, she bows before her King and then talks.

"Your Majesty the jet is ready"

The royal family escort us to the exit where a small jet waits for us, some men are loading our luggage and the pet carrier that contains Alpine.

"Thanks again" I address everyone with all the sincerity I have.

"It was an honor to be able to visit this wonderful land" I add.

"You will always be welcome here with us" T'Challa replies.

We all hug for the last time and at a firm pace I get on the jet followed by Bucky.

We sit down watching the Wakanda get smaller and smaller under our eyes.

"I am so excited to be going home.I have missed them all.I missed Nat terribly" I sigh smiling, eager to see my beautiful New York again.

Bucky smiles at me but says nothing.

This is not good.

We absolutely have to resolve this issue.

"James..."

"I'm tired.I practically did not sleep last night, I think I will rest during the trip" he interrupts me, standing up.

He walks up to me and kisses me on the top of my head.

"Try to rest too" he tells me and then leave me alone in my seat and go to the rear seats.

I watch him sit down and close his eyes.

Okay, I got the message.

He doesn't want to talk.

Good.

Very good.

Let's avoid the subject until it becomes so cumbersome that it crushes and destroys everything between us.

I open my eyes when I hear the pilot's voice speaking loud and clear through the onboard microphone.

"We will land in about 15 minutes.Please fasten your seat belts.Thank you"

I didn't even realize I fell asleep.

Bucky is sitting across from me again but he's not looking at me, his gaze is on the window.

"Hey" I whisper yawning.

"Hey.I'm glad you rested" he tells me, giving me a short tight smile.

I don't answer him and I too let my gaze wander.

Below us the great New York expands.

I'm finally home.

When the jet lands, I don't even have time for the tailgate to open fully as I jump out into the arms of my best friend.

"I missed you so much" Nat exclaims, squeezing me tightly in her arms.

I reciprocate the squeeze.

"I missed you too Romanoff" I whisper to her.

Heavy footsteps come up behind me, it's Bucky.

He and Steve share a hug then Steve walks over to us.

"Hey will you let me say hello to my friend?" he asks muttering to his wife.

Natasha's arms tighten even tighter around my body.

"No, she is mine!" she replies by refusing to let me go.

I laugh heartily.

I had missed all of this.

Bucky walks past us stopping only to mumble that he would take the bags to my room and that he would take care of Alpine, Steve follows him and offers to help him out.

I sigh and Natasha releases our embrace.

"What happens?" Nat asks, nodding at Bucky.

"It's a long story" I reply hoping she'll let it go.

"Short version?" she asks me as we walk to her room together.

I look around and making sure there is no one I speak.

"He asked me to marry him.And to have a baby"

"What?" my friend yells.

Damn.

I quickly plug her mouth with my hands.

"Will you stop screaming please?" I ask her, very agitated and frightened that someone might hear us.

Nat grabs me by the wrist and drags me into her room.

Once the door closes behind us, she pushes me onto the bed and positions herself in front of me with her arms folded under her breasts.

"When did it happen?" she asks me.

"This morning"

"What exactly did he tell you?"

I sigh rolling my eyes.

"What is this an interrogation?" I ask, trying to hide my anxiety with a smile.

But Natasha does not give up and she remains motionless to observe me.

"He just told me marry me.Marry me and let's have a baby"

Natasha looks incredulous and she joins me on the bed and sits next to me.

"It all happened suddenly Nat.We were talking quietly and he dropped this thing"

"Why did you tell him no?" she asks me curiously.

"Is it that obvious?" I ask disconsolately.

Natasha giggles.

"He had on his grumpy old face so..." my friend shrugs.

"I can't do it Nat, I can't give him what he is looking for.I don't think...I don't think I would be able to" I admit feeling confused and frustrated.

"And how did he react?"

"Not well.We had a fight and then we talked about it.He seemed to be fine.But then T'Challa announced that his wife is pregnant and Bucky's mood has gone black.On the jet he barely spoke to me"

Natasha sighs, I'm sure her brain is scrambling to find something to tell me.

"You love him, right?"

"Of course I love him"

"Then why don't you want to marry him?"

I sigh.

"My past..."

"Bullshit Amaya.We all have a past here, even worse than yours.I'm asking you why you don't really want to marry him" the former Russian spy silences me.

I am dumbfounded and for a moment I don't know what to answer.

Why don't I want to marry him?

I don't know.

My best friend's gaze softens.

"Just listen to me for a moment ok?If you were a simple girl, not an agent or a former killer, just a simple girl.And you and Bucky were in love like now, would you accept his proposal?"

I pretend to think about it even though my heart has formulated the answer much faster than my brain has.

"Yes" I murmur with a half smile.

Natasha grabs my hands and squeezes them in hers.

"Now I'll tell you a secret Amaya.You are that simple girl.You cannot let your past define who you are today.God Amaya if we had to reason with your thinking then I shouldn't have married Steve.I was a weapon against America, I was destined to die but I was pardoned.And I fought with my whole self to regain possession of my life, I fought to give myself the right to have a normal life"

Natasha sees the confusion in my eyes.

"Hey listen to me!I'm not saying you have to run to him and say yes, I'm just asking you to consider it.Don't foreclose on something beautiful just because you believe you don't deserve it"

A lonely tear rolls down my cheek.

Natasha got the point.

I am convinced that I do not deserve all this happiness because I have spent most of my life destroying that of others.

Natasha hugs me and her sweet vanilla scent comforts me as always.

"I'm happy to be home.You always help me to see things more clearly.Thank you" I whisper with my face pressed to her soft chest.

"Am I or am I not your best friend?However, I'm glad you're back too Snow"

Suddenly the bedroom door opens and Steve walks in, followed by Bucky.

"Oh sorry!I didn't think you were here" Steve apologizes.

Natasha and I break away from our embrace.

Steve smiles and walks up to us.

"Will you join us for dinner?Tonight it's just us here at the Tower"

I shrug.

"It is fine for me.What do you think Bucky?" I ask him, addressing him directly.

I want to try to test the waters, see if he's still angry.

"Anything you want doll is fine for me" he smiles at me briefly.

I think I can consider it a success, at least he spoke to me without ignoring me.

"Perfect!Then I'll order the pizzas" Steve exclaims.

He is putting in a little too much enthusiasm.

I am very sure that Bucky has already told him what happened between us in Wakanda and Steve in the infinite goodness of him is just trying not to create further disagreements between us and to lighten the heavy air we breathe.

All four of us go to the living room and sit on the sofas.

Steve and Nat sit on a two-seater sofa while Bucky and I choose the sofa opposite, sitting at one end of the other.

We spend time chatting while waiting for the pizzas.

"Have you talked to Fury yet?" Nat asks, sipping her beer.

"Mmh mmh.He call me yesterday" I reply.

"So the four of us are escorting Rumlow and Pierce from the Raft to Washington?" Bucky asks, bringing the bottle of beer to his lips and taking a few sips.

I follow his movements, always so sensual and seductive in my eyes.

He realizes I'm staring at him and winks at me.

This is another good sign.

Maybe he's not as angry as I think.

Slowly I slide a little closer to him.

"That's right dude!Why are you making that face?" Steve asks his best friend as he massages Natasha's legs which are lazily lying on his lap.

"I don't like knowing those two bastards are out of their cell.I don't like the idea that Amaya has yet to have something to do with Rumlow"

I lift my head at his words.

"What?" he asks me when he notices I'm staring at him.

"I can take care of myself Bucky and then honestly Brock is an idiot, I'm still surprised how he could have come up with such a complex plan"

Natasha chuckles.

"I know you can take care of yourself.You don't need anyone" Bucky replies bitterly.

"And what the hell does this mean?" I ask visibly nervous turning towards him.

"Ok now enough!"

To our surprise, Steve intervenes.

He leans forward by moving his wife's legs and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Stop doing this.You two love each other and you can't go against each other like this because of this stupid proposal story" Steve exclaims with conviction.

Bucky moves uncomfortably, he seems to want to answer Steve but his friend silences him with a wave of his hand.

"I don't understand why you do this brother.Even though she told you no she love you"

I blush embarrassed.

Even though Natasha and Steve are our best friends, I would have preferred not to have to address the issue so openly, with an audience in front.

"Nat and I have come to this point after four years" adds Steve, looking his best friend right in his eyes.

I watch in silence waiting for a reaction from my boyfriend, I wait for an explanation that he did not want to give to me this morning.

Bucky just turns his gaze to the window and stays closed in his silence.

I sigh.

He is like that.

I certainly can't expect him to change just to please me.

"Listen to me Buck.I know that you are afraid of being alone, that Amaya will leave you"

I jerk my head up and burst out laughing.

I lean over to the table to grab my beer and turn to Steve.

"Steve you know very well that I love you but this is the stupidest thing you could ever think" I say giggling and shaking my head as I sit back on the sofa.

I take a sip of beer while continuing to giggle but I immediately notice the tension that has been created.

Steve looks at me seriously, Natasha's gaze is on Bucky.

I also follow her gaze and what I find leaves me incredulous.

Bucky is watching me and in his eyes there is all the pain that Steve's words have caused to him.

"You can't be serious.Tell me you're not" I giggle nervously at the former Winter Soldier.

Bucky looks down at his shoes, unable to give me an answer.

"Captain Rogers, the delivery boy has arrived" announces the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. making me jump.

Steve gets up and walks away without saying anything.

"Wait, I'll help you" Natasha exclaims following him out of the room.

I get up quickly and kneel in front of Bucky.

"Hey honey!Look at me" I murmur softly placing my hands on his thighs.

Bucky slowly raises his head until our eyes are level.

"Did you ask me those things just because you were afraid I would leave you?"

Bucky doesn't answer me but his eyes say it all.

There is a fear so intense and so ancient that it gives me a lump in my throat.

"Do you know that a wedding or a child would not stop me from leaving?I don't know if you know the divorce rate and single father rates in America"

"I really want to build a family with you" Bucky interrupts me.

His blue eyes shine like the twilight sky.

I put a hand to his face, pushing aside a lock of hair and placing it behind his ear.

"But not only for that, right?" I ask him in a whisper.

His eyes drop again.

"No, no James.Look at me" I get up and his attentive gaze follows my every movement.

I grab the bottle of beer that he holds in his hands and place it on the small table behind me, then I place my hands on his shoulders and sit astride his lap.

I grab a scrunchie from my pants pocket and gently pull his hair up and tie them into a messy bun.

Bucky smiles at me softly.

"What the hell makes you think I want to leave you?" I ask him curious to know how his brain works.

Bucky just shrugs.

"You won't think you can get rid of me so easily" I tease him, making him laugh.

I slowly lower myself to his lips, giving him plenty of time to refuse me but he doesn't dodge and I kiss him.

One time.

Twice.

And one more time.

"Unfortunately for you Sergeant Barnes I'm too in love with you to let you go.I think you'll have to put up with me all your life"

Bucky laughs and throws his head back.

"Yeah...I'm a really unlucky man" he replies sliding his big, warm hands down my thighs until they land on my ass and squeeze it.

Bucky places his lips on mine, his hot tongue traces the outline of my lips and then slips gracefully and sinfully into my mouth.

My hands harpoon the tender flesh of the back of his neck, making him groan softly.

"I'm sorry" he whispers on my lips.

I shake my head.

"You don't have to apologize for anything my love" I reply kissing him again and sliding my hands on his chest until they find what they are looking for.

His tags.

I hold on to it and Bucky smiles at me.

"You always do.This gesture" he chuckles, lowering his clear and crystalline gaze on my hands.

"I know it.It relaxes me, it reassures me" I reply smiling.

We kiss again but we are interrupted by Natasha's cheerful voice.

"Sorry guys but I'm hungry and I hate cold pizza" announces my friend entering the room followed by Steve who giggles.

"From what I see you have solved the problem so..." she adds sitting down and grabbing a slice of pizza.

Bucky and I smile looking into each other's eyes and sit comfortably grabbing a slice of pizza too.

"So...have you thought about taking a house all to yourself?"

I ask as I chew a piece of pizza.

"I proposed it but my wife refused" replies Steve laughing.

He doesn't seem angry at all.

"Why?" I ask curious.

Steve laughs again.

"It's your fault" he replies with a shrugs.

Bucky freezes with a slice of pizza in his hand.

"Amaya?Why would it be her fault?" he asks amused.

I turn my bewildered gaze to the figure of my best friend who continues to chew her pizza cheerfully.

She smiles at me giving me a wink.

"Because" Steve begins "she doesn't want to leave her best friend"

"And because should I do the housework" adds Natasha.

We all burst out laughing.

"Indeed, there is always food ready here and someone else takes care of cleaning.Why would I want to do these things myself?And then Tony is happy to have us here, by now he would have already kicked us out" explains Natasha trying to assert her point of view.

"You have the point sister" I exclaim, leaning forward and high-five with Natasha.

After dinner we remain on the sofa chatting until Natasha and Steve take their leave, declaring that they are tired even if from her sly smile I am sure they will not go to sleep.

Not immediately at least.

Bucky and I are left alone and I immediately take the opportunity to sit on his lap.

Bucky squeezes me against his body so that I can rest my head on his chest and with the steady, loud sound of his heart I can finally relax.

"I love you my little robin" Bucky whispers with his lips in my hair.

"I love you too" I murmur before slipping into a peaceful sleep cradled by the arms of my brave and beautiful Sergeant.

Please comment, share and rate ❤️

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mjolnir-steve · 3 years ago

Text

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair.

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too.

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot.

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you.

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings.

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night.

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work.

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.”

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder.

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d.

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?”

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides.

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #maggie's writing #frank adler #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler smut

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donutloverxo · 3 years ago

Text

A Royal Scandal 3

Modern Royal King!Steve au

(Image from Pinterest)

cowritten with @lizzygal

Note - There will be no taglists for this. You can subscribe to the ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, mentions of previous domestic abuse, somnophilia.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 7k

Story masterlist

Sometimes Steven forgot that you weren’t that much younger than him. He forgot about a lot of things when it was only the two of you. You did that to him. You made him forget things that everyone else reminded him of constantly, intentional and not.

Early that morning was no different.

Long before his alarm went off, Steve found himself on his side watching you sleep. Feeling in every way equal to you, like there was not this huge ocean of things that he did not have in common with you, opposed to what the two of you shared.

Obviously, he was the son of kings and tyrants while you were the daughter of immigrants and a blue-collar family. You’d grown up in a house full of love and kindness and acceptance, he had not. You’d ended your teenage years going to college and then travelling and ending up here, where you chose to stay and work and travel and live a life that Steve could only dream of, his own had never been his own and never would be.

You had dreams and hopes, little things like aspirations. He didn’t.

Steve’s life was dictated by things like duty and obligations, expectations. Yours was not.

Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to you?

Compared to all the royals around Europe and titled individuals, politicians, even old families, none of them interested him even a fraction of the amount that you interested him. To Steve you were exotic. You were a fascinating creature who might as well have come from Mars.

He couldn’t even say what it was or why.

For so long it had felt right to be alone. Considering the blood of monsters ran through his veins, Steve had been uninterested in any sort of companionship more than a brief encounter at a private location.

For Christ’s sake, he refused to sleep in the bedroom that his father had slept in.

Upon assuming the throne, he’d selected to take up older quarters in an unused part of the palace living complex. As if to ensure he was as far away from the rooms that his father and grandfather and great-grandfather had slept. Choosing to sleep in a bed untainted by any of those men, stored from when his land was ruled by an emperor. Hoping with the hopes of a young king that it would save him from their madness.

Beside him, you slept so peacefully, trustingly.

Steve had never brought anyone into his private apartment. Nor had his bed seen any carnal action since it’d gone into storage. Until you. He’d simply never been so inclined.

A rough sound from the growth on his cheek rubbing against his pillow. A pleasant reminder of that night that felt so long ago, yet also like only yesterday.

He’d had a beard back then he remembered.

A full bushy one.

One that had made you laugh softly at, roll your eyes and still manage to pull off an acceptable bow when you greeted him that late night.

“They beat Canada then Your Majesty?” You had inquired with good nature, setting down a whole stack of papers and folders onto the very modern conference table in a big room that could fit two dozen, more if the people were standing.

He’d beamed.

Steve remembered he’d been in a particularly good mood that night. Even if he was working late on the education push into the outer regions of his kingdom. A good amount was still very rural, many simple villages that lived as they had fifty or more years ago. Many parts of his kingdom were still deeply rooted in the past.

“Indeed. Eleven to four.”

He was beaming. Beaming! You were pretty sure you could see molars. It made you shake your head and begin to sort out all your work into piles to go over. Not that you’d ever admit to secretly being caught up in the hype of the team being so close to gold at the Winter Olympics. “So then the beard stays?”

“You of all people,” he admonished, coming over to help you. Picking up the well-marked up maps you’d spent hours annotating.

Making you roll your eyes.

On he went though, obviously needing to drive home the seriousness of this matter. “The beard stays until we win gold. Next we play Norway. I don’t think it needs to be said that we cannot risk it.”

He was serious. Really serious. If that full glorious beard was any indication.

More focused on the organizing task yourself.

Sorting your work by region, pile by pile, each had taken much work and effort and negotiation, endless phone calls and trips and emails to each area to get them to work not only with you, but one another. It was like herding cats. It had taken you months to get this all sorted out for Steve to see. His ideas weren’t even ready to be implemented. This was just the pre-gaming, the leadup, the work in preparation. You weren’t even on Step One. You were on Step Zero.

“Now that I know, I’ll be sure to grow a beard next Winter Olympics.”

And then you were rewarded with a rich hearty laugh from your king.

Well not your king, as you weren’t a citizen of this country. But you still liked to think of him as your king.

Watching you sleep was something he’d never tire of. Never get enough of. It was a luxury that he didn’t realize he wanted day in out.

The ability to wake up with you tangled up in blankets. Curled back against his front. Hogging pillows as you did. Allowing Steve to run his fingers up and down your bare thigh, along the curves of your body. Letting him lean forward to press his lips to your shoulder and see the peaceful rest of your face in his slowly lightening bedroom. Every last inch of you here for him.

Hungry.

That was what it was, he was hungry for you. Like a big bear that woke from hibernation after a long winter. At times he felt such a way. Never having felt this way about anyone prior.

In his own time, he slipped his fingers down along the round of your ass underneath the flesh of your hip. Warm. Soft. Smooth. Neither of you had left the bed since the late night bath in his tub.

Further down Steve allowed his fingers to trail.

Memorizing every last second to get him through his day. From how you felt pressed against the front of him, how your back moved against his chest with every steady breath you took. The way your legs tangled in his buttery sheets with his own, how the soft cheeks of your bottom pressed against his alert groin.

Most definitely though, how your skin tasted and felt beneath his mouth. Smelling like yourself from all your favorite bath products kept in his bathroom.

You’d smelled so good that night too.

You always smelled good.

It was something that he had noticed but hadn’t given any real thought to.

It seemed to be a mix of perfume and body lotion or cream. Cause Steve found the flowery smell would linger after you walked by in the way that perfume did, infusing the air and making his brain scream out that you were near. But also, when you shook his hand, it always had that sweet fresh clean smell afterwards.

Now, whenever Steve smelled it, all he could think about was you.

Those smells danced around him. Making the late hour bearable. Making the fact that the offices were empty but for the two of you, when you both should have been home in bed, not matter.

“Ok…” you were talking to him, pointing out places on the massive map that was his nation. Arms crossed. Legs spread. Standing beside you as you informed him with tones that indicated your happiness, your displeasure as well as your utter irritation. “…so I managed to get in touch with every Education Department in all nine of your territories.”

Though you were not looking at him, Steve nodded, laser focused on this project he’d tasked you with months ago.

“All of the department heads are on board with your desired overhaul to completely modernize the entire system. Unfortunately, they told me that I had to call all the district heads for all forty-six provinces to get their agreed participation too.”

Your tone went from pleased with yourself then skeptical and then annoyed.

You turned your head to look at him. “Which is what I spent the last three months doing. It was something of a thing.”

Steve could only imagine.

He was quiet though so you could go on. More than pleased with how well you worked in this position. He’d originally been skeptical with your being a foreigner. How dedicated would you be to a job in a country that was not your own? One hundred percent as it turned out.

Your hands flattened out dramatically on the table. Outrage surged from you. “I’m still waiting on two appointees because their predecessors apparently died during harvest season and no one could be bothered to replace the position. I literally had to fly out to the outer reaches of civilization to find this out. Cause all the government offices are closed during harvest season, fyi. But they’re literally filling the positions now.”

Such was the challenge of having a large kingdom with one foot in the future and one in the past. Such things led to the difficultly of keeping a Chief of Staff.

Steve’s previous Chief of Staff had come highly recommended and lasted a little over a month.

Whether it was from a lack of dedication, the obvious frustrations of the job or maybe he simply had not wanted to jump on a plane and fly six hours then ride by car five hours to remote areas in order to complete his work. Steve could not be sure. All he knew for sure was he’d keep you as long as humanly possible.

In his eyes, you were a saint.

“What’s with the question mark?”

Making you look to see which question mark you’d marked on the map full of stickers and marks and tabs. Hours had been spent working on the damn thing.

Seeing which question mark in question made your nose scrunch. “Oh…them, they refuse to even answer my calls until they are allowed to take their traditional name for their province. Which is way above my pay grade. Someone else is going to have to deal with them. I tried.”

Ah, Steve nodded, that was far from surprising. The far outer regions were notoriously independent or rebellious, depending on your stance.

He would deal with them accordingly. Not how his father did, but in his own way.

Steve’s attention was drawn to two nearby provinces. Each had a frowny face sticker. Without asking, he merely pointed.

A noise of pure disgusted frustration came from deep in your throat. Making you stand and look to him, brandishing your hands in all directions. “I tried my best with them. I really did. Both of those provinces absolutely refuse to take part in anything if the other is involved. Apparently, they’re still salty at one another over something that happened in fourteen-seventy-three and refer to me as the foreign she-devil. So…good luck with them Your Majesty.”

Soundly you slept.

Comfortable. Safe. At peace.

Making him feel like a true man. A provider able to care for you, protect you, satisfy you. As if he were stripped down to what nature intended. Instead of what society had dictated for you both.

Reaching down to that heavenly place between the V in your thighs, Steve pushed his fingers further to find your softness slippery, your skin slick with viscous arousal. In pushing his finger up further, running it around the edge of your slit to where the gateway to your body was hidden, he found you heavily aroused. Coating his fingers with a thick fluid that promised you would be able to take him now. Oozing into the cervices between his fingers and smearing thickly down his palm and over the back of his hand.

Unable to help himself, he brought his hand out from between your legs in order to look at your arousal. Merely the sight made his balls clench in eager anticipation. Tasting the bodily excretions had his hips moving against yours on their own.

A noise came from you. Though you were far from waking. Always one to enjoy your sleep.

On his tongue you were heady, ripe. Tasting like sin. Steve licked his fingers. Eyes closed so he could savor the taste, how you clung to his tongue and were thick, like a burst of brandy swirling with his saliva.

Awakened now from his deep sleep. Ravenous like a beast of the forest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. Making you mumble. Making you wiggle in your sleep, causing you to reach your arm out for a pillow to pull close. Hooking your leg up higher too. Becoming more comfortable in the bed in addition to opening yourself up more to your king. As if your body had connected to his on a level your mind was unaware and encouraged him to take you.

Down he peered. Strands of hair fell across his forehead at the harsh angle. A soft lightening of the sun through drapes he never closed last night allowed the sight of moisture. Folds of bare skin sheened up at him. Tempting him with that webbing of goo that promised him you were ready.

Taking himself in hand, he caught sight of your name curled over his side. Reminding him of your absolute possession over him. Sending his hand low to pull his foreskin back in order to feed this hunger of you that consumed him.

Your signature was all swoops and swirls.

Recognizable above anyone else’s writing he came across on a daily basis.

All over paper and on the maps. In little corners. Highlighted. In different color pens. On stickie notes. Written on napkins or on the back of random pieces of paper.

At the time, he’d had no idea how far gone he really was.

Not even when he watched you take note after note with a purple inked pen, your hand flowing across paper like a swimmer cutting through the water. Taking down his every word, every command.

A incredibly distinctive feeling of being full woke you up from your glorious sleep, in a very singular sort of way that could be from only one thing. Only one thing on earth felt like that when waking you up.

Pulling you out of a warm blissful sleep only to wake you with the exquisite feeling of being stretched open, pushed into, filled up. Making your fingers clench bedding or pillows or whatever they could grab.

A low breathy moan came from you in the time between you were woken and awake, your face burrowing in a pillow was followed by a soft profanity. Weight slowly covered you. Weight pinned you down to the bed a little at a time. Skin and sheets and soft dustings of hair rubbed against you.

Only when you had fully woken did you feel pubes brush against your cheeks. A light tap of scrotum bumped you too.

Long arms wrapped around you. Wet lips mouthed along the curve of your neck.

This was a far superior way to wake up. Compared to your apartment, in bed alone, to your neighbors loud shrilling alarm clock through your paper-thin wall.

Groaning out at the feel of His Majesty’s cock stuffed safely up in your secret garden. You found yourself whining at Steve at whatever time it was in the early morning. “…fuuuuck…what’d I say about doing that…” A swivel, nay, a swivel with a pop of his pelvis followed, making you see stars, gasp deeply as if you’d been stabbed in the lungs and then add on for God and Country. “…My King…shit, My King…oh shit, My King.”

Though it may have been said in jest, his tone was hot enough to scald. “If memory serves me correctly…” another deep push of thick hips shoved you forward into the pillows. “…you say, not in my ass unless I’m awake.”

Stars.

So many bright and colorful stars.

Mmm.

Yes, that was something you had told him on many occasions and it still held very true. If Steve was going to put anything in your ass, forget that thing he claimed was a dick, you needed to be fully awake so you could both physically and emotionally prepare yourself.

Nothing at all could have prepared you for the drastic turn your life was about to take that night.

Nothing.

Everything had been so normal. It was so regular. Like many a long night working late hours at the palace before. Hours had been spent going over all your hard work contacting each and every head in each education department per province, as well as per territory. In addition to the national department of education, preparing to prep them for what the king wanted.

Like any other late night, Steve helped you put all of your paperwork back in the correct order you had it in. Like every other time, he requested a palace car take you to your apartment. Granted the apartment you shared with your best friend was walking distance away. It was late and simply not safe and you found were touched that Steve would think about your well-being.

For a king, he wasn’t that bad. When it was the two of you anyway.

Looks aside, which he had in spades, he could be very funny in a sarcastic sort of way. He was very well read and intelligent, quick on his feet. Although people seemed to think of him a certain type of way based on his father and his own kingship at a young age, when he really was his own person.

You’d noticed he had a definite interest in the classical masters and had on rare occasion seen him sketch out something on a flight or during a less than stimulating event. He had an artistic ability that would never come to anything due to his role.

His strong sense of duty paired with a disgusting moral obligation pretty much guaranteed his life would be spent in service to his country. Period.

You could see why people thought he was hot. The man had been blessed by the genetic gods. Plus he was a king. Who didn’t grow up dreaming about being a princess? Or think about a literal Prince Charming from fairy tales?

Having now had the benefit of working in a real life palace. You knew the realities of that fantasy.

You had two pages of notes that could attest to the reality of your childhood Disney Princess movies.

Reality was always so different.

Not for the first time, you found yourself repeating yourself. “…and let me say one more time. Thank you so much for talking with my parents. I know it was only ten minutes, but, I know how busy you are and it just completely topped off their visit. My mother has been telling everyone about how she met the king. You even have my father cheering for the hockey team.”

A smile came over Steve’s face that was real.

It wasn’t one of his practiced smiles. It was an actual smile. You could tell because it reached his eyes.

“Well,” Steve answered you with a shrug, sounding genuinely pleased even if he also sounded tired and like he wanted nothing more than to go off to his living quarters in the palace and crash into bed, before he had to get up to start a new day. Helping you stack the last of your papers up. “Anything to convert a soul to hockey. Technically, it is his team too.” And because he could not help himself, Steve added on, “Even if his grandparents fled from here for a cushy life in the west.”

Up your hand flew to your chest.

Your jaw dropped in mock pain. “Ouch, Sir! That one was painful.”

His smile grew at your over-the-top reaction.

Still though, he dipped his head and you noticed there was a little blush on his cheeks above where that magnificent beard grew. Chagrined, he quickly followed up with, “I apologize. That was a cheap shot.”

In a physical sort of way that his people were known to interact, personal space be damned, Steve reached over to touch your arm apologetically. Not something he did frequently. Although he had done it a handful of times. The press of his mouth to your cheek was new. The little kiss was brand new. Steve’s lips were gentle on your skin. His beard tickled your face.

Never in your life had your heart pounded as violently in your chest as it did at that gesture. Quickly, your head turned. Though you did not move back or say anything. Instead, you found yourself staring at Steve. Looking into those pools of blue that were looking at you with the same amount of surprise that you felt. His lips were right there, right there.

Blood roared in your ears, your heart pounded faster and faster and faster.

He kissed you.

Did he really though?

Was it a kiss or was it a kiss?

For a moment in time, you leaned in. Leaned closer. Leaned till you almost touched him because that was what your body wanted to do. Until you remembered that Steve was a king. A KING. Remembering that made your head command your body to lean backwards a bit. Allowing you to see that he had leant in to meet you.

He’d leaned closer to kiss you.

What were you doing? What in the hell were you doing? You had no business doing this, no business at all messing around with Steve.

Fingers moved along your arm, tracing up the back of it softly. That simple touch made goosebumps break out over your skin. It made your breath hitch. Your hands began to shake so you grabbed the fabric of your skirt.

However, you made no move to step away from Steve. Nor did he make any sort of move to step away from you.

Another attempt at a kiss was not made.

Fingers touched your face instead. Steve was close enough to you that you felt his legs brush yours. You felt his breath against your face. Fingertips ran across the swell of your cheekbone, down over your lips, tracing the bridge of your nose in what felt like a desire to memorize your face.

Steve was gentle. His fingertips felt like feathers on your skin. He made you shake like a leaf in terror because you wanted him to touch you more. You wanted to be touched. You wanted to feel his hands on you and the soft glide of his thumb along the line of your jaw was painfully insufficient.

Without thinking, you reached up with your hands until you remembered that he was the king.

Were you allowed to touch the king? You weren’t sure. He was touching you and it was fabulous but were you allowed to do the same? You wanted to. You so deeply wanted to. You just were not sure what was allowed in this situation. It had not exactly been covered in the Royal Protocol Guidebook you had.

Then came Steve’s voice. Harsh. Gravelly. Desperate.

“Touch me. It’s ok. I want you to.”

For only a heartbeat or two you remained still, observing him, making sure. Only after that did you reach up with your hands to cover his wrists. Rub along the fabric of his button-up shirt. In doing so, you not only felt the strength in his well-muscled wrists, or how warm the silky fabric was, but, you could feel him tremble. He was shaking about as much as you were.

A rush of air surged from his lungs as if you had burnt him.

Curious, you turned your head so you could place a single kiss on the inside of his hand touching your face, right at the base of his thumb. In doing so, you ripped a noise from deep within him. A noise that was both pained while also infused with wanting.

“This is ok?”

“Yes,” he croaked out, as if he were terrified you would stop.

Never would you have ever imagined he would be so responsive. Almost touch starved it felt.

Sometimes, Steve still felt as if he were a little touch starved to you. Sometimes it felt like he’d gone his entire life without having that physical connection between two people. As complicated of a man as he was with as complicated of a life as he had, you at times forgot that he was still a human being with human being needs that were essential to thriving.

And it wasn’t like you were complaining.

Far from it.

Not after the orgasm you just had, not from on top of him either. Lounged across the front of him. Loose limbed. Languid down to your marrow. Peppering the damp skin of his neck with slow wet kisses and scrapes of teeth. Long drags of your tongue collected drops of salt that tasted of him. Lazily. Heart to heart. Stomach to stomach.

There really were worse ways to wake up.

Like, for instance, in your apartment taking cold showers cause the building’s water heater was ancient. That wasn’t fun at all and usually had you shivering and hurrying through an icy shower. Straight up not a good time.

This? This was soooo much better.

Feeling Steve’s long legs wrapped up in your own, paired with his softening member filling you by virtue of sheer size not letting himself just pop out…this was a much better way to wake up. Far superior in every way.

Not that you were willing to waste precious time like this luxuriating in post-coital bliss. No, no. A burning question was hot on your mind that kept popping up after last night. After all, you were a modern woman and this was a serious relationship. You had every right to ask this question at any time you wanted. Even now. As your boyfriend, the king, fondled your breasts in his hands with such intensity that you would have thought he’d just broken out of Alcatraz after a decade of no nookie. Not that you were in the least bit complaining. Not one bit.

“Am I going to have to quit my job?”

It was something of a concern.

You loved your job. You loved working with Steve. You loved your life as it was and a big part of you suspected becoming queen would mean big changes.

Not that you lifted your head from his neck, or ceased your trek down towards his collarbone. Trail of your kisses never slowing or stopping. No hint of any sort of disruption came. Not for a moment or two. Not till your ravenous boyfriend squeezed your breasts possessively. Thumbed your nipples and finally opened his eyes, as if it were the biggest chore on earth.

His voice was rough. His tone felt like hot gooey honey that just got everywhere. “No…not yet…”

Leading you to make a noise. A pop followed when your mouth left the dark spot you’d been sucking on nearly at his collarbone. What with your name already etched on him. What else could you leave in a display of ownership over him? “Nothing else to add My King?” For added emphasis, perhaps you gave you vaginal muscles a clench knowing what that did to him.

A grunt came from beneath you.

Wrapped up in yours, Steve’s legs clenched in response to what you did. White teeth sank into his upper lip and you absolutely thrived at the sight and feel of him arching up against you, shifting around beneath you at the way your body squeezed him.

Those hands left your breasts only to reach down, run over your waist as they had so many times before, leading you to grab them. Snatch then right up. Press them down into the mattress over Steve’s head. Since the man was far larger than you, this sent you leaning downwards and ever closer to his face. “Steve? I asked you a question.”

How easy it would have been for him to get free. Yet, he seemed content where he found himself. Still wedged within you. Warm in bed. Body a sea of a complex cocktail of chemicals after physically releasing into you. A far better way to wake up than alone in a massive bed. Or worse, to his mother jabbing at him to urgently tell him something that was not urgent at all.

Feeling your breasts press against his chest. Lightly brushing over his skin, your nipples little points that sparked a definite interest in his dick.

God did he want you to be his queen.

“Not yet,” Steve ground out, nearly close to being overwhelmed by you. Each and every word was enunciated to utter perfection, as if it took all of his concentration and effort to get them out. “I’ll have the palace leave your name out of the official statement today. We can go slow. Ease you into things…ease you out of your job…” and to reward him for such a thoughtful statement, you clenched around him once more.

However, it seemed, there was more and even though his eyes rolled up into his head at the feel of your core squeezing his not entirely soft organ, he pushed on with the determination of his ancestors. Grunting. Arching back into the bed as the pillows had all wound up on the floor. Perfect teeth clenched together. “M-my people…will…love you…too.”

So, it was entirely possible, that you were feeling all kinds of powerful watching him writhe beneath you. Knowing exactly what sort of repercussions this could have to your morning. Which was still progressing on time. It was entirely possible that you may have intentionally pushed your own pelvis against his to reseat yourself.

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure? You saw what happened with those two over in England. And that prince isn’t even next in line to the throne.”

Perhaps it was the seriousness of the direction in which your conversation had taken, Steve remained beneath you. Taking no action, even though you could quite literally feel his dick grow more interested in what your hips were doing.

A panted out, “…fuck…” escaped from him, before he opened his eyes to look at you seriously, if not also a little heatedly. “Quit obsessing over them. The King of Jordan married for love. Queen Rania was a commoner. If you must, focus on them.”

Sudden movement found you falling off Steve and onto the bed, shoved onto your back and in a flash, he was on top of you again. Over you. Hovering. Though he’d escaped out of your body, you could feel the king’s most delicious semi, slick from your previous copulation, squish between you both.

Admitting on an exhale, “Forgot about them.”

“Everyone does.” He agreed, surveying down, taking in the sight of you. “My country appreciates you. They’re fond of you. You’re in all the papers and they’ve given you a nickname.”

And that. That. Nearly killed the mood.

It sent your eyebrows together dubiously so.

Everytime you were in the press it was when your skirt had been blown up on a windy day, or if you’d accidentally gotten food on your shirt. Or that time a baby goat pooped on your shoes. Or when you’d tripped and fallen off a dock into a lake. Who could forget that time you’d accidentally called the Prime Minister of Canada a ‘moose fucking cannibal’ when you’d still been getting the hang of the language, your first year on the job?

You’d been affectionately dubbed, ‘the King’s Foreign Devil’ and it had stuck.

Hell, you still got asked about your thoughts on the Canadian Prime Minister whenever a member of the press was around.

“Most the time, you have a higher approval rating than I do,” he added. Much to the consternation of Maria Hill in PR. “Trust me. There is nothing my country loves more than a hard-working loyal servant of the people who talks shit about western leaders.”

Mood totally killed, you seethed and not for the first time, “That was an accident! I was trying to call him Canada’s Disney Prince.”

***

The note had been hand delivered to the palace and was now crumbled into a ball in the Queen Mother’s bedroom as she stormed off, once more, that early morning in a fury of rose satin and silk. Her perfume clouded around her, drifting behind her, much like the wake of a boat cutting through the water.

Thick carpets silenced her heels. Doors opened for her as she neared them, allowing her to not need to slow her step even for a second. Not a single moment wasted as she made her way through the private living quarters of the palace.

Down hallways and around corners, over to the rooms that her grown son had selected as his own.

It would have been so much easier if he would have just taken the rooms that his father had lived in.

Although, with the horrific memories attached to those rooms, how could she blame him when he elected not to? She had her own private rooms. The dead kings rooms were locked up tight and still not used. Abandoned like so much he’d done, started and accomplished in his life.

Upon coming to her only child’s rooms, those doors were held open for her and on she pressed on. Sailing through his rooms, one after another, until she got closer to his bedroom and could hear his shower which was the direction she headed.

A brief glance was made at the mess that was his bed.

A roll of her eyes was followed by a shake of her head.

Some things males never grew out of it seemed.

“Steven!” She called out in warning, should he be in the bathroom about to come out in the nude. Which was the last thing she wanted to see.

Not only was his bed a mess but his clothes from yesterday were all over the floor.

She had every intention of telling him that he needed to straighten up this mess before the cleaning staff came in his room. The last thing she wanted was for them to think he was messy and then tell their families and friends when they went home that the king had a messy bedroom and word would get out that her son was a slob. Ugh. No. She’d make sure that he straightened up.

Speaking of the devil.

As his shower ran, Steve peered out of the bathroom with a wet head. A midnight blue towel was wrapped around his waist. A toothbrush was in his hand. To Sarah, it was very clear that her grown son had not shaved yet either.

Seeing him in such a state that morning along with his messy room and the fact the shower was going wasting water. It did not make her mood any more agreeable.

Though her son was taller than her and considerably more muscular, she never feared him.

She knew he would never hurt her like his father had so many times. Towards the end, Steve had even defended her from his father’s physical attacks. Those days. They had been dark. Horrible. Terrible. When she noticed that her husband had begun to carry a knife to protect himself from his son. Well. What was she supposed to do?

Attacking her was one thing. Being violent towards her was one thing. There were some things that she learned to tolerate. It was unescapable. Their son though. To take a knife to their son? Her son? Sarah would never allow such a thing.

She was queen at the time.

It was not so difficult to get the drug that she put in her husband’s evening nightcap. She’d used all of it. Thrown the vial away the next day when she went to rouse the king as she did every morning, only to find him dead in his chair. Fireplace having long gone out. Slumped down. Cold. The coroner had said it was a heart attack. Exactly as she’d been told the drug would work. He’d been buried with no one the wiser. Not even Steve.

“Yes mother?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You are not growing another beard. Last time you looked like some man that lives up in the mountains in a tiny shack.”

Just as her own father once did, Steve’s eyebrows rose in surprise and question.

No. That was not why she was here.

Sarah had a higher calling that morning and straightening her slim shoulders, she so informed him. “Hope and Janet are here in the city. They’ve come for a surprise visit and will arrive at the palace within the hour.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed at her in response to her information.

It was horrifying. It was outrageous. It was not what he wanted to hear that morning one bit. Not at all. Not one single bit.

Hope and Janet?

Those were two names he never wanted to hear with the additional words being, ‘on their way’. No. Just no.

All he could say that was remotely civil, after what the then Princess Hope van Dyne had done, came out in something of a tone. “I don’t want to see either of them. If you want to see them, that’s your choice. Keep them away from me.”

Considering what the now Duchess Hope had spewed to every reporter, journalist and whomever with a platform…Sarah was a little surprised that Steve was being so kind.

She’d expected a bit more of a reaction from her son.

Could she be holding a bigger grudge against her one-time closest friend’s daughter? After what had happened, Queen Janet van Dyne had become somewhat distant. Which was not surprising. Hope had not broken the engagement gracefully. Nor had she been anything less than opinionated afterwards.

“I suspect she is in trouble,” Sarah confessed. “Why else would they come here? Considering everything that Hope has said over the years.”

Steam continued to seep through the cracked door.

Sarah was about to say something about the shower. Steve was wasting a considerable amount of hot water. She herself was leading the Go Green Initiative in the country and as she stated constantly, it all began at home.

“Mother, don’t take this the wrong way, but, I wouldn’t shit in Hope’s mouth if she was starving.”

Ah.

Perhaps she’d been too quick to judge Steve’s current opinion on the wayward duchess?

Pondering his statement, Sarah found herself looking for any way to come back with a counter when she noticed that the shower turned off. Which was odd. Shower’s didn’t turn themselves off.

What was even more peculiar, Steve reached back behind himself to shut his bathroom door.

It clicked.

Like a light going off.

How could she not have noticed? How could it not have been obvious?

Blue eyes that were a little softer than her son’s narrowed. “You aren’t alone.”

Silence.

Quiet.

Her pink lips opened in surprised. A question hovered on her tongue.

“No mother.”

“But…”

“Mother,” he implored as only a son could. “Not now. She would not want the first time she officially meets you to be when you’re dressed for the day and she is not.”

And though her son’s words were true. They were right. They were exactly what she would have wanted him to say and because she had raised him well, she was even proud that he had made such a quick decision. It wasn’t fair.

Sarah wanted to find out who you were. She wanted to meet the woman that her son was involved with. Was that so wrong? Sarah wanted to meet the woman that her son was considering marrying. There was so much she wanted to say to you, so much to teach you, so much she wanted to learn about you. Perhaps her desperation showed because her son reached out to place a hand on her elbow.

“If you can chase Hope and Janet away, we could have lunch together. The three of us. If not, dinner? Or even tomorrow. I’m not doing anything with Hope under this roof. Not after she referred to our country as a third world plus hellhole full of war criminals and superstitious backwoods heathens.”

Ah, so he did remember.

Those words had been seared into her memory as well. Sometimes Sarah wondered, as Steve had never really given much indication that he cared one way or the other what Hope had said. It was only after she began to speak unflatteringly about their people that he grew irritated, much like herself.

Although, what irritated Sarah more, was the quiet that came from the royal house of van Dyne and Pym a few countries over. Never once had Janet spoke up. Never had Janet said anything about her daughters outrageous remarks or behavior. Nor had she apologized.

Knowing her son, Sarah knew that he would never court anyone who was not kind or compassionate. Steve would never pick a Hope as his queen.

Up came a hand that bore a lovely ring decorated with fresh water pearls from their own waters. “I’ll have them gone before lunch and then we will all sit down together so I can finally meet her.”

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Like Father, Like Daughter [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Summary: A 4 a.m. fiasco in which your newborn daughter wakes up the entire Lord homestead.

Word Count: 2800>

Rating: PG

Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff. Just a newborn baby that won’t settle, a big brother who wants to protect his younger sibling at all costs, and pure familial love. ALSO LADY LORD THE CAT MAKES A RETURN… She's the real trouble maker of the family.

Author’s note: This is SO self indulgent. I cannot stress that enough. I was clearing out my ask inbox and one of the most common requests I get is a) more Lord family and b) more Soft!Max... so here we are.

Masterlist

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

No matter what, she just didn’t settle. It was three in the morning and you’d put her back down to bed only twenty minutes ago. Just as you managed to close your eyes and feel yourself begin to fall back to sleep, her cries erupted once more and echoed throughout the house. You had no idea how Maxwell could sleep through it. He was a heavy sleeper, and although he made you promise to wake him when you needed him to take over with the newborn, you couldn’t bear to. He was so busy with work and his career, the last thing he needed was to be up all night with little Aurora.

In practically every way possible, Aurora Lorenzano was like her father. It was funny, really. She was only three weeks old but you could already see the same mannerisms in her, that you did Max. She made a habit of shaking her fists or pointing her little tiny finger at you when she wanted something. She was loud, always wanting to make her voice heard. Her big brown eyes sparkled like starlight and you always wondered how you managed to create something so beautiful. She was a product of you and Maxwell and you swore that you had never loved anything as much as you loved her.

You rolled over and groaned into your pillow as you heard her scream with anguish. You were exhausted, and completely at a loss. You’d held her, fed her, changed her diaper -- what more could she want? You couldn’t remember the last time you got more than an hours worth of sleep, and even then it was broken up into intervals. You looked over at Max who was sleeping next to you, his chest rising and falling with every soft breath he took. And you envied him. This was ridiculous. Just for once you wanted to sleep. Just once.

“Max,” you said, prodding your index finger into his bicep. He didn’t move an inch. “Max,” you said again, a little louder this time, but even Aurora’s wails were overpowering the sound of your voice. You said his name a few more times but he didn’t even stir.

You sighed, climbing on top of your boyfriend and straddling his hips. You leaned over him and clasped his cheeks, squeezing them together. “Maxwell Lord!” you shouted in his face, and watched as his eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. His sudden movement knocked you backwards slightly but you couldn’t help but laugh at the way you had shocked him into waking up.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed, rubbing his tired eyes and shooting you a joking glare. “Why are you on top of me?” His gaze flicked from your face, down to your body, and his confused glance turning into something a little more sultry. He snaked his arms around your waist and gave your hip a playful squeeze. “You do know Aurora is crying, don’t you?” he quizzed, with an eyebrow quirked. You had to hold back from punching him.

“I know she’s crying, dumbass,” you spat back, rolling off Max and dramatically throwing the pillow over your face. “Please, please can you check on her? She’s fine. I know she’s fine. I’ve checked on her five times already tonight. But she just-- she won’t stop-- and I don’t--”

Sensing the way you were getting worked up, Max tore the pillow from your face and shushed you. He pressed a soft yet chaste kiss to your forehead. “Say no more, I’m on it.” he whispered, rolling out of bed.

You watched Max grab his robe and shuffle into his slippers as he padded out of your shared bedroom. Well, you were awake now. You sighed and closed your eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could earn a few more hours of deserved sleep.

Maxwell flicked on the amber night light in Aurora’s nursery, the dim embers burning bright enough to force Max adjust his eyesight in the darkness. “Hey hey baby girl,” he cooed, rubbing his tired eyes again and running a hand through his dark blonde hair. He peered over the side of the crib and his heart ached when he caught sight of his daughter, all snotty and teary eyed. “What are you crying for, huh? Why is my little princess crying?” he asked Aurora, using his thumb to wipe away some of her tears. She sniffled slightly, her eyes fixating on her father. “Tell daddy what’s wrong, and I promise you I’ll fix it. What do you need, hm?”

You could hear Maxwell talking to Aurora, ever so faintly. His voice always soothed you, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise to find it settling her as well. You smiled to yourself, counting your blessings. You had gotten so lucky with your little family.

Aurora made grabby fists and reached out to Maxwell, her big eyes glimmering with desire.

“Oh,” Maxwell hummed, catching her message almost immediately. He reached into the crib and picked up Aurora, nursing her in his warm arms. “You wanted to be held by daddy. Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Aurora scowled and Max pinched her cheek. “Listen to me, my little princess. Your mommy does everything in her power to take care of you and protect you. We love you so much, but, you keep her awake all night. So let’s make a deal, okay Aurora? Let’s agree that from now on, you only wake up mommy once a night. If that. Can you do that for me?”

Aurora’s scowl deepened and she furrowed her eyebrows together.

“Don’t pull faces at me, young lady,” Maxwell chastised. Aurora’s face softened and she squeezed Max’s thumb. He couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, good. I knew you’d understand. See, me and you are on the same wavelength. We get each other.”

Aurora’s lips curled into a smile that matched her father’s, and Max continued to smooth out her hair. You had overheard that part of the conversation, and you wished that you could’ve only been there to witness the interaction. Maxwell made a habit of talking ‘business’ with Aurora. It was funny, but in a strange way, it was like she understood him.

Now that the crying had stopped, you figured you could at least try and fall asleep.

“Daddy?”

Maxwell crooked his head slightly and looked over at the nursery door, where his six year old son, Alistair was standing. “Hey buddy,” Maxwell said quietly, ushering Alistair to come over. “Why are you awake?”

“Aurora was crying,” Alistair mumbled, dragging his comfort blanket and one of his soft toys further into the nursery. “I brought her my comforter and my Ewok.”

“Your what--?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“My Ewok.” Alistair repeated, offering no further explanation.

“Well Ali, that’s very thoughtful. Why don’t you put your… Ewok in her crib, and pass me your comforter. We can wrap her in it,” Maxwell instructed, and Alistair obliged. “Why don’t you wrap the blanket around her, hm? But be careful.”

Max lifted up Aurora ever so slightly so Alistair could fit the blanket around her tiny body. “I think she likes it.” Alistair grinned, completely chuffed with himself, and Max nodded his head in affirmation.

“She does,” he smiled, squeezing his son’s shoulder so he knew that his father was proud. “Now she knows her big brother will always look out for her.”

“I will daddy, I promise.”

The two boys spent a few minutes in comfortable silence, gushing and fussing over Aurora.

“Why was sissy crying? Is she alright?” Alistair pondered out loud, the concern clear in his voice.

“Yeah, of course, she’s fine. Look, sometimes we just need to be held. We just need to know that there’s someone out there watching over us. And that everything will be okay.” Max said softly, tracing his finger along Aurora’s delicate face. Alistair stayed quiet for a moment as he took in his father’s words. That feeling resonated with Alistair all too well. He knew what it felt like to yearn for the attention of a parent. And Maxwell understood it too. He had an awful relationship with his own father, which is why he swore to be the absolute best for his son and daughter. “Ali, could you do me a favour?” Max questioned, eventually breaking the silence.

“Yes.”

“Could you quietly go check on mommy and see if she’s sleeping?”

Alistair nodded and tip-toed out of the nursery and into your bedroom. Low and behold, you were finally sleeping. Alistair got a little too close to you, and pushed your hair out of your face so he could check to see if your eyes were closed. His brash movement (even though he’d tried his hardest to be gentle) woke you up. Alistair gasped when he saw what he’d done and smacked his hand over his mouth in disbelief.

“Oh no, were you asleep?” Alistair questioned, his dark eyes going wide. You yawned and nodded your head. “Did I wake you?”

You offered him a tired smile and pulled him into the bed so he could curl up next to you. “It’s okay Ali. Did Aurora wake you up too?”

“Yeah.” Alistair mumbled tiredly, nuzzling into your chest for comfort. He was immediately put at ease in your arms.

He’d never had a relationship like this with his biological mother, no matter how much he’d wished for it. But now he finally had you. You loved Alistair like he was your own blood and you treated him as your own since day one. You loved him unconditionally, just as much as you loved Aurora. Alistair was so thankful to have someone like you in his life and your bond with him was unbreakable. Maybe wishes could come true.

“She’s a little trouble maker.” you yawned and Alistair stifled a giggle.

“Like daddy.” he muttered and you grinned.

“Exactly. Just like daddy.”

After a few intimate moments alone with Aurora, Maxwell stood up. She’d settled down a lot and had even fallen asleep in his arms. Max didn’t want to put her down to bed though, at least, not yet.

Maybe he could bring her to bed. That would be nice.

Cradling Aurora, he carefully stood up from the oak wood rocking chair and padded out of the nursery, only to hear a series of thumping footsteps venture up the stairs.

Oh no.

The jingle of her pretty pink collar was unmistakable, as the fluffy white cat, Lady Lord, came bouncing up the staircase. She purred and circled around Max’s feet, rubbing her soft cheeks over his legs.

“What do you want?” Maxwell asked, glaring down at the kitty.

Lady just looked up at him and meow’ed, her blue eyes wide and awake. If she wanted anything, it was to be fed. She loved her biscuits.

“Lady, it’s almost four in the morning. You’ll have to wait until breakfast.”

She meow’ed again, this time louder, and followed Max by his heels as he walked along the corridor.

“I don’t care, Lady,” Max sighed. “We fed you before we went to bed and you’ll get something in a few hours. I’m not feeding you now.”

Maxwell swore this cat was like having a third child.

Lady wailed and raced past Maxwell once she sensed he was heading to his bedroom. Lady Lord jumped onto the bottom of the bed, by your feet, and curled up. She looked like a snowball.

You smiled to yourself as you heard Max approach. He tilted his head and frowned when he entered the bedroom and noticed you were still awake. His frown deepened when he saw that Alistair was laying next to you.

“I thought he’d gone to bed,” Max confessed, gently passing you Aurora so you could hold her while he discarded his slippers and robe. You smoothed out Alistair’s dark hair and watched him as he slept peacefully by your side. “And why are you still awake?” Max questioned.

“I was listening to the conversation you were having with your business associate-- I mean, your daughter.” you joked and Maxwell rolled his eyes, sliding under the covers. He took Aurora from your arms so he could nurse her again.

“She gets me.” Max assured you and you had to stifle back a laugh. You leaned your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder and looked down at the newborn.

“That’s great honey, but if her first words end up being ‘Life is good, but it can be better’, I’ll not be happy.” you quipped and Maxwell smirked.

In this precise moment, Maxwell swore that he had never been happier. He spent much of his life believing money and materials would satisfy him, but he was still left with an empty, gaping hole in his heart. He always wanted more, he wanted to try and somehow fill that void, but he just didn’t know what to look for. He was never searching for love, and yet you still found him. And you filled that hole in his heart. You completed him, and made him into a better man. He could never fault you for that, and he’d always be grateful for everything you did for him. Everyday that was spent with you and his growing family was a day well spent.

If he could change one thing, it would be that he realised this sooner. But you taught him that he shouldn’t regret anything. Yes, he had made mistakes, but so does everyone, and that doesn’t make him any less of a person. What inspired you the most about Max was that he consistently worked on himself and tried to better himself for his family. And you saw his progress every single day.

“Do you want me to take Ali to bed?” Max asked, kissing your shoulder softly.

“No, he’s fine here,” you replied quietly, feeling the utmost contentment with your family being by your side. “This bed can easily fit five people.” you acknowledged.

Maxwell’s eyes went comically wide at your comment. “Five?!” he wheezed, and you pointed your finger down towards the edge of the bed where Lady was sleeping. Max hadn't even noticed her joining. Clearly, it was a family event, at 4am in his bed. “She follows me everywhere!” Max exclaimed incredulously, shaking his head and scratching the back of his neck. Lady opened her eyes and glanced up at Max, recognising the mention of her.

“She loves you.” you cooed.

“She’s annoying.” Maxwell frowned, but you knew, deep down, he adored that cat. He had never been an animal person, and he wouldn’t have adopted Lady if it wasn’t for you, but he truly did love her. She was loyal and compassionate and despite the trail of cat hairs she left all over his three piece power suits, he wouldn’t trade her for the world.

“And you love her too.” you corrected him.

Max sighed and shook his head in defeat before returning to his previous statement. “You know, this bed might actually be able to fit more than five people. Maybe six. Or seven…” he trailed off, his free hand caressing your thigh as he sized up the double king-sized bed.

He wasn’t subtle. You could read him like an open book. You knew exactly what he was implying.

Your jaw dropped and you looked up at him with wide eyes. Max’s smirk only grew upon seeing your reaction. “Wait… are you saying we can get more cats?!”

And just like that, his smirk fell from his lips. “I--”

“Oh my gosh Maxie!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him. Maxwell blinked as he tried to process what just happened.

“I didn’t mean--”

“How long had you been planning this?” Teasing Max Lord might have been one of your most favourite hobbies. If only you could snap a photo of his face at this very moment.

He said your name, slowly and looked slightly disconcerted.

You grinned and cupped his cheek. “I know,” you laughed. “I know what you meant.”

A brief silence filled the room.

“I do like cats…” Max told you eventually. You leaned over him and turned off his bedside lamp.

“Mhm…” you mumbled, rolling over so you were snuggling into him. He was still on his back, nursing Aurora.

“I’m just saying…” he trailed off, staring at the ceiling. “I think we’re pretty good at this parenting thing. And I like… having kids with you…”

You smiled in the darkness.

“Go to sleep Maxie.” you whispered.

“I just think--”

“Go to sleep.” you giggled, and you felt him press a kiss into your hair.

“Goodnight,” he uttered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @ladyjenny19 @readsalot73

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #alistair lord #maxwell lorenzano

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333sth · 3 years ago

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dove. (frankie morales)

chapter i. previous.

pairing: frankie morales x ofc (’dove’) no use of y/n.

warnings: mention of ptsd/military service, language, violence, brief mention of torture/kidnapping, injury detail, fighting.

summary: frankie was going to propose, until dove found the ring and ghosted. even santi can’t track her down.

rating: mature. wc: 1.6k

Dove was a nickname coined by an old general during her training. He was a traditional man, though not disrespectful. It was a term of endearment that probably softened the influx of powerful women breaching into the male territory. He’d drawled, ‘I ought to call you Dove – I ain’t never seen a girl so swift, yet so fuckin’ lethal.’ She kept the boys in line too, he’d noted. When Benny got too reckless, or Tom’s temper ran away with him, she was the first to snap them out of it. In environments where peace was a very distant concept, she played the peacekeeper.

One time, during a two-month deployment in Nigeria, the group was shoved in the back of an ancient pick-up truck for six hours. Dove was wedged between Will and Frankie, sweltering in the humid air. The stale smell of sweat mixed with blood and diesel was permeating the air, and they were three hours from the nearest checkpoint. To pass the time, she asked them what they’d do if they weren’t special forces.

That was easy for Will – he’d be a teacher of some kind. Benny waffled about sports, making some brash comment about how he’s got to channel all his aggression somewhere. Tom and Santi couldn’t come up with anything that suited them more than the forces, which was not surprising. Frankie would still be a pilot somehow. Dove had never seen him more comfortable than in the pilot’s chair.

Dove dreamed of owning her own bar or café, somewhere relaxed and laid-back. A beach perhaps, somewhere quaint and peaceful, where the air is warm well into the late evening and the waves are gentle, collapsing onto the sand like white noise. She imagined the hum of conversation meeting tinkling music, beach lanterns dotted around the decking to cast an ambient glow beneath the stars. Maybe a chef on weekends could make bar snacks. Tom had snorted at that, throwing a jab about how she can burn the water they use to make their dried food sachets.

The men had recalled this conversation, desperately trying to fathom where Dove might have taken off to. It was met with an aching nostalgia for the type of teammate she was too. That conversation had been a tactic, a peaceful one, to prevent the terrible concoction of adrenaline, exhaustion and heat forming an argument in that truck. She was a natural tactician as well as a good friend.

Frankie had recounted each country they had been stationed and exactly how Dove had felt about them. She had loved Argentina, even when she got shot and Will spent three hours with his finger crammed in the wound to stop the bleeding. But she also liked Jamaica, Brazil and Hawaii. None of their contacts in the forces had any trace of her, not even Santi’s in South America. Her family were none the wiser – they brushed it off, her dad mumbling something about it sounding like her usual antics.

All he had was a scribbled note that read, ‘I need space. I’m safe. I love you.’ It was folded neatly in his wallet, like he was carrying the last piece of her that he had.

Mexico. That was where she was. A small town on the West coast that had enough life to keep her occupied, and the guarantee of anonymity.

If people asked, she was a retired nurse, which wasn’t entirely untrue. She told them she spent a lot of her career in humanitarian aid, to explain the occasional jitters on a rowdy Friday night and the nasty scars. There was a particularly gruesome one leading from the base of her throat up to her bottom lip from a knife fight. She told them it was shrapnel, flung from a collapsing building, and she was lucky it didn’t catch her jugular. The locals had gasped in awe at her heroism. She’d flinched against the memory of how her own knife buried into her attacker’s throat instead.

A few days into her move, Dove had found what could only be considered a derelict shed on the beachfront. It was probably the remains of an old boathouse. With some help from the locals, she had restored the ageing planks of wood. What was spare formed the bar and some rustic furniture. She pieced together a jumble of second-hand bar stools, chairs and lanterns that made for an eclectic combination. It had character and history in its walls, rather than some swanky, expensive build devoid of any personality. It was exactly what she had dreamed of, huddled in hypothermic temperatures or insomniac in her cot at base, sleep beyond her reach.

It didn’t change the fact that every time she entered her bedroom, the old polaroid of Frankie pinned to the wall hits her like a ton of bricks. Frankie knows she took it – it was pinned to the fridge at their home before she left. It’s quintessential Frankie, sat with his arms folded to his chest, biceps straining slightly against an old denim shirt that was getting a little too snug post-retirement. It was at a barbecue, his skin tanned and flushed from a day in the sun drinking, tousled hair peeking out from the sides of a dog-eared cap. Every time Dove glances at it, she wonders if he still has that hat.

‘Of course he has,’ the voice in her head snaps back. Any piece of clothing she’d suggest replacing would be countered with, ‘over my dead body’. The man was sentimental, a little too attached to his home comforts. She’d also bought it him in a seedy gift shop in the middle of nowhere as a joke.

“To add some variety,” she’d said. He would never let it go now.

Once, Veronica had eyed the photograph on her mirror and asked, “Who is he then? An ex?”

Veronica, or Roni for short, had lived in the town her whole life until university. When she graduated and moved home to save money, she needed a job. Dove needed a friend, so she took her on as a bartender. She was young and giddy, but harmless. More importantly, she was too self-absorbed to notice or even care that her thirty-something year old boss had bullet holes in her back.

“Something like that.” Dove had replied, rifling through her sorry excuse for a makeup bag. She’d closed the bar early to have a rare night off in the next town over, which had considerably livelier nightlife.

“You never talk about relationships. Or men.’ Roni observed, peering over Dove’s shoulder to eye another photograph. It was a group picture of the boys, huddled in the same fraying booth in their favourite bar back in Florida. “Looks like you were spoilt for choice.”

Dove scoffed, meeting her friend’s twinkling gaze in the mirror. “Shut your mouth. They were friends from work.”

“Were? Does that mean you can’t set me up now?”

“They’re almost twice your age. You’d tire ‘em out.” Dove set down the lip-gloss she dragged out for special occasions. “Come on, I’m not getting any younger either. It’s already passed my bedtime.”

Thankfully, that was enough to amuse the younger girl into linking her arm and hauling her out the door to the taxi, no more questions asked.

The hollering of spectators and thudding of skin slapping against the mat was reduced to a distant buzzing in Frankie’s ears. It was dimmed by the incessant ramblings of Santiago and Tom, discussing the files Santi had put together on Lorea. He could feel the reawakening of his rusty military senses as he follows the familiar tactics, mentally registering his agreement or noting what he might do differently. He doesn’t vocalise it though, because he hasn’t even agreed yet. Joining the debate would inadvertently signal his agreement. He didn’t want that.

There was a shadow lingering in the space on the bench beside him. It was an empty presence, not Will, who was hooked on the cage of the ring yelling encouragement to his brother. Not Benny, thumping his leather gloves together with his teeth pulled harshly over his mouthguard, judging his competitor with a predatory glint in his eye.

The opponent was a monster, but he lumbered like his limbs were filled with lead. Frankie notes that Benny, nimble and tall, will have a breeze tiring him out. Dove would have joked that it wasn’t worth coming, that they’ll be sat here until their asses are numb watching Benny play cat and mouse. His chest twinges. Sometimes it’s too easy to remember what she’d do, what she’d say. He wished he knew what she’d make of Santiago’s proposition. She always saw through Pope’s glamourisation and Tom’s greed.

What Frankie misses while he observes his pitiful surroundings is Tom and Santi descending into a hushed conversation. Tom nudges Santi, “You got anything on Dove?”

Santi sighs, long and solemn, “Maybe.” As Tom’s face quirks in interest, he holds up his finger, “It’s just a hunch.”

“A hunch is better than what we’ve had in the last year.”

Santi takes a sip of his beer, casting a glance at Fish, whose eyes are trained on the floor and the swirling contents of his cup. He knows him well enough to know his thoughts are the only thing that have his attention.

“I worry about him. We all do.” Tom whispers. “Getting busted just made things worse.”

“Don’t get his hopes up, man. It’s nothing solid. It’ll crush him if I’m wrong.” Tom nods solemnly before Santi continues, “A friend of mine saw an ex-Delta in a bar, a woman. He knew ‘cause of a tattoo she had on the nape of her neck.”

Tom’s eyes widen. In front of them, Benny lands a sickening punch on his opponent’s nose, complimented by an audible crack. He’s barely breaking a sweat, dancing around as the guy heaves and stumbles forward.

Santi’s gaze doesn’t break from the ring. “Mexico. I think she’s in Mexico.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier imagine #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier fic #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #frankie catfish morales #Frankie morales fic #Frankie Morales x OFC #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #benny miller #will miller #Santiago Garcia #santiago pope garcia #ben miller #dove fic

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fosermi · 3 years ago

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SEMI BACK FROM THE DEAD PEOPLE

That's right! I'm back! And I bring to you CHAPTER 3 OF GUARDIAN MACAQUE AU

WHY?! Well because I couldn't sleep well and it's 5 am fuck my headache I give you content!! Fair warning: Macaque is a soft monkey especially to kids AND YOU CAN PRY THIS HC FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS ABDJFKCMCM

Some days, Biming would leave to sell the rice cultivated in their field to the neighbouring village. An oddity, Hóu realised. Why sell to another village? He didn't understand… After all, there were other houses in their village.

"Hóu?" Ai's soft voice called for the demon. Oddly enough, it wasn't her usual tone that came through her call.

Immediately detecting the shift from her usual beat, the black monkey jumped down from his position on the plum tree that grew in the back garden of the couple's home. The tree upon which the monkey would spend most of his free time on whenever he could. "You called, Mrs. Ai?"

"Oh! Yes, dear…" her voice dripped with worry - fear even. In her arms a red cloak, outstretched as if allowing him to take it. "Could you please accompany Biming to the town today…?" Her eyes glimmering under the morning sun with worry, begged the black monkey to take on her request.

Hóu, with an immediate nod, complied as he gently took the cloak from Ai's grasp. Hesitantly, the black monkey built up enough courage to ask the kind lady, her worry affecting his own.

"Mrs. Ai… is everything alright…?" His hand reached out to Ai’s in an attempt to comfort her as his eyes locked with hers, taking notes of the high level of worry embedded deep within her honey-brown eyes.

Seeing the concern in Hóu's golden eyes, Ai's tense shoulders fell as she let out a shaky breath. "Ling Fa… he warned us that demons moved in close to the rout Biming takes to the other village…"

Ling Fa… yes…

He was the family's guardian spirit… it was his duty to protect the family, right? Of course he would warn the kind couple.

By late morning, Biming and Hóu had headed out on the road on the small mule-pulled cart with their cargo safely secured. Ling Fa had stayed behind to ensure Ai's safety as he would not have been much help with manual labor.

Hóu rode on the back of the cart as his mind drifted off to the thoughts of the strange family guardian. They had previously met a couple of times. Ling Fa wasn't a concerning figure, in fact Hóu believed he was incapable of fighting due to his pacifistic tendencies.

Throughout the journey, Biming and Hóu held up a small lighthearted conversation, a conversation that seemed to have only lasted a couple of minutes was in fact just two hours.

Soon the duo were at town close to noon, Hóu couldn't believe how lively everything was! Carts and vendors and buyers were everywhere! If he was being honest, Hóu's entire world seemed to start spinning due to the overload of his senses.

"Welcome to the market, Hóu!" Biming said with a bright smile as he handed Hóu some earplugs. "They might not completely drown out all the new senses but its something at least… if you ever need a breath at all, then tell me and we can go to a more tame part of the town were we can rest for a bit"

Hóu's reply came in the form of a nod. However, even though his senses are over exerting himself, Hóu knew that he had to allow Biming to sell their crops so they could earn the money needed. So, the black monkey decided to sit right behind the cart after putting on the earplugs, mostly hidden from the front view as she observed how Biming bargained and sold his crops.

Eventually, daylight started diminishing as the sun was starting to head down the horizon, turning the shy a nice shade that reminded the monkey of orange peaches… something about the sunset seems to have upset the demon and he felt a pang of pain in his chest.

Upon noticing the sadness embedded on the monkey’s face, Biming decided that it was time to head home. "Hóu, let's go home." Came the familiar voice of the young man that got Hóu moving onto the back of the cart, and once again head off back home. "We should be back home just after sunset" Said Biming in an attempt to comfort his companion, which seemed to have worked somewhat.

The ride back didn't have many complications, it was a smooth ride back with a few conversations every now and again. Once home, Biming and Hóu carried their goods into the home as they announced their return, only to be greeted by the smell of Ai's amazing cooking as they sat down by the table to eat.

Biming was telling Ai how well Hóu had taken to the city and how well behaved he was. He kept on flattering the black monkey demon which got Hóu to stutter every now and again when he decided to speak up. Soon enough, it was time to head to bed after it was decided that from then on, Hóu would accompany Biming to the market.

His days spent here in the small farm house by the valley with Ai and Biming went by faster than he expected. And soon, they would have a new addition to their family in the form of a child between the couple.

The couple at first didn't know how Hóu would react to children, as throughout Ai's pregnancy, he had done his best to avoid her as much as possible without angering her. He however instead spent his time with Biming learning how to trade and sell as well as bargain and buy goods.

When their daughter was born, the couple found something they never had expected to see. That night they had awoken to the sound of soft cries coming from the adjacent room that Hóu had offered the baby to stay in with him so he could make sure that their daughter was safe from all harm. Surprisingly, Hóu had also swore it as his duty out of the blue one night before she was even born.

What surprised them however, was what they saw in the room that night. They had found Hóu gently cradling their small daughter in his arms. Biming most of all was surprised at how Hóu could be so delicate with such a small fragile being and yet possess strength strong enough to carry the entire cart filled with supplies.

Hóu looked over at the couple with worry laced all very his face. "S-sorry… she won't stop crying… she must be hungry!" It surprised Ai how well he knew how to manage a baby and how he could tell what was wrong. She stood there for a moment as she smiled at the panicked monkey before taking her daughter to feed her in the other room, leaving Biming and Hóu together in the room.

Biming sat down next to Hóu on the bed who seemed a bit anxious. "Is something the matter Hóu?" Came the concerned question from Biming.

Hóu's tail flicked anxiously like an irritated cat, he lowered his head and talked in barely a whisper "she's just so small Biming… will she really survive?"

With a comforting hand on Hóu's shoulder, a smile found its way onto Biming's face "with you worrying about her like this… I know she'll be perfectly fine Hóu…" and with that, Ai came back in, carrying their sleeping daughter in her arms.

Without a second to lose, Hóu was up on his feet to give the bed to the sleeping baby. But instead, Ai gave him the small bundle of joy with a smile. Something within him clicked that night, and for the first time he remembered something from his past.

A conversation?

"Hey, [~~~] why so stiff?"

"Because! They're so small! So defenseless! How can they survive?!" A chuckle rang out throughout what seemed like a cave as the sound echoed.

"They're children! Of course, they're small! But hey! They seem to like you!"

"I… I guess they do…"

"You know… if you're really worried about them so much why not take care of them?"

"Don't you already do that?"

"Well, technically, yes? But what I meant was you could watch over the little ones and make sure they're safe?"

"... alright, I'll do it!"

Hóu held the small child close to his chest, a stifled sob escaped him as a few tears flowed down his face and onto the blankets that wrapped around the baby. This concerned the couple as they barely see Hóu cry, in fact. This is only the second time they've seen him cry ever since finding him that fateful day.

Just before they could react, Hóu faced them. Face stained with tears but his eyes held a strong determination. "No matter what, I'll make sure she becomes big and strong. I swear on my life"

With his sudden declaration, the couple found a sense of peace and comfort. Ever since then, Hóu had appointed himself their daughter's caretaker and would help Ai and Biming with their daughter in whatever way he could. There had been countless times when Ai or Biming would search for their daughter only to find her asleep on Hóu who had her safely asleep on or under his favorite tree in their garden, sometimes asleep himself.

Such were the peaceful times, the days he wouldn't have to worry about much except for their family's safety. Nothing could happen to them, he used to think. Not until the incident.

Golden eyes fluttered open as he heard a faint sound of someone calling out to him. "I'm heading off to work dad!! Text you later!!" Followed by a door slamming shut and a soft ringing of a bell.

With a sigh, the black monkey sat up and combed through his messy black hair before getting up and heading to the bathroom to freshen up. Mi Hóu looked at the mirror and examined himself only to be taken back to see a human face before remembering that his life with Ai, Biming, and their daughter Chu-Hua had ended a couple of hundred years ago.

He had remembered everything since that time, and his true name is Liu er Mihóu otherwise known as the Six Eared Macaque. And he remembered that at this current time, he has a son. A son that he had to look out for in a world of hidden demons. But here's the catch, he can't let his son know that he himself is a demon even though he already knows about demons. Which is why he uses a human disguise.

"Another regular day of work I guess…" he mumbled as he heard the ringing of the bell hung at the door indicating that someone had entered their home, or to be more specific, his clinic. Little did he know that this day would be the end of his daily routine of curing demons and teaching at a dojo.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid au #monkie kid au #guardian macaque #guardian macaque au #lmk macaque #six eared macaque #monkie kid macaque #listen i live for dad macaque #and now i give you macaque being soft with babies #my writing

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kpophours · 4 years ago

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Way to You

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, friends to lovers AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight cursing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, a teeny tiny bit sexual suggestiveness (nothing explicit)

➵ word count: 5.7k

You are in trouble.

You are in really big trouble.

Staring at the sleeping person beside you, you think about what to do next.

Maybe you could move to a different country, take on the maiden name of your mother and become a dog sitter. You like dogs! Love them, even. Cats too, you’re not picky.

Or maybe you could apply to be one of those people being shot into space to colonize Mars. It’s probably chill up there - not many people, and even better: no Chan. Probably no wifi too, though. But well, you like reading so you could always pass time by bringing enough books, right?

Or maybe, as an easier and far less dramatic solution: you could just pretend to not remember anything from last night - honestly, from the way your head is pounding right now, it doesn’t even seem that far fetched.

For now you decide to just slide out of bed before the man beside you wakes from his deep slumber, and to flee from his house, hoping no one is going to see you. No witnesses, no crime, right?

At least you’re still wearing a shirt and most of your underwear, so … it could be worse.

Probably.

Right?!

You take in a deep breath and carefully lift the blanket, slowly wiggling towards the edge of the bed. Before you can successfully escape though, Chan beside you groans, and wraps one arm around your waist to pull you close to his own warm body again. You almost squeal, but manage to press your lips together to stifle the noise.

Chan’s breathing is soft and steady - so for now, he’s still asleep, but you need to get away from him as quickly as possible. So you try to escape for a second time, carefully prying his arm from your body and placing it back on the mattress. This time, you successfully slide out of bed, silently landing on your feet and almost losing your balance - you are in desperate need of some water, it seems. Dehydration is no joke, kids. Quietly, you slip into your jeans and grab your bra dangling from a bedpost. You also look for your purse but after being unable to locate it, you finally tiptoe out of the room. As soon as you’ve managed to close the door behind you, you exhale, relief spreading through your whole body. You’re fine, you’re good, you’re almost out of here! You pretty much run towards the bathroom, and suppress a groan when you see your tired hangover face staring back at you in the mirror. After drinking some water straight from the tap, you wash off the pitiful rest of your makeup, put your hair up into a ponytail and deem yourself ready to leave the solidarity of the bathroom again - and to face whoever’s already awake.

The frat house is almost eerily quiet at this time of day, so you try not to make a sound while sneaking downstairs, cringing whenever one of the steps creaks under your weight. You sigh in relief when you’ve finally made it downstairs, and begin to smile when you spot your purse dangling from the back of a chair. To your delight, the keys to your flat, your wallet and phone are all still in there. Maybe the world isn’t as bad of a place as you’re sometimes making it out to be. “Morning.” You squeal and turn around, hand clutching your chest. Hyunjin chuckles when he sees your shocked expression, and silently toasts you with the mug he is holding in one hand. “Well don’t you look lovely so early in the morning.”, he teases, and you stick out your tongue at him. “I’m very sorry to inform you that not everyone has been blessed with a perfect morning face, oh dear Adonis.”, you just answer, and he grins. “Want some coffee”?, he asks, already reaching for a second mug, but halts in his movement when he sees your hesitant expression. Your eyes slide towards the stairwell and back at the young man in front of you again. “I- I should go.”, you say, and he just nods, hand falling away from the coffee pot. “Sure. Have a nice day, then.” For some reason, he seems disappointed, but you try not to give it too much thought. So you just smile at him, before ducking out into the hallway to grab your shoes and jacket, quickly leaving the frat house behind. It’s a cold morning for early autumn, mist hanging between the trees and making it difficult to see, and you bury both hands in your pockets while walking towards the direction of your flat. It’s weirdly quiet, and you’re almost regretting your decision to leave the house so abruptly, even though it was probably the more… sensible thing to do. Chan and you have a long, complicated history - missed opportunities, bad timing, broken hearts. For some reason, it just never seems to work between you guys. There’s always either another person standing between you, or some miscommunication happens, or he is suddenly leaving to spend a term abroad in Australia or or or … the list goes on and on. You’ve never managed to find your way to each other.

Yesterday was his welcome back party, and as part of the “inner circle”, you’d of course been invited to join the surprise gathering as well. You truly love and adore all the boys living at the frat house, even though you want to smack Minho pretty much 24/7, really dislike Hyunjin’s perfect face and superior smirk whenever he plays beer pong against you, and are almost a bit annoyed at Jeongin’s cuteness (you would probably let him get away with literal murder). You also can’t believe the amount of chicken Seungmin manages to eat in a day, and have long lost count of how many times you’ve had to drag Changbin out of the cave he calls his room so he’d finally see some sunlight again and get that vitamin D. No wonder he never grew past the 1.70m mark. Felix is the only one you’d never say anything against, the man being too sweet (and cute) for his own good. He is just sunshine personified. You’d legit burn down cities to protect him. You had met the seven young men during your freshman year, all thanks to your then new roommate and your now best friend Jisung. The others had pretty much accepted you with open arms, and almost just as quickly, you had fallen head over heels for Chan. But who can blame you? Not only is he incredibly handsome, but also funny, witty, smart and always down to clown. Your perfect man in the shape of a talented, beautiful goofball. And he seems to be more than interested in you as well, often shamelessly flirting with you, touching you more than necessary and generally being a total sweetheart towards you.

And yet - … and yet … for some reason, it just never seems to work between you two. Fate is against you, apparently.

Exhausted, you unlock the front door to the flat you share with Jisung, hoping that he is either still at his girlfriend’s place, or deeply asleep. You need a long hot shower and some alone time afterwards.

And coffee, lots of it. Or tea. One or the other, you’re honestly not picky.

Sadly, fate is against you yet again: Jisung sits at the kitchen table, dark eyes almost entirely hidden by too long hair falling into his handsome face. He should really get a haircut. As soon as he lays eyes on you, he gives you a cheeky smile. “Good moooorning.”, he says, tone of voice way too cheerful so early in the day. You sigh internally, but give him a small smile in return and murmur a greeting back. “You look awful.”, your roommate then states, and you roll your eyes at him. “I guess my exterior reflects my inner self, then.”, you grumble, and take the mug of coffee he is sliding your way with a curt nod of your head. “Rough night?”, he asks, lip twitching. You give him a critical look, gnawing on your lower lip. Jisung had left the party around 1am, his girlfriend getting tired and finally wanting to go home.

So how much does he know?

Knowing the boys … they might have instantly texted him, telling him about you staying the night.

With Chan.

In Chan’s room.

After not having seen him for six months.

After having pretty much confessed to him only seconds before he had to take a cab to get to the airport to leave for his term spent abroad.

What can you say, timing has never been one of your strong suits.

Jisung is still staring at you, obviously waiting for your answer. You snap out of your thoughts and take a sip of coffee. You grimace when the bitter taste hits your tongue; Jisung always likes his coffee a lot stronger than you. Pretty much the only strong thing about him though. “It was… long.”, you finally say, and place the mug back on the kitchen table, “And I really need a shower now.” With that, you quickly leave the kitchen again, ignoring your roommate’s low chuckle.

Oh that bastard so knows.

Meaning you have to add a few names to your death note.

Monday is the worst day of the week.

Monday should just cease to exist. Why can’t the week just begin with a nice, chill Tuesday?

You like Tuesdays. Tuesdays are cool.

Mondays on the other hand… They just don’t sit well with you.

“JISUNG, I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS BEFORE I’M GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS DAMN DOOR!”, you yell, and continue to hammer your fist against the locked bathroom door.

He’s been in there for almost an hour now, probably using up all the hot water. You can’t believe he’s doing this to you. There’s only about twenty minutes left before you have to leave for your first class, and you definitely need a hot shower and some concealer. Maybe a miracle. Where’s your make-over-sequence when you need it?! Why are you not a young heroine in a quirky rom-com, then you’d probably look perfectly styled all the time. But no, you’ll probably have to go to class with greasy third-day-hair, sweatpants and the biggest eye bags the world has ever seen. Fifty shades of dark circles under your eyes - the perfect movie title should your life ever get turned into one. Probably a solid 10% on Rotten Tomatoes, maybe 15% if the viewers feel generous. Your life just ain’t that interesting so far.

“JI-FUCKING-SUNG!” You kick the door - or well, you want to. Because in that second, your roommate finally decides to open it, so you accidentally kick his shin instead of the wooden door. He yelps, and doubles over in pain. “Hey, I thought you were a pacifist. Violence is never the answer and all that stuff!”, he complains, voice laced with pain, and you feel like, 20% sorry. Or maybe only 15%. “It’s your own fault if you need half an eternity to get ready.”, you scoff, and squeeze past him to get inside the bathroom and to finally take your long awaited shower. “Aren’t you a joy to have around in the morning.”, Jisung just replies, and you flip him off before closing the door into his puffy morning face.

You’re almost late to class, but not because you took too long in the bathroom, oh no. This is Jisung’s fault again - being the annoying parasite that he simply is, he used up the last of your favorite tea, meaning you had to search through the kitchen cabinets to find your less tasty emergency back-up tea. Finding it had taken way too long, because about two weeks ago, Jisung had randomly decided to move everything around inside the cabinets, and now you can’t find shit anymore. He should really get a hobby or two.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the lecture hall, and almost frozen to death thanks to the temperature dropping way too low last night. Your hair is still wet because you didn’t have time to blow dry it this morning, so you know you’ll look like a crazy witch in approximately half an hour. Having unruly hair is fun. “Hey, Y/N!”, someone yells as soon as you walk through the door, and you jump, almost spilling the back-up tea all over yourself. Thankfully, you manage to maneuver the small thermos flask away from your body, so the hot liquid spills onto the floor instead of your clothes. You shoot a silent apology to the cleaning staff. Your eyes zone in on the person responsible for your near-death-experience, and you groan when Minho flashes you a cheeky smile. It’s way too early to deal with demons, you decide, and are about to turn around and search for a more welcoming or even unfamiliar face in the crowd of students, when Hyunjin appears at your side, mirroring Minho’s gleeful expression.

“Hell’s empty and all the devils are here.”, you mutter under your breath, and Hyunjin laughs, before shoving you towards the empty seat beside Minho. “Stop quoting Shakespeare, you drama queen.”, he just says, and takes the seat on your other side. “I still don’t understand why you had to take the same class as me this term. There are endless other classes you could have chosen. Endless, I’m telling you!”, you mumble, expression grumpy. Minho chuckles. “And rid you of our extremely pleasant company and highly amusing commentary? Never.” You just scoff and open your backpack, rummaging through it until you find your small notebook and pen. Call you old fashioned but you actually like to take notes by hand, eyeing Minho’s sleek MacBook Pro with slight distaste (and maybe a hint of envy). Hyunjin’s doing… better, you guess, because he too is taking notes by hand, but he just has a random assortment of loose paper instead of a bound notebook. You already know he’ll have lost half his notes by the end of the day and will probably ask to borrow yours. Oh that sweet chaos boy.

“How was the rest of your weekend?”, Minho asks, “You were gone by the time we all got up on Saturday, people were really sad and disappointed by your sudden disappearance, you know.” His tone of voice is innocent, too innocent. You know exactly who “people” includes. Oh, you know it way too well. “I had things to do.”, you answer curtly, eyes stubbornly trained at the front of the room where the teacher’s just trying to set up his laptop. You hope he’ll hurry, because you really don't want to continue talking to Hyunjin and Minho. But apparently, the teacher is a hopeless case, looking at the different cables with a big question mark on his face. What is it with boomers and technology, honestly. “Come on, my dude. Please hurry.”, you whisper, watching the man intensely, both eyebrows drawn together. You try to send him mental strength, because he actually looks like he’s about to cry. You’d go and help him if you weren’t sitting at the very back of the lecture hall. Hyunjin pokes your cheek, and you jump. “Answer us, coward.”, he says, sounding way too pleased. “My weekend was fine. The hangover was uncool, but I spent the rest of the day destroying Jisung at Mario Kart and eating greasy food, so it could have been worse. Sunday was uneventful, I just caught up with some of my reading materials for class this week.”, you recap your last two days in a flat voice, “How about you guys?” “Those were the oh-so-important things you “had to do”? Groundbreaking, truly.” You ignore Minho’s sarcasm and begin to play with the cap of your pen. “Well we had to clean the house after Chan’s welcome home party, of course. And then he showed us some of the pictures he took in Australia - there was this one really cute one where he was cuddling a koala, I’m sure you’d love it.”, Hyunjin tells you, and you’re this close to kicking him. How dare he put the mental image of Chan cuddling a koala in your head. You hate how much you love it. Just because you really like koalas of course, this has nothing to do with Chan himself. If you repeat it over and over again, you might actually believe it one day. Probably not. Ugh, Hyunjin and Minho are truly the worst possible friends you could ask for. Who needs enemies when you have friends like these. “Cool.”, you just murmur, and thank the Heavens above when you see that some student has finally taken mercy on your teacher and is helping him set up. Soon after, the lecture begins, and as annoying as Hyunjin and Minho may be, they usually do take their studies seriously, so they finally shut up and leave you be. You sigh in relief, and begin taking notes as well.

You don’t even know why you agreed to come.

You don’t want to be here.

At the frat house.

Again.

You were just here last week, and everyone knows how that ended.

You had managed to avoid seeing Chan all week - not that it was difficult, seeing as you don’t share a single class with him. But he hasn’t texted you either, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a teeny tiny bit disappointed.

You grind your teeth, cursing Jisung and his stupidly cute hamster cheekies and puppy eyes. You hate to admit it, but you’re prepared to give him just about anything whenever he looks at you with his deep brown eyes while puffing out his cheeks. Honestly, what did the Universe think all those years ago, bringing him into your life?! Why couldn’t someone else have answered your ad about searching for a new roommate? Why did it have to be Jisung?

This whole mess is really just Jisung’s fault.

If it weren’t for him, you’d probably never have met the perfection that is Christopher Bang Chan.

“Are you trying to set the house on fire by staring at it? Because I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m pretty sure it ain’t gonna work.”, your best friend says, voice laced with barely hidden glee.

He knows how much you hate being here. You had only agreed to come after Jisung had promised Chan wouldn’t be here this evening. Pinky-promised, even! But you already see his car parked outside the frat house, and that can only mean one thing - Jisung has betrayed you. That bastard. This is how Jesus must have felt when he found out about Judas’s betrayal. Or Caesar, when he was stabbed by those closest to him, including his own son Brutus. You really can’t trust men. Your heart aches for your other best friend, but of course she just had to graduate top of her class and therefore go attend the most prestigious university in the country. Meaning she’s about a thousand miles away from you right now. In the end, you really can’t trust anyone, huh. But especially not men. And especially not Jisung, it seems.

“You’re less funny than you think.”, you just answer flatly, and your roommate scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N. We both know the Universe has blessed me with both devilishly handsome looks and an amazing and unique humor.”, he replies, and now you really want to smack him. But being a self-proclaimed pacifist, you just take in a deep breath and decide to only think about all the ways you would murder him if you were a cold-blooded killer and not a usually soft tempered college student. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper and let’s finally go inside, I’m freezing.” And with that, your best friend simply drags you towards the front door.

Judas and Brutus have nothing on Jisung, you decide. Because the second you step inside the living room of the frat house, you’re greeted by the charms (the Chan arms). It’s way too cold to be wearing a sleeveless shirt, but Chan didn’t get the memo apparently. Or maybe it’s because he’s just so hot, he doesn’t get cold, like ever.

You grimace at your own lame joke, even though you thankfully didn’t say it out loud. That would have been embarrassing.

There are a few other people here already, maybe about 15 in total, and everyone greets you and Jisung warmly. You smile and return hugs, and before you know it, Changbin has handed you some wine in a red plastic cup. How very fancy, you truly feel special tonight.

He then pushes you towards the four old, mismatched sofas taking up most of the living room space, and orders you to sit down. You’re so surprised by his commanding tone, you actually follow his request without much protest. For a few minutes, you just stay quiet and observe the small crowd of people, taking a sip of wine from time to time. It’s dry, too dry for your liking, and you’d rather have a cup of tea right now. Or well, maybe a shot of vodka - because suddenly, Chan is making his way towards you. Your eyes dart around the room, and you desperately try not to look at him. He looks so good. Too good. No one needs that much beauty, this is truly just excessive. His black hair looks so shiny, you just want to run your fingers through it. And his deep dark eyes, perfect to drown in. You just want to touch his arms and see if his muscles are as hard as they look. He even has a perfectly cute smile, that bastard. It’s just too much, he’s just too much.

Before you can get up and flee from the scene, Chan falls onto the ground beside you, and gives you his signature cheery smile. His lips look incredibly kissable in the dimly lit room. Ugh.

You quickly look away.

“Hi.”, he says, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. He has too much power over you, and he doesn’t even know it. “Hi yourself.”, you answer quietly. “How you’ve been? We haven’t seen each other all week.”, he asks, leaning closer, his right arm brushing against your left one in the process. He smells really good and you can’t help but deeply inhale. “Yeah, I’ve been quite busy.”, you explain, still avoiding to look at him, but out of the corner of your eye, you see how he raises both eyebrows. “Busy? It’s only the second week of class. I didn’t know you’ve become such a geek while I was gone.”, he says, but his soft smile indicates he’s just joking. You shrug, and take another sip of the too dry wine. You grimace again.

It’s disgusting, really, and you don’t even know why you’re still drinking it.

Chan takes the cup out of your hand, and eyes it suspiciously before taking a sip as well. His face says it all, the wine truly is disgusting. “What is this!? A liquid from Hell?!”, he asks and shudders, and you break into a smile. “Considering you live with at least two demons, it’s not that far fetched.”, you answer, and he tilts his head to one side. “What did Hyunjin and Minho do now?”, he sighs, and you shrug. “They were themselves.” Chan chuckles, mumbles “That actually says it all.” under his breath and leans back against the sofa. He’s still looking at you, and you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. Really uncool of your body to just betray you like that. Mind over matter, you think, and dare the blush to just go away and leave you be. It doesn’t work though. Years of evolution and you’re still unable to command your body the way you want to. How incredibly rude. Darwin would be so disappointed.

“I missed you, Y/N.”, Chan suddenly says, his voice barely above a whisper. You finally turn towards him, and lock eyes with him. His expression is soft and his eyes earnest. You give him the smallest of smiles. “I… well, I missed you too.”, you finally confess, heart fluttering when he breaks into a bright smile. He lifts his hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear, all while still intensely looking at you. Your heart rate immediately flatlines, and you think you might have a very spontaneous case of strong asthma, because your lungs are apparently giving up on you as well. You basically drown in Chan’s eyes, their warm brown so familiar.

“MY DEAREST DUDES AND DUDETTES!”, Seungmin suddenly yells - a beautiful alliteration, you think -, making both you and Chan jump. You hurriedly bring some space between your bodies, almost having forgotten about not being alone in the room. You can feel Hyunjin, Minho and Jisung looking at you, all three sporting matching, shit-eating grins.

Maybe being a pacifist is not the right way to go through life after all, because right now, you really just want to punch them. Only lovingly, of course, but with enough strength nevertheless.

“Thank you for joining us on this wonderful Friday evening, and welcome to this month’s game and drinking night! I see most of you have already found your seats, so everyone who’s still standing, please go and sit on your butt, thank you very much.” Seungmin grins and waits for everyone to follow his words. He should really consider quitting law school to become a tv host instead of a lawyer. When everyone’s finally seated, he grabs an empty bowl from the shelf behind him and holds it up into the air, its blue glass catching the light. “Everyone, please write down your names on the slips of paper provided for you, and then we shall begin playing our first game of the night.”

It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to write down their names, mostly because there aren’t enough pens for everyone, so people keep fighting over them. After everyone’s finally done, Seungmin collects the slips of paper again, and puts them in his bowl, shuffling through them. “First game of the night is Seven minutes in Heaven.”, he says, his smile cheeky. You groan internally. He can’t be serious. But apparently, he is - because he fumbles for two paper slips, about to declare the first names. “Fingers crossed for it to be Hyunjin and Minho, just because I wanna see their faces.”, you mumble, and Chan beside you chuckles. “Well now I really want to see that, too.”, he replies in a low voice, leaning closer so you can hear him. You gulp nervously, and are about to answer, when Seungmin clears his throat. “Y/N, Chan? Did you not hear me?”, he asks innocently, and you turn towards him, both your expressions questioning. For someone so cute looking, Seungmin can be really evil sometimes, his smile almost devilish right now. “You’re the first ones up. Now go, have fun. Your seven minutes will begin as soon as you close the door behind you.” You’re actually speechless for once, just blinking at the man in front of you. This can’t be happening. He can’t be serious. There is no way this is a coincidence. You know Seungmin and the other boys too well for that. God, you really should have written all their names into your death note when you had the chance. You’re about to demand for Seungmin to show you the slips of paper in his hand, when - “Uh, well… Let’s go, then.”, Chan finally says, and takes your hand in his to help you up from the floor and drag you towards the little broom cabinet under the stairs.

How very Harry Potter-like.

The last thing you see before Seungmin closes the door in your face, is his stupid smirk.

Oh how much you hate him and the others right now.

It’s dark inside the cabinet, only some light falling through the slits around the door, but it’s too dim to see anything. Dust tickles your nose, and you have to suppress a sneeze. Chan standing opposite you clears his throat. “So.”, he says, and you shift from one foot to the other. The cabinet is small enough for your bodies to be almost touching. You can feel the heat radiating off him and want nothing more than to cuddle to his chest. “So.”, you repeat. “Here we are.”, Chan says. You just chuckle and nervously rub the palms of your hands together, air thick with tension. Before you can say anything else, Chan takes a step closer to you, hot breath fanning over your face. He smells like mint mixed with alcohol. It’s a nice combination, you think. But then again, you’d probably like anything on him. He’s Chan, after all.

Your Chan.

You shiver involuntarily, his close proximity making you almost a bit dizzy. “Are you cold?”, he murmurs, voice low and silky. Goosebumps rise all over your body and you shake your head - until you remember he obviously can’t see it in the darkness. “Not really.”, you whisper back, breath hitching when he suddenly wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat under the palm of your hand, mirroring your own. “Why did you leave last week?”, he asks, sounding more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard before. You gulp and bite down on your lower lip. Guilt washes over you. “Technically you left first - for Australia, remember?”, you shoot back, a really weak and sad attempt if you’re being honest. “You know I never would have left if I didn’t have to.”, he says, and you sigh. You know that, of course you do. Chan is a nice, good guy, a really nice, good guy. It had been stupid of you to confess your love for him right before he had to go. In the end, your broken heart had been no one’s fault except your own. You take in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do - I wasn’t sure how you’d react, waking up next to me after all those months of not talking.”, you confess, voice soft and tiny, and duck your head.

Chan’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he lifts your chin with two fingers. “I would have been happy. I would have kissed you good morning before making you some tea. And then I would have stayed in bed all day, cuddling you and showing you all the cool pictures I took in Australia.”, he murmurs, thumb tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. You exhale, sounding wobbly. “That would have been nice.”, you answer, and can almost feel his bright and relieved smile. “Well, tomorrow is Saturday again. So maybe we can just have a do-over.”, he asks, lips awfully close to your own now. “I think I’d like that - I’d really like that.”, you mumble against his lips, and then - finally - he kisses you. Fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids, and you quickly wrap your arms around Chan’s neck to pull him even closer. Now that you’ve started, it seems you can’t get enough of each other - what starts out as a slow, romantic kiss quickly becomes a clashing of tongues and teeth, and when he bites down on your lower lip, you can’t help but moan into his mouth, a hot, tingling feeling shooting through your entire body. All you can think right now is that you never want this moment to end - you’ve been waiting for this for so long. You’ve been waiting for him to finally find his way to you. And you yourself are just so, so tired of running away from him. Never before has anything ever felt so right.

You’re interrupted by a sudden knock on the door, and immediately jump apart, breaking the kiss. You’re both breathless, chests heaving, and even though you can’t see right now, you know that your hair is a total mess, your lips are swollen and your cheeks flushed. “Your seven minutes are over, so you better be decent!”, Minho says from outside, and before either you or Chan can reply, he opens the door. Light floods the tiny cabinet, and you blink against it, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The first thing you see when your eyes have finally gotten used to the brightness again, is Minho’s shit-eating grin. He stands in the hallway with both his arms crossed and head tilted to one side. “Well, well, well. Heaven sure seems to be as magical as they say, huh?”, he just says, and you really want to smack the grin off his stupidly handsome face.

But Chan just laughs, and grabs your hand, lifting it to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. You’re ready to just faint right there and then, knees almost buckling from the sweet gesture. Who cares about Minho’s stupid grin when Chan is being perfect again. “Truly magical, yes.”, Chan just answers good-humoredly, and tugs you out of the broom closet, “Well, if you’d excuse us now.” And with that, he simply drags you up the stairs and towards his room. “Hey, where you’re going?!”, Minho and Hyunjin yell in unison, and you look over your shoulder to give them a cheeky grin. “Chan has some pictures he wants to show me - someone told me there’s a really cute one where he cuddles a koala. I finally want to see that now.”, you answer innocently, and wink at them. Chan laughs and quickly pulls you close, kissing you again. You ignore the clapping and cheering noises the others make downstairs. God, your friends are really embarrassing sometimes. But maybe you’re not as sorry anymore about not having written any of them into your death note. Because as stupid and embarrassing as they often are, you do truly adore every single one of them. “You know what, I think that particular picture would make a really cute background for your phone.”, Chan murmurs against your lips, and you raise both eyebrows. “Oh, I bet.”, you just answer, and smile at him.

… Spoiler alert: it’s actually the perfect background for your phone.

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raendown · 3 years ago

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A story for @insaneflowergirl as part of the @madatobigiftexchange! Only took me six days to realize it’s June. A grand improvement over the last couple months. xD

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4049 Rated: T+ Fandom: Naruto Summary: Trapped together by an avalanche in the middle of a mission, Madara and Tobirama make a passing attempt at dealing with the discovery that they are soulmates. And also the discovery that there is only one bed to share for the night.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Warmth in Winter Hearts

“I don’t suppose if I happened to suggest laying down to rest you might actually listen?”

“You’re not my mother!”

Tobirama pressed the bridge of his nose tightly between two fingers and breathed slowly. “Gods but I hope not. I have neither the parts nor the patience for that.”

Across the cavern Madara scowled, looking very much like he was only moments away from sticking out his tongue. If he were perfectly honest Tobirama would not have been surprised in the least to see that sort of childish behavior after the emotionally taxing week they’d been going through. Getting put on a mission together was bad enough; they fought like cats and dogs in the tower with separate offices to retreat to, how Hashirama expected them to survive an entire month out here in the wilderness together was a mystery. Yet the worst part had to be getting snowed in separate from the man they were meant to be escorting with no way to make sure the idiot was still alive.

“When we get out of here,” Madara growled, “I’m going to tear out that asshole’s hair strand by strand.”

“I’m not sure how much of a threat that is.”

“Excuse you, that is a terrifying threat.”

“Not everyone is as attached to their hair as you are,” Tobirama pointed out.

He was already turning away to build up the meager fire he’d hastily thrown together upon realizing they were trapped in here. Still, he could practically feel the weight of dark eyes glaring at him from across the cave, probably staring at the back of head and judging the hair that he kept short purely for utilitarian purposes. If he hadn’t looked so ridiculous the one time he’d shaved it all off he would just do away with the stuff all together. What good did hair really do him? Not much. If his head got cold he could always throw on a hat. Beyond that he’d never found much of a use for it.

“Maybe if you took better care of yours then you’d understand.”

“I very much doubt that,” Tobirama murmured under his breath.

The glaring intensified but he refused to take the bait. Feeding the fire and making sure they stayed warm throughout the night was much more important than tending to the quicksilver emotions of a man who, until today, had been nothing but a thorn in his side at every turn. If not for this blasted mission he never would have been anything else. Tobirama closed his eyes and counted his breaths in and out, in and out, slowly, evenly, searching for the calm balance that so many people mistook for unfeeling cold. It hadn’t been so difficult to center himself in years.

As much as he tried, however, calm remained far beyond his reach. He could keep a placid expression for the idiot across the room but on the inside his emotions were tumbling over each other like a business of ferrets all fighting over the same morsel of food. They were soulmates. Even in his own head that felt strange to admit. So many years spent glaring across the battlefield, several more glaring across council tables and mokuton sturdy desks, only now to discover their connection mere hours before they got themselves trapped inside a system of caves by nothing more than a raging blizzard. Honestly if he weren’t so angry at the timing of it all Tobirama might have been impressed by the sheer volume of snow Mother Nature had seen fit to dump over their heads without warning. More so than the weather he was angry at their client. When he’d told that fool to stay close it had been for his own safety, not to ruffle his overinflated ego without reason. Now he’d trapped himself somewhere else in these caves by dashing off just before an avalanche of snow collapsed over the entrance. Madara had offered to melt through it all but there was little point. There would always be more to come down on top.

Either their client would be dead of cold in the morning or he wouldn’t. Being here with them wouldn’t do much to change that outcome when he’d already declared that he would rather freeze to death than seek body heat from, in his words, lowly shinobi types. Tobirama would rather lose the income from this mission than let such an asshole touch him after words like that.

“Ugh.” Behind him Madara sniffed a couple of times. “These smell terrible.”

“Probably because you’re still bleeding inside them.” Tobirama didn’t even need to turn around to know what the other was talking about. He’d wrapped those bandages himself only hours before.

“I should probably change them. But it’s so cold…”

Standing up to brush the snow from his knees, Tobirama nodded shortly. “Cold indeed. An excellent excuse not to care for your wounds. I’ll be sure to share that one with Izuna when he asks how I could allow you to come home with blood poisoning.”

A smile flickered across his face when the snuffling turned in to barely muted grumbling, probably a bad mockery of him since that was usually Madara’s last defense against being told to do something he already knew he should have been doing. It only took another minute or two of waiting before heavy footsteps were thumping across the snow-dusted rock to pause just at his back. The hand that shoved itself in to his view looked like some child’s imaginative drawing of a zombie, covered as it was in off-white linen turned black in some places with drying blood.

“If you’re so worried for me then do something about it yourself!”

“Use your manners if you want help.”

“Fuck you!” Madara snatched his hand back. When Tobirama looked he was cradling it to his chest with a pout that looked all the more ridiculous than usual when set above a full suit of battle-worn armor. “I’ll just do it myself then!”

“Will you now?”

A raised eyebrow sent his companion storming off to where they had scraped the snow off a few square feet of ground. Dark mutterings made a lovely background tune as Madara dug through both of their packs trying to find the rest of their medical supplies. When he found them he gave a vicious little noise of triumph and then flopped down on to a nearby rock to pick at the knot on the back of his injured hand. It was hardly the only injury either of them had suffered during the past week of escorting their jittery client through one of the most dangerous sections of the border with Yugakure, just the most serious since it hampered the grip Madara needed on his infamous gunbai. He’d trained himself to use the other hand like most shinobi did but his effectiveness in battle was markedly different when doing so, forcing Tobirama to take point constantly rather than switching out by turns.

“Don’t forget the ointment,” Tobirama called over helpfully, not bothering to hide a snicker when Madara lifted his head to glare in response.

“I know that!”

“Ah so you were leaving it behind in the pack, what, to keep it warm?”

Madara tore off a strip of bandage and hauled it ineffectually through the air, shouting, “Leave me alone!”

He should. In truth he really should leave the man alone. Both of them needed a little time to process the discovery of their unexpected connection. Unfortunately Tobirama didn’t have nearly half the interpersonal skills his brother did, he’d never really learned when to leave well enough alone, so instead of giving them both a little space he watched the fluttering bandage until it hit the ground and then lifted his face with a smirk.

“Very effective. I’m all but shaking in my boots.”

“You will be if you ever let me catch you on the training fields alone!”

“Go on then, we’re alone right now.”

“Fuck off!” Madara grunted.

Tobirama peeked over his shoulder to make sure the fire wasn’t going to collapse on itself and then turned back to his mission partner. “I don’t think I will. You are literally my only entertainment right now.”

“I am not your entertainment!”

“No, you’re right. You’re more like a natural disaster that I just can’t help watching. It’s human nature, you know? Like a morbid curiosity.”

Even as he spoke the words he knew he was being an ass but, as he’d said, it wasn’t like there was much else for him to do in this godforsaken cave. He might as well get a few licks in while he still had the energy. Watching Madara’s ears turn red with anger was just as fascinating as it had ever been, though having to force his mind away from examining why he was so fascinated was new.

“If anyone here is morbid it’s you!”

“Well I’m not denying that.”

“Be more insulted!” Madara screeched. “I hate when you do that!”

Tobirama folded his arms and lifted one hand to tap at his chin. “Do what, pray tell?”

“You’re always so fucking unflappable! Just- just- it isn’t fair! Be...flapped! Or something!”

“Flapped?” He’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. It was perfectly reasonable that he should throw his head back and start laughing, thoroughly amused by his companion’s loss for words. Madara didn’t seem to appreciate his reaction but really that wasn’t far out of the ordinary. For the most part Madara had never seemed to appreciate much about him at all and until recently that hadn’t exactly bothered him.

Right now the only thing flapping was Madara’s jaw as the man tried several times to come up with a response, any response at all. In the end he simply tossed the end of the bandage roll in Tobirama’s direction with lethal force and snatched the closest bedroll, storming off to spread it out across the space kicked free of snow.

It was a shame to have his entertainment taken away so quickly, even more of a shame to know that if he also tried to bed down right now the only spot to do so would be within range of Madara’s vengeful hands, so Tobirama was left very suddenly with the echoes of his own laughter and little else. The grin on his face turned rapidly in to a scowl. Patient he might be when the situation called for it but he’d never been a fan of keeping the company of his own thoughts. Books were much more pleasant. Much less likely to spiral out of control in to dangerous places or earn him another lecture from his older brother. Not having his library at hand was certainly the worst part of any mission he’d ever taken, filled as they usually were with down time in which he had little to do but plan his next move or stare aimlessly at the surroundings.

As much as it would probably be more interesting to wander off and explore how far back these caves actually went he didn’t think it was in his best interests to take the chance at getting lost. If nothing else Madara would definitely tell on him when they got back to the village.

For a minute or so their little cavern was filled with the rustling of Madara settling himself down to sleep, wrenching the blankets off again when he realized he hadn’t put away all the medical supplies, then fussing at them to cover himself a second time. Once he finally settled down for good there was nothing but the sound of the fire crackling merrily away. Sealed off as they were from the rest of the world, the fire was their only source of light. If not for the fact that the caves obviously went pretty deep in to the mountain it would have been a very poor idea indeed to let it keep burning away all their oxygen. Tobirama was grateful he didn’t need to put it out. Aside from giving him something to listen to besides the inside of his own head it also gave him something to look at. Or rather it gave him a bit of light by which to stare off in his partner’s direction, studying the length of Madara's body and the shapes he made under the regulation wool blanket.

Not a good idea. Definitely not a good idea. Tobirama jerked his eyes away as soon as he realized what he was doing. Better if there had been no fire. He’d rather be blind for lack of light and leave himself at the mercy of the Sharingan for seeing any possible threats than to sit here and stare across the snowy rock like some lovelorn maiden. No matter what discoveries had been made that day they were not some pair of star crossed lovers. There was no need for whatever dramatics his face had just been doing.

Digging both hands in to his eyes with a sigh, Tobirama decided it was probably best if he just went to sleep too. It was still too early for him to be very tired but falling asleep would at least stop him from following wherever the hell his thoughts had just been trying to go. Somewhere much too thespian for his tastes. He wasn't his brother, after all, there was no need for him to sit here and analyze his feelings or some other such nonsense. If the fire burnt down while they slept and he woke to darkness, well, he did still have Madara with him; just because he was rightfully leery of the Sharingan’s powers didn’t mean he was above taking advantage of them when he needed to. Perhaps a little mean when the man was injured by, hey, he wasn’t the one who could see in the dark and that was hardly his own fault.

Another sigh caught at the edges of his teeth and slipped out sounding more like a hiss when he pushed himself up on to his feet, striding over towards their packs with careful footsteps. There was no telling what sort of uneven ground could be hiding under all this snow. So far away from the dancing flames his already poor vision was even worse so at first Tobirama assumed that Madara had simply kicked everything out of place while looking for the bandages. It wasn’t until he gathered all of the packs together and dug through every one of them that he realized one very important item was missing.

His eyes snapped over to the prone figure only feet away. Madara lay stretched out and perfectly still on top of his bed roll. Or, more accurately, the only bedroll. In all the kerfuffle of their client running off and the avalanche trapping them in it appeared they had lost not only some of the food they’d been carrying but also their second sleeping mat.

If not for the snow on the ground it wouldn’t have been such a big deal. He still had a blanket and it wasn’t like he’d never bedded down for the night without something comfortable to lie on, catching a few hours up a tree whenever he had to and doing so without complaint. The problem was that lying down on frozen rock had only one outcome and with both of them already injured in various ways he certainly couldn’t take the risk of waking up with pneumonia when there was a perfectly viable - if crushingly embarrassing - solution snoozing peacefully right there. He really hoped Madara wasn’t too comfy just yet.

“What?” his partner snarled when he was nudged lightly with one foot.

“Shove over,” Tobirama demanded.

“The fuck? There is literally a whole cave of space, go make your bed somewhere else.”

“Can’t. I have to share your bed so shove over, Uchiha.”

Madara snapped upright so fast they both heard something in his back pop, though neither paid it much attention. “You fucking what now?”

“There appears to be a distinct lack of a second bedroll anywhere so unless you want me sneezing all over your bandages when I inevitably have to change them you will shove the hell over.” Tobirama crossed both arms over his chest like they could hold in all the confusing emotions trying very hard to bubble their way to the surface.

He wasn’t sure what to think of the way Madara’s jaw hung open wordlessly, couldn’t properly make out the nuances of that expression without more light to see by. Maybe if he weren’t standing at such an angle as to throw the other man in shadow- but to step aside now so he could see better would be to admit how bad his eyes really were and that was a weakness he’d never bothered to share even with his own brother. He settled instead for standing his ground until that rounded jaw snapped shut again for Madara to harrumph loudly.

“Fucking- are you serious? This is ridiculous! Where did the other bedroll go?”

“Probably lost in the snow somewhere but I would honestly much rather be sleeping right now than trying to guess at things I may never have an answer to. So. Shove. Over. I will not say it again.”

Ignoring Madara’s voice shouting in his ear was as easy as tuning him out, a feat barely comparable to the task of tuning out Hashirama in the middle of high drama. Tobirama untied his armor and set it all aside carefully. By the time he turned back he noticed that, although the screaming hadn’t so much as paused, Madara had gone ahead and moved over a few inches anyway. He did give vent to a few choked noises when Tobirama slid in under the covers with him but it wasn’t difficult to parse out why. Tobirama was still up on one elbow when he paused to examine their situation.

Which way was he supposed to face? They would both be warmer if he faced inwards and curled himself around Madara’s back but such a position felt much too intimate. Facing away from each other would be blessedly less intimate but there wasn’t exactly a whole lot of space on the mat beneath them and it would take only a single shift for one of them to roll away from the other, taking all the blankets with them. Sleeping on his back was generally the way he preferred but, again, space was the main issue. He would have to lay half on the snow to do that.

“Just...just pick something and go to sleep,” Madara grumbled.

“Eager to cuddle?” Tobirama snapped at him, a response born more of habit than any particular ire.

“Fuck off!”

Just for that Tobirama slumped down on to his right side and made sure to curl in as close as possible, grinning viciously to himself as the other man stiffened noticeably. He himself was far from immune to the awkwardness but petty spite had always driven him faster than any care for his own comfort. If Madara hated this then he would lie here awake all night before he rolled over to make them both comfortable.

It would have been nice, he admitted silently after several minutes, having enough mercy in his soul to relent and just roll over. Tomorrow promised to be an absolute bastard of a day, not least because the task of digging them out of this place would undoubtedly fall mostly on his own shoulders. He definitely could use some rest before tackling that. Instead he lay there with eyes wide open staring at the back of Madara’s head and wondering what reactions he might get if he pulled on some of that bristling hair. Almost as though the man could hear his thoughts Madara curled in to himself a little tighter. The movement was an innocent one. The way it pushed Madara’s rump in to the cradle of Tobirama’s hips was most decidedly not an innocent result even if it was obviously unintentional.

“Nnngg!?”

“Very intelligent,” Tobirama breathed, not wanting to speak louder for fear the sudden rush of want running through him might be heard in his voice.

“That wasn’t- I didn’t- fuck off, Senju!”

“I will have you know that it is taking all of my energy not to instinctually respond with an implication you would rather I fuck you instead.”

Madara’s screech could probably be heard through the several feet of snow blocking their cave entrance. “It doesn’t count if you still say it you idiot!”

Yet for all the screaming protests he went on to ring both of their ears with, Madara’s reaction notably lacked one thing. He never once tried to move away. Oh he waved the arm he wasn’t lying on and jawed until Tobirama began to wonder if he wasn’t wearing down the bones of his own skull from overuse but not once did he so much as tilt his hips in to a different position.

Such telling body language gave Tobirama all the clues he needed to figure out exactly what he’d missed in their earlier conversation. It was possible these types of clues were something he’d been missing in all of their past interactions, body language he never noticed simply because he tried to look at the other man as little as possible. To his shame such a habit had been built entirely on the premise that Madara hated it when people didn’t pay attention to him. From now on he promised himself he would pay closer attention - even if he might not let Madara see such efforts. Just because he was begrudgingly interested didn’t mean he was willing to set that spite down just yet. Some habits took longer to break than others.

And some would never fade but maybe that was more of a personal failing than anything else.

“White flag.” The words were out and hanging in the air before Tobirama even realized his mouth had decided to speak before his brain had a proper sentence ready. In front of him Madara stiffened impossibly further.

“The hell are you on about?”

“I...am waving a white flag. We both need rest. This is, ah, comfortable enough. Let’s just put any further arguments or conversations on hold until tomorrow and go to sleep.”

Madara seemed to chew that over for a moment until he asked very quietly, “Like this?”

“I am comfortable if you are.”

He half expected to have the man roll over and deck him in the face for such presumptions. When the silence began to stretch he wondered if he was meant to take it as agreement until he heard very quiet words drift back to caress his ears, a softer sound than he had ever heard from this man in his life.

“Your arms’ll go numb sleeping like that. Might as well...might as well stretch them out.”

“Ah. I didn’t presume-”

Tobirama cleared his throat before very carefully shifting back to make room for where both of his arms were folded tightly against Madara’s back. When he stretched one out neither of them said anything about Madara lifting his head to make room for it beneath the pillow they shared. And when he stretched the other out with very delicate movements they both remained utterly silent as he laid it gently across Madara’s waist.

It was the subtle relaxing of all the muscles pressed up against his front that finally made everything click. Oh but he was a blind man. A very blind man with terrible vision to boot. If anyone asked he was going to blame every misunderstanding on the man in his arms with zero shame.

Tomorrow they would wake to fight their way past the snow and put in at least a token effort to find their wayward client. Somewhere along the way they would search for the supplies that got lost in the shuffle. But as he closed his eyes Tobirama smiled to realize neither one of them was likely to put a whole lot of work in to finding that second bedroll they had lost, not when it seemed their newly discovered bond was something Madara wanted much more than he’d let on before.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #soulmate au #fanfiction #madatobi gift exchange 2021

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years ago

Text

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be.

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own.

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway.

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck.

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games.

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough.

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance.

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied.

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan.

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him.

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably.

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure.

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus.

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home.

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside.

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason.

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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zestyemby · 3 years ago

Text

Monsters in the Shadows - Chapter 1

Author’s Note: Sorry for the super delayed chapter post. Things got a bit busy with work and school. Let me know what you think and I’ll try and get the next chapter out here in the next few weeks.

____

The first time that Y/N had met Steve was shortly after he’d emerged from the ice in 2011. Of course, she’d met him before, seventy years earlier, in her other life. That was something that Nick Fury had warned her not to mention , at least not right away. The meeting was set up for Fury, and the two had met up in a small café that was relatively empty for a Saturday morning.

“So you’re the agent I’m meeting with,” Steve asked as he took a seat across from her.

“You sound disappointed,” she replied with a bitter smile.

“No, just surprised.”

“Why?”

“You seem young.”

“I am.”

“How old?”

“Twenty.”

“They’re recruiting pretty young.”

“I did swallow up an entire city block of D.C. when I was eighteen so,” she shrugged. The choking sound is what caught her attention, followed by the look of shock on Steve’s face. “Long story short, I was at the Captain America exhibit with friends after graduation, saw the part about Bucky, blacked out, and next thing I know, I’m waking up in a hospital bed. They said I was at the center of it all and there was even video footage. Something awakened in me and no one is sure what. Not sure what else there is to say.”

“So Fury recruited you because?”

“Because if he didn’t I would probably be on death row or already dead. I’m still trying to figure out how to bring those two hundred people back from the darkness that swallowed them.” She looked down at her hands, “I can hear them sometimes, when its quiet. I’ll hear them screaming.”

Steve was quiet. He could tell just by looking at her that she was scared, even though she appeared confident. He even heard it in her voice when she said she heard them screaming. Later, he would have to find footage of what she was talking about because to him, it didn’t make sense. His gaze fell to her hands, briefly, but enough to notice the inky black fingers that faded just before the knuckles.

“Why are we meeting,” he finally asked.

“No idea, he just said to be here.” She picked up her cup of coffee and went to drink it, but stopped, eyeing him from across the table. “That and I remember you from seventy years ago.”

“What?”

“When I saw the exhibit on Bucky, I saw memories. They aren’t mine, or, they are, but from my past life. And I know they are mine because I felt every touch and every emotion when I saw them. The heat of Bucky’s hand in mine the night before he was shipped off. His breath on my ear as he said my name and that he loved me. The promise of forever in the last kiss.” She took a deep breath, swallowed the last bit of her coffee, and looked at Steve. “And how it felt like my heart was ripped from my chest the day you showed up at my door and told me that he was gone. You caught me and held me as I cried.”

Steve sat rigid as he listened to her. He wasn’t there for the final goodbye between her and Bucky, but he knew how much Bucky loved her. They had even had a conversation on whether Bucky would propose that night. He never did find out if it happened. When she mentioned the day he told her Bucky died, he knew she was telling the truth. Her eyes were e/c back then, but her y/e/c eyes held that same pain. “He loved you, you know.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone.”

_______

After that day, the two began to spent more time together. It helped that, even though Y/N was not the Y/N from the forties, she still had memories of it. This aided in further bonding. So much so that she had a key to his apartment and regularly passed out on his couch and eventually, in his bed. Her sleeping in his bed was a result of nightmares. Well, really just the voices in the shadows of the people she had let her darkness swallow all those years ago.

At first he wasn’t sure what it was, what kept her awake at night. There were times she would fall asleep before him and he’d wake up to hearing the television going several hours later. It wasn’t until after he had started going on missions with the Avengers and coming home late at night that he realized what was going on. He’d walked through the door at two a.m. one morning to her crying in her sleep saying she was sorry. Then there was the scream and how she bolted upright, terrified.

“Hey hey hey,” he whispered as he dropped his bag and sat down next to her. He watched as her eyes darted around the room, lingering on the darkest shadows. It was like she saw something there. “Y/N,” he tried to get her to focus, “deep breaths. You’re okay.”

“They were here.”

“Who?” He noticed her eyes were on the far corner, the darkest part of the room. Unnaturally dark, he thought.

“Them.”

“The ones the darkness swallowed?”

“No,” she replied as she pulled the blanket tighter and moved closer to him. “These aren’t human.”

“What are they?” He had one arm wrapped around her shoulders, his hand running up and down her arm to comfort her. It didn’t escape him that she was still focused on that dark corner. “Is one here?” When she nodded, he frowned.

“You know Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yeah?”

“And the Cheshire Cat with that devious grin?”

“Mhm.”

“They have that grin when they smile. Only their teeth are sharp, like a shark. They don’t really have a physical form but,” she finally looked at him, “they have that smile. And they can reach out of the shadows with these long tentacle like fingers that just keep stretching.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“I’ve felt them. They’ve been wrapped around me and inside me. Its like they’re searching for something but they wont tell me what.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me Steve.”

“I’m not.” He shifted so they were facing each other, a serious look on his face. “You said these things touched you.” She nodded. “Have they hurt you?” He knew the answer when she looked away from him. “Those bandages you sometimes show up in, they aren’t from missions, are they?”

“No.” She hadn’t expected to be pulled into a hug after that. And she would be lying if she didn’t immediately feel safe in his embrace. It wasn’t like seventy years ago when he held her as she mourned Bucky. It was different, because she was different. Had she developed feelings for Steve? Possibly.

“You can sleep with me tonight.” Almost immediately after he had said it, he regretted it. He wasn’t sure if it would come off as if he was implying something else. Maybe a part of him wanted that but for right now, he just wanted to make sure that she was safe. “That is, uh…”

“Steve,” she let out a small sigh, “Thank you.”

________

That night started a chain of events that neither of them saw coming. What had started out as a way to comfort Y/N, quickly turned into something more. For at least two months, whenever she’d start having nightmares, she would show up at his apartment and crawl into bed with him. Soon she was over more often and they’d wake up cuddled together. It was the morning, six months later, when Steve woke up to the feeling of Y/N’s breath on his neck, did he realize how far things had gone.

He shifted, moving away to get up, she didn’t move at all. Once he was out of bed, he pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and brushed hair from her face. In the two years they’d been friends, he never considered that they could be more. She remembered Bucky, and he knew she still loved him. Just like for him, he still loved Peggy. But both were gone and maybe it was time to move on.

“You’re staring,” she muttered in her groggy morning voice.

“And you’re on my pillow,” he chuckled.

“Sue me,” was her reply before rolling over, head still on said pillow.

All he could do was laugh at her childishness. After a few minutes he sat on the bed and leaned over her, trapping her on both sides. “Are you going to wake up?”

“Do I have to?” She shifted, now laying on her back looking up at him.

“Yes.”

“Fine.” It was his satisfied smile that set the butterflies in her stomach aflutter. When he continued to keep her pinner, she raised a brow. “Steve?” He didn’t respond, not verbally anyway. Instead he lifted a hand and placed it on the side of her neck, thumb on her jaw. Her heart began to race at the action. He sure is taking his sweet time, she thought. With a sigh she gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to her.

“Y/N!”

“If you’re going to kiss me, then do it already.”

Steve laughed before closing the distance between them and kissed her. He gently pulled her up and wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close. The kiss didn’t last long but it was longer than he had expected. The main interruption was the doorbell followed by incessant knocking. He let out a groan as he released Y/N.

“Want me to get that or,” she asked as she moved into a sitting position.

“I’ll get it.”

As he stood up, she moved to her knees and pulled him into another kiss. “I’ll get started on coffee and breakfast.” She kissed him one more time before getting off the bed and smiling. “We can always continue this later. You know, when we find out who is at the door.”

Steve watched her as she walked out of the room, his heart still racing from the kiss. It was different from when he kissed Peggy. Though, that could be because the situations in which they happened were different. Or it could be because they are two different people. Either way, he hadn’t expected it to happen the way it did. Rolling his shoulders, he headed towards the front door where the knocking continued. “Who is it?”

“I’m looking for Agent Y/L/N,” the voice on the other side replied.

The muttered ‘dammit’ that Steve heard from the kitchen alerted him that she knew. When she appeared, she looked less than pleased. “Its for you,” he whispered.

“Who is it,” Y/N called.

“Agent Friedman,” the voice replied.

“Fuck.”

“You haven’t been answering your phone.”

“Yeah its call sleeping.”

“With Captain Rogers? That is hardly a reason to ignore your phone.”

“No Richard,” she hissed, “I was actually sleeping. You know that thing people do at night to reset their mind and body?” She opened the door and crossed her arms. “Why are you here?”

“You have a job.” Richard looked passed Y/N and saw Steve, also with his arms cross and a brow raised.

“And you found me here how?”

“You weren’t in your apartment.”

“How would you know?”

“I still have a key.”

“Remind me to change the locks. Doesn’t explain how you knew I was here.”

“We tracked your phone. You’ve been spending a lot of time here recently.”

Y/N frowned and reached for the door, “What I do and where I go is none of your business. It hasn’t been for a long time.” Before he had a chance to respond, she slammed the door shut and locked it. “You can leave now Richard.” She let out a sigh as she rested her forehead on the door. “Raincheck on the coffee?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied. He headed into the kitchen to finished brewing the coffee that she had started to prepare. He heard the bathroom door shut shortly after. While he waited for the coffee to brew he looked over the paper but his mind kept thinking back to the conversation at the door. The tone in Richard’s voice and the way that Y/N reacted to his presence and how he spoke to her. It made him wonder about their relationship.

_______

After about ten minutes, Y/N emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, and still looking unhappy. She walked into the room and closed the door. “That’s just great,” she huffed as she scrolled through her phone. There were twenty-three missed calls and a dozen or so messages. Most from Richard and one from Maria Hill. Its been two years and he is still obsessed and possessive.

“Y/N?”

“Its nothing.”

Steve sighed, watching her pull a shirt on then grabbing her shoes. “He has a key to your apartment.”

“Yeah and I thought he destroyed it two years ago when we broke up. That’s what he told me anyway.” After putting her shoes on, she grabbed the wet towel, ready to put it back in the bathroom to dry. When Steve grabbed her arm as she passed, she looked at him. “Look, it doesn’t matter. Its been dealt with.” The look on his face said he wasn’t convinced but he didn’t push the subject further. “I have to go. Sorry.”

“Where to?”

“Egypt apparently.” She walked into the bathroom and replaced the towel. As she walked through the kitchen she stopped and picked up the cup of coffee on the counter. She took a drink and heard Steve clear his throat. “What?”

“I could have made you a cup,” he said as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

“Would have been a waste since I’m leaving.” Standing on her tippy toes she kissed the corner of his mouth. “I really have to go.”

______

The mission in Egypt was suppose to be a simple one. Do some recon in some old ruins where there had been some concerning reports coming in. The location had been mostly abandoned for nearly a century but there had been activity off and recently. Several vehicles had been seen coming and going for several months before SHIELD had picked up on it. That was when Y/N and a handful of other SHIELD agents had been sent to check it out.

The team was scattered throughout the ruins, checking possible doorways and crumbling buildings. “There isn’t anything here,” one of the agents whispered over the comms.

“No,” Y/N replied, “There is definitely something here.”

“How do you know? Did the shadows tell you,” the agent mocked.

“They told me you’re a dick Michaels,” she hissed. “Considering the location and the type of ruins, I’m willing to bet there is an underground chamber at least. Start searching the ground. We’re bound to find something.”

“Or someone,” another agent pointed out.

“Come on man,” the Michaels began, “you’re too obsessed with the movie. Its not real.”

“It could be.”

“Would both of you shut up,” Y/N sighed.

“Its not my fault that Thespin here thinks a movie about a mummy coming back to life is real.”

“The Mummy is a work of art and Brendan Fraser was amazing in it,” Thespin replied. “His chemistry with Rachel Weizs was on point.”

“Okay I’ll give you that,” Michaels replied, “but undead mummies aren’t a thing.”

“When it comes to the Egyptians, I wouldn’t put it passed them to come up with a way to make it possible.” Y/N moved some sand around with her foot and felt around for a possible trigger of some sort. When she heard click, she stepped back and watched as the ground opened to her left. She smirked when Michaels made a face and Thespin laughed.

“What are you doing,” Michaels asked as he watched Y/N start walking down the stairs.

“My job.”

He pulled her back and took her place, “I’ll go. You’re an asset and if you get killed then Fury is going to have our heads.”

“Not to mention Captain Rogers.”

Y/N stopped and looked at them. “Fury, maybe. Ste…” She fell silent when she felt that clawing feeling at the back of her mind. A sign that the shadows were trying to warn her. She started looking around, hand on the wall, waiting. That’s when her vision started to fade out, shifting to a location she hadn’t seen. “Lets see what we’ve got.”

Over the years, she’d figured out how to control her powers. To use the shadows the see what was going on in locations others couldn’t see. To use them as a weapon and to fade into them. It was something she didn’t do often because of what else lay within the darkness of the shadows. The monsters that haunted her since her powers activated.

While she looked around, she made note of the equipment and how it wasn’t covered in dust. Someone had been down there recently and had actively been using the location for some time. When she heard movement, her eyes darted around, trying to locate it. That was when a man came into view, and he was looking directly at her. Or it would be if she was physically there.

The more she looked at him, the more she was pulled to actually be there. Before she knew it, they were standing face to face, and there was a gun to her head. She looked around the room was more and saw Michaels laying on the floor. He was staring in their direction, but there was no life left in his eyes. She watched as Thespin started making his way down as well, wincing as the gunshot rang through the room. They didn’t deserve to have their lives ended in such a way.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the man said as he once again pointed the gun at her.

“Then shoot me.”

She had just moved to Brooklyn to live with her aunt after her parents had died. It had been roughly three months since she moved but the city still confused her. She was trying to find a corner diner that her aunt had told her about that was in need of a waitress. Her being lost was probably what led to the situation she found herself in.

“You’re a pretty one,” the man said as he emerged from the alley.

“Please just leave me alone.”

“Come on. Why don’t you let me take you on a date,” the man said as he followed closely behind her.

“I’m not interested.”

“Just one date. Bet I could make all your dreams come true.”

“No thanks.”

Apparently he didn’t like that answer because he reached out and grabbed her wrist. Pulling her back and inevitably pinning her against the nearest building. “Why not? Pretty little thing like you, everyone would be envious.” He could tell she was uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. She had turned him down and he didn’t like that.

“Let me go!” The more she squirmed to get away, the tighter his grip became on her arm. If she wasn’t scared before, she was now.

“Hey,” an unknown voice shouted.

This caught the man’s attention as he finally looked from her, to where the voice had come from. “What do you want?”

“She said she wasn’t interested, didn’t she?”

“Get lost.”

She finally looked to the man who had called out. He was tall, accompanying him was a scrawnier man, but she was focused on the one who spoke. “Please,” she begged, “please help me.” That didn’t sit well with the man holding her, because his grip tightened again, and she winced. It was then that the other man approached, looking none too happy. The pain in her wrist was too much to bear so she closed her eyes to keep herself from crying more.

After a few seconds, she felt her arm being released and she crumbled to the ground, crying. That didn’t stop her from overhearing the fighting and the sound of someone running away. When she opened her eyes again, she was face to face with the man who had likely saved her life. Ocean blue eyes stared back at her, full of concern.

“Are you okay,” he asked.

“I,” she looked at her wrist that was beginning to bruise, “Thank you.”

He held his hand out to her and she gratefully took it. Once they were both standing, he looked at her wrist and frowned. Marks of fingers could clearly be seen. It bothered him that he didn’t realize how tightly the man had been holding her. “James Buchanan Barnes at your service. Most people call me Bucky though.”

“Steve Rogers,” his friend said.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” She pulled her wrist to her chest and hid it the best she could with her other hand.

“Where are you headed,” Bucky asked.

“Just this corner diner my aunt told me about. I guess I’m a little lost.” She gave them the address. She watched as the two exchanged a look before Steve sighed and Bucky smiled. “I’m in the wrong part of town, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Steve replied.

“But we’ll get you to where you need to go,” Bucky added.

As she came out of the memory, she put her hand to her head. It took a moment before she realized she was no longer in the bunker and the man was gone. She wasn’t even in the desert anymore. Or was she? It was hard to tell with the city buildings and the several hundred people and vehicles that were around her. “Wait this is…”

_______

Alarms started going off at SHIELD headquarters the moment the missing section of Washington D.C. turned up in Egypt. “Sir! There are several hundred people stranded in Egypt right now.”

“What of our agents,” Fury asked.

“They aren’t responding.”

“Agent Y/L/N? Any sign of her?”

“An S.O.S was sent out just before the missing blocks appeared.”

“Get rescue out there. And keep trying Y/L/N.”

“Yes sir!”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x Female Reader #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve x female reader #steve x y/n #steve rogers x reader #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #sam wilson x y/n #reader insert #captain america #captain america x reader

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years ago

Text

Iris

Pairing: Choi Saeran/Reader, 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character

Description: Was there faith in a false paradise with a savior that spilled honey sweet lies to make you agree? There is no life to be found amongst those in a rotting flowerbed, only those clinging to the roots as the world awaits your demise. Why is he still here when others had long been plucked from the dying earth? And better yet, why are you still here after everything, clinging to his roots as if he’ll bring you life? Or is he the one clinging to you?

SE Saeran x Former Believer Reader

Word Count: 6000

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Chapter Six

Tumultuous was the task that Unknown had placed into your hands. It didn’t matter how much you did or how much thought you put into what you did, he would scoff at your ideas and notes as if he didn’t even want to read them in the first place. Yet, you didn’t let it stop you.

No, if he was going to make you do this job then you were going to go above and beyond to ensure that he understood you weren’t dead weight.

If he wanted to play this game by yanking your chain, then you were going to walk faster to overcome the feeling of a collar burning against your throat.

You spent what felt like weeks grinding your fingers against the keys of your laptop and hours working on writing through the intelligence notes. He had been doing this all by himself for some time before you came into the picture so the amount of hours that he had spent on this was something that you’d not even begun to imagine. How many hours did he sit there watching everyone and everything on his own?

Was he doing that in the middle of trying to guard and protect Mint Eye, as well?

Oftentimes, you would glance over from your task to catch a glimpse of the man behind his desk, eyes watching as he controlled to click with his mouse and tap tap tap those keys. He was… so interesting to say the least in this regard. You knew that he was committed to his work. There was nothing that he’d do but his work.

He spent hours alone and isolated doing everything that had to be done and he never did other things.

You knew that because before you had encountered him in the hallways, it had been the first time that you had seen him outside of a ceremony… and even then, you never saw him stay for very long. The Savior told him to come partake weekly but it would be a rare time if you saw a glimmer of white hair underneath a robe—

And seeing all of his work, you understood why. You understood why nobody saw him and why he was the true moniker of Unknown. His role was simple and now you were living the same thing. Nobody’d see you crawling around the place unless he ordered it of you or expected it from here on out.

It wasn’t like any believers interacted with you, but still…

The isolation didn’t make your guts feel better in any way. You normally loved the feeling of being alone and away from the rest of the world but this was a different kind of isolation than the one that you had chosen for yourself. This was suffocating. You had no idea how Unknown locked himself in this dark room without windows for days on end.

It felt like you were going to forget what day and time it was the longer you stayed with him. Did he even know what day he was on? You couldn’t imagine that because he functioned like a robot. He had done that to himself… how the Savior found someone like to be so loyal was beyond you, but the more that you read about the RFA members, the more curious you were about how he was swept into this.

Yoosung Kim and Zen were… Well, what did a student and a musical actor have to do with any of this in the first place? There were other members that you noted but you weren’t quite sure what to think of them as well. What did they mean to the Savior and Unknown? For that matter, what did Unknown mean to the Savior?

Everyone knew that the Savior would often dote on Unknown, her fingers pressed against his shoulders as she coaxed him from his fits of anger, calling him her son. They looked nothing alike but she seemed to take on the role of a mother for him. She did that for everyone in paradise but… it felt different when she looked at Unknown… and the way that he looked back at her.

What did it all mean?

With knowing eyes, you glanced away from Unknown and looked at the clock. It was time for the weekly ceremony and you weren’t going to miss it this time around. If Unknown was going to hold that over your head then you were going to make sure that he couldn’t get out of it, either. You shut the lid to your laptop and stood, the sounds of your shoes clunking against the ground as you did so which caught his attention.

“Oi, boss,” you called his attention as you went to grab your robes from the closet. “It’s time for the ceremony. You’re the one that made a big deal about not showing up on time the last time we had one so you better get a move on.”

There was a non-committal sound from the back of his throat. A part of you expected him to look at you with a cat-like fury in his eyes before he made you pay for saying that. He didn’t seem to care what you had said to him because he was the boss. He had said that himself and you understand that, but it was no excuse. If he was holding you to this standard—

Then you’d drag him down with you every step of the way humanly possible. It was only fair, you thought with a disgruntled look crossing your face. If he was going to make things a living hell in his room then you would make sure that he followed all of the rules that he wanted you to follow like a loyal dog.

It wasn’t like you could get away from him.

Your entire world changed because of Unknown and there was no way to go back. You accepted that fact as it was. It was rough but you’d been moved from your own room to his, into this tiny little space that now was yours as well. There was a room attached to his workspace that he’d gotten so he never had a real reason to leave. He had his own en suite bathroom and a very simple room to go with it. He hardly used it, though. The bed was never slept in and when you laid back on it, it was like the mattress was never used.

Which meant that your few worldly possessions could be moved into his space. A couple of things that you had been allowed to keep, but not much. A photograph, your two outfits provided by the Savior to clothe you in purity, and yourself.

You paid no mind to the implication of which that meant. Mint Eye was meant to be a place where it was easy to belong but at the same time, you were meant to give up many things to commit yourself to the cause. It was like any religion… leave behind many of the things that meant something to you to be able to achieve salvation.

It made sense, in theory, to let go of earthly desire but seeing all of your things easily tucked away in a bag always felt…

Odd.

Regardless, you wrapped your robes around your shoulders and let the hood sit against your neck as you turned back to face Unknown. “Oh, no, boss. You’re the one that told me I should never skip out on the most important task that I could maintain before I was made your assistant. So, what’s the good excuse that you’ve got for yourself, huh? After all, someone as important as you shouldn’t skip out on something so enlightening.”

“You know as well as I do that I’m committed to paradise,” his voice was dry and flat as he continued to press his fingers to the keys and ignore your presence. “The Savior understands why I miss out on these ceremonies unless she’s told me to come and save someone alongside her at the pulpit. I don’t need to partake in elixir with the crowds who fan to her footsteps so easy. I have my own supply that I take at the appropriate hour.”

So, he was given his own supply of elixir to drink when he needed it? That was a surprise. Nobody was allowed to control their own consumption of elixir… nobody that you knew, anyway.

It made sense why you didn’t see him, then… he could drink it when he was meant to and he was expected to drink every last drop no matter how he felt. You wondered how that must’ve felt to drink alone as the burning feeling washed over him. Would it sting more to be alone with your thoughts?

It wasn’t so bad when you were with others. It made everything feel warm. fuzzy and your heart sputtering against your ribs wasn’t so bad… since you knew that everyone was going through that moment together. There was a sense of kinship in pain… a pleasure in knowing that you were in something with others that were looking for the same salvation that you were. It was what made paradise feel like… home.

Even if you were isolated, even if you didn’t get to interact with others, you could always find yourself home in the middle of a worship ceremony. That’s where paradise made everyone feel like they were meant to be there. It didn’t matter how hard it was to work for the goals of salvation, not when you’d gotten a day every week to remind yourself of why you had come here in the first place.

To find a family.

Unknown couldn’t take that away.

You wouldn’t let him take that away, anyway. Rather, you were prepared to do what had to be done to ensure that you existed just as you always had, even if you had to change plans and shift the way that it worked for a while.

So, you braced yourself and stood your ground behind Unknown, repeating your prior words. “I do believe it was you that said that it was wrong to avoid the ceremony, Unknown. So, are you going to get up or am I going to have to tell the Savior why you skipped?”

That twisted laughter that escaped the back of his throat was amusing to him, as far as you could tell from the way that his hands paused their endless work. “Haha… hahahaha… are you using my words against me, assistant? Do you really think that’s a good idea? Do you think I’m going to let you do that to me? I’m your boss… and the Savior trusts me more than she’d ever trust you, your pathetic words will mean nothing.”

“I’m merely supplying what you told me, boss.”

“Clever little shit, aren’t you?”

“So, are you coming or not, boss? Because I’m going and I’m not going to avoid breaking the rules of paradise for your sake. If she wanted me to take my elixir here with you, Savior would have said that I should do that a long time ago.”

Much to your surprise, Unknown did spin his chair around to face you and you were left staring into those mint eyes of his. He seemed to be trying to read your expression and look for a sign of weakness but all you supplied in return was a narrowed gaze and an undaunted stance. He couldn’t intimidate you as long as you bit back.

Even if he held most of the cards, you weren’t going to bend.

“That’s what I thought,” you said, simply.

He didn’t say a word to you but he did brush past you to grab his cloak. You snorted when he did and began to walk towards the door of the room, swiping your ID against the scanner and watching as the heavy door thudded open to reveal the moonlight that poured in from the window. It felt nice against your skin to see some kind of natural light again.

You didn’t bother to glance over your shoulder to see if Unknown was coming behind you, because you knew that he had no choice. If you showed up and he didn’t, it would look bad on him.

Not a single time had the Savior told you that you would be cleansed with Unknown all alone, so you had second thoughts about heading to the church tonight. It was going to burn, but you wanted, no, you needed a reason to feel like this was worth it.

No matter how much the elixir stung in your lungs, no matter how dizzy and hot it made you feel, and no matter how much you gasped around the acid, it would always settle in your guts and remind you to keep surviving no matter what to taste what it felt like to be truly free in bliss.

There were times in your life where you hesitated to drink it… but her beckoning hand told you to continue. It didn’t have to make sense, right? All you had to do was trust that the Savior had your best intentions in heart. That was the only true way to know that you were following the path of her light as intended.

That would bring peace to your mind, right? This would stop the feeling of hesitance that brewed up whenever you got confused about your new assignment. It would give you a reminder to stop thinking so hard and accept what you were given. You knew that’s what you had to do but without the elixir to bring you peace, it was so… hard.

Perhaps, it was different for Unknown… you thought as he caught up with you, a scowl on his lips as you were pretty sure he said, “You better not boss me around again, assistant.”

Only if you treat me properly, you wanted to scoff.

He knew that he walked right into it and he had to accept that reality. Silently, you and Unknown walked through the halls towards the church located in the heart of Magenta and took your place amongst the crowd after your trek throughout the quiet building. The familiar halls were something you knew like the back of your hand after spending so many months looking for differences in the repeating patterns.

Magenta was like a hotel to many… like a retreat. It was made to look that way to ensure that no one was better than anyone else. It kept everyone on the same playing field and kept them from thinking that their reality was like the outside world. You liked to believe that but after seeing the state of the room Unknown had, you couldn’t help but be curious of what the Savior’s quarters were like.

Did she live like the rest of the believers?

Unknown wasn’t likely to tell you but you knew that when he left the workroom, he would always go to see the Savior. He hardly left apart from grabbing his basic needs, and seeing him outside of the tiny space that you’d grown to call your new room, well, it felt odd. However, since he’d mentioned that he would normally take his elixir alone, you were starting to connect some dots.

Perhaps, there were things that you didn’t fully know about paradise. There was always the sense that there was something… amiss… but you had faith in the Savior. You just needed to focus, you couldn’t let these thoughts lead you astray any longer. You needed to breathe and let go of these feelings as soon as possible. With renewed focus, you bit into your tongue and focused on the walk.

He never said another word to you, which did make you feel as though you had bested him, if only for a brief moment, anyway. Either way, when you reached the church center you knew that it would be off the table for now. You could try to catch your breath again, and hopefully you would stop feeling those twisted feelings of self-doubt.

He took his spot by your side, and even though his hood was drawn over his head, you could see the pink tufts sticking out. That disgruntled look next left his face, either, but you felt a strong sense of satisfaction knowing that he didn’t try to argue with you this time. He might do it later when you’d least expect, but you knew it was worth it.

“Dedicated and loyal followers of Mint Eye who came to seek shelter and safety in the warmth of our humble Magenta, I welcome you this week, old and new believers alike,” the Savior’s voice spoke from the front of the room and dragged your attention away from Unknown. “I know it has been tough as of late to settle comfortably, knowing that there are so many people led astray to the darkness. But, I pray that you worry not for the lives of those that will one day come to realize their life’s true path in paradise.”

“You are the saved, the blessed, and the chosen ones. You’ve realized that society has shunned you and left you to be abandoned. The outside world didn’t try to mend your broken hearts, it continued to go over you and around you, crushing you underneath a weight that none deserve. Here in paradise, you’ll be protected from those that wish to trample you for being different. Here, you are welcome to be who you are without fear.”

“One day, we will be able to show the world they were mistaken in their judgment of us, as they realize our tender hearts want nothing more than to survive. As our numbers grow, as do our hearts. As does the wish to live in this world without contempt. You, my believers, all deserve to be seen and heard no matter how you feel, so I welcome you to stay amongst our blooming paradise, knowing that you will always be protected from their judgment.”

“I welcome you to join your fellow believers and find shelter. I welcome you to join us deeper every day you stay here. I welcome you to find peace with your comfort with our trusted family. Mint Eye is our family that will not abandon us, no matter how our hearts may feel… I welcome you to open your heart to Magenta and join the enlightenment that you will surely reach the longer you stay in our humble halls.”

The Savior leaned forward against her pulpit to look at all of the faces in the crowd one by one before her eyes settled on you and Unknown. You weren’t sure if she was looking at you directly, or if she was looking to see that Unknown had truly come. There was something in her sharp gaze that you couldn’t quite identify.

All you knew was her look was a strong one, a proud one, one that made your stomach twist into butterflies.

Her smile grew by the seconds that passed, “I invite you to partake of the elixir of salvation, as you drink from your glass, I ask you to think of the bliss that comes from the entanglement of pain. From our pain, we are born anew. With our pain, we can see what the world has done to us, and with this pain, we remind ourselves to never forget what we have suffered. Drink, drink up, my believers. For eternal paradise.”

The crowds echoed her words one by one but to your side, you noticed Unknown did not repeat the solemn words that she had spoken. If he noticed that you were looking, you couldn’t say for sure, but you gripped the glass of elixir in your hand as it had been waiting for you to pick up in the pew, hands resting against the glass of shimmering liquid without a second thought.

Why did he hesitate saying it?

Why?

Your stomach had felt like it was in the right place until you saw him… why was Unknown making you feel different? Why was his existence making you have these questions? It wasn’t just that he used your tardiness against you… it was every rule that he followed that was so unlike he rest of the believers that you knew.

He had taken his entire elixir without even flinching, as well. What was that about, then? Perhaps he noticed your hesitance, because not even a second later, he turned to face you with an unfamiliar glint in his eyes. It wasn’t a taunt. He nudged his hand against your glass that had been resting against your lips, nudging you to drink more and more of it until it was gone.

“For eternal paradise, C404,” he whispered the words for you as that burning feeling began to sweep you away.

—

You were right to think that breaking things wasn’t going to make you feel any better. It hasn't made you feel any better. No amount of screaming ever did fix things. That’s why you wound up rolling over in bed night after night after night. It was just a matter of waiting for your body to give up and pass out so you could start the process of a long day all over again.

It would be like that… an endless cycle that you would be forced to follow into the ground. Wake up, eat, stare at the clouds, pick something to do for a few hours, eat again, shower, and then lay in bed until your body caved into the pressure and you felt nothing but the urge to sleep again.

It felt like you were trapped in a time loop that you didn’t know the end of. It just kepting coming and coming and coming.

Well, perhaps that’s what you deserved in the first place, you would think with a scowl growing on your face the entire time. This is what you deserved for walking into Mint Eye. Even if you weren’t someone who had tortured people over and over, you were still somebody that benefited from the system time and time again, looking away when something went wrong because it wasn’t happening to you.

It was happening to them.

It might have made sense given the fact that the elixir made people lose their sense of empathy in a matter of weeks. If someone had a heart, they weren’t likely to keep holding onto it when they were in a cult and that was simply how the cookie crumbled. The only heart that you had ever had was for the flowers that you loved dearly because they had always been there for you. The rest of the world had shut you out and cast you aside.

You had nothing but the wilderness in your hands to keep you company, and the hum of the life that you had been forced into. Living in an office job and trying to make ends meet when truly, you were on the brink of drying up inside and waiting for a fire to spark you in the wrong way. If Mint Eye hadn’t found you when they did, you had the feeling that you would’ve self-destructed anyway.

You were always thought of as a ticking time-bomb. It was something that your parents had once joked about to your face.

They had told you that it was only a matter of time until you were worthless. There would be no one there for you at the end of the day, one day, they’d die or they’d stop pitying you, and you would have nobody to turn to, nobody to force yourself to live for, and nowhere to live when you collapsed and gave up, and you would be nothing.

The nothingness that they had always told you that you were.

Nothing… just broken code with a script that led nowhere.

Maybe Unknown was right when he said that you were kindred spirits in Mint Eye because as it turned out, 404 was the same line of code for his title. 404 led to nothing online and meant that there was no answer to be found. In a way, you were truly nothing and so was he. He was named to be nobody and you were simply born to be nothing.

Was that why you were so angry, you wondered. In the way that you had always felt like you were just a worthless burden to your family, as it turned out, you were worthless to Mint Eye as well. Even though you thought that you finally had a place where you belonged, they laughed right in your face and gave you a name that said that you were just the same as you had been when you were on the outside.

In glaring retrospect, it made sense that you were nothing and that you would always be nothing. You screamed and cried into your pillow because of that reality. You just wanted to stop hurting and you’d just wanted so badly to find peace. There was a part of you that hated being on the outside even if it meant that you could see the sun again.

There was another part of you that liked being outside again because you could get ice cream whenever you wanted. There was another part of you that missed being in Mint Eye because at least when you’d been there, you knew that there was a line and you always knew how people would treat you. Though, against that reality, a part of you didn’t want to go back because you would see Unknown hurting once again.

You didn’t want him to suffer if it meant that you could see him again. If you had to be isolated and alone, so be it, you thought. You just wished that you had an answer to know for sure what kind of life he was living now. Somewhere in your gut, you feared that Unknown might be with the rest of those members that were in charge, locked away in a jail cell.

Yet, of all the people that were shown on the media and news, he was never amongst those numbers. As it turned out, there was so much that you didn’t know. There were factors that you had never been told and that hurt. There were things about the RFA that had been denied to you. Facts and fiction that you couldn’t read between the lines of.

They kept you in the dark for a reason, both Rika and Unknown, they hid things and told you to think twice before asking about things that weren’t your business to be messing around with. You knew little of most of the members, but you could list them by name, list their weaknesses, and talk about how it’d be easy to rip them to shreds.

That’s what they taught you to think of when you were studying them to the T every day. It was more like looking for a way to beat a villain in a video game. It was like they weren’t even human… They were just obstacles. In a way, Mint Eye wanted to dehumanize them all right in front of you so you’d never think out of line about your place.

It was a way of living that you never had any chance to fight. They wanted you to destroy and never think twice. It was the same way that Unknown thought when he considered those people, and it always showed in the way that he talked about them with you.

He didn’t particularly hate them but it was more like they were puppets than people.

You’d never think of doing that now, but what you did think of was why it was something you even had to do for them Rika never said a word about why she wanted to make them pay for something, only implying that Jihyun was the cause of all of her suffering and he had to bear witness to whatever the goal of paradise was as she took in all of the members of her former organization. It was a game of a lover’s quarrel.

You understood Jihyun to be her former partner after a while of reading through everything, but it’d taken you a while to connect the dots. A while to understand who the RFA even was, and what it stood for. Rika’s Fundraising Organization, that’s what you figured out after more and more info was given to you in the form of Unknown’s notebooks. They had a fight or something, and she’d left to make this place.

Mint Eye.

It didn’t make sense to you how one problem could induce this entire place, but then again, Unknown was in the dark about it, too. He always said that V abandoned them and left them to rot, and that was why they had to save the RFA members and convert them until V was the only one left standing to see it all crumble in front of him one by one.

That much, you did understand, but there was one of those members that was a real enigma.

707.

Unknown refused to let you see 707 and he wouldn’t allow you to know anything about the man. He said it was because the clown was a nuisance and he would be handling the situation with the redhead on his own… It sounded like the anger that he held against him was personal. You knew that because it always turned sour when 707 did something against him. He would scream, shout, and hit his keys as hard as he could every time.

You’d have to replace those mangled and broken keyboards after he was finished with them because he’d work for hours until he had sent his point. You knew nothing beyond that. The file with his name on it was hidden away, locked up so tightly in a drawer in his cabinet that had been physically bent. Nobody was meant to open it but Unknown if he could wrench it open since he was the one that broke the lock in the first place.

You were always curious about the man that hurt Unknown so badly, but if you dared to ask, he’d growl at you, swat your hands, and warn you to never do that ever again. It was like you touched a spark that nobody was meant to touch. You knew your place and even if you wanted to push back against Unknown all that time ago, you knew better than to bite the hand that feeds. He wanted to hide it for a reason.

Curiosity ate at you back then, and even now, it still did. You didn’t know anything about 707 and a part of you wished that you’d tried harder to uncover the truth.

You wished that you knew why he’d been hurt in the first place, and if that was something that the Savior… no, that Rika used to compel him to do everything that he wanted to do… on top of whatever happened with Jihyun Kim that had clearly been a catalyst.

Jihyun Kim was a mystery but the truest mystery was 707. While you had an idea of the kind of person that V was… you knew nothing about 707 except for what you had seen in the chatroom as Unknown started to monitor MC’s movements. He seemed to be a jokester that laughed quite a bit and that’s all you ever noticed about him. Somebody so happy that it felt weird for your Unknown to be so angry.

But, you knew better than to trust someone with a mask… right? After all, if you had believed in the cruel mask that Unknow wore, you never would’ve seen the person that existed underneath it in the first place. Who was 707 and why had he hurt Unknown? Would you ever know? Would Jumin or Jaehee ever dare to tell you what happened to Unknown and what truly happened?

Did you even deserve to know?

Why didn’t anyone tell you anything? Were you not good enough? Did they think you would break down and sob if they told you the truth that you feared? That Unknown had been killed alongside Jihyun Kim that day and the only reason they weren’t telling you was because you’d be useful in the trial against Rika Kim? You were nothing but a pawn again… a puppet… useful only to those that’d wanted you to give them what they wanted instead of what you wanted.

This was your greatest fear to date.

Unknown being dead.

You wanted to tell yourself that he was alive and well, just living a life that you could never begin to imagine. You wanted to think that he had been helped in a different part of the hospital and then he left to see the sunshine and the clouds, never to look back again.

You wanted to believe that he was in a place where he was happy and free instead of twisted up and mangled by his dreams of revenge that he’d spun to you.

But, how could you believe that when you were always being kept in the dark? How could you do a single thing when you were nothing but a pawn? How could you do anything when everyone in the world was treating you like a child that didn’t deserve to know a damn thing? You wanted to break everything and erase yourself from this life and suffering.

Why you?

You weren’t sure but God, breathing heavily in the mess that you had created in your hotel room had done nothing for you but make you sob. You wound up laying there on the ground with a heavy heart and knot brewing in your stomach.

After a while, you were numb to the tears that you had felt in your heart and just laid there, silently, broken down and seething all at the same time. You were nothing but a mess that was alive due to pity and only useful as long as you gave them what they wanted. As long as you gave them what they had to have to put Rika away, they’d string you along… no different than how Rika left you to live to placate Unknown’s hunger.

What was any of this suffering even for?

You had nothing.

You were nothing.

These feelings overwhelmed your heart and dragged you underneath their surface for what felt like hours until you felt your phone buzz from the other side of the room. You didn’t know the hour nor did you know how much time had passed since you had your breakdown in the first place. You just knew that the phone was chiming and that usually didn’t mean anything good for you. Given the fact that you didn’t have friendships.

It took some time to get off of the ground but you crawled over to the spot where your phone kept buzzing and alerting you to something. You found it laying underneath where you’d tossed what you had remaining in clothes. You typed in the password with trembling fingers, managing to somehow get it open without much trouble.

You realized that it was a text message:

Jumin Han: I have reflected on much of what you said.

Jumin Han: I wish to discuss a couple of details in person. Jumin Han: I understand the mistake I have made by… pressing you for answers.

Jumin Han: However, upon further debate, I wish to speak to you about your request.

Jumin Han: To clarify, I mean the information you desire on his status.

Your phone fell from your hand to the ground with a thud. It was like you were hit with everything that you had been trying to bottle up all at once. You couldn’t be in that room and you couldn’t stand being around anything. It was like being trapped between a rock and a hard place that didn’t want you to squirm away.

The implication of those words did not fail you.

Which is exactly why you picked up the phone, shut it off, and shoved it into the pocket of the leather jacket that you tugged around your body. It had been a year and the faintest smell of gardenia and rose was long but gone. It no longer smelled of Unknown but it was the only thing that you had left of him and you would be damned if you didn’t have it.

Jumin…

No.

No!

You weren’t going to think about it right now. You were in the middle of a crisis and you just needed to find something to take your mind off of things. You just needed to get away from everything and then it would be easier to confront everything. You needed to breathe, you needed to let go, and you needed to think about all of this before you screamed bloody murder.

Your legs carried you a couple of blocks over from the hotel until you reached the ice cream parlor that you would visit frequently. You paused in the doorway before you headed inside. The familiar chill in the air was welcoming… it reminded you of the workroom… it was always freezing to the bone in that space you shared with your boss… maybe that’s why you liked it so much.

Cold… like his hands against the nape of your neck.

You stood there for the longest time, just letting yourself breathe and reminding yourself that you were safe. This was a space that made you feel safe. You had control over this space and you didn’t have to be worried about someone judging you or looking at you with pity. You could be safe here and you could leave any time that you wanted. You could stay as long as you wanted.

You found a momentary peace… at least, until the shop door jingled behind you… so, you spun around to see who had wandered into the shop so that you could move out of the way for them, but instead of finding some stranger behind you, you found yourself staring into the eyes of someone that you had fallen in love with all those months ago.

His dyed hair was gone… all gone… all that remained was red curls that made your breath stop in your throat. His eyes no longer held purple rings and bags from exhaustion, rather, he looked like he likely had gotten a lot of sleep in the last year… but his eyes… those mint eyes that had stolen you away from unease and brought you into paradise.

Unknown was wearing a dark pullover, a striped shirt, and jeans. He looked to be different from the man that you once knew, but in that moment, you knew it was him without a doubt. You knew him from the bottom of your memory and you would never forget him. Seconds passed right in front of you but you knew it was him.

Your eyes began to water, “Unknown?”

“...Iris.”

17 notes · View notes

anonniemousefics · 4 years ago

Text

All Kinds Of New Friends

Fandom: Six of Crows | Kaz + Inej (ft. all the other Crows)

Word Count: 4,700

Rating: Teen and Up

TW: contains mentions of sexual assault

Cross-posted to AO3

Synopsis: The gang has a run in with a couple of unscrupulous characters from Inej's past, and Kaz says a few things in the middle of a rage he wasn't supposed to say yet.

Author’s Note: This fic is dedicated to AO3 user puppy cat, who was such a supportive, lovely fan from the very first chapter of "My Dearest Inej" all the way to the end. They requested a fic based around a particular idea involving the gang at a restaurant and someone harassing Inej and Kaz losing his shit in a very specific way (being intentionally vague here to avoid too many spoilers lol). If you like this au, there's more of it in my recent fic "Samples". :)

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Nothing brought Kaz Brekker life quite like being paid to argue. And he was good at it, which was why he could charge these student athletes afraid of losing their scholarships two hundred bucks an essay without even flinching. If a more delightful way to make money existed, he had not found it yet.

He was spending his Saturday the way he usually spent Saturdays: rounding out a conclusion to a paper arguing for the death penalty, for a pre-law class he’d never take and a trust-fund upperclassman he’d hopefully never meet. In a few hours, he could drop the doc in a secure server and wait for the Venmo alert that he’d been paid. Nothing was sweeter.

Well. One thing was sweeter.

Inej was in the beat-up old recliner beside him in his and Jesper’s little living room of their third-floor off-campus apartment. This was the best way to spend a Saturday. She was sitting cross-legged and practically drowning in oversized sweats, her raven-black hair piled on top of her head while she hunched over her MacBook. And she was wearing those thick-rimmed, blue-blocker glasses Matthias Helvar had convinced her she needed (which, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that he was being paid to promote them on his stupid Instagram, that douchebag). Kaz had cringed both internally and externally when she’d told him she’d bought a pair, but now he was seeing the merit, because, dear God, was she adorable in glasses. They were awakening strange and powerful urges every time he glanced over at her. If she held them in between her teeth while undoing her hair, he was going to have to leave the room.

Because the terrible reality was that Inej had had a rough go of it her freshman year at Ketterdam University. And even though they were sort of together now (Kaz was pretty sure they were?), the last thing Inej needed right now was to be over-sexualized – for anything. Including those really fucking cute glasses.

“I’m starving,” Jesper declared from his prone position on the floor. He had been propped up on a bunch of faded pillows between them, engrossed in shooting undead things on their Xbox. His boyfriend Wylan had spent most of the afternoon napping against his shoulder, but was now blinking awake like a blue-eyed baby owl at Jesper’s sudden announcement.

“I could eat,” Wylan yawned with a lazy stretch.

“Inej? You?” Jesper reached up to tug on Inej’s sock.

“Hm?” Inej looked up from her laptop like she was emerging from a cave while she gnawed on one of the strings of her sweatshirt. It had been like this since The Incident – Jesper and Nina often took turns making sure she would eat. (Kaz had it covered, but that was all right. The back-up couldn’t hurt.)

“Food? Are you hungry?” Jesper repeated, the unspoken question floating in the air: Have you eaten today?

Inej blinked a few times as she thought, her dark eyes flitting back and forth between Jesper and her laptop screen. Kaz knew this internal war well – the age-old taking care of one’s needs versus the siren-song of wreaking endless revenge.

Inej had come to Ketterdam University on a gymnastics scholarship, but that had fallen by the wayside – ever since The Incident. The night everything changed.

Kaz didn’t know Inej Ghafa all that well before it happened – had taken a few classes with her, studied for an exam with her once. She’d been eternally sunshiney, the kind of girl he knew wouldn’t waste her time on dark things like him.

But then she’d started missing classes.

And then showing up to class visibly drowning beneath the weight of sleeplessness and oversized clothes.

And he didn’t really know her but it had bothered him all the same. It was like watching a star collapsing in on itself.

And that’s when the story of The Incident hit the news cycle. From the moment he read the first headline, Kaz couldn’t stop scrolling, growing sicker and sicker in the pit of his stomach.

She’d gone to a party at a frat house with a new friend. (Kaz had even been there before, maybe even the night it happened. Frat parties were veritable breeding grounds for potential clients – full of rich, connected kids too drunk or stoned to be bothered by classwork and crooked enough to pay someone else to do it.) It was suspected that someone had slipped something in her drink, and it was known that the friend who’d brought her there had been entirely useless. Inej had woken up the next morning, half-naked on the lawn, crude drawings in Sharpie all over her, and no knowledge of what had transpired that had left her there.

It should have ended there – that was bad enough. But then the frat boys had started posting the videos of what had happened that night. How she had been used. How she had been touched.

If Inej’s parents were going to have their way, someone was going to jail. If Kaz was going to have his way, someone was going to suffer all the way there.

After he’d learned the news, he’d found her the next day before class started, where she was at the back of the room, hunched over her desk with her hood up. She’d shot daggers at him with her eyes when he approached. He’d liked that.

“I’d like to help you ruin them,” he’d told her. Inej’s glare didn’t relent as she sized up him – his black attire, the leather gloves that clenched his gleaming cane. He usually made a point of looking like the sort of person who ruined things. Nobody bullied a boy with a cane if it looked like that same boy could take your head off with said cane.

Inej seemed to agree that he looked like he could fit the bill. And they began to plot – how to expose her abusers, how to alert every girl they ever came into contact with, how to ruin every single party they would ever throw.

And somewhere along the way, it had turned into…something. Kaz wasn’t sure what to call it. But he couldn’t call it nothing – not when Inej regularly stayed the night in their apartment and did soft things like run her hand over his chest if she liked the jacket he was wearing or blush and smile if she caught him looking at her. He’d even really gone out on a limb one night and told her he liked her, and she’d said it back. He wasn’t sure where that left them at this point. Somewhere, he guessed, with something.

“I’ll eat,” Inej was agreeing, albeit with a bit of reluctance to leave her laptop. She was elbows-deep in a catfishing scheme Kaz had concocted for their latest victim.

“Nina wants us to meet up with her and Matthias at The Sweet Shop,” Wylan said, who was catching up on the texts he’d missed while napping on Jesper.

“I swear, Nina could lure a polar bear into the jungle,” Jesper sighed next to him, because it was a little miraculous to think Matthias Helvar, fitspo Instagram model and purveyor of all things organic and natural, had somehow been corralled into a bakery cafe. Kaz was surprised that Matthias even looked at carbs, let alone consumed them.

And, even though he was pressed for time on the illicit essay he was writing, Kaz needed food, too. He and Inej both could use the time away from their questionable dealings online.

The Sweet Shop was within walking distance, but it had begun to rain, cold and foggy, over Ketterdam. So, the four of them piled into Kaz’s beat up black Chevy and rolled into town behind the rhythmic beating of the windshield wipers.

“Over here!” Nina waved to them, beaded bracelets rattling in a stack on her wrist, from the far corner as the bakery’s front door swung closed behind them, tripping a jingling brass bell pinned to the doorframe.

The Sweet Shop was a popular spot for the more bookish crowds to crash on the weekends, load up on starchy foods and coffee while rattling out papers on their laptops or flirting under the guise of study groups. Kaz wouldn’t go so far as to call them his type of people, but he was certainly more at home here than the drunken soirees where he spent his evenings fleecing the debauched children of alumni. Here, there were people crowded over old tables with their books, and well-worn leather sofas and faded overstuffed chairs in the corner lined with secondhand books and used board games that were almost always missing pieces. The air smelled like espresso and cupcakes and old pages, and if Matthias Helvar was going to sulk about the lack of kale on the menu, Kaz might have to punch him in the face.

Matthias was already nursing a colorful smoothie while Nina sat next to him on the old leather sofa, her long, shapely legs draped over his and a stack of sugared waffles on the coffee table in front of her.

“Took you long enough!” Nina was scolding as the four of them weaved through tables to the corner of sofas and chairs. “Do none of you check your phones on weekends?”

“A technology fast is very cleansing for our auras,” Matthias countered, with a sage look – Matthias, the self-proclaimed Instagram influencer. Kaz rolled his eyes.

“That almost sounded like real words, Matthias – good job,” Jesper smirked, as he perched on the arm of the chair where Wylan had flopped down. Matthias opened his mouth to retort something, but --

“I was just distracted, sorry,” Inej intervened with an apology to Nina and a sheepish look. (She thankfully was no longer wearing her blue-blockers or it might have been too sweet even for a place called The Sweet Shop.)

“And I was just ignoring you,” Kaz said with a shrug. Inej gave him an exasperated whack in the arm as he sat next to her on an old loveseat, resting his cane against one side, and Nina let out a put-out huff.

“Wylan’s the only considerate one among you,” she complained.

“Yes, that is true,” Jesper agreed, and Wylan grinned widely with his chin propped up on his fist.

“We wanted you here because,” And Nina drew out the because like she had something grand to follow it, “Matthias landed a sweet sponsorship yesterday, and he wants to buy us all lunch!”

Kaz and Jesper groaned in unison, loud enough it couldn’t quite be drowned out by Inej and Wylan’s congratulations. Matthias got particularly insufferable after new sponsorships – there would be strings attached to this.

“That’s very nice of you, Matthias,” Inej said, pointedly, glaring at Kaz.

“It is very nice of you, Matthias, to offer to buy us all strawberry ice cream smoothies like yours,” Kaz said, with an evil glint in his eye as he nodded to the large pink cup in Matthias’ hand.

Matthias gave an uneasy laugh.

“There’s no ice cream in this,” he said, then paused when he noticed Nina’s tight-lipped, icy stare boring into Kaz’s skull. Then his brow cinched up and looked down at his cup. “There isn’t ice cream in this, right, babe?”

“It’s not going to kill you,” Nina replied with an eye roll.

“Babe! You know I can’t do dairy right now! Tomorrow’s Six-Pack Sunday!”

There was no point in trying to stop it: a laugh in the form of a long snort rolled out of Kaz while Jesper and Wylan dissolved into a fit of giggles. Now Kaz remembered -- this is why they kept Matthias around.

“You don’t understand,” Matthias was trying to say. “It can take a whole week to detox and lose the bloat.”

“I’ll finish it for you, you big baby,” said Nina, and snatched the smoothie away from a panicked Matthias.

“I should start running laps now,” he was fretting.

“Make some food runs for us – that’s a start,” Jesper supplied, looking helpful.

“Good call,” Matthias nodded, and hopped to his feet, nearly dumping Nina onto the floor in the process. “Orders? Orders?” He looked to each of them, ready to leap into action and start fighting off the bloat.

He’d gathered up their orders and made a beeline for the counter when Nina turned to Inej.

“You had me worried, you know.” Nina leaned out a little over her knees toward her roommate. “You were just distracted?”

Kaz glanced in Inej’s direction in time to see how she swallowed hard. She’d stuffed her hands deep in her hoodie pockets. Kaz knew the reaction all too well -- what it was like to withdraw and fight to make yourself untouchable, even to those who loved you.

“Just a lot of work lately,” Inej said. And Nina slid a suspicious glance toward Kaz, as if waiting for him to explain himself and what he was getting the two of them into now.

But it had always been Inej’s decision, how she wanted to handle her own revenge. Kaz was only providing tools. He hadn’t answered for her yet, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Nina sighed.

“I just don’t want to see anyone hurt anymore,” she said. The brass bell over the front door jingled again.

“That’s not--”

But Inej stopped short when she glanced toward the sound of the bell. She barely moved, but Kaz could sense her growing rigid next to him. And something about it made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

He followed her gaze to two boys who were now slouching toward the front counter. Kaz had seen them both before; he was pretty sure he’d written a biology research paper for the one with the pug-nose. They were both tall and conventionally good-looking – the sort you probably didn’t think twice about. Well-muscled, expensive haircuts, brand name sneakers.

Beside him, Inej had started breathing weird.

“Fuck.” Nina had noticed her staring, too, and suddenly all pairs of eyes in the corner were watching the newcomers at the front of The Sweet Shop with murder in their hearts.

Because these two bastards had been there the night of The Incident.

Kaz found himself wondering which one he could make cry first. Probably the bulkier one -- he looked soft and dumb around the edges. His mom probably still did his laundry on the weekends and called his professors when he didn’t get good grades. Kaz wanted to see him cry until snot dribbled down his sweaty face and –

“We should go,” Inej said, abruptly. She was looking pale and shaky, and her eyes darted around as if she needed to gather belongings, even though she’d brought none. Kaz had started to grip the head of his cane, tighter, tighter, tighter.

“Fuck no.” Nina was adamant and fiery, bless her. “We got here first – they can leave.” And then a little louder. “They should be in jail, frankly!”

“Nina!” Inej hissed, and her hand flew to curl against the side of her face when the boys looked their direction. Her eyes were wide and terrified when she looked over to Kaz.

“I want to go,” she told him, and that was all she needed to say. He pushed his weight onto his cane, hoisting himself to his feet.

“Don’t worry, girl – we got you,” Jesper was confirming, and, without even needing to consult each other, he and Wylan and Nina had Inej surrounded from sight on their walk to the door, Kaz at the front.

And it almost worked, too.

“Brekker!” Until one of the boys recognized him and gave him with a jovial grin. Shit. “Hey, it’s Brekker!” The stupid kid with the pug nose gave Kaz a hearty slap on his shoulder, and it took every ounce of restraint in him to not break the dude’s wrist.

“This kid got me an B+ on my bio term paper,” the kid was telling his bulky friend, and then with a shady-ass side smirk, he added: “Wasn’t totally the A I’d paid for, but that was still awesome, bro.”

“With your GPA, an A would have been too suspicious.” Why was Kaz even defending himself to this turd? He made to shove past, to head for the door.

But that kid was still gripping his shoulder. Like he wanted Kaz to remove it from its socket. Like maybe he was just asking for it. Kaz ground his teeth, trying to maintain his resolve. He wasn’t going to do this in front of Inej. He was going to be better than this for her.

“Bro,” the human pile of excrement still touching him was saying, “I’ve been meaning to text you. I have this world religions class this semester that is just killer, and I--”

“Your next words had better be how you’re doing your own damn work from now on.”

A simple “No” would have sufficed, Kaz realized, but his girl was in some kind of state because of this waste of carbon and his patience had never been plentiful to begin with.

Besides, the kid didn’t strike him as the type who understood simple “No”s. He was going to have to make it really fucking clear for this idiot.

Sure enough, the kid blinked hard, like he’d been slapped.

“I paid you, bro,” he said, dumbly.

“Oh, he did not just--” Nina started from the back of their bunch.

“Call me ‘bro’ one more time,” Kaz dared him, his eyes narrowing.

“What the hell, man?” said the thoroughly confused bulky friend.

“Kaz, just leave it,” Inej said, softly, and she slipped her fingers into the crook of Kaz’s elbow. “Let’s just go.”

A wave of recognition spread over the pug-nosed douchebag’s face at the sight of her. It was sickening, the surprised rise of his eyebrows, the smug, amused smirk on his lips. Kaz wanted to rip them right off his face.

“Oh, I see how it is,” the dick was saying. “You’re with this bitch--”

That’s when Kaz felt something snap. Oh, he was dead now.

“Kaz!” Inej shouted a warning, but it was already too late. With the cane between his two gloved hands, Kaz rammed his weight into this dead man walking. He threw the kid against the front door, the brass bell jingling as the shades on the window rattled in the scuffle.

“That’s my girlfriend, dipshit,” Kaz snarled.

Kaz was vaguely aware that there was a rising commotion around him, a crescendo of clashing panic and rage. His hand had found its way to the dude’s collar, throttling him; Nina was shouting something at Matthias somewhere behind him; chairs were scuffling about against the floor. But Kaz’s sole focus now was on making this heinous little fucker wet his pants.

“Kaz. The door.” Jesper’s clear-headed voice cut through the blinding wrath, and Kaz was somehow thinking clearly enough to gather his meaning and wrenched the kid away from the front door just long enough for Jesper to shove an arm through and open it.

And Kaz threw the pug-nose brat out into the rain ahead of them. The kid hit the pavement, hard, and scrambled back.

“Dude, you’ve got it all wrong if you think she’s the victim here,” the useless piece of flesh was sniveling. His nose was bleeding – pathetic, Kaz had barely hit him.

“I really think I don’t,” Kaz disagreed, thoughtfully.

“We could have you arrested!” the bulky child was screeching. Kaz turned just in time to see Matthias literally chuck the kid out after them, red-face and snarling. And Kaz had to hand it to him – even with his dairy intolerance, Matthias Helvar could toss frat kids with the best of them.

“Oh, please file a police report about this,” Kaz sneered at them. The wind and the rain were beating back his dark hair and flapping the collar of his black jacket, but he didn’t care. “I would absolutely love to know how you plan on explaining why you called my girlfriend a bitch.”

“Man, it is not my fault your girl can’t handle her liquor.”

CRACK. Kaz barely had time to blink, and Matthias had straight up decked the kid right in his jaw. Nina was rolling up her sleeves, ready to destroy the other one in the pelting rain.

“Hey!” The teenager in a green apron who’d been running the cash register was running out after them, holding a phone over her head. “I’m gonna call the cops if you don’t clear out!”

And when Kaz looked back at Inej, there were tears welling in her eyes even though her jaw was set firm. From the looks on the faces of the rest of his friends, they’d all noticed, too.

So, it fizzled out before it even really began.

The frat boys had slunk off in the rain, and the six of them regrouped and sauntered back to Kaz’s car in silence. Jesper, Nina, and Matthias piled into the back seat, while Inej and Wylan squeezed into the front. And then an uncomfortable stillness descended.

Inej had pulled her hood up again when Kaz turned the key in the ignition, her arms tight in her sleeves. Every once and awhile, she’d sniffle as quietly as she could as the car ride seemed to drag on – but Kaz knew. Everyone knew. That had been awful. And it still felt awful. Kaz’s head was starting to swirl, his wracked nerves still buzzing. He shouldn’t have done it. He hadn’t wanted to do it, not really. And she’d told him she wanted to leave – she’d said it clear as day. And he’d said…oh God, what had he said? What had he done?

Kaz’s stomach was starting to lurch. He’d said a lot of things. Way too many fucking things. Things they hadn’t discussed yet. Things he’d clearly just assumed. What had he done?

“We really should cleanse this negative energy.” Goddamn Matthias was the first one to break the pervasive silence, and he was choosing to break it with this nonsense. Kaz’s glare drifted to the rear view mirror. “I have some sound healing bowls back at my place that are--”

“I swear to God, Helvar,” Kaz snapped, “if you break out even one sound healing bowl, I will make you wear it like a helmet and then drop kick you into the sun.”

In the rear view mirror, Kaz could see Matthias’ nostrils flaring.

“You are such an unbalanced piece of shit sometimes, you know that--?” But Matthias stopped short because Inej had let out a surprising chuckle. Kaz slowly let himself glance her direction – so did everyone else.

She was smirking up at Kaz.

“I just think it’s thoughtful of you to make sure his head is protected before you launch him into space,” she shrugged. Wylan barked out a laugh.

“I just think they should kiss already,” Nina added, waggling an eyebrow at a brooding Matthias, and then Jesper started to laugh, too, which really was the most infectious of laughs. Even Kaz was smiling after a moment – just a little.

Though that faded entirely when they pulled up to Kaz and Jesper’s apartment and Inej asked to speak with him alone in the car first.

Shit, he thought. Shit. Here it is. He’d royally fucked it up now.

They waited in silence with the rain pouring over the car while the rest of their friends darted into the old Victorian home where Kaz and Jesper lived on the third floor. With each passing second, his stomach sunk lower into his guts. He wasn’t even sure he could form words in his brain, let alone with his mouth. He had no rational explanation for what had come over him back at The Sweet Shop, other than Here it is, Inej, I’m kind of a fucking disaster.

“So, that was…” Inej started, slowly. She was staring out the front window. Kaz felt like crumpling, and he hated it, hated how weak he felt. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know, I know…” he muttered. He didn’t really, but he just wanted this to be over. If she never wanted to see him again, he needed her to rip the bandaid off quick.

“So, I’m your girlfriend now?”

Kaz couldn’t decipher her tone, and he couldn’t even look at her. He was just going to stare at the steering wheel until this was over.

But then Inej said: “I just would like to have known before the guys my parents are having investigated, that’s all.”

Kaz looked to her then, lifting his dark eyebrows slightly. She’d let her hair down from its knot before they’d left for the café – she’d braided it loose over her shoulder like he liked. She was twirling the ends now, a tired smile on her pink lips.

“If you want,” he said with a soft shrug. It wasn’t at all like the heroic way he thought she deserved to be swept off her feet. But she was still smiling all the same. It made him feel braver.

Funny – how throwing his weight around against perverts was as easy as breathing, but looking at her like this tore him apart.

“If you’ll have me,” he offered, even softer now.

And Inej reached across the distance between them. Laced her fingers over his, atop his knee.

“I will have you, Kaz Brekker,” she said, tenderly. It took him aback a bit. Made his breath catch. Made his throat sting.

“If I shouldn’t have--” he started to say of the row back at The Sweet Shop. But Inej cut him off instantly, shaking her head. Squeezing his fingers.

“You absolutely should have,” she said, firmly. “And you should show me how, too.”

Kaz really raised his eyebrows at that. Inej smiled a little wider. His heart was lifting, lifting up and out of the certain doom he was sure it was about to face.

“Come on.” Inej tugged at his hand. “We’d better head up before Matthias starts culture appropriating all over your apartment.”

“You have to admit – he threw one hell of a punch, though,” Kaz pointed out, as he opened his door, and then wanted to punch himself for it. What the hell – was he defending Matthias Helvar now? This whole day was upside down.

Thankfully, there was a different kind of embarrassing going down in apartment number three when they finally made their way up. Kaz could hear it before he even made it to the top of the stairs – the loud, thumping bass, the voices shouting at the tops of their lungs.

Oh, their neighbors were going to love this. They were just making all kinds of new friends today.

When Inej opened the door, all four of their friends were dancing to Cardi B’s I Like It, blasting through Jesper’s bluetooth speaker. It took everything in Kaz to not physically recoil at the assault on his senses.

“Emergency dance party!” Jesper explained, yelling from behind Wylan.

“We’re clearing out the negative energy!” Nina shouted over the noise, her hands in the air. Matthias was jumping around behind her like an absolute madman. “But like in an acceptable way!”

“I think it’s working!” Wylan shouted at her in agreement, with Jesper’s hands on his hips.

They were all smiling.

And beside him, Inej burst out laughing – a wild, fluttery sound he’d heard only a few times before. It caught him right in the heart each time he had, and he knew he’d do anything to hear it as often as he could. He looked down at her and wondered, not for the first time, how she did it. How she managed to wring joy out of even the most dismal of circumstances.

It was something he needed more of – as long as she’d allow him to have it.

“Come on!” she was shouting to him as she took him by the hand. “You heard the man! Emergency dance party!”

And Kaz followed her in, shutting the door behind him.

---------------------------

Tagging: @annejulianneh111, @loveyatopluto, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @whosanxiety, @raging-bisexual-alert,

#kanej #kanej fanfic #kanej fluff #six of crows #modern au #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #matthias helvar #nina zenik #college au #reader requested

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catrasredemption-moved · 4 years ago

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I'm really struggling and hurting with what's going on in the fandom right now as im losing the only comfort i had in quarantine. could you please write something happy post-s5 catradora based on noelle's statement that once Adora realises she's in love with Catra she'd be SO into the reslationship?

((I get you, Nonners <3 *hugs* Again, white af, so I’m going to limit my comments, but - it isn’t all downhill from here. Try not to give up)) (((Disclaimer it’s almost 4am and my sleeping meds are kicking in, so I’m sorry if this isn’t completely coherent)))

Adora had never half-assed anything in her life.

And she’d be damned if she was going to start now, at a time when being fully on her game was more important than ever.

“I just want to do something for her!”

Bow practically had hearts in his eyes. Glimmer was a little less impressed. “I’m pretty sure if you just stayed in bed and napped together all day, she’d be happy.”

“I know, I know.” Adora sighed. “But that’s not - I want to do something good. Like, really show her that I love her.”

“Take a vacation.”

“Glimmer!”

“What? I’m serious,” Glimmer insisted. “If you just like... took an entire week off to do nothing but spend time with her, she’d probably be speechless. Which I would pay to see, by the way.”

Adora frowned, thinking it over. It was true that Catra would probably be floored by Adora taking a week off, no need for She-Ra or anything, just for her.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s enough? What should we do? What do people do on vacation?”

“You could just travel?” Bow suggested. “You know, get as far from Bright Moon as you can then call Glimmer for a ride back or something when you’re done.”

It was... actually a good idea, Adora thought. They’d spent their whole lives in the Fright Zone wondering what was beyond the Whispering Woods. They could actually see things now. They could see a world full of magic!

The happy thoughts died almost as quickly as they had started. “I... I dunno. I mean, it sounds great, but that would take more than a week, and-”

“Take a month,” Glimmer encouraged. “Take six months, honestly. You guys saved the universe. If anyone’s earned time off, it’s you.”

“That’s a lot of time.”

“And you’ve earned it,” Bow assured her. “Maybe not six months - I mean, you should take six months but I know that would drive you nuts. But take a month. Go places. Spend time together. I think it’d be good for you guys.”

Adora chewed on her thumbnail for a moment before slowly nodding and smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

This whole thing had started with Catra not feeling like a priority in Adora’s life, after all. A month together would be the perfect way to show Adora she was invested and she cared. Perfect. * * * * * * * * * * * * Catra didn’t get back to Bright Moon that night. “Your cat passed out on my couch,” Mermista informed Adora flatly, turning the screen so Adora could see Catra curled up in a tight ball, sleeping.

“Is she... okay?”

“She’s dumb. Sea Hawk found her almost sick with heat stroke and had to drag her away from the house she was working on.”

Adora’s heart jumped to her throat. “She’s... She’s really trying hard to help with Salineas.”

“And I appreciate it,” Mermista admitted in a rare moment of genuine honesty. “But I’ll appreciate it less if she kills herself in the process. If she’s going to die, I should at least get the first shot.”

“Glimmer can come get her, if you want.”

“Nah, she already feels like hell. She can sleep it off on the couch.”

Adora scrubbed her eyes, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Mermista. Sorry, I guess I should’ve warned you, she gets really intense when she actually puts effort into things.”

“She’s not someone I would’ve pegged for a workaholic. Want me to wake her up to say... I dunno, good night or whatever you guys say to each other?”

“Nah, let her sleep.” Adora wanted Catra home, wanted to talk to her about a vacation, but she was sleeping, and that was more important than anything. She’d been exhausting herself for nearly a month working on Salineas. And while it was earning her some begrudging tolerant will with Mermista (who firmly believed actions were better than any apology Catra could ever say), Adora was worried. A vacation would really do her some good. * * * * * * * * * * * * Glimmer and Adora went to Salineas the next morning to get Catra. They thought it was reasonable to assume she was still sleeping off the heat stroke at the palace.

“Nope, she took off before I woke up,” Mermista said flatly when they found her. “Sea Hawk tried to find her, but he’s not exactly subtle about it, so she probably had plenty of time to hide.”

“Great.” Adora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll... track her down.”

“Tell her if she’s going to keel over to get out of my kingdom. She can die on Bright Moon’s turf.”

“Tell her not to die,” Glimmer added.

“Yes, and yes.”

Mermista pointed Adora in the direction of where they’d found Catra yesterday. She approached a half built house, quietly climbing up the ladder at the side and finding Catra working on the roofing.

“Seriously?” she asked, resting her arms on the edge of the roof. Catra looked up, surprised.

“What?”

She looked exhausted, her face flushed red. Adora sighed. “Are you coming home any time soon?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She went back to work, distracted. “Sorry, I dunno what happened yesterday.”

“You made yourself sick working in the sun all day.”

“Sea Hawk overreacted.” Catra waved Adora off. “He’s just scared you’d kill him if you found he let me overwork myself.”

“Sooooo you’re admitting it?”

“No, that’s just his logic.”

Adora shook her head. “Come on, take the day off and come home. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“I really need to finish this.”

There was a weird moment where Adora thought she understood how Catra had felt for years. Catra had been working nonstop on Salineas for a month, and Adora was starting to feel a little ignored.

But she also understood Catra’s side. She took a deep breath, hauling herself up onto the roof and crawling over to Catra, gently putting her hand on Catra’s and stopping the hammer. “Hey. I get it, okay? But you’re not responsible for fixing all of Salineas.”

“Actually, I kind of am,” Catra replied bitterly. She was far too warm for it to be comfortable.

“I’m pretty sure Hordak could stand to take a little more responsibility than he has.” Adora couldn’t help but be a bit bitter about that. He had mostly stayed in Dryl, working with Entrapta on tech that would help with the rebuilding process. And that was great and all, but it wasn’t much compared to Catra being out here every day working herself half to death.

Catra let out a long sigh, finally relaxing her hand. “I just... need to do this, Adora. Okay?”

“I get that, but you don’t need to do it at the expense of your own health. And yes, I know I’m a hypocrite. But I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Adora squeezed her hand. “And that’s okay. Have you eaten anything?”

“No.” The honesty was nice.

“Did you skip eating because you felt sick?” Catra nodded. “Okay. So... you can leave with me, or Mermista can wash you out to sea so you don’t die in her kingdom.”

Catra looked around, and sighed, finally nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Getting her back to solid ground was a bit dicey, but she held herself up and managed to walk back to the palace without much help.

“She lives,” Mermista said dryly when they arrived back at the palace. Glimmer smiled, although she couldn’t hide her worry.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Catra smothered a yawn, scrubbing her eyes.

“Picture of health all right,” Mermista deadpanned. “Look, you built like, an entire neighborhood on your own. Come back when you’re not burning up.”

Glimmer rested a hand on Catra’s shoulder, wincing when she felt the heat radiating off of her. Adora took a moment to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of her,” to Mermista. The princess shrugged.

“Yeah, you know. Whatever.”

Catra was not happy with the teleport back to Bright Moon. Glimmer put them close enough to the bed so she could drop straight onto it, groaning. Good luck, the queen mouthed before disappearing. Adora went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth with cold water, and returned to the bed, resting the cloth on the back of Catra’s neck. She shivered.

“Cold.”

“Yes, because you’re burning hot.” Adora settled in next to her. “So, I had an idea, and I already know you’re going to argue with it, but hear me out.” Catra hummed in affirmation. “I was thinking we should take some time off. You and me. I was thinking traveling, but now I’m thinking maybe go visit Frosta and spend a week in the snow.”

“Oh hell no,” Catra muttered. “I am not going anywhere with snow. That’s where I draw the line.”

“But you’re agreeing to the vacation?”

“I dunno.” Catra raised her head. “When? Can it wait until Salineas is-”

“No.” Adora gently clasped Catra’s face in her hands. “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t hurt yourself trying to fix things. That won’t accomplish anything, and nobody wants to see you hurting, not even Mermista.”

Catra looked ready to argue, but something in her expression flickered. “You’re willing to take time off just to do nothing?”

“Not nothing. To spend time with you. We can hold each other accountable. You keep me strapped down, and I’ll lie on top of you to make sure you don’t run off to Salineas.”

Tears slowly filled Catra’s eyes, and Adora panicked for a moment before Catra spoke. “You’d... really take time off to spend time with me?”

“Of course.” Adora kissed her gently. “I love you, Catra. And I know we’ve been through a lot and done a lot that doesn’t really... support that, and I want to prove it now. And I want to take care of you.”

The moment of silence between them was comfortable. The same silence they could have spent hours in at one point in their lives. “I love you too,” Catra finally murmured. “Maybe taking some off to spend together wouldn’t be so bad. If only to see you try and relax.”

“Ha. Ha.” Adora grabbed the washcloth and began gently wiping Catra’s face. “Glimmer gave us a month, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy if we want to take more. Let’s start with getting you better, then we can figure out what we want to do from there. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra snuggled into Adora’s chest, taking a deep breath. “That sounds good.”

It had worked. Adora couldn’t believe it. “So uh... I’m doing this relationship thing pretty good, huh?”

Catra snorted, reaching up to push her face away. “Get over yourself.”

#catradora #catradora fic #Mystery Person #Sam Answers #askbox fic

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